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The Church Militant

Historically Continued from the Yeare of Our Saviours Incarnation 33. untill this present, 1640: By William Vaughan

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TO THE RIGHT HONOVRABLE RICHARD, EARLE OF Carbery.
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TO THE RIGHT HONOVRABLE RICHARD, EARLE OF Carbery.

The Argument.

The Authour here my Noble Lord acquaints
What Paths they tread who lead the lives of Saints,
What Comforts he shall finde, what good successe,
While he walks in the New-mans Diocesse.
I sound nor forth Old Souldours turn'd to Swine
By Harlots Charmes, by fulsome Cheere or Wine;
But the New-borne (a Theame to Worldlings strange)
I sing the Minds more then the Bodies Change;


I sing the Churches Change, Eclipse, Decrease,
Her East, and West, with her Full Moones Encrease.
Such Newes I blaze, which no good Protestant
Shall justly taxe for Sparkes exorbitant,
Like to those Brats expos'd to Brambles Flame
By Midwives Doome to hide the Parents shame,
Or those, for which of late our Pauls Church-yard
And Smith-field in the Spoiles with Vulcan shar'd.
Truth smites the Chast: while Wantons long to heare
False Tales, at which they Nod, or fondly Jeere,
Fooling away the Time, their pretious Time,
Lent them for better use in Prose or Rime,
To win some Strayes by meanes of Vertuous Books,
Not Soules to tempt with Fornications Hookes.
There, with much Gall Gulls one another flout:
Heere for Mistakes, the Lie, or Toyes they pout,
Forgetting Satans Ambush for Goodwits,
Tongues trip, Pens blur, None free from Passions Fits,


And yet for Words and Names, Externall things,
They persecute their Christian Mates with stings,
Till tir'd at last with Conscience-griping Cares,
Both Parties howle within the Divels Snares.
Others by Lines and Cubes aspire to know
The Higher Orbes, or in the Globe below
They levell Spires, the Climates, or the Lawes,
Into whose Depth they pry no more then Dawes;
And yet to gaine applause, or Golden Fees,
They hope for Swans to chop their gaggling Geese.
Some Court Faire Dames with Fancies Madrigalls,
Chaulking the way to Paphian Lupercalls,
Which they frequent with uncontrouled Lust
Till Honour, Wealth, and Health lye in the Dust.
Sometimes Pelagian-wise they ruminate
On Mans Free-will, and the Predestinate,
Till they from Grace quite excommunicate
Doe pitch on Hell, and on the Reprobate.


Now, of long-handed Kings the mounted state,
Anon, their slips or Fall they personate
With Satyres sting, untill themselves are stung;
Or else they sooth Great men with glozing Tongue,
Untill they feele worse Racks with Conscience sear'd,
Then Poets faign'd for stroaking of Joves Beard.
Some other whiles they dare more Curious peepe
Into the Concaves of th' Infernall Deepe,
Of Limboes Vault, or Purgatories Paine
Redeem'd for Gold the long-white Robe to staine.
With such Bald Stuffe most Writers doe oppresse,
In hope to purchase Fame, the Printers Presse.
Which shewes, that Soules, like Seas tost with unrest,
Wave, till they set into Gods Port of Rest;
Or else that they, like Swine, fall to worse Seas
Then Gaderens for their prodigious Pleas,
Remonstrances, and Problems, which they pend,
Of Rampant Zeale the Churches Peace to rend.


So busie is Mans Braine: It alwayes workes
And seekes to know what from the Sences lurkes,
Abstruse and hid, like Planets moving still;
But in default of Objects good or ill,
Because it finds no business from without,
Turnes Monke within, an Ideot, or a Lout;
Or on it selfe with Atomes and Chymeres
Playes Whirligig, untill it ends in Feares,
Distractions, Lies, and Schismes, just Penalties
Due for the Search of Knotty Novelties.
For want of Grace, and of Celestiall Armes,
Sighes, Teares, & Vowes, thus by the Serpents charmes
Are Men seduc'd Old Adams Tree to tast,
And with vaine Fruit to break their needlesse Fast.
Because Gods Word, whereby they might be sav'd,
They slighted, 'tis no marvell though they rav'd.


