Miscellaneous works of George Wither

The Authors musings here are shown
The Night, ere ought, to him was known
Of Westrowes death; whereof, the Morrow
Assur'd him, to his greater sorrow;
Then, that which he hath more to say,
Is put off, to another day.

Twas midnight; and, I had my self undrest,
In hope, the nights remainder, for my rest
Had been allowd; and, in that hope, all those
Distractings, which my Minde might discompose
Quite threw aside, and hastned to the place,
Where, that refreshment, offer'd an embrace.
But, in sleeps posture, ere I down was laid,
A Thought within my heart, start up, and said,
Westrowe, thy best, and most deserving Friend,
Lies feeble, and approaching to his end,
By thee unvisited (though two days, now
Are past, since of his weakness thou didst know)
How, canst thou answer, such a grosse neglecting,
Of one, so well, so truly thee affecting?

A second Thought thus answer'd thereunto,
(To make amends) to morrow I will go

In hope (since I, for this neglect am griev'd)
A just excuse, will kindly be receiv'd;
And, that love reall, shall not through defect
That's accidental, suffer by suspect.

To morrow, said a third thought, comes too late;
His Lifes Commission, is quite out of date;
And, that, which might have been enjoy'd to day,
Is, by procrastination, lost for aye.
Thou, too too long, thy purpose hast forbore,
And, never now, shalt hear, or see him more.
Yet, be not grieved, that it happens thus,
For, he is safe: And, as good Lazarus
Lost nothing, by a sickness unto death,
Save only that suspention of his breath
For some few days, which did a means provide,
Whereby, both GOD, and he, were glorifide
In greater measure; so, it may, be thou,
Shalt hereby, have occasions offered, now,
Of that, whereby, hereafter may be made
Advantages, which could not else be had.

Advantages! cride out, another Thought,
Alas! what good effect can forth be brought
By such an Accident, if I shall hear
That, to be true, which yet, is but my fear?
How can my pretermission ought produce
Of any future comfortable use?
Or, to what likely profitable end,
Can such a comfortles privation tend?

In Fancies Tennescourt, thus, to and fro
My Thoughts were tost, and plaid at hazzard so,
That very much distemper'd I became,
With that unlook'd for, and unpleasing game.
Their silent Dialogue made such impressions
Upon my heart, and so inhanc'd my passion
That, all the night ensuing they did keep
My mind on him, and bard mine eyes from sleep.

I, likewise, have so frequently perceiv'd
My souls presagings true, that I beleev'd
This sad surmize; and thereon did proceed
To muse, as if he had been dead indeed
And buried too. From whence, broak in upon me,
Such apprehensions of the Favours done me,
And of his kindnesses in my oppressions,
That, they exacted from me those confessions
Which in the following pages wil ensue
To give, what to his memory is due.

Dear GOD! if humane mercy so indears
So sweet, so pretious, if that Love appears
(And so obliging) which enjoy'd may be
By Creatures! what is that, which flows from thee?
If, little sparklings, may beget a flame,
What may be thought of that, from whence they came?
And, why from him should not my soul ascend
To clasp thy love, oh my Eternal Friend!
Who wert, and art, and wilt continue so,
When all the World shall into nothing go!
Some will at first, perhaps, with prejudice
Peruse, what in this Poeme I expresse,
On this Occasion; judging, that, hereby
I, somewhat would, beyond the verity,
Insinuate; to make small things, appear
More in the show, than they in substance are.
But they shall see at last, that, I pursue
My Theame no farther than I make it true:
And, bear me witnes, ere this hath an end,
That, I have done but what becomes a Friend:
That, real cause, occasion'd my unrest:
And, that, of him, my thoughts are here exprest,
Without hyperbo es; without devising
Or adding, what the World calls Poetizing:
And, that, I rather put upon the score
Lesse, then I ow his memory, then more.

But, to the matter: being full of grief,
By what my fear had rais'd up to belief,
To say, within myself, I thus began;
Westrowe, that noble single hearted man,
Whom GOD, had in a time of need bestown
To be my friend, is now no more his own.
Alas! nor mine: Westrowe, that heretofore,
Was, to the Widdow, Fatherless, and poor,
A Husband, Friend, and Father, them to feed,
To cloath and harbor, in the time of need.
Westrowe, GODS faithfull Almner; he, from whom
No needy soul, who for relief did come,
Went empty (if his needines requir'd,
Undoubtedly, the succor he deserv'd)
And, then, as GOD doth, he did alms bestow
Upon the good, and bad, on friend, and Foe.
Yea, and when none did ask, what he could grant,
Sought where to find out those, who stood in want:
And, often, was directed unto them,
By Providence, in acceptable time.
That Westrowe, now, hath left us to bemoan
Our losses. For thereby, he can have none.
Nor meant us any: But, is gone away
That, our contentment, he make perfect may
By his well-being, in a safe possessing,
His portion, in an everlasting Blessing:
And, that, we may look off, from him, to heed
His Love, from whom, all mercies do proceed.

