The Glorious Lover A Divine Poem, Upon the Adorable Mystery of Sinners Redemption. By B. K. [i.e. Benjamin Keach] |
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 | CHAP. II. The Glorious Lover |  |
18
CHAP. II.
Shewing what entertainment the Prince of Light met with at his first arrival. How there being no room for him in the Inn, he was forced to lie in the Stable, and make his bed in the Manger. As also how he having laid aside his Glorious and Princely Robes, was not known by the people of that Country; and how he was wronged, and abominably abused by them.
Awake my Muse! I hear the Prince is come;
Go and attend him, view the very Room
Where he at first doth lodg: see how they treat
A King, whose Pow'r is so exceeding great.
Much Rumor of his coming, I am told,
Was spread abroad amongst them there of old,
And many waiting for him, long'd to see
What kind of King and Person he should be.
Oh! what provision now to entertain
Him did they make? my Soul's in grevious pain
To hear of this. Doth not the Trumpet sound,
And Joy and melody sweetly abound
I'th hearts of all, who heard of this good News?
How did they carry't to him, or how use
This lovely One, whom Angels do adore,
And Glorious Seraphims fall down before?
Ah! how methinks should they now look about
Some curious stately Structure to find out,
Some Prince's Palace for his Residence,
Or strong fair Castle for his safe Defence!
Don't people leap for Joy, whil'st Angels sing,
To welcome in their long expected King?
Do not the Conduits through all streets combine,
In stead of Water, wholly to run Wine?
Do not great Swarms of people 'bout him fly,
Like to some strange and glorious Prodigy?
Go and attend him, view the very Room
Where he at first doth lodg: see how they treat
A King, whose Pow'r is so exceeding great.
Much Rumor of his coming, I am told,
Was spread abroad amongst them there of old,
And many waiting for him, long'd to see
What kind of King and Person he should be.
Oh! what provision now to entertain
Him did they make? my Soul's in grevious pain
To hear of this. Doth not the Trumpet sound,
And Joy and melody sweetly abound
I'th hearts of all, who heard of this good News?
How did they carry't to him, or how use
This lovely One, whom Angels do adore,
And Glorious Seraphims fall down before?
19
Some curious stately Structure to find out,
Some Prince's Palace for his Residence,
Or strong fair Castle for his safe Defence!
Don't people leap for Joy, whil'st Angels sing,
To welcome in their long expected King?
Do not the Conduits through all streets combine,
In stead of Water, wholly to run Wine?
Do not great Swarms of people 'bout him fly,
Like to some strange and glorious Prodigy?
What dos't thou say, my Muse, Art wholly mute?
Doth this not with thy present purpose suit?
Ah! yes, it does, but how shal't be exprest?
The grief that seizes on my panting Breast,
My heart into a trembling fit doth fall,
To think how he contemned was of all.
The Savage Monsters did this Prince reject,
And treat him with affronts and disrespect:
When he for them had taken all this pain,
They neither would him know nor entertain:
The very Inn, where first he went to lie,
For to vouchsafe him Lodging did deny.
No Room (alas!) had they; but if 'twere so
He would be there, to th' Stable he must go.
To'th' Stable then goes he contentedly,
Without the least reflection or reply.
The silly Ass, and labouring Ox must be
Companions now to Sacred Royalty;
Expos'd by Greater Brutes, he must (alas)
Take up with the Dull-Oxe, and painful Ass,
Who their great Maker and Preserver was;
And in the Manger's forc'd to make his bed,
Without one Pillow to support his Head.
Let Heav'n astonisht, Earth amazed be
At this ungrateful Inhumanity
Let Seas rise up in heaps, and after quit
Their Course, these Barbarous people to affright.
Oh! what a mighty condescention's here!
What story may with this, with this, compare?
Is this the entertainment, they afford!
And this a Palace for so great a Lord!
Is this their kindness to so dear a friend!
Do they him to a filthy Stable send!
Is that a Chamber suiting his Degree!
Or fit the Manger should allotted be,
For him to lay his Glorious Body in,
(Of whom the Prophet saith he knew no Sin?)
Whose footstool's Earth, and Heaven is his Throne,
What ne're a better Bed for such an one!
That has so vast a Journey undertook,
And for their sakes such Glory too forsook!
Is this great Prince with such mean Lodging pleas'd
So that he may of love-sick pains be eas'd!
