Alba. The Months Minde of a Melancholy Lover, diuided into three parts By R. T. Gentleman [i.e. Robert Tofte]. Herevnto is Added a most excellent pathetical and passionate Letter, sent by Duke D'Epernoun, vnto the late French King, Henry the 3. of that name, when he was commanded from the Court, and from his Royall Companie. Translated into English by the foresaid Author |
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Deo, Optimo, Maximo.
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 | Alba. The Months Minde of a Melancholy Lover, diuided into three parts |  |
Deo, Optimo, Maximo.
With Teares in Eyes, with drops of Blood from Hart,
With skalding sighs from inward grieued Soule,
A Convertite, from Vaine Love now I part,
Whilst, for my Sinnes fore Heauen I do condole.
I know, and knowledge I haue liued wrong,
And wilfull sought mine owne Destruction long.
With skalding sighs from inward grieued Soule,
A Convertite, from Vaine Love now I part,
Whilst, for my Sinnes fore Heauen I do condole.
I know, and knowledge I haue liued wrong,
And wilfull sought mine owne Destruction long.
The Temple of my Heauenly GOD I haue,
For earthly Goddesse, stainde blasphemously,
Selling my selfe to Satan for his Slaue,
Whilst I transgrest in vile Apostasie.
Banisht my selfe I haue from Paradize,
Through thriftles Toyes of base-borne Vanities.
For earthly Goddesse, stainde blasphemously,
Selling my selfe to Satan for his Slaue,
Whilst I transgrest in vile Apostasie.
Banisht my selfe I haue from Paradize,
Through thriftles Toyes of base-borne Vanities.
O thou that on swift Cherubins dost ride,
Creator of all Creatures that do liue,
Whose Loue was such as thou for Man hast dide,
Though he thee hated, skorned, and did grieue:
Vouchsafe to view and rue my desprate state,
And me once more from sinne regenerate.
Creator of all Creatures that do liue,
Whose Loue was such as thou for Man hast dide,
Though he thee hated, skorned, and did grieue:
Vouchsafe to view and rue my desprate state,
And me once more from sinne regenerate.
Ah looke vpon me with milde Mercies eye,
Clense me with purest Water of thy Grace:
Remember not how I haue gone awry,
Since I renounce to runne more such a Race,
Ah glorious Spouse, thy Beautie I desire,
For now to Heauen, not Earth, my Thoughts aspire.
Clense me with purest Water of thy Grace:
Remember not how I haue gone awry,
Since I renounce to runne more such a Race,
Ah glorious Spouse, thy Beautie I desire,
For now to Heauen, not Earth, my Thoughts aspire.
Griefe, that was once farre off remou'd from me,
Begins (as now) for to approach me nere,
Clad in his Weedes, which Black and fearfull be,
And crownde with fatall Cypresse doth appeare,
With wringing Hands he doth bewaile my ruth,
And mournes, that I haue straide so wide frō Truth.
Begins (as now) for to approach me nere,
Clad in his Weedes, which Black and fearfull be,
And crownde with fatall Cypresse doth appeare,
With wringing Hands he doth bewaile my ruth,
And mournes, that I haue straide so wide frō Truth.
Reason the Cochman to my wandring Thought,
As in a Christall glasse, doth shew most plaine
My gazing eyes, how I haue fondly wrought,
Spending my Time in Toyes, and Fancies vaine,
He shew'th me now another Nouell Love,
Another path, wherein my feete to moue.
As in a Christall glasse, doth shew most plaine
My gazing eyes, how I haue fondly wrought,
Spending my Time in Toyes, and Fancies vaine,
He shew'th me now another Nouell Love,
Another path, wherein my feete to moue.
As One, who in his Traualle doth espie,
(By chance) a hideous Serpent or foule Snake,
That long before vnseene did closely lie
Behinde some stub, where he his Nest did make,
(Shaking his three-forkt hissing tongue apace)
Quickly himselfe retireth from that place:
(By chance) a hideous Serpent or foule Snake,
That long before vnseene did closely lie
Behinde some stub, where he his Nest did make,
(Shaking his three-forkt hissing tongue apace)
Quickly himselfe retireth from that place:
So I by louing wrong (vnhappie Wight)
Hauing amisse straide long time, and awrie,
When I (at last) of Death had but a sight,
(Although farre off) yet backward, gan I hie:
Backward I came, with hastie speedie foote,
Leauing that Course, which I at first had tooke.
