The Shorter Poems of Ralph Knevet :: :: University of Virginia Library

(My Lord) who with acceptance dids't regarde
The sinnefull Maryes penitentiall teares,
As well as her fine Boxe of pretious Narde,
Vouchsafe to take my humble, holy verse,
Which for thy Head, affordes no Unguent sweet,
But onely water for to bathe thy feet./

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[1] The Incarnation.

(My God) who dids't thy glorious throne forsake,
And from a Virgin pure thy manhood take,
That Thou, thereby mights't us thy brethren make:
Was ever love like thine?

Both Men, and Angells, at thy birth did sing,
And thy propicious starre did tideings bring,
That Night departed, and the day did spring:
Was ever love &c.

Though by the Fathers side, thou well mighs't clayme
The whole worlds empire, yet thou didst not ayme
At soveraignty, which makes us to exclayme:
Was ever love &c.

And though, thy Mother was of Jesse's stemme,
Entitleing Thee, to Judah's diademe,
Yet thou didst not this dignity esteeme:
Was ever love &c.

Thou cams't in silence, like the evening dew,
Into a fleece of wooll, wer't seene by few,
But fewer thought thee our Messias true:
Was ever love &c.

The dayes departed long 'ere they grew old,
But Night did many howres her station hold,
The world gave thee but entertainement cold:
Was ever love &c.

283

Long were the nights, and cold, but longer Night
Of sinne, and love wax'd cold, did Thee invite,
Our hearts to warme, and guide us by thy light,
Was ever love &c.

A stable was thy palace, and a manger
Thy cradle was: yet thou (so poore a stranger)
Wer't of a jealous Tyrants wrath in danger.
Was ever love &c.

It could not halfe so strange a sight appeare,
To see the sunne descend from his bright sphere,
As it was to behold thy presence here:
Was ever love &c.

Thou to thy natives first thy self dids't render,
Whose dazled eyes could not endure thy splendour;
But strangers did rich offr'ings to Thee tender:
Was ever love &c.

Thou, who dids't all in dignity surpasse,
Whom Angells prais'd with Alleluiah's,
Becams't camrade unto the Oxe and Asse;
Was ever love &c.

Thou, who wer't clad with divine majesty,
Dids't shift thy self into humanity,
That wee might put on immortality:
Was ever love &c.

Thou Lord wer't Hee, who (us from Hell to save)
Dids't wedde thy Godhead even unto the grave;
Hee, who both life, and glory for us gave:
Was ever love &c.

284

Thou, (who dids't laws dispense in Sinai Hill)
In thine owne person dids't the same fulfill;
Yea dids't to humane lawes submitt thy will:
Was ever love &c.

Though cruell Herod quak'd at thy approch,
Thou dids't not on th' usurpers pow'r incroche:
Thou dids't exchange thy scepter for reproche,
Was ever love like thine?

Though Kings (as God and King) did Thee adore,
And rich oblations powre out Thee before,
Yet for our sakes Thou didst thy self make poore:
Was ever love &c.

The Infants blood (lesse innocent then thine)
Shed in their early martyrdome did signe
Th' assurance of thy presence most divine:
Was ever love &c.

Thou from the bloudy Tyrants rage didst flee,
And in the land of bondage dids't live free,
Untill Death Herod call'd, and recall'd Thee.
Was ever love &c.

Then Thou in despisd Galile dids't stay,
Till John the Baptist did prepare thy way,
And thy approch unto the world bewray:
Was ever love &c.

Hee was a Morning starre, which did forerunne
Thy riseing (oh bright orientall sunne)
Which didst dispell that night, which sinne begunne:
Was ever love &c.

285

Since the first Herods rage could not Thee harme,
A second Herod did against Thee arme,
The First us'd force: but this sought Thee to charme:
Was ever love &c.

But Thou the Charmer charmds't, and by a spell
Dids't send th' old serpent backe unto his cell,
There to lament, bicause his kingdome fell.
Was ever love &c.

Then Thou dids't preach repentance unto all,
And from their nettes didst thy Disciples call,
And mad'st them fish for creatures rationall:
Was ever love like thine?

Thou mad'st the Deafe to heare, gav'st blind men eyes,
Dids't cure the lame, and cleanse all leprosyes,
Dids't cast out Devills, and make dead men rise:
Was ever love &c.

Huge multitudes, did then upon the[e] wayte,
Thy miracles were unto them a bayte,
Some when their turnes were serv'd, forgott the[e] strayte:
Was ever love &c.

The first law in a mountaine was decreed,
And from a mount the second did proceede,
Where Thou dids't first sowe thy celestiall seede:
Was ever love &c.

There, thou didst then such blessed doctrine preach,
As none before or since did ever teach,
So farre it went beyond all humane reach:
Was ever love &c.

286

Thou by examples, and instructions sage,
Dids't strive to purge the vices of the age,
While Thou hat'st Sinne; against Thee Sinners rage:
Was ever love &c.

Like savage Beasts, without all intermission,
They rag'd against their God, and their Physicion,
And their Redeemer threaten'd with perdition:
Was ever love &c.

Yet Thou didst not retarde thy worke in hand,
But dids't observe thy Fathers just command,
Mans sinne, could not thy mercy great withstand,
Was ever love &c.

Thy Workemen Thou dids't send into the field,
To gather in thy corne before it shill'd,
But these thy Reapers were contemn'd, and kill'd:
Was ever love &c.

Thou to the simple dids't thy truth unlocke,
While that the learned sort did floute, and mocke,
Because it was to them a stumbling blocke:
Was ever love &c.

Thou dids't in holy parables transmitt
Such blessed documents, as never yet
Could imitated bee, by humane witt:
Was ever love &c.

The quintessence of wisedome, did distill
From thy most hallow'd lippes: and Thou dids't fill
The world with wonders, through thy heavenly skill:
Was ever love &c.

287

Nor dids't Thou onely with a touch, or word,
Diseases heale, and remedyes afford,
For with cures were thy very garments stor'd:
Was ever love &c.

Thy reprehensions, like thy thunder were,
Empressing terrours, but thy comforts deare,
Dejected soules did quicken and upreare:
Was ever love &c.

Thy counsells could not erre, for Thou wer't Truth:
No double Oracles fell from thy mouth,
Thou wer't a Doctour, ere Thou wer't a youth
Was ever love &c.

The Jewes did Thee expect a Conquerour,
But Thou, (though comeing like a Pilgrime poore)
Such conquests wonns't, as none e're wonne before:
Was ever love &c.

The Flesh with all his lusts Thou dids't subdue;
Nothing but Love, and Wisedome in Thee grew:
No Age did ever such a Victour shew:
Was ever love &c.