Westrowe is gone, and we remaining have
No more of him, but what is in his Grave:
There, now, he resteth, and exchanged hath
Life mortifide, for an inlivening death.
And, him I do behold in contemplation,
So represented, by transfiguration,
As having laid that earthly vail aside
(Which from the World, his better parts did hide)

That, I will now disclose them; therefore, stay
And, know him Reader, ere thou go away.

Nor few, nor mean Advantages he had
Relating to this life, But, these were made
Of small account, with him; and, used so,
As if with them, he little had to do,
Except, for others sakes: For, he denide
Himself, to all things, but, Christ crucifide;
And, in respect of him, plac'd those among
Such despicable things, as drosse and dung;
Ile therefore, let them pass, to be forgot;
And, will not mention, what he prized not.

He, living, walk'd upright, in crooked ways,
And, chose the best part, in the worst of days.
He, dying, cheerfully, himself denide,
That (being thereby wholly nudifide
From all that was his own), he might be clothd,
With what he lov'd, instead of what he lothd,
And, he that can throw off, such Rags as these,
Shall find himself, exceedingly at ease.

How, can I know this, some, perhaps, may say,
If he be dead, and I now far away:
Thus; when I saw him last, I, saw him then
Himself undressing, from that bane of men
Self-love, and selfness; and I know, he never
Would fall from his intention, and endevour,
Till that were done. For, I was always neer him,
In spirit, though, I did not see, nor hear him.
We did communicate (when not by quill,
Or with our tongues) in spirit, and in will
As Angels do: yea, many times, when we
In words and terms, appear'd to disagree,
(Because of that defect which is in those)
Ev'n then, in will, and spirit, we did close:
And, they whom such experiments acquaints
With that communion which belongs to Saints

Do know, that men may credibly aver,
Sometimes, what they did neither see, nor hear:
And, worthy my regard it doth not seem,
What, others, of this mistery shall deem.

This confidence of Him, is but the same
Which he exprest of me, when last I came
To visit him; at which time, I receiv'd
Assurance, of what is of him beleev'd:
For, these, the last words were, vvhich from his tongue,
I heard; and, they, from this occasion sprung.

I told him, that I might be faulty judg'd,
(Considering how to him I was oblig'd)
That, nor by conversation, nor by pen,
I, lately had with him, (like other men)
My thoughts communicated, but persu'd
My own Affairs, as if to be renu'd,
Our Friendship, needed not those complements
VVhich discontinance of respect prevents.

To such effect I spake; whereto, he gave
This answer (which I oft repeated have
VVith much contentment;) trouble not thy self,
VVith needless things, we are now past the shelf,
That ship-wracks friendship. That, which seems neglect
To others; and begets a dis-respect,
Secures you more to me, then if you had
Left your affairs at hazzard; visits made;
And added to your frequent visitations,
Acknowledgements of Debts, and Obligations
As others do: It would not give me more
Assurance of you, than I had before.
For, my own heart, hath so informed me,
Of what you are; and what you shall be
VVith an assurance, so undubitable,
(And everlastingly irrevocable)
That, whatsoever shall of you be told,
(Though we each other never more behold

Nor line comes from you) I, shall live, and dye,
More confident, of your sincerity
Then, if it were expressed every day,
By all that you, or other men could say.
These words (though mine) give, really, the sence,
Wherein, he did express his confidence:
In this sence, his last words to me he spoke;
And, so, my everlasting leave I took.

I think, it may inferred be, from hence,
Things may be known, beyond the reach of sence,
Without corporall presence; and that we
Of some things, though but part of them we see,
May know the rest: He, that doth see me go,
And hear me speak, may, without question, know
That, I have heart, and lungs; although his eye
Ne'r saw them, or the place in which they lye:
And, he, that knows but what he hears, and sees,
Is from a beast removed so few degrees,
That, I shall mention unto him, in vain
What to the Saints communion doth pertain.
Only to those I, therefore will proceed,
To speak, who can beleeve, as well read:

To be, he rather labor'd, then to seem;
And, sought his honor in self-disesteem.
He wanted not repute, of being good,
Save, where his meaning was misunderstood;
Which seldom hapned, but where prepossession
Gain'd entrance, by a mis begot suspition,
And what he suffered by it, did produce,
Effects, which were to him of some good use:
And such as gave sometimes occasions, too,
Of that, which good to other men will do.