O what a Lover's this! Almighty Love!
How potently dost thou affections move!
What shall a Prince be thus ore-come by thee,
And brought into contempt to this degree!
Sure this may melt an heart of hardest Stone,
When 'tis consider'd well and thought upon.
But no less worthy note is it to hear
The manner how this Soveraign did appear.
Was it in Pomp and outward Splendor bright?
Which doth the sensual heart of man invite,
To cast a view, and deep respect to show,
As unto haughty Monarchs here they do:
Like to a Prince, or like himself, did he
His beams display that every eye might see
In his blest Face most radiant Majesty?
No, no, so far was he from being proud,
That he thought fit his Glories all to shroud;
And, like the Sun, invelop'd in a Cloud,
Did vail his Heav'nly Lustre, would not make
Himself of Reputation, for the sake
Of that poor Soul he came for to seek out:
He saw 'twas good, that he might work about
His blest Design, himself thus to deny,
And shew a pattern of humility.
His glorious Robes he freely did lay off,
Though thereby made th' object of men's scoff,
Who viewing his despised mean condition,
Welcom'd him with contempt, scorn, and derision:
For 'twas 'ith form of a poor servant he
Appear'd to all, the very low'st degree,
Which amongst all the sons of Adam are
And doth not this still wondrous Love declare!
The people of that Country too I find
To gross mistakes so readily inclin'd,
They judg'd him a poor Carpenters Son born,
And stigmatiz'd him with it in great scorn.
Nay, some affirm he worked at the Trade,
For which they did him mightily upbraid.
How ever this we must to all proclaim,
He that all Riches had, most poor became;
That so the Soul through his sad poverty
Might be enriched to Eternity.
The Foxes of the Earth, and Birds of th' Air
Had more (alas!) than fell unto his share.
In holes the one, in nests the other fed;
But he, (poor he! no where to lay his head.
Not one poor Cottage had this precious King,
Although the rightful Heir of every thing.
The meanest man almost of Adam's Race
Seem'd to be in as good, nay better case,
Respecting outward Wealth and Glory here;
Those things no Price in his affections bear.
Silver and Gold (the Muckworm Wordling's Gods
He knew to be but more refined Clods
Of that same Earth, which he himself had made
Ripe by a Sun, scarce fit to be his shade.
No Mony, doubtless, had this Prince at all
In purse or coffer: for, when some did call
For Cæsars Tribute, then, behold, must he
Dispatch in haste a Servant to the Sea
In an uncertain Fishes mouth to spy
A piece of Coyn (Oh wondrous Treasury!)
With which he straight did Cæsars Tribute pay,
(Though small Engagement on the Children lay
Rather than hee'l be disobedient thought,
To raise the Tax, a Miracle is wrought.
Doth this not with thy present purpose suit?
Ah! yes, it does, but how shal't be exprest?
The grief that seizes on my panting Breast,
My heart into a trembling fit doth fall,
To think how he contemned was of all.
The Savage Monsters did this Prince reject,
And treat him with affronts and disrespect:
When he for them had taken all this pain,
They neither would him know nor entertain:
The very Inn, where first he went to lie,
For to vouchsafe him Lodging did deny.
No Room (alas!) had they; but if 'twere so
He would be there, to th' Stable he must go.
To'th' Stable then goes he contentedly,
Without the least reflection or reply.
The silly Ass, and labouring Ox must be
Companions now to Sacred Royalty;
20
Take up with the Dull-Oxe, and painful Ass,
Who their great Maker and Preserver was;
And in the Manger's forc'd to make his bed,
Without one Pillow to support his Head.
Let Heav'n astonisht, Earth amazed be
At this ungrateful Inhumanity
Let Seas rise up in heaps, and after quit
Their Course, these Barbarous people to affright.
Oh! what a mighty condescention's here!
What story may with this, with this, compare?
Is this the entertainment, they afford!
And this a Palace for so great a Lord!
Is this their kindness to so dear a friend!
Do they him to a filthy Stable send!
Is that a Chamber suiting his Degree!
Or fit the Manger should allotted be,
For him to lay his Glorious Body in,
(Of whom the Prophet saith he knew no Sin?)
Whose footstool's Earth, and Heaven is his Throne,
What ne're a better Bed for such an one!
That has so vast a Journey undertook,
And for their sakes such Glory too forsook!