Thou didst subdue all worldly vanityes,
Both honour, wealth, and pleasure dids't despise;
None ever did achieve such victoryes.
Was ever love &c.

Yea Thou didst triumphe over Death, and Hell,
And Satan from the skyes like lightening fell,
Forc'd to retreate to his infernall cell:
Was ever love &c.

288

Thou mads't his cousening Oracles to cease,
And while the dumbe were taught Thee to confesse,
The Lyer was compell'd to hold his peace:
Was ever love &c.

The carnall Jewes did earnestly expect,
That Thou their broken scepter shoulds't connect,
But Thou a greater Kingdom cams't t'erect:
Was ever love &c.

Through Thee, they thought t'have bene avenged on,
Proud Rome, and not forgotten Babylon:
But Thou cam'st to destroy a greater throne:
Was ever love &c.

Bondslaves to sinne wee were, but Thou wer't Hee,
Who from this thraldome cams't to sett us free,
And with thy bloud dids't buy our libertye:
Was ever love &c.

Both Devills, and incarnate Devills sought,
To hinder Thee, in what Thou wertst about;
Thus Man against his Lord, and Saviour fought:
Was ever love &c.

The Preists consulted, how They might Thee kill,
The Pharises combin'd, thy blood to spill,
Because to save their soules it was thy will:
Was ever love &c.

The brutish Saduces Thou didst confute,
And mad'st the Scribes, and Pharises as mute
As mushromes, when they did 'gainst Thee dispute:
Was ever love like thine?

289

For in the Desert, Thou dids't first refell
Th' assaults of the old Sophister of Hell,
Therefore his Schollers, Thou mighs't vanquish well:
Was ever love &c.

But after many miracles achiev'd,
Thine owne Disciples scarce in thee beleev'd,
And with their incredulity, Thee griev'd:
Was ever love &c.

Though Thou, three yeares hadst them instructed well,
By words, and wonders, yet they could not tell,
The right sence, of this word Emanuel.
Was ever love &c.

So unfitt are the best of us to learne,
What doth our chiefest benefitt concerne,
And good from evill, aptly to discerne:
Was ever love &c.

Thou with few loaves, dids't thousands fill (wee reade)
To shew, that Thou, who a'rt the heavenly bread,
Shoulds't all refresh, which rightly on thee feede:
Was ever love &c.

Thou, with a word didst calme the surgeing seas,
At thy rebuke, the windes to rage did cease,
To shew, how Thou wer't God, and King of peace:
Was ever love &c.

To feede with sinners, Thou dids't not disdaine,
That by instructions, and examples plaine,
Thou mights't them to thy heavenly kingdome gaine:
Was ever love &c.

290

Dead bodyes, and dead soules Thou dids't revive;
None ever did such blessed physicke give,
With thine owne bloud, Thou mads't thy Patients live:
Was ever love &c.

No wicked Agag suffer'd by thy sword,
No Ananias perish'd by thy word;
Nothing but life, and health, Thou didst afford:
Was ever love &c.

When thy Disciples for destructive fire
Did call: Thou dids't reprove their zealous ire;
The death of sinners Thou dids't not desire:
Was ever love &c.

Thou cam'st not for to breake a reede that's brus'd,
To quench the smokeing flaxe Thou were't not us'd:
Sinners by Thee were not judg'd, but excus'd:
Was ever love &c.

Thou knewst, the Jewes thy ruine did intend,
And how they lay in wayte Thee t'apprehend,
Yet Thou woulds't to Jerusalem ascend:
Was ever love &c.

For triumph Thou didst ride on a yong asse,
The Jewes Hosannah cry'd, as Thou dids't passe,
Thy way with palmes, and garments strewed was:
Was ever love &c.

They cry'd Hosannah then, who afterward,
Cryd, Crucifye him: let the Thiefe bee spard:
More for a Thiefe, then for their King they car'd:
Was ever love &c.

291

Thou to comply with thy Deare Fathers will,
(Oh Lambe unspotted) didst the votes fulfill,
Of cruell wolves, who sought thy bloud to spill:
Was ever love &c.

Since from thy wounded corps, Thou well dids't know,
Such fructifyeing showres should spring, and flow,
As might make us, like Trees of life to grow:
Was ever love &c.

What can Man doe more then dye for's freind?
But Thou, (both God and Man) dids't condiscend
Even for thy Foes, thy pretious blood to spend:
Was ever love like thine?

[2] The Passion

Who can reviewe, without a pretious losse
Of teares, the bitter sorowes of thy crosse
(Oh Dearest Lord)
Whose corps was gor'd,
In every member, by remorseles steele,
That wee (thy Members) might not Tophet feele—
Thy feet (Oh God)
Which never trod
In sinnefull pathes, with bloudy nayles were pierc'd;
Because wee in ungodly wayes were vers'd:
Thy hands most pure,
Were forc'd t'endure

292

The self same paines; because our hands have bin,
Vile instruments of wickednes, and sinne:
Thy temples blest
With thornes were prest:
Because wee have (upon our pillowes soft)
Mischievous stratagems imagin'd oft:
Thy heart most just,
And free from lust,
Was wounded too; because our hearts most evill,
Through pride, and lust, were censers for the Devill.
What I expresse,
Must needes be lesse
Then thy sharp paines, for the whole Continent,
Of thy chast corps, was into one wound rent:
Who can reflect,
With dry aspect,
Upon thy torments? Oh that I could weepe,
Till I did swimme in my repentance deepe,
Since for my guilt,
Thy bloud was spilt:
But I am whelm'd, in sorowes, and in feares,
Because I cannot drowne my sinnes in teares:
What shall I say?
I thus will pray.
As bloud, and water issu'd from thy wound,
So with thy bloud, doe Thou my teares compound./

[3] The Deprecation

(Lord) cease this direfull tintamarre
Of civill warre:

293

The bellowing drumme, and trumpet shrill,
Are musicke meete,
Rather for flameing Sinai Hill,
Then Sion sweet.
The Gospell came in a still voyce,
Although the Law was given with horride noyse.

The Axes, and the hammers sound,
Did not rebound,
In thy first Temple; and much lesse,
Should tumults rage,
Within thy second House of peace,
Late made a stage,
Where clamr'ous Furyes acte their parts,
A dreadfull spectacle to pious hearts.

Thou cams't downe (oh Messias true)
Like the calme dew,
On Gedeon's fleece: And being here,
Didst not exclayme,
None in the streetes thy voyce did heare,
But as a Lambe,
Before the shearer, Thou wer't dumbe:
In silent manner, Thou dids't goe and come.