Hauing amisse straide long time, and awrie,
When I (at last) of Death had but a sight,
(Although farre off) yet backward, gan I hie:
Backward I came, with hastie speedie foote,
Leauing that Course, which I at first had tooke.
Thou wandring Spirit, to whom Ioue doth commit
(Of this my Body fraile) the gouernment:
Why, gadding thus from Truth so farre dost flit?
Why, are thine eyes with wilfull blindnes pent?
Why, dost not marke what Danger is at hand?
What damned Death doth at thine elbow stand?
(Of this my Body fraile) the gouernment:
Why, gadding thus from Truth so farre dost flit?
Why, are thine eyes with wilfull blindnes pent?
Why, dost not marke what Danger is at hand?
What damned Death doth at thine elbow stand?
Ah, be not flattred with this poysenous Love,
But call thy former Wits to thee againe:
Those wicked Thoughts roote out, and hence remoue,
Whilst Life in thee to do it doth remaine,
What Mortall is, by mortall Death suppresse,
Thy Gaine shall be the more, thy Losse the lesse.
But call thy former Wits to thee againe:
Those wicked Thoughts roote out, and hence remoue,
Whilst Life in thee to do it doth remaine,
What Mortall is, by mortall Death suppresse,
Thy Gaine shall be the more, thy Losse the lesse.
Heauen once thy Mansion was, and dwelling place,
Now Hell thou seekst by running thus astray,
Vnhappie Soule to be in such a case,
So wilfully to seeke thine owne Decay:
Thou woundst thy selfe, to God a Rebbell th' art,
And only striu'st to please the World in Hart.
Now Hell thou seekst by running thus astray,
Vnhappie Soule to be in such a case,
So wilfully to seeke thine owne Decay:
Thou woundst thy selfe, to God a Rebbell th' art,
And only striu'st to please the World in Hart.
Alas, in whom now dost thou put thy trust?
On whom dost thou relie, or hope on now?
Ah turne, and (still) liue shalt thou with the Iust,
Ah turne againe, and trebble blessed thou:
Thou, then shalt be, whereas the Blessed are,
Pure Soule, mongst Soules, mongst Stars, a brightsome Starre.
On whom dost thou relie, or hope on now?
Ah turne, and (still) liue shalt thou with the Iust,
Ah turne againe, and trebble blessed thou:
Thou, then shalt be, whereas the Blessed are,
Pure Soule, mongst Soules, mongst Stars, a brightsome Starre.
What's God? The Sourse of Goodnes and the Spring
What is that Goodnes? Such a Goodnes sound
As aye increaseth without perishing.
How is it made? In frame and fashion Round,
Like to a Forme that in it doth containe,
His End and his Beginning in the same.
What is that Goodnes? Such a Goodnes sound
As aye increaseth without perishing.
How is it made? In frame and fashion Round,
Like to a Forme that in it doth containe,
His End and his Beginning in the same.
This Goodnes, (first) from whence did it proceede!
Three proper Veines there be, that forth do runne
Out of one sacred Sea, from Heauen decreede,
Which compasse doth, All, what so ere sees Sunne.
Cannot we see it? This Essence most Diuine,
No Mortall Man hath seene at any time.
Three proper Veines there be, that forth do runne
Out of one sacred Sea, from Heauen decreede,
Which compasse doth, All, what so ere sees Sunne.
Cannot we see it? This Essence most Diuine,
No Mortall Man hath seene at any time.
How can it then be, if it neere be seene,
That it our mindes (oft lifteth vp on High,
As if (in Vision we in Heauen had beene?
It makes vs view such Wonders with Faiths eye,
With Faiths cleere eye which shines to vs so bright,
As vnto Heauen it is our Guide and Light.
That it our mindes (oft lifteth vp on High,
As if (in Vision we in Heauen had beene?