Is this great Prince with such mean Lodging pleas'd
So that he may of love-sick pains be eas'd!
O what a Lover's this! Almighty Love!
How potently dost thou affections move!
What shall a Prince be thus ore-come by thee,
And brought into contempt to this degree!
21
When 'tis consider'd well and thought upon.
But no less worthy note is it to hear
The manner how this Soveraign did appear.
Was it in Pomp and outward Splendor bright?
Which doth the sensual heart of man invite,
To cast a view, and deep respect to show,
As unto haughty Monarchs here they do:
Like to a Prince, or like himself, did he
His beams display that every eye might see
In his blest Face most radiant Majesty?
No, no, so far was he from being proud,
That he thought fit his Glories all to shroud;
And, like the Sun, invelop'd in a Cloud,
Did vail his Heav'nly Lustre, would not make
Himself of Reputation, for the sake
Of that poor Soul he came for to seek out:
He saw 'twas good, that he might work about
His blest Design, himself thus to deny,
And shew a pattern of humility.
His glorious Robes he freely did lay off,
Though thereby made th' object of men's scoff,
Who viewing his despised mean condition,
Welcom'd him with contempt, scorn, and derision:
For 'twas 'ith form of a poor servant he
Appear'd to all, the very low'st degree,
Which amongst all the sons of Adam are
And doth not this still wondrous Love declare!
The people of that Country too I find
To gross mistakes so readily inclin'd,
22
And stigmatiz'd him with it in great scorn.
Nay, some affirm he worked at the Trade,
For which they did him mightily upbraid.
How ever this we must to all proclaim,
He that all Riches had, most poor became;
That so the Soul through his sad poverty
Might be enriched to Eternity.
The Foxes of the Earth, and Birds of th' Air
Had more (alas!) than fell unto his share.
In holes the one, in nests the other fed;
But he, (poor he! no where to lay his head.
Not one poor Cottage had this precious King,
Although the rightful Heir of every thing.
The meanest man almost of Adam's Race
Seem'd to be in as good, nay better case,
Respecting outward Wealth and Glory here;
Those things no Price in his affections bear.
Silver and Gold (the Muckworm Wordling's Gods
He knew to be but more refined Clods
Of that same Earth, which he himself had made
Ripe by a Sun, scarce fit to be his shade.
No Mony, doubtless, had this Prince at all
In purse or coffer: for, when some did call
For Cæsars Tribute, then, behold, must he
Dispatch in haste a Servant to the Sea
In an uncertain Fishes mouth to spy
A piece of Coyn (Oh wondrous Treasury!)
With which he straight did Cæsars Tribute pay,
(Though small Engagement on the Children lay
23
To raise the Tax, a Miracle is wrought.
But here tis like some may desire to know
The cause why he abas'd himself so low?
The cause why he abas'd himself so low?
The Answer to which Query's very plain;
His Errand so requir'd, if he'd obtain
The Soul, for whom his Country he did leave,
He of his Glory must himself bereave.
'Twas Love that brought him into this disguise,
To come incognito to haughty Eyes,
To lay aside awhile his Robes of State,
And thus in Pilgrims weeds upon her wait:
Without this Form assum'd, these Raggs put on,
The mighty Work could never have been done.
She grov'ling lay below, unable quite
Once to aspire unto his Glorious Sight.
Therefore must he a Garb suitable take
To raise her up, and his dear Consort make;
He must descend, that she might mount above,
And joyn in a fit Entercourse of Love.
So the kind Sun beams do the Dunghil gild,
That it to Heaven may Exalations yeild,
With pregant Show'rs to fertilize the Field.
His Errand so requir'd, if he'd obtain
The Soul, for whom his Country he did leave,
He of his Glory must himself bereave.
'Twas Love that brought him into this disguise,
To come incognito to haughty Eyes,
To lay aside awhile his Robes of State,
And thus in Pilgrims weeds upon her wait:
Without this Form assum'd, these Raggs put on,
The mighty Work could never have been done.
She grov'ling lay below, unable quite
Once to aspire unto his Glorious Sight.
Therefore must he a Garb suitable take
To raise her up, and his dear Consort make;
He must descend, that she might mount above,
And joyn in a fit Entercourse of Love.
So the kind Sun beams do the Dunghil gild,
That it to Heaven may Exalations yeild,
With pregant Show'rs to fertilize the Field.
| CHAP. II. The Glorious Lover | |