But Hee, who doth pretend to bee,
Thy Feoffee:
Hee, who thy Vicar himself calls,
Makes such a noyse,
With Prelates proud, and Cardinalls,
That Hee annoyes
The World, and breakes the sleepes of Kings:
His pride pontificall through all lands rings.

His anger, like an Earthquake, shockes
Both Hills, and rockes:

294

And t'is more hard him to appease,
Then to still windes,
Or pacifye the rageing seas:
The hands he bindes
Of Monarkes, and keepes them in awe,
(As Hindes doe birds) by men of ragges and straw.

The sound of his Apostles runnes
In drummes, and gunnes,
Through the whole Earth, for where His word
Cannot prevaile,
They (for their ends) employ the sword;
And if this faile,
They treach'rous plottes contrive, and can
Father all mischiefes, on the Puritan./

Our Caballs, and our cajoleings,
Are subtile things,
Of their invention, words of art,
Made to beguile
An honest, and well meaneing heart.
By the new style
Wee write, and acte: By th' old alone,
Wee measure time from th' Incarnation./

Lots wife on Sodome did reflect,
But one aspect,
And shee for this insipide tricke,
Was turn'd into
A rocke of salt, which Beasts did licke:
The Hebrewes too,
When they for Egypts flesh did lust,
Were sharply punish'd, by God's vengeance just.

And while wee vainly did looke backe,
On Egypt blacke,

295

And Sodome foule, the Lord above
Did us chastise,
Because wee did backsliders prove,
And with fond eyes,
The pleasures of that bondage sought,
From whence, by miracle wee had bene brought.

Each Hat was of a Roman blocke;
Cassocke, and cloke,
Were of the Babylonian size;
But what is worse,
Our hearts were Romish in disguise,
And by recourse
To their vaine rites, gave reasons strong,
That for Italian Melons wee did long.

(Lord) wee have sinn'd: and doe not seeke
A Moses meeke,
To worke our peace, but thine owne Sonne:
Whom wee implore;
His bloud did us with Thee attone,
In time of yore:
And by His bloud, wee crave now (Lord)
That our bloud may bee staunch'd, and peace restord.

[4] Solitude

Though to the world I seeme to bee,
Mix'd in a concurse of societye,
Farre from a life contemplative,

296

Yet with a Desert I dare strive,
For solitude, and in this can
Both personate the Owle, and Pellican.

The tender Bee doth dwell
All winter, in his warme sexangled cell:
Untill Aurora bright besmeares
The woods, with her melliflo'us teares,
And to the feilds doth him invite,
With new borne flowres, to feast his appetite.

But I am to my cell confin'd,
By longer winter and blasts more unkind,
Then those of Boreas, where I doe
Endeavour to improve my woe,
(And though uncloyster'd) yet dare vye
Sad howres, with the monasticke Votarye.

While in this vale of teares I stay,
Those upper springs unto mee Lord bewray,
That when these nether springs are dry'd,
Those may arise with a full tide,
To cleanse the guilt of that defect,
Which my two nether springs could not effect.

[5] Resolution

Man's destin'd for eternall blisse, or paine;
And shall wee for a momentaneous blast
Of secular delights, neclect to gaine

297

Beatitude, which shall for ever last?
Let Man from guilty joyes refraine,
And of forbidden apples feare to taste;
For though the fruite may seeme faire to the eye
A serpent hid beneath the leaves doth lye./

A short life, and a merry many wish:
But for eternity is my desire,
I am a volatile, and not a fish,
Which from his drinke sequester'd doth expire:
I dote not on a cup, or dish:
My hopes are level'd for a marke that's higher,
Short, or long, sweet, or sowre, let this life bee
I care not (Lord) so I may live with Thee./

[6] Blindnes

Our eyes are veyl'd with flesh and bloud:
Wee cannot see,
What hath relation to our good:
Our judgements bee
Benighted by the world: wee are all blind,
Like those which grop'd the doore of Lot to find.

The Scripture is a perspicill,
Which us instructs,
We choose the good, and leave the ill:
But it's conducts
Wee slight, and leave this Load starre cleare,
By Ignis Fatuus our course to steere.

298

The subterraneous Mole,
And scarabye,
(This loves the doung, that the darke hole)
True Emblemes bee
Of humane nature; but that Man's an Eagle,
Whom nor the world, nor pleasures can inveigle.

[7] The Newyeares Gift

This is the time, when that the Druid's sage,
Their mysticke Mistleto,
Divided to
The superstitious Vulgar, as a gage
Of future happynes,
And good successe,
Which unto them the Newborne yeare should give:
At this time freinds did try,
For to comply,
And with their mutuall donatives did strive,
To strengthen, or renue
Affection true:
But now my taske it is, and my delight,
To heighten, and improve
Diviner love:
And t'wixt my God, and mee, to sett things right;
To whom I did commend,
And humbly send
A Heart with praises fraught: My gracious Lord
Accepted of my strene,
With lookes serene;

299

Hee kept my praises, but my heart restor'd,
Replenish'd with content,
Most excellent:
And I this Newyeares gift esteemed more,
Then all, which ever I receiv'd before./

[8] Sciences

Many their language labour to correct,
And for to speake in the best dialect,
But few, or none contend
Their lives t'amend.

Logicke, the art of reason others love,
But by their lives, their studyes they disprove,
Guided by appetite,
Not Reasons light.

Some divide numbers by Arithmeticke,
To smallest fractions, yet they want a tricke,
One penney to divide,
To those that neede.

Another by Geometry (at pleasure)
Both Cittyes feilds, and provinces can measure;
Yet in his life (God knowes)
No measure showes.

300

One studyes the accord of pleasant sounds,
While in his heart, with discord Hee abounds:
Hee's out of tune within,
Through his vaine sinne.

Th' Astrologer doth gaze upon the starres,
Till like a falling starre Hee unawares,
In a pitt plunged is,
That's bottomles.

Another boasts diseases all to cure,
Yet findes not his owne pulse, or temp'rature:
His Heart a Spittle is
Of maladyes.

Of Troy, and Thebes th' Historian can discourse,
Of Alexander Great, and of his horse,
Yet doth a babe become,
—In things at home.

Another doth professe, law to dispense,
But gives no law to his owne conscience:
Hee cares more for a fee,
Then equitye.

The Theologians rather strive to know
Gods will, then doe the same, their actions grow
Contrary to their speech,
And what they preach.

Most studye sciences, not charity,
Which is 'twixt God, and Man the perfect tye:
(Oh Lord) instruct mee how
To love, and know.

301

[9] Teares

Teach me the art of teares,
Thou Lord of joy, learne mee to swimme in sorow,
Both at this present, and to morow,
For sinnes of many yeares,
And in this bitter deluge drowne my feares.