But our New man wean'd from the Carnall Teat
By Truths calme Breath, the Flaming Paraclete,
With Drier Braine holds a Cleere Intellect,
So solid, that he others can direct
A safer Course of knowledge to affect
Then what the Wind-mill grinds of Satans Sect.
Though Natures sting in our Originall
Hath made us prone into the Snare to fall:
Yet we New-borne fight with the Spirits Sword,
And triumph by the Second Adams Word
Over the Dragons false enchanting Arts,
With constant Faith repelling all his Darts,
Those sober Cates contenting our repast,
Which lawfull are for tender Soules to tast.
We would seeme Inward more then Outward wise,
Yet Both addresse with Saints to sympathize.
For carnall Samians transubstantiate Change,
(The Old Mans Quirk) the New man we exchange.


Instead of Lethes Lake, or Phlegeton,
We Tophets Paine sing due to Babylon.
For Limbus Patrum, or th' Elizian Camp,
Gods Paradise for Saints renewes our Lamp.
A Dolphin bore Arion from the Seas;
Amphions Harp, they say, did Thebes appease:
But Jesus Christ the Third day to have rose
From Josephs Tombe, we really disclose,
Or by a Whale we Jonas bring to Land,
Who Niniveh converted out of hand.
For Cerberus, we blaze proud Satans Losse;
For Hercules his Club, our Saviours Crosse
For Triviall Tales, and sence-alluring Toyes,
We read on Bookes Soule-ravishing to joyes.
For Thalmuds we the Scriptures native sence;
And for Nice Schoole-mens Glosse, in our Defence,
We can produce by Truths Prerogative
The Chiefest Starres of the Church Primitive,


Or those, who in the Last and Present Age
With Volumes rare repair'd our New mans Stage.
To banish Humane Lies, and Brain-sick Dreames,
What Tree more full? what Field yeelds riper Theames
Then Christ his Life, and the New Testament?
Or in her Swathes the Churches fragrant scent?
This Lady here my New man marbles forth,
Though fully not according to her worth,
Yet so, My Lord, that you may cleerely see:
Though she was long obscur'd, she now raignes free,
Cloath'd with the Sunne, Crown'd with a dozen Starres,
And no Eclipse you from her Influence barres.
But out alasse! how many boast of Faith?
Who never markt what Christian Scripture saith:
For what is Faith without Good works, or Fruit,
But a dead Stock? not worth a Moores pursuit?


Unlesse he dreames of Mechaes fond Delights?
Or Millenairs to snare Voluptuous Wights?
Or of vaine works of Supererogation,
Soules to bewitch with Babels Fornication?
Our Saint is not with such Conceits defil'd,
Nor turnes with such Extravagances wild,
For he well knowes, that as good Trees will bud,
And beare good Fruit, so Saints doe alwayes Good,
And never scorne to greet the Simplest Man;
To call home Strayes they labour what they can.
Such is our Saint the Naked he attires,
And helps to warme their Soules with zealous Fires.
According to his Power great or small,
He saves distressed Saints from Tyrants Thrall.
He sues for Peace, and grieves to see debate.
And daily prayes Lawes Rigour to abate.
If he be forc't to Law in his defence,
He doth it without spleen, or Saints offence.


And if his Clapper hap to clatter wild,
Before Sun-set he growes more Calme and mild;
Or if that Filmy Piece in others blabbs
His shame, he counts it like the Noise of Drabbs.
He sets not out his Lipps to Farme, nor slander,
Nor lets his Tongue before his Wits to wander.
He holds his Word as pretious as his Seale,
And scornes False Cards unto the Least to deale.
He dares not plot Revenge, nor scoffe, nor raile,
But beares with Knaves and Fooles for Saints availe.
He covets no mans Goods, but if at Play
He winnes, He gives it to the Poore away.
He spends his vacant Howres in thrifty Course,
Lest Idlenesse corrupt him worse and worse.
He prizeth Coine but excrementall Drosse,
And toiles for Others Good, though with his Losse.
He doth his Best to curbe Promooting Scribes,
Lest God require of him their winkt-at Bribes.