It makes vs view such Wonders with Faiths eye,
With Faiths cleere eye which shines to vs so bright,
As vnto Heauen it is our Guide and Light.
What is that Faith? A Gift, which if Defect
In him, that firme beleeueth, be not found,
It blindfold leades him (yet with steps direct)
Vnto that place, where perfect Ioyes abound,
Where God, the Father, Sonne, and Holy Ghost,
Doe raigne in Glorie great, of Mightiest most.
In him, that firme beleeueth, be not found,
It blindfold leades him (yet with steps direct)
Vnto that place, where perfect Ioyes abound,
Where God, the Father, Sonne, and Holy Ghost,
Doe raigne in Glorie great, of Mightiest most.
Thou Life which Life art calde, and yet art Death,
Thou Death, which Death art termde, and yet art Life,
Say; which of you maintaine my vitall breath,
Within this wretched Vale of Worldly strife?
Say, which prolongs my Life, most of you Twaine?
Or thou Life, or thou Death: say both the same.
Thou Death, which Death art termde, and yet art Life,
Say; which of you maintaine my vitall breath,
Within this wretched Vale of Worldly strife?
Say, which prolongs my Life, most of you Twaine?
Or thou Life, or thou Death: say both the same.
I (more then Life) straight Death doth answer make.
Nay, I (quoth Life) farre more then Death, to me,
And for this Cause this only Name I take
Of Life, which by my meanes alone can be.
Because whilst I within thy Body hue,
Death no way can thee hinder, hurt, or grieue.
Nay, I (quoth Life) farre more then Death, to me,
And for this Cause this only Name I take
Of Life, which by my meanes alone can be.
Because whilst I within thy Body hue,
Death no way can thee hinder, hurt, or grieue.
But I, by cutting off Death straight replies)
This slender Thred, whereby Men runne their race,
Bring euery Faithfull soule, in friendly wise,
Where he a better path (for aye) may trace,
Making him leade a Life eternallie,
A Life, that (still) doth liue, and neuer die.
This slender Thred, whereby Men runne their race,
Bring euery Faithfull soule, in friendly wise,
Where he a better path (for aye) may trace,
Making him leade a Life eternallie,
A Life, that (still) doth liue, and neuer die.
Wherefore, what ere he be, that meanes to ioy
This other Life that is Celestiall,
He must not scorne (to scape from worlds annoy)
Nor thinke it much, to come when Death shall call,
For Death nor Life, doth help vs at the end,
Life is our Foe, but Death, our dearest Friend.
This other Life that is Celestiall,
He must not scorne (to scape from worlds annoy)
Nor thinke it much, to come when Death shall call,
For Death nor Life, doth help vs at the end,
Life is our Foe, but Death, our dearest Friend.
All haile, most happie Day in blessed wise,
A Day of Griefe, yet Honorable Day,
In which the Father did (for Sacrifise)
Offer his Sonne, to saue Man from decay:
Clensing our Soules, defilde with sinfull mud,
With Innocent, with pure and pretious Blood.
A Day of Griefe, yet Honorable Day,
In which the Father did (for Sacrifise)
Offer his Sonne, to saue Man from decay:
Clensing our Soules, defilde with sinfull mud,
With Innocent, with pure and pretious Blood.
Vpon that Crosse (now sacred) then Prophane,
He did for vs, who could not dye indeede:
Whilst closing his fayre eyes for Mortals gaine,
He opened all the Gates of Heauen with speede:
Restoring them that Kingdome we had lost,
VVhich nothing, Vs, but Him, too dearly cost.
He did for vs, who could not dye indeede:
Whilst closing his fayre eyes for Mortals gaine,
He opened all the Gates of Heauen with speede:
Restoring them that Kingdome we had lost,
VVhich nothing, Vs, but Him, too dearly cost.
Not his, but our Due, was it, for to Die;
Those Torments which he meekly did endure,
His Crowne of Thornes, his Wounds done spitefully;
That Cursed Scourge that spilt his Blood so pure;
All these, to Vs, and not to him, did long,
Yet for our sakes, our Christ himselfe did wrong.
Those Torments which he meekly did endure,
His Crowne of Thornes, his Wounds done spitefully;
That Cursed Scourge that spilt his Blood so pure;
All these, to Vs, and not to him, did long,
Yet for our sakes, our Christ himselfe did wrong.