(Lord) Thou dids't for me sweate,
Pure rubyes, in thy pretious agonye,
Why should I render then to thee,
Pearles that are counterfeyte,
Farre too unworthye of thy cabinet.

Thou, by thy grace divine,
Cans't worke my teares to orientall gemmes,
More rich then those of diadem's
If Thou shalt in mee shine;
Mine is the comfort, but the glory thine.

Could I bothe th' Indyes gaine,
To bowell, and impoverish their rich wombes:
Or might I have Arabia's gummes,
I should from these abstaine;
The richer treasures of thy grace t'obtaine.

Oh let my sorowes source,
From vapours, and pure exhalations flow,

302

Which by thy spirit first did grow;
Oh pitty my remorse,
(That am vile earth) in these thy meteours.

[10] Securitye

Th' unactive Element,
In Man is most predominant:
Earth is his belov'd home, and his content:
Hee well could heavenly gloryes want,
If Hell, or Death did not him sometimes fright:
Hee feares the grave, though Earth bee his delight.

Yet Hee lives, as if Hell,
Were but a fable, or a storye,
A place of fancye, that might paralell
The old St Patrickes Purgatory.
Hee mirth recrutes with cup's, and seldome thinkes
Of Death, untill into the grave Hee sinkes.

But if vaine Man knew well,
To fixe and mannage his designe,
Hee should not stand in feare of Death or Hell.
For Hee's immortall, and divine:
Flesh is his clogge, which while Hee strives to lighten
More heavy growes: Thus Hee his woes doth heighten.

303

[11] The Bankrupte

God, with the breath of life did mee inspire,
And in the world mee landed, where,
I like a stranger could but things admire,
Being unfitt for pratticke there:
For I, of language had not the least tittle;
Could neither call for drinke, or bread:
But when I grew acquainted but a little,
And could without a Truchman trade:
Then I forgott my home, and did neclect
Th' imployment, I was sent about;
I forraine pleasures then 'gan to affect,
And like unthrifty Factours sought,
Not my Lords profite, but mine owne delight:
Both wine, and women did mee please:
The women of the land were faire to sight,
And made mee leave my busynes.
My Lord did then of my debauchments heare,
And to a strict account mee brought,
But I could not responsible appeare,
I so extremely had runne out.
Then I emprisonment, and bonds did feare,
And like a perplex'd Caitife stood:
Untill a freind did whisper in mine eare,
And told me that my Lord was good:
Hee mee advis'd to sue for mercy: Then
I fell downe prostrate at his feet,
Which with my teares to bathe I did beginne,

304

Th' unfained signes of my regreet.
My gracious Lord did then my debt remitt;
Nor did his goodnes end in this
For Hee to mee more treasures did committ,
And more esteem'd commodityes,
Then Hee with mee before intrusted had;
Thus I who was his wretched Debtour,
His Beneficiarye blest was made,
And then resolv'd to serve him better.

[12] Griefe

Griefe seas'd upon my soule,
No holy griefe,
But griefe profane, and foule,
Hee like a Thiefe
Invaded mee by night, but one more strong,
Did him cast out, and vindicate my wrong.

Hee to mee did object,
Those miseryes,
Which I must here expect,
And on mee flyes,
As if Hee meant to take away my life,
But God was my assistant in this strife.

Yet since it is decreed,
That Griefe must bee,
Conjoyn'd to Adams seede:
(Oh Lord) let mee

305

That griefe alone admitt of, and take in,
Which doth relate to mine, and Adams Sinne./

[13] Truth

(Faire naked Amazon)
Invincible in force,
Earths Martyr, but Heavens Minion,
Religions source,
The Mistris of the intellect,
A Mistris without blemish, or defect.

Great Monosyllable,
The large epitome,
Of bookes innumerable,
That honest bee:
Elder then Time thou art, yet youth
Doth flourish in thy lookes: Thy name is Truth.

Thy Habitation is
In some abstruse recesse,
Not obvious to the facultyes,
Of infirme crests:
Nor yet to sense, although shee trye
To reach thee, by the pole of phantasye.

Sciences (without Thee)
Are tales of Robin Hood;
No more then dreames of Fairyes bee;
Nothing is good

306

Where Thou art absent, but thy presence
Gives worth, and reputation to each essence./

Commerce is (without Thee)
Mere Cousenage, and Warre,
Nothing but a grand larcenye:
Thy vertues are
Incomputable, and thy beauty
From Man, and Angells, chalengeth loves duety.

Democritus, Thee hidde
In a darke gloomy roome:
But once (I know) Thou dids't proceede
From the pure wombe,
Of an unviolated Mayde,
When that a starre thy birth to Kings bewray'd.

In little Bethleem,
Thou then dids't shew thy face;
And after (like the Spanish streame)
Thou for a space,
Lays't hid in Nazareth, untill
The Lord made thee appeare on Sion Hill.

To sweet Mount Olivet,
The King of Truth, and Peace,
Did oftentimes with his, retreate:
A fitt recesse
For Him, and for his contemplations,
Who th' Herald was of peace, unto all Nations.

Hee was the Word of Truth,
The light of Veritye,
Which it self disperst from his mouth,
Both farre and nigh:

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And though Hee, our Horizon left,
Yet of his rayes wee were not quite bereft:

For though from us Hee went,
Hee left us not alone:
But downe His Holy Spirit sent,
From his high Throne:
This is that Truth of truths, and peace,
Wherein consiste, our hopes and happynes.

[14] The Vote

The Helmett now an hive for Bees becomes,
And hilts of swords may serve for Spiders loomes,
Sharp pikes may make,
Teeth for a rake:
And the keene blade, th' arch enemy of life,
Shall bee digraded to a pruneing knife:
The rusticke spade
Which first was made
For honest agriculture, shall retake
It's primitive imployment, and forsake
The rempires steepe,
And trenches deepe.
Tame conyes in our brazen gunnes shall breed,
Or gentle Doves, their yong-ones there shall feede:
In musket barrells
Mice shall raise quarrells
For their quarters: The ventriloquious drumme
(Like Lawyers in vacations) shall be dumme:

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Now all recrutes
(But those of fruites)
Shall bee forgott: and th' unarm'd Soldier,
Shall onely boast of what Hee did whilere,
In chimneys ends,
Among his freinds./
If good effects shall happy signes ensue,
I shall rejoyce, and my prediction's true.

[15] The Antiphon

Chorus./
Prais'd bee our Great Creatour,

Angells./
In the skyes.

Men./
In earth and water.

Cho./
Who doth not his workes despise

An.
Us Hee loves.

Men.
And us improves.

Cho.
How His goodnes sweet abounds?

An.
In our glory.