Such, as did know him well, knew none to be
A truer Friend, or better man then he.
He, by youths frailties, learned to improve
In riper years, th'increase of Faith, and Love;

And, by his life, exemplified that,
Of which the Formalist, doth only prate.

His Charity, was large; yet, what he did
As much as might be, he from others hid.
For, often, his misdoings, he would tell,
But, seldom mention, wherein, he did well.
He took more comfort, in a needfull giving,
Then pleasure, in large benefits receiving.
And (liking not their thrift, who do defer
Almsdeeds, until their treasures useless are
Unto themselves) he did, by timely giving,
Forgiving, and a seasonable relieving,
Shew, he beleev'd, that, thereby leave he shall,
More to his childe, then if he left him all.
And, that, he fear'd, should he not fructifie,
(When, in his hungry members, Christ, pass'd by)
Till, that which may be call'd his own time, came,
He, and the cursed figtree, were the same.

He, in his judgment, joyned not in one,
With some good men: But, disagreed with none
So far, as to infringe the band of peace;
Or, hinder Christian charities increase:
Because, he knew, the wisest, here belowe,
Know but in part, the things they ought to know:
And, that, to clear his sight, GOD, now and then,
Did leave a darkness upon other men;
Yea, and sometimes a frowardness, to prove
And exercise, his patience, and his love.

The Christian liberty, he did profess,
Without allowing of licentiousness.
He, labour'd, that, the Conscience might be free,
From force, (yea though depravd it seem'd to be)
Because, he saw more hypocrites thereby
Then Converts made; and, that hypocrisie
Is worse then error; For, it seldom burns,
For Conscience; and, to GOD, as rarely turns.

Beeause likewise, he was not without fears,
That, some, who burn'd in zeal, to weed out tares,
Might purposely, or causually, instead
Of that which they pretended forth to weed,
Either pluck up the wheat, or do it hurt,
By careless treading it, into the durt.
For, hardly, can distinguishment be made
Twixt Ray, and Wheat, when they are in the blade.
Moreover, since the owner of the Corn,
Commanded, that such weeds should be forborn
Till Harvest, to assent, he was afraid,
That, this Commandment should be disobaid,
Lest, to himself, he might contract the guilt
Of blood, that may be innocently spilt.
And, from this tendernes, some took offence,
Not justly given, or arising thence.

If, he sometimes, did put himself to trouble,
By vainly building, with wood, straw, or stubble,
(As all men do) which quite away consumes
To nothing, when the fiery tryall comes;
The losse was his, which only did redound
To losse, of what, was better lost, then found.
He was but man; and man at best, is light,
And must have grains allow'd to make him weight.
As he had fallings, and his humane failings,
So he had also risings, and prevailings;
And all GODS Saints have lesse advantag'd been,
By their own righteousnes, then by their sin:
For, both must be disclaim'd, and they brook worst,
And find it hardest, to renounce the first.

He, by stil cleaving to the true foundation,
(And gratious Author of our preservation)
Found himself safe, when all those works were gone,
Which he had vainly builded thereupon.
And was well pleas'd to see that turn'd to smoke,
Wherein, he, formerly had pleasure took.

Which, were it heeded well, would (sans all doubt)
Conclude those Quarrels, which arise about
Our superstructures, and must be denide
As useles, when by fire they shall be tride.

To truth essentiall, he did firm adhear
Although sometimes, in termes, he did appear
To leave it: And, when thither he retired,
Where, he in quiet privacy, expired;
His mind, he so compos'd, did so confute
All self-mistakings, by a self-dispute;
And, so examined, and so repented,
All, whereto by mistakes he had assented,
Unwarrantably (whether, it related
To ought which had been publickly debated,
Or privately, For Church, or Common-weal.
For GOD or men.) And, there, so setled all
His Interests; that with a quiet mind,
He did enjoy the peace, he sought to find;
And, unto GOD, a resignation made,
Of will, opinions, and of all he had:
Even of his selfnes; and therein, found more
Enjoyment, then, in all the world before.

His body, was consumed, by the zeal
He bore to GODS house, and this common-weal,
(And, by foreseeing, that he might outlive,
The honour of that Representative
(Of which he was a Member, For, when he
And I, our thoughts confer'd, we might foresee,
That, in a shott time (as my muse foretold,
Some moneths before it came) that happen would
Which now is come to passe, although those few,
Who to the Publike Interest were true,
Had neither counsel, nor endeavour spar'd,
To help keep off the mischief that was fear'd,
Ere, therefore, actually it did ensue.
Tir'de out, with vain endeav'rings, he withdrew.