Then if for pitie, Graues do open wide,
Hils cleaue, and Marble pillars rent in twaine:
If Heauens themselues, their Lights for griefe do hide,
And if the Sunne for sorow clipst remaine:
VVhat Mortall hart is there that doth not breake,
VVhen he but thinks, or of this Day doth speake?
Hils cleaue, and Marble pillars rent in twaine:
If Heauens themselues, their Lights for griefe do hide,
And if the Sunne for sorow clipst remaine:
VVhat Mortall hart is there that doth not breake,
VVhen he but thinks, or of this Day doth speake?
That Vertue through whose power rulde is my soule;
(Only through Vertuous Loue, from Loue set free)
Takes force afresh as one that would controule:
And finding strong himselfe within to bee,
Vnbridled Will he seekes to bridle now,
And tries to breake what fore he scarce could bow.
(Only through Vertuous Loue, from Loue set free)
Takes force afresh as one that would controule:
And finding strong himselfe within to bee,
Vnbridled Will he seekes to bridle now,
And tries to breake what fore he scarce could bow.
New Lords, new Lawes; New Customes breake the Olde,
And where before a dark and mistie clowde,
My minde as in a prison did infolde,
Now is it loosde from out that gloomie shrowde,
My Hart doth iump euen iust with his desire,
And by their Eye know both what to require.
And where before a dark and mistie clowde,
My minde as in a prison did infolde,
Now is it loosde from out that gloomie shrowde,
My Hart doth iump euen iust with his desire,
And by their Eye know both what to require.
My watchfull Soule recouered hath well nie,
The former state in which he liued in:
And being free, doth call to memorie,
VVhat (bound) he did forget through wretched sin,
VVhilst for his life repentant he attends,
Immortally to liue for his amends.
The former state in which he liued in:
And being free, doth call to memorie,
VVhat (bound) he did forget through wretched sin,
VVhilst for his life repentant he attends,
Immortally to liue for his amends.
Not any part there is of Bodie mine,
But filled is with true, not false Delight:
Yet doth it grieue still at her former Crime,
And with Remorse doth mortifie the Spright,
VVhilst wronged Soule, on Others layes the blame,
Yet reprehends her selfe euen for the same.
But filled is with true, not false Delight:
Yet doth it grieue still at her former Crime,
And with Remorse doth mortifie the Spright,
VVhilst wronged Soule, on Others layes the blame,
Yet reprehends her selfe euen for the same.
This earthly Beautie doth the Sence delight,
But Heauenly Beautie doth the minde more please:
The one the World hath as an Obiect right,
And seekes the World to pleasure with sweet ease:
But th' other hath Iehouah for hir glasse,
Nor she for any but for him doth passe.
But Heauenly Beautie doth the minde more please:
The one the World hath as an Obiect right,
And seekes the World to pleasure with sweet ease:
But th' other hath Iehouah for hir glasse,
Nor she for any but for him doth passe.
The Sence doth burne with Loues vnperfect works.
Which like a blaze in th' aire doth flit away:
The Soule thirsts after that which neuer hurts,
And hunts for that which neuer will decay:
That, which not subiect is to any time,
But of it selfe most Perfect and Diuine.
Which like a blaze in th' aire doth flit away:
The Soule thirsts after that which neuer hurts,
And hunts for that which neuer will decay:
That, which not subiect is to any time,
But of it selfe most Perfect and Diuine.
Thou (Lord) the Mortall and Immortall both
Created hast, marke humbly I require,
How much within my bodie they be wroth;
Marke how within me, gainst me they conspire
VVithin themselues they vary so and grudge,
That which of both shall win us hard to iudge.
Created hast, marke humbly I require,
How much within my bodie they be wroth;
Marke how within me, gainst me they conspire
VVithin themselues they vary so and grudge,
That which of both shall win us hard to iudge.
My bad Conceits from Adam sprung of yore,
Doo headlong runne to endles death with shame:
And lesse that Reason do them bridle sore,
Hardly my Soule can passe from whence it came.