M.
And his sonnes wounds.

Cho.
Though Wolves this Lambe did worry,

An.
Yet Hee rose,

M.
To shame his foes.

Cho.
Hee did triumphe over Hell.

An.
Satan bounde.

M.
And Death did quell.

Cho.
Hee in Heaven with glory crown'd,

An.
With us stayes,

M.
And for us prayes;

Cho./
What tongue can his praises speake?

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An.
Ours want might.

M.
Ours are too weake.

Cho./
Wee blesse his name, Who in light,
Men with Angells, doth unite.

[16] Crosses

Oh what fraile things
Are Kings?
They seeme immortall Gods,
Yet have their periods:
And must take harbour in that cell,
Where wormes unhospitall doe dwell:
Who (like Lycaon) doe each guest devoure
Bee Hee a peasant, or an Emperour.

One King alone,
Did shunne
Corruption, but not
The Graves unsatiate throte:
This King did weare a wreath of thorne,
Which him did wound, but not adorne:
A bloudy crosse of wood Hee made his throne,
Although Hee might have had a golden one.

Villaines forlorne,
In scorne
Him hayl'd. His subjects cry'd,
Let him bee crucify'd.

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One of his Vassalls did him judge;
Yet Hee tooke all without a grudge:
Since that the King of Kings endur'd such losses,
How can fraile Kings scape thorny cares, and crosses.

[17] The Sute

Lord winnowe mee from the vile dust
Of vaine desires:
Refine mee from my drosse, and rust,
In gentle fires,
Let mee not perish in the day
Of thy displeasure:
But so prepare mee, that I may
Become thy treasure:
Bruise mee not with an iron rodde,
Oh breake mee not,
That am a despicable clod,
An earthen pot.
A vessell of iniquitye,
And fitt to bee
A vassall to Hells Tyrannie,
If it please Thee.
But Thou oh Lord dos't not desire
A Sinners death:
Nor to consume those in thine ire,
Whom thou gavs't breath.
Conversion not confusion, Thou
Delightest in.

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Thou quicke to mercy art, but slow
To punish sinne.
Wee day by day doe Thee incense,
Yet Thou dost still
Abound in thy beneficence,
As if thy will,
To workes of mercy were confin'd:
Yea even as though
Thou could'st not any arrow find,
To fitt thy bowe:
Yet the whole World's thine Armarye;
Both sea, and land,
Yea Heaven and all, with armes supply
Thy dreadfull hand.
The Angells thy Militia are,
Sinners thy foes,
Yet Thou ar't slow to denounce warre,
Or fight 'gainst those:
Thine Angells sinn'd but once, yet were
Undone for ever:
But Man seven times a day may erre,
Yet perish never.
Why shouldst Thou thus thy glory mixe,
With pride and lust?
Or favours upon statues fixe
Of clay and dust?
Man of two natures doth consist;
For Thou (oh Lord)
These diffr'ent substances didst twiste,
In the fraile corde
Of humane essence, that Man might
Thy viceroy prove
On Earth; But bee thy Psalmist bright
In heaven above:
(Lord) polish with thy supreme grace,

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My better part:
Let not vaine desires it deface,
Or get the start
Of my incorruptible love:
Then I shall here
Thy psalmes endite; and bee above,
Thy Quirister.

[18] Hypocrisie

The barbr'ous Turkes, are Men of the long robe;
Yet on the surface of the earthly globe,
Scarce any Nation is,
So ignorant as this.
Nor is there any wickedness so foule,
As that which lyes beneath the holy cowle:
But still wee must except the Jesuites cloke,
Which large enough is to become a poke,
For Iliad's of evills,
And bee th' Asyle of Devills.
For Mischiefe no where doth so safely lye,
As underneath the veyle of sanctitye:
A Spanish ruffe, or a Venetian vest,
Of gravity, may seeme the very nest
But Pandares, Whores, and Night
Can easily recite,
Strange tales, concerning These, who wont to use
The Counsell Hall by day, by night the stewes:
Man is what Hee doth least appeare:
On earth, an arrant Cousener:

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But God shall him unrippe (at the last day)
And all his secret villanyes display.

[19] The Conception

The glorious sunne forgetts his birth,
And couples with the humble earth,
Her wombe impregnates with warme showres,
Produceing fruites and flowres:

This an unequall match may seeme:
Then what was that? when Jesse's stemme,
Was overshadow'd from above,
Courted by divine love:

Here Immortality vouchsaf'd
On mortall stocke to bee ingraff'd,
And Jesse's roote produc'd a rodde,
Even Jesus, our great God.

Th' Egyptian Gods in Gardens grew,
False were their Gods: But ours is true,
From Heaven, transplanted to the bed,
Of a pure Maydenhead.

This is a plant which never dyes,
A med'cine for all maladyes,
A Tree of life, whose fruite is blisse,
(Lord) let me taste of this.

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[20] The Habitation

Man is no Microcosme, and they detract
From his dimensions, who apply
This narrow terme to his immensitye:
Heaven, Earth, and Hell, in him are pack't:
Hee's a miscellanye of goods, and evills,
A temper mixte with Angells, Beasts, and Devills.

Yea the immortall Deitye doth daigne,
T'inhabite in a carnalle cell:
So pretious gemmes in the darke center dwell,
So gloomy mines fine gold retaine:
But by vicissitudes, these Essences
The various heart of Man wont to possesse.

For God no Innemate will with Satan bee:
Angells will not consorte with Beasts.
If Man would pursue his best interests,
What blessed seasons might Hee see?
But Hee invites the Devill, and the Beast,
Nor God nor Angells, will Hee lodge or feast./

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[21] The Dialogue

Soule

Nor wealthy mines, nor mineralls I seeke:
My thoughts are low, and meeke,
And like a tender leeke
Both white, and greene; Though like a Cedar high,
Yet ever groweing by
Unfain'd humility:
And though I may submisse, and humble seeme,
My hopes are levelld for a Diademe./

Dispayre

A Diademe? Alas, a racke, or wheele,
Or scourge of burning steele,
Thou rather oughtst to feele,
Then such a royall guerdon to expect,
Which onely hath respect,
To favorites elect.
Thy Soveraigne Lord with pierceing thornes was crown'd
And must thy temples bee with glory bound?

Soule

(I know) my Lord did weare a crowne of scorne,
His sacred browes were torne,
With points of the sharp thorne:
Steele pierc'd His hands, and feet, and the tough corde
The tender body gor'd,
Of my immortall Lord:

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Into his very soule the iron went;
With tortures Hee was all to pieces rente:/

Dispayre

And if thy Lord such torments did endure,
Wilt Thou thy self assure,
To live in blisse secure:
Better then him dos't Thou thy self esteeme?
How cans't Thou thinke, or dreame
Of any Diademe?
Since that thy Lord did never crowne put on,
But that of torture, and derision.