A place for his retirement he had chose,
Near to the Banks of Thame, where backward flows,
The Tide at highest, up against the stream;
That, he might neither be too far from them,
To whom he had Relations, nor too nigh
To such as might disturb his privacy.
There, what he could not other wayes promote,
He sought to further by a zealous Vote.
There, private prayers, offered he at home,
That, GOD himself would (for the time to come)
Assume the Work, and call in those thereto
Who, might accomplish, what they could not do.

The World, thus left He er'e it him forsook:
Against the Flesh, the Spirits part he took;
And by their combatings, attain'd to have
A Resurrection, er'e he had a Grave.
But, lo, their long fought Battel now is past,
The Spirit triumphs, and the flesh, at last
By yeelding to be conquered, hath won,
More, then by being victor, it had done;
And now is lodg'd, in her withdrawing-room,
To rest, untill the triumph-day shall come.

There, from its labors, let it therefore, cease;
There, let it lye in hope, and rest in peace,
Till, to a better life, that Flesh, and we,
Rais'd by a second Resurrection be.
There to appear, where we shall fully know
What is but darkly, apprehended now:
Where, we shall see the root of all those things,
Whence flow our needless bitter Quarrellings;
And, where, accordingly we shall receive,
To what we acted, or, as we beleeve.

Oh! come LORD JESUS come, and fetch us thither;
Gather thy Saints, and chosen-ones together;
And, mean time, in that Saint be glorifi'd
For whose commemoration I provide.

By thine, and their examples, who do follow
Their steps, oh! so inform us, how to hallow
Our hearts, so cleanse our hands, and guide our feet,
That, they now gone before, and we may meet.
Thou, that art both our life, and way thereto;
That open door, through which we are to go:
A Fountain alwayes flowing, to refresh
The thirsting Spirit, and the fainting Flesh;
Supply unto us, by thy Holy Ghost,
What, by our selves, and others, we have lost.
O thou! who (being GOD'S eternal Son,)
To free us, from a dungeon, leftst a Throne,
And, underneath his heavy wrath didst lye
Till thou crid'st out Lamasabaklhani.
To Heav'nly joyes, convert our earthly greef;
Decrease our doubtings, and increase Beleef;
Our carnal love, improve to love divine,
Till our Affections loose themselves in thine?
Oh! let that Love, from whence all beings flow,
Which made all things above, and all below:
Whose Wisdom, did first set them in their way,
Whose Providence, preserv'd them to this day,
And shall hereafter, govern and dispose,
That which keeps Order, and that, which misgoes,
Oh! hasten to perfection! hasten on,
The work intended, ere the world begun;
And, let that Glory, which produce it shall,
Be his (and his alone) that's All in All.

Thus, mused I, or, much (if not the same,)
To this effect, before the morning came.
These contemplations, ere I knew him dead,
By thinking on my Friend, conceiv'd I had,
Which afterward, in words, thus, up I drest;
To leave it thereby, vocally exprest,
What penance, I was put to, for omitting
A duty, my obligements well befitting

Then, as the dawning Light began to creep
About my Chamber, I fell fast asleep.

Next day, (no longer meaning to defer
A Visit, but till means prepared were)
I, meeting with a Friend of his and mine,
Informed him, what, I did predivine;
What I had suffered, what, I have done,
With what, I had that day resolv'd upon;
And, to prevent it, was assur'd by him,
That, my Presagings, were no idle dream;
For, he was dead indeed, and on the morrow
To be interr'd; which did renew my sorrow,
And, reingage me, further to pursue
What, to his pious Memory is due.

For, there is much behind, as yet unsaid;
Which, being truly known, and duly weighd,
Will add a fairer lustre to his Fame;
Not without some reflectings, to my shame,
For, leaving him, without a Valediction,
Who was so true a Friend in my affliction.

Assoon therefore, as I have gotten leisure,
What's yet remaining, forth in Words, to measure
Expect it; and in pawn thereof, (till I,
Shall to your view expose it) let this lye;
With this ensuing Epitaph, till He
Shall honour'd, by a better musing be.

The EPITAPH.

His GRAVE (though he desired none
With Name, or Title thereupon)
Was made below this Marble stone?
And, here, interred, now, He lies,
To wait CHRISTS coming in the Skies,
At whose approach the DEAD shall rise.

Yet, seek not here, among the DEAD,
(On stones, or brass, or sheets of Lead)
What, to his honour may be read:
But, if you more of him, would hear,
Peruse the sheets, whose Forefronts bear
His NAME inscribed; and read him, there,
For though that MONUMENT be built
Without cost, graving, paint, or guilt,
It shall remain, when this is spilt:
Yea, though it hath but paper wings,
It shall out last, those lasting things,
Which, make up Monuments for KINGS.

University of Virginia Library

The first CANTO.

The EPITAPH.