At Night he scores the Deedes he did that Day,
And the next Morning scowres their rust away.
The Sabbath, like the Puritan, he waighes,
And, like the Papist, keepes the Fasting dayes:
The Former mindes him of the Spirits Mart,
The Latter helpes to stint the Sensuall Part.
He daily strives so to compose his Minde,
That seldome him doe Idoll-passions blinde,
Nor cause him long to doat on Pleasures shape,
Be it a Horse, or Hawke, a Dog, or Ape,
He kindly speakes, meanes well, doth good to all,
But most to Saints, and helpes up them that fall.
God root these Works in me, lest whilst his Way
I others teach, my selfe a Cast-a-way
Become, like him, anothers Floore that sweepes,
And yet his owne New house most nasty keepes.


The Heart still moves: It Loves and spreads with Joy
Or wrung with Gall and Griefe it feeles Annoy.
The Former flow, because Gods Flames inspire it,
The Latter chance in absence of his Spirit.
Of these Affects our Inward Man partakes,
Amidst his Joyes sometimes his Spirit akes:
Yet his Griefes smart spring not for worldly Cause,
But for mens Breach of the Creators Lawes,
For the Encrease of Idols, Avarice,
Of Drunken Healths, or the like Heath'nish vice,
For Concords Breach, for Christian Blouds effusion,
For losse of Time, our Talents vaine profusion;
Or else because he sees the Church of Christ
Opprest by Fiends, and Saints by Antichrist.
Sometimes he feeles strange Qualmes, neer destitute
Of zeale-bred heat, till entring to dispute


With his Proud Foe, he like One cheer'd with Wine,
Threats him with Thumps, to make his Pride decline:
He calls him Monster, Belly god, and Slave,
And vowes his Fare to shorten, if he rave.
With Davids Sling he knocks Goliahs downe,
For standing out against his Masters Crowne.
Though he enjoyes an outward faire Estate,
And seemes to some to be most fortunate;
Yet in his Mind he waighes the Cause, th' Event,
Mens Frailty, and his owne coincident,
Whereat he Lion-like for braver Prey
His Courage lifts at full, not giving way
To poore Conceits, but to the Noblest Ends
His Cares, his Thoughts, and his designements bends;
Which he Effects by a New Sacrifice
To God, who gave those undeserv'd Supplies
With knowledge of his Mysteries Divine,
And Prudent Rules Old Passions to confine,


When Thousands of his Brethren want that store,
Who would perhaps have glorifi'd him more,
And never ceas'd, like Angels here on Earth,
To praise those helpes, since Others dye of Dearth.
His Spirit scornes that which the Body joyes;
And checks that Lump, because it did rejoyce
In Alery Toyes, in things meere transitory,
Which draw the Sence from the bright Sun of Glory,
And like to Golden Clouds may passe away
By Humane Plots, or by Death in a day.
He reapes Content to see his Neighbours thrive,
And their Amendment doth his Soule revive,
For he the Poorest Saint in Christ preferres
Before the Greatest Potentate that erres.
He Joyes, that he breathes of the Common Aire;
Which is allotted for the Saints repaire,


With whom he sings, grieves, and Communicates,
Aswell for Sacred Rites, as Needfull Rates.
He Joyes, that he had learned from his Youth,
Like Timothy, the Word of Sacred Truth,
That taught to serve One God, One Advocate,
He could not brooke of Balaams Snares to prate.
He Joyes, that he no raking Money owes,
Then what to pay he or short warning knowes,
Without grim Sergeants Threats, or Suerties Thrall,
Or without Robbing Peter to pay Paul.
He glories more of Soules and Bodies Health,
Then in the Blaze of Honour, Fame, or Wealth.
To cheere his Noblest Part he soares aloft,
And viewes the Starres of Holy Stories oft;
He Courts the Of-Spring of faire Memory,
Aswell Divine as Humane History;
By which true Glasse he findes how short and vaine
Those Pleasures are, which Wordlings hold for Gaine,