Soule

My Lord was mock'd, tormented, and abus'd,
No suffring He refus'd,
That I might bee excus'd:
Hee on his blessed shoulders did sustaine
The burthen of my paine,
And did for mee ordaine
A Crowne of glory, upon this condition,
That I should seeke't by faith, and true contrition.

Dispayre

(Vaine Soule) that ar't but a proud puffe of breath,
Destind for wrath, and death,
Rather then triumphes wreath,
How cans't Thou hope from Him to receive good,
Since Thou, and Sinne thy broode,
Are guilty of his blood:
Thy hopes of Heaven are vaine, not worth a shell,
Thou must resolve t'abide with mee, in Hell./

317

Soule

Avoyde (Dispayre) unto thy realme retire,
Of darknes, and of fire,
I tend to a place higher:
Though poore in worth, yet rich in hope I am:
Love doth my heart inflame,
But Faith must winne the game:
A crowne of glory I looke to inherit,
By heavenly mercy, not through humane merit./

[22] Vanitye

When Butterflyes, and Prizes vaine I spye,
In silke wormes labours clad,
That a faire tincture had
From silly wormes likewise: then presently,
I call to mind that

Beelzebub/

Prince of flyes,
Who though Hee bee a God, not worth a flye,
Wants not such gallant subjects, and allyes.

Man gloryes in the spoyles of wormes, untill
Way for the wormes bee made,
By picke axe, and the spade
For to spoyle him: Hee doth some creatures kill
Meerely to nourish up his pride:
Hee weares the sheepes cast coate: to his vaine will
The Bird her plumes must yeild, the Beast his hide.

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Hee seekes th' Ingredients of the Phoenix's nest,
To please his meanest sense,
And though a competence
Of some few foote of clay may serve t'invest,
His carkasse yet bothe th' Indyes can't
Suffice his appetite: Though Hee possest
The universe Hee still would cry: I wante./

[23] The Apparition

A true French story

Three jocund Gallants in their golden age,
Court Cock'rells, in their pucellage of witt;
For yet Discretion had not bedded it,
Rode to the forrest in faire equipage,
Where haveing pleas'd their phantasyes at least,
With chase, and quarry, They their sport surceast,
And curious were to find out new delights,
To cocker their fastidious appetites:
But while they view'd th' unartificiall bowres,
Which old Sylvanus for his Faunes and Satyres
Had there erected, over cristall waters,
Whose bankes were diaper'd with fragrant flowres,
Their owne felicityes they call'd to mind,
Which in this sonnett sweet, they thus combin'd:
Behold, our youthfull yeares,
With strength, and beauty crown'd,
While Fortune faire appeares,
And richesse doe abound:
Now while the Fates permitt,
We our delights pursue,
And for all pleasures fitt,

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Our joyes wee still renue,
Which on our bosomes flow,
As thicke as flights of snow.

But when these Yonkers finish'd had their song,
The scene was chang'd, for they did there descry,
Three naked fabrickes of mortality,
Three horride sceletons, arm'd with sithes long,
Who with sad hollow accents, did repeate
This answere, to those Monsieurs Canzonett.
Wee liv'd in time of yore,
And were as brave as you,
Enrich'd with fortunes store:
But see, what wee are now:
In us, see and perpend
Your fraile, and wretched state;
And how you must descend
To the darke House of Fate,
Where yee must become foode,
Unto Earths footles broode.

The Gallants frighted with this apparition,
To holy vowes, their gamesome humours chang'd
This dreadfull spectacle their minds estrang'd
From secular delights, and that condition,
Wherein they whilome liv'd: for Each forsooke
The world, and to a cell himself betooke./

[24] The Rocke

Satan rejoyc'd, when Hee had wonne
False Judas, to his wicked will,

320

And made him to betray the Virgins sonne,
That so Death's Heyres the Lorde of life might kill.
Nor was this wolfe content,
A chosen sheepe t'have rent
From this great Shepheards flocke, for Hee did watch
The holy Belweather likewise to catch.

This fowle seducer by weake meanes,
His cursed ends sought to acquire
For haveing Judas hir'd for thirty pens,
To sell his Master, Hee did then conspire
With two poor maydes to gaine,
The chiefest of the traine:
These shooke the Rocke of faith in such a guise,
That Satan hop'd to have obtain'd his prize.

But when the sentinel of day,
Loud Chanteclere, did stretch his throte
With a shrill note, the Lion ranne away,
And from the liveing Rocke gush'd waters hote,
Him from the guilt to wash,
Of his denyall rash.
Oh 'twas not the Cockes voyce, but the Lords eye,
Which made St Peter weepe so bitterly.

[25] Bounty

(Lord) all the praise,
Which I can attribute to thee,

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Is like a sparke, added to the sunnes rayes,
Or droppe of water, powr'd into the sea;
Yet let thy glory bright,
Vouchsafe t'accept of a poore widowes mite.

I want the skill,
To take thy latitude (oh Lord)
A Jacobs staffe in this serves not my will,
Though Jacobs ladder may some help afford,
But by a Cross-staffe, wee
May some dimensions of thy goodnes see:

Thou didst (oh Lord)
At first, create this fabricke great
Of th' Heavens, and Elements, and by thy word
Dids't cause things to their centers to retreate;
The fire aloft did flame,
And Earth became the basis of the Frame.

In various shapes,
And formes, mixte things Thou didst contrive,
Which did from foure originalls elapse,
In numbers infinite: Thy love did strive
With wisedome, and foresight,
T'ordaine thy worke for profit, and delight./

Then Thou didst make,
Man, thy Vicegerent over all,
Who sudainly did thy commands forsake,
And from the height of happynes did fall,
Ere some few houres were gone,
His raigne was finished, and Hee undone.

But then thy love,
To us, more clearely did appeare,

322

For by a second Eve Thou didst remove,
That curse, which the first Eve brought in whilere
The second Adam, on
A second Tree, did us with Thee attone.

No love, like this
Was ever seene, or knowne before;
Thou gavs't thy sonne for our iniquityes,
Who with his pretious blood unlock'd Heaven doore;
Hee dying on the Crosse,
Made satisfaction full for Adams losse.

But when our Lord,
Had triumph'd over Death, and Hell,
Hee to his Fathers bosome was restor'd,
Where in eternall glory Hee doth dwell;
Then did Hee call to mind
That little flocke, which Hee had left behind.

And downe He sent,
The Comforter, the God of peace,
That Hee might by his wise arbitrement,
Us guide in all our wayes, and passages:
But with His Father, Hee,
Still mediates, for our indemnitye.