Then pardon Lord the Course that I haue runne,
And I from Sinne a new Man will become.
Doo headlong runne to endles death with shame:
And lesse that Reason do them bridle sore,
Hardly my Soule can passe from whence it came.
Then pardon Lord the Course that I haue runne,
And I from Sinne a new Man will become.
A Tirant great, faire Beautie is in Loue,
When it doth triumph in a louely face:
And who with cold Disdaine, this doth not moue,
Is caught by subtill sweet alluring Grace:
Who stands at Beauties Gaze, and doth not flie,
Is soone entrapt by wilfull glancing eye.
When it doth triumph in a louely face:
And who with cold Disdaine, this doth not moue,
Is caught by subtill sweet alluring Grace:
Who stands at Beauties Gaze, and doth not flie,
Is soone entrapt by wilfull glancing eye.
This which of true Loue is but Picture bare,
With shadowing Vale doth dimme our cleerest sight:
And if to follow it we do not spare,
It soone deceiues vs with a false delight,
And to perpetuall prison sends our soule,
Vnles her sleights by Reason we controule.
With shadowing Vale doth dimme our cleerest sight:
And if to follow it we do not spare,
It soone deceiues vs with a false delight,
And to perpetuall prison sends our soule,
Vnles her sleights by Reason we controule.
Faire Pearle, fine gold, base excrements of th' earth;
Whats Beautie but a little White and Red?
Reuiued with a little liuely Breath,
With Winde, or Sunne, or Sicknes altered?
All this doth Time consume and bring to nought,
And all what ere into this world is brought.
Whats Beautie but a little White and Red?
Reuiued with a little liuely Breath,
With Winde, or Sunne, or Sicknes altered?
All this doth Time consume and bring to nought,
And all what ere into this world is brought.
The fairest Colours drie and vanish shall;
The yongst must pack as well as doth the Olde:
All mortall things to mortall death must fall,
And therefore first were cast in earthly molde.
That which doth florish greene as grasse to day,
To morow withereth like to dried Hay.
The yongst must pack as well as doth the Olde:
All mortall things to mortall death must fall,
And therefore first were cast in earthly molde.
That which doth florish greene as grasse to day,
To morow withereth like to dried Hay.
Swift flies our yeares as doth a running streame,
And lothed Age comes stealing on apace:
Our youth doth passe away as twere a Dreame,
And Death doth follow for to take his place:
Death comes, and our Lifes patent to his hand
For to resigne, he straight doth vs command.
And lothed Age comes stealing on apace:
Our youth doth passe away as twere a Dreame,
And Death doth follow for to take his place:
Death comes, and our Lifes patent to his hand
For to resigne, he straight doth vs command.
Strength to his course, and winde vnto his flight,
VVith feathers to his wings, Time ioyneth fast:
And this sweet life which we so much do like,
Though nere so loth, yet must away at last.
The fairest Flower must wither with the weede,
VVhat so doth liue, to die was first decreede.
VVith feathers to his wings, Time ioyneth fast:
And this sweet life which we so much do like,
Though nere so loth, yet must away at last.
The fairest Flower must wither with the weede,
VVhat so doth liue, to die was first decreede.
Thrise happie man and trebble blest is he,
That neuer treads his steps from rightest way,
Nor with the mist of VVorld will blinded be:
But keepes right path, and neuer goes astray:
Contemning all these mundaine Treasures base,
In hope to ioy the heauenly Wealth of Grace.
That neuer treads his steps from rightest way,
Nor with the mist of VVorld will blinded be:
But keepes right path, and neuer goes astray:
Contemning all these mundaine Treasures base,
In hope to ioy the heauenly Wealth of Grace.
VVho dyeth ill, dyes; who dieth well, neuer dies,
But liues a life aboue Eternallie:
Like good Elias, who in wondrous wise,
VVas from base Earth tooke vp to liue in skie:
VVhere bide Th' elect of Christ for euer blest,
In Abrahams bosome there for aye to rest.
But liues a life aboue Eternallie:
Like good Elias, who in wondrous wise,
VVas from base Earth tooke vp to liue in skie:
VVhere bide Th' elect of Christ for euer blest,
In Abrahams bosome there for aye to rest.
For thee my Hart doth burne like fire (Deare Lord)
Which freesde before like Frost and chillie Ice,
For thee to leaue my sinne I doe accord;
Through which thy heauenly grace I did despise.
All Follies now, as Shadowes vaine Ile leaue,
And vnto thee (the Substance trew) I cleaue.
Which freesde before like Frost and chillie Ice,
For thee to leaue my sinne I doe accord;
Through which thy heauenly grace I did despise.
All Follies now, as Shadowes vaine Ile leaue,
And vnto thee (the Substance trew) I cleaue.
In thee I burne, and in my selfe I freese,
Frozen through feare, but burning through thy Loue,
Reason ore Senses mine, now ouersees:
And her Authoritie ore them doth proue.
Which makes me humbly call to thee for grace,
Though (proud) before I runne a selfe wild race.
Frozen through feare, but burning through thy Loue,
Reason ore Senses mine, now ouersees:
And her Authoritie ore them doth proue.
Which makes me humbly call to thee for grace,
Though (proud) before I runne a selfe wild race.
Repentance right, sad Griefe, salt Teares, sure Faith,
Renue in me a sorie Contrite Hart:
My guiltie Conscience oft within me saith,
I Death deserue, yet Mercifull thou art:
Sighs from my soule I offer for my Fee,
As pretious Blood thou offredst once for mee.
Renue in me a sorie Contrite Hart:
My guiltie Conscience oft within me saith,
I Death deserue, yet Mercifull thou art:
Sighs from my soule I offer for my Fee,
As pretious Blood thou offredst once for mee.
My Hart now clensde (and yet not mine as now)
Sweet Christ to thee his first Home turnes againe,
From me he slies, and vnto thee doth bow:
I giue it thee, Accept I pray the same.
Ah Soueraigne Sauiour, do not now despise
A broken Hart, for pleasing Sacrifise.
Sweet Christ to thee his first Home turnes againe,
From me he slies, and vnto thee doth bow:
I giue it thee, Accept I pray the same.
Ah Soueraigne Sauiour, do not now despise
A broken Hart, for pleasing Sacrifise.
Weake is my Barke in which my Life doth rowe,
My wretched life, through grieuous faults mispent,
And in the World (his Ocean) sayles but slowe,
Because it falles into the Occident:
My sickly Minde runnes selfe same doubtfull way,
And Soule doth grieue that Fancie do doth stray.
My wretched life, through grieuous faults mispent,
And in the World (his Ocean) sayles but slowe,
Because it falles into the Occident:
My sickly Minde runnes selfe same doubtfull way,
And Soule doth grieue that Fancie do doth stray.
And though a gentle calmie Winde to blowe,
She findes about her, as she fresh doth sayle,
Yet vnder Waters doe I spie belowe,
The Foe of my poore Soule her to assayle:
And in that part wherein he doth espie
The Ship to leake, in that he close doth lie.
She findes about her, as she fresh doth sayle,
Yet vnder Waters doe I spie belowe,
The Foe of my poore Soule her to assayle:
And in that part wherein he doth espie
The Ship to leake, in that he close doth lie.
Ah, now it grieues me, now I doe repent
My retchlesse Race, that I so lewde haue runne,
Yet hath my God in mercie to me sent
Helpe to my Vessell weake, else I vndone:
Hope at the left hand standes, that part to guide,
And constant Faith on right hand doth abide.
My retchlesse Race, that I so lewde haue runne,
Yet hath my God in mercie to me sent
Helpe to my Vessell weake, else I vndone:
Hope at the left hand standes, that part to guide,
And constant Faith on right hand doth abide.
Earth was my flesh before, and earth againe
Ere long it shall be, but my Soule on hie,
Shall be lift vp in brightest Heauens to raigne,
If I from false alluring Sinne can flie:
When at his feete, who first life to me gaue,
A Glorious Seat for euer I shall haue.
Ere long it shall be, but my Soule on hie,
Shall be lift vp in brightest Heauens to raigne,
If I from false alluring Sinne can flie:
When at his feete, who first life to me gaue,
A Glorious Seat for euer I shall haue.