Though Cause of Paine eternall after Death,
If not before of Dolour-racking Breath.
Another while Wraths Comet to prevent,
Which he observes with burning Arrowes bent
To aime at change, by Learned Art he strives
To blunt their Shafts, and into Physick dives
Aswell by Prayer as by Galens Quill,
With Zealous Heart, as by Arabian Skill,
Like Good Saint Luke, for the Foure Humours foule
He studies Cure, as Solace for the Soule.
For which Intent, and the Complexions Good
He forbids Food, which might inflame the Bloud.
For what exceedes the Temper Oily warme,
Or Mayes mild Heat he knowes breeds after-harme.
Lest Nature droupe, he breathes his Pack-horse oft,
Not on the Rheumy Vale, or Marish soft,
But on dry Hills to suck most wholesome Aire,
There, with Pure Gales the Spirits to repaire.


While Gulls fly out with Golden Wings excesse,
He lives at home content with Fortunes lesse,
Not daring by Anothers Idoll-store
To mete his wants, where Saints do languish more:
And if he should lash out in Pompe like those,
His Pompe and Store would cause him after-woes,
When the Great Judge requires his Talents use,
With strict Account of Stocks and Times abuse.
He Drinks no more then doth a Saint befit,
And ever riseth with an Appetite,
For, as a Type of Blessed Abstinence,
He Joyes to sing of Diets Excellence,
And to relate, when Girald liv'd, that they
Of Cambriaes Soile did feed but once a day;
As how the Greekes thought Platoes Tale a Lye,
That twice a day they meal'd in Sicily.
No Beauty, Wine, nor Musicks Harmony
Contents our Saint more then Good Company,


Knowing their Vowes, and mutuall Hearts Consent
Availe him more then Worldlings Blandishment.
To end his Joyes, on this he sets his Rest:
That a Good Conscience is his daily Feast.
These harmelesse steps a Christian ought to tread,
And the same Life I strive and hope to lead.
And if these Rules My hopefull Nephew scan,
He then shall passe for a Right Noble Man,
Excelling vulgar Wits as Porcellan,
Course vessels, as the New the Outward Man,
By Vertue rankt within True Honours File
Among the brave Heroes of this Ile,
Crown'd with a faire and brighter Coronet,
Then One with Gold and Pretious Stones beset,
And be so skill'd in Both the Fortunes Cures,
That Poore mens Cries tend not to You nor Yours.


While Vengeance strikes a Nembrodizing Lord.
And his Proud Race with Fates two-edged Sword,
Like Mordecai, unwearied in your wayes,
You shall weare out on Earth most happy Dayes;
And after Death when they feele endlesse Paine,
You shall with Christ in Peace for ever Raigne.
Such blisse pursues a Pious-minded Peere,
And such I hope attends you there and heere,
Which to seale up, and to set forth Your Traine,
Heere take your Choise of Posies various Straine:
Without the New-mans Robes none are indeed
True Noble-men, but borne of Mongrell Seed.
“To be borne Great, great Honour some esteeme it:
“But to doe Good I greater Honour deeme it.
Vertue so farre excells Sires Heraldry,
As doth Day-light the Darke, the Sap the Dry.
“A Noble Minde surmounts a Noble Birth;
But who hath Both shines like Sunne on Earth.


Magnus honor nasci prælustri stemmate, Major
Stemma Piis Factis nobilitare suum.
“Quantò Lux Tenebras, Siccum vel Succidus Humor
Tanto depictos Mens Pia vincit Avos.
Virtus Naturam superat, sed amictus utrisque
Dotibus ut Lumen Solis in orbe nitet.