God doth protect;
While God the Sonne doth intercede;
And God the Holy Ghost cheeres the Elect:
(Lord) what is Man that thou shouldst thus him heede?
Man is a thing of nought:
Why for his safegard shoulds't thou take such thought?

(Oh God) Thou ar't
In bounty most superlative,

323

Yet for thy gifts, askds't but a thankfull heart;
A recompence not very hard to give,
Yet many so forgett
Their duetyes, that they perish in thy debt.

(Oh Lord) I crave
That Thou one blessing more wolds't adde
Unto thy former gifts, oh let mee have
A gratefull heart, then shall my heart bee glad,
And in this rejoyce more,
Then for all gifts which I receiv'd before.

[26] The Navigation

The modest sinner stood behind,
Who whilome wont with amorous belgardes,
To captivate each wanton mind;
But now in humble sort, she earth regardes,
Not dareing to lift up her eye,
'Cause shee had sinn'd against Heaven high.

Her penitentiall teares did flow:
Into the deepes of true repentance, shee
Did launche, while dreary sighes did blow
To drive her barke upon the silver lee,
Shee doubled the Cape of good Hope,
And mercy kenn'd from the maine toppe.

Then to the God of sea, and land,
Who had preserv'd her from a dismall wracke,

324

Shee payd Her vowes, and with her hand
The pretious boxe of fragrant spikenard brake,
And with this unguent did besmeare,
The temples of her Saviour deare./

[27] The Apologye

I blesse those calmes,
Which gave me leisure,
For to endite these holy psalmes,
In stead of songs of pleasure.
I praise my God, who mee inspires
With pure, and sanctify'd desires.

Although my Muse,
Was not so chast,
As some immur'd, untouch'd Recluse,
I did no paper waste,
To varnish with my rymes of praise,
The fame of any wanton Thais.

Although I was
No Rechabite,
I never did dote on a glasse,
Like to Anacreon light:
Nor ever had I a designe,
Lines to sophisticate with wine.

I drinke no water
(Like Cassius)

325

Am no Apicius at a platter,
Nor yet a Lessius:
I eate and drinke; but not by weight,
Yet am no slave to appetite.

(Lord) let thy grace
Turne my desires,
From objects, that are vaine, and base:
Fill mee with holy fires,
Least I become a brutish thing
Like the transform'd Assyrian King.

[28] Infirmitye

I want a volubility of tongue,
To trafficke for applause;
Although I know the lawes
And rights of rhetoricke: I am not strung
For sound, and musicke shrill:
My tongue's a silent quill:
My witt is dumbe, and doth rehearse
Things by mere signes, and characters.

But my defect in this mercuriall part,
Doth chiefely mee afflict,
When I my self addict,
To praise my God, with a devoted heart:
I covet not a tongue,
To tune a wanton song:

326

A tongue tipp'd with deceite, or guile,
A tongue to rayle, or to revile.

But such a tongue I would desire to have,
As might impresse remorse,
In holy Auditours,
And rather cause them to lamente, then laughe:
Yet alwayes would I not,
Unto a tragicke note
My organe sett; but would make glad
(As time should serve) a spirit sad.

Then since my tongue is so infirme (Oh Lord)
That I cannot aspire,
To bee one of thy quire,
Vouchsafe those gifts unto my heart t'afford,
Which may make recompence,
For my tongues impotence;
Then I shall praise Thee, while my will,
My tongues defects shall cover still.

[29] Contrition

My heart is broken (oh my God)
Breake mee not like a potters vessell,
Bruse mee not with an iron rodde,
But forme mee by thy holy Chesill,
That I a statue may become,
Fitt to adorne thy heavenly roome.

The Figge tree yeildes a fruite that's sweet,
Yet is unprofitable wood;

327

For Sculptour's art it is unmeete,
And neither serves for saint, or Roode:
For Vulcan's use it is unfitt,
His bellowes doe no good on it.

But I that wretched Tree am, which
The hunger of my Christ deceives,
Hee fruite expects, but I am rich
In nothing but vaine spreadeing leaves,
Nor am I wood so fitt, and apt
That of mee can a saint bee shap't.

Yea, I am that same Figgetree vaine,
Which in Christs vineyard planted was,
Drest many yeares with care, and paine,
Yet onely serve to fill a place:
I therefore feare the axes wound,
Bicause I comber but the ground.

(Lord) in mee repayre (by thy grace)
The image Thou dids't first create:
Though Adams sinne did it deface,
Yet Mine, did it more vitiate:
Vouchsafe t'amend it with thy hand,
Then in thy Gallr'y it may stand.

[30] The Progresse

Man in the wombe, is but a Zoophyte,
There nourish'd like a plant:

328

But when Hee is produc'd to the day-light,
Disclos'd from that warme haunte,
Hee at the honour doth arrive,
To bee a creature sensitive.

And Memory, with Fancye in him raigne,
Till Time makes him mature.
Then Reason setts her throne up in his braine,
And takes the soveraigne cure
Of the fraile Microcosme, an empire
Which oft Commotions doe distemper.

For Will seduc'd by carnall Appetite,
Her dictates doth despise:
Thus her prerogative she looseth quite,
And her high dignityes;
But divine Grace can Her, alone
Restore unto the regall Throne.

By whose assistance, Man acquireth power,
Unto an higher pitch to clime,
And to become a glorious Conquerour,
Over both Death, and Time.
Thus Hee, who was a Zoophyte
At first, becomes an Angell bright./

[31] Neclect

If Man knew his own blisse,
Or all his capabilityes,

329

Hee would not nayled bee to this low Center,
Of earthly pleasures,
But would put forth to sea, and boldly venture
For richer treasures.

Vaine Man remembers not
The way to blisse./ Hee hath forgott
How that the Lord of life came downe to dye,
That wee might rise
To live./ As if the Gospell were a lye,
In sinne He lyes.

Sometimes when Hee thinkes on
Christs bloudy Crosse, and passion,
Perhaps Hee'l give a ceremonious breath,
Of aire, and griefe,
But will not droppe a teare upon that death,
Which gave him life.

How doth our Ignorance,
Make us appeare Cimmerians?
Involv'd in outward and in inward shades;
For wee forgett,
How age by minutes growes, and how life fades,
How Time doth flitte.

Wee to the grave ride poste,
As to some pleasant coast,
Where wee to footles creatures become feasts,
That dwell in tombes,
Who murthers doe avenge of fowles, and beasts
Upon our wombes.

But if we can dispense,
With brutish appetite, and sense,

330

And momentaneous pleasures lay aside;
Then wee shall rise,
Unto such joyes, as never were descry'd,
By eares or eyes.