Full 7. times foure of yeeres my life hath runne,
Whil'st to my selfe a heauy Burthen sore,
To others I a gainelesse charge become,
Soyled with beastly Thoughts vncleanly gore:
Whil'st in true Light being blind I farther goe
From Reasons path which Iudgement did me show.
Whil'st to my selfe a heauy Burthen sore,
To others I a gainelesse charge become,
Soyled with beastly Thoughts vncleanly gore:
Whil'st in true Light being blind I farther goe
From Reasons path which Iudgement did me show.
Slow to good works, but too too swift to ill,
My Soule abroad with flitting wings doth flie,
And in the worlds darke bottom of Selfe will,
Mongst 1000. Snares she carelesly doth lie.
Where sensuall Sense and Ignorance astray
Her doubtfull leades, quight out of her right way.
My Soule abroad with flitting wings doth flie,
And in the worlds darke bottom of Selfe will,
Mongst 1000. Snares she carelesly doth lie.
Where sensuall Sense and Ignorance astray
Her doubtfull leades, quight out of her right way.
Too obstinate she headlong forward runnes,
In greatest Light she tumbleth in most darke,
Nor takes she thought what of her selfe becomes,
Be it right or wrong her course she doth not marke:
So that although immortall she should liue,
Most mortall Death she seekes her selfe to giue.
In greatest Light she tumbleth in most darke,
Nor takes she thought what of her selfe becomes,
Be it right or wrong her course she doth not marke:
So that although immortall she should liue,
Most mortall Death she seekes her selfe to giue.
But now thanks to the Soueraigne King of all,
She (no more blinde) the dangers gins to spie,
And looking backe vnto her former fall,
She doth repent through faith most heartily:
Where she doth see of Heauen the narrow Gate,
Which (once) was shut, now ope for her escape.
She (no more blinde) the dangers gins to spie,
And looking backe vnto her former fall,
She doth repent through faith most heartily:
Where she doth see of Heauen the narrow Gate,
Which (once) was shut, now ope for her escape.
King of all Kinges which from thy sacred Throne,
Doest marke and view from forth the Heauens hie,
Thy Graces vnto Adams Ofspring showne,
Of thy great Loue (although vnworthilie)
Thou that do'st fill with true Delight the minde,
With true Delight, wherein true Ioy we finde.
Doest marke and view from forth the Heauens hie,
Thy Graces vnto Adams Ofspring showne,
Of thy great Loue (although vnworthilie)
Thou that do'st fill with true Delight the minde,
With true Delight, wherein true Ioy we finde.
Behold how I, ore'laid with grieuous sinne,
With Soule defil'd, with Heart infected sore,
Doe flie to thee, thy Mercie for to winne,
And with Repentance doe my faultes deplore:
Lord if thy Lawes and thee I haue offended,
Let mine old Follies, with new Teares be cleansed.
With Soule defil'd, with Heart infected sore,
Doe flie to thee, thy Mercie for to winne,
And with Repentance doe my faultes deplore:
Lord if thy Lawes and thee I haue offended,
Let mine old Follies, with new Teares be cleansed.
My Sorrowes, to my Sinnes are sparkes but small,
So loathsome they appeare vnto my sight;
On thee, I at thy Gate of Pittie call,
Thou art the Flame that canst them purge most bright.
The Bellowes is Amendements pure desire,
Which doth inflame through thy hotte louing Fire.
So loathsome they appeare vnto my sight;
On thee, I at thy Gate of Pittie call,
Thou art the Flame that canst them purge most bright.
The Bellowes is Amendements pure desire,
Which doth inflame through thy hotte louing Fire.
Let thy great Bountie me forget, forgiue,
And bad Conceites that idle Fancies wrought,
Let them no more within me (working) liue,
But to Confusion and Contempt be brought:
Oh let not Sinne my Soule still Satanise,
But with thy Spirit the same imparadise.
And bad Conceites that idle Fancies wrought,
Let them no more within me (working) liue,
But to Confusion and Contempt be brought:
Oh let not Sinne my Soule still Satanise,
But with thy Spirit the same imparadise.
| Alba. The Months Minde of a Melancholy Lover, diuided into three parts | |