[32] The Treasure

Hee that seekes gold, or pearle, must delve, or dive,
And descend toward Hell:
Thus things, for which the world doth chiefely strive,
Neare Hells precincts doe dwell:
But there's a gemme, and Treasure to bee found,
Rather above the skyes, then under ground.

Eternall Richesse, whose Possessours are,
Nor prodigall, nor covetous:
For though they must acquired bee by care,
And toyle solicitous,
Yet (being once obtain'd) they doe presente
Unto the heart, a fullnes of content.

But Wee, doe Indian savages excell,
In absurd brutish dotage:
Gold wee exchange for glasse, our Birthrights sell,
Even for a messe of potage,
Yea choose to forfeyte all celestiall treasure,
Rather then to abandon one base pleasure.

Our soules taste too much of the soyle, and caske,
To please Gods palate: wee

331

Wont to esteeme it an Egyptian taske,
True Christians to bee.
As if there were no Heaven, or Hell, we cry
Good morow Sinne, and good night Sanctity.

When I a fat Physicion doe behold,
Thriveing by pockes, and fevers,
Or a leane Lawyer, larded well with gold,
Through sordide base endeavours
I wonder not to see a Pastour meager
Appeare like one, come from a winter leaguer.

We corruptible carkasses regarde./
Uncertaine life, and health,
Seeke chiefely to preserve: wee labour hard
For transitory wealth:
But the soules health, or wealth, wee least care for,
As if wee could not want a Saviour.

Or as our Saviour could not us want;
But of necessity,
Must his eternall joyes unto us graunt,
Without our piety,
For goods that perish, wee take onely care,
Neclecting treasures, which immortall are.

Vouchsafe (oh Lord) t'enrich mee with thy grace,
Then I shall willingly
Carnall delights, and vanityes let passe,
Sell all my stocke to buy
That orientall Pearle, and that same field,
Wherein thy heavenly Treasure is conceald./

332

[33] Jordan

The cruell Souldier, with his speare,
Did pierce our Saviours side,
Whence bloud did flow, with water cleare:
Oh what a blessed Fount was here:
Had this spring not bene spy'd,
Even the whole world had dy'd.
This was a soveraigne cordiall,
Which did from death, to life recall.

His heart was wounded first by love,
For which caus'd him to descend
From his immortall Throne above,
Our humane Nature for to prove;
True love did him incende,
His precious bloud to spend:
But by his last wound wee were heal'd;
Th' assurance of our blisse it seal'd.

A twofold Jordan did arise,
From these two springs to cure,
Our epidemicke leprosyes,
And every soules infirmityes:
For this same water pure,
Powr'd from an holy eure,
Doth cleanse a sinfull soule: but Bloud
The cure must finish, and conclude./

333

[34] Prodigyes

Wee heare of dire portents, and Prodigies,
Sad meteours of bloud, and fire,
The signes of heavenly ire,
Forewarners of the Earths calamityes,
Summons that call men in,
To give account for sinne
Presageing Death, and devastations
To Cittyes proud, and sinfull Nations.

Et penitus toto divisos orbe Brittannos.

Wee, who were Sep'ratists from the whole world,
Divided from the spacious maine,
By Neptunes wat'ry chaine,
Are now divided in our selves, and hurl'd
Into a sea of dangers,
Become a mocke to strangers,
Who whilome were their scourge, and terrour,
Such is our folly, and our errour.

The petulant proud French, Th' unstedfast Scot,
The Irish ever false, and bloudy;
And the rude Danes study,
Us utterly to ruine: 'Tis our lot
To have false freinds good store,
But Adversaryes more;
Yea every Nation doth envuye us,
Threatning to spoyle us, and destroy us.

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And as if the whole world could not suffice,
And serve, for the production
Of our destruction,
Wee torne are with domesticke enemityes,
Our Preists invectives preach,
Strife, and dissention teach:
Pulpittes, with pulpitts are at jarres:
Are not these more then civill warres?

Like th' Elements, before the World was made,
Wee mixte are, and embroyled all,
In strife unnaturall:
The Anabaptist is through zeale starke mad,
And though Hee fairely doth professe,
The height of holynes,
Religion's very soule hee quittes,
For too much heate hath craz'd his wittes.

His noddle brings new Antichrists to light,
The purple Babylonian whore,
Is spoken of no more,
As if shee were become a Convertite;
Our rev'rent mitered Preists
Are now termd Anti-christs
As if they were Beasts more profane,
Than that upon the Vaticane.

A Clergy proud, and too licentious,
Ever more ready tithes to gather,
Then to preach truths, and rather
Conformable, then conscientious,
Neclecting for to give
Bread truely nutritive
To hungry soules, may chiefely owne
The troubles of this realme, and crowne.

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I thirst, and daily pray for publicke peace,
But if it bee displeas'd Heavens will,
That Earth shall drinke bloud still
And that our sorowes shall not yet surcease,
Grant (Lord) that I may bee
Ever at peace, with thee:
So I no Prodigyes shall feare,
Though Death himself like one appeare.

[35] Infinitenes

(Lord) Hee, who goes about to find
Thy pow'r, and bounds would to it sett,
As soone may manacle the winde,
Or aire emprison in a nette,
Yea Hee as soone may with one spanne,
Measure the largest Ocean.

But when I of thy beauty muse,
Whose onely vision to us shall,
Divine beatitude infuse,
I into greater wonder fall,
And count it even the worst of crimes,
T' admire the beautyes of the times.

Nor doth thy wisedome lesse mee take,
When I behold the order rare,
Of things, which thine owne hand did make:
Even from the gloworme, to the starre,

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From th' Angell bright, to the darke clod,
Thy wisedome doth extend (oh God)

But when thy justice (I behold)
I am forc'd to admire, and feare,
Th' examples bee so manifold,
Of thy great judgements every where:
As well in these; as essence, Thou,
Incorruptible ar't (I know)

While I a corruptible wretch,
My Judge incorruptible view,
Deepe sighes I am compell'd to fetch;
Such sorowes doe my sinnes pursue:
Yet I find comfort, when I see,
My Saviour my Judge shall bee.

Even like Ezekiels dry'd bones,
I am reviv'd, and in my mind,
Find new, and cheerefull motions,
(Lord) when I see thy mercyes kind
Which doe in number, farre surmount
All arithmeticall account.

T'was not impossible (oh Lord)
To count thy wounds, not onely those
Wherewith thy hands, and feet were gor'd,
But such as scourges did impose,
Or those which by the crowne of thorne,
Were fix'd on Thee, in cruell scorne.

But How thy sorowes did abound,
Beyond humane capacitye;
No griefe like thine was ever found:
Thy whole life was an Agonye:

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Yet t'was not strange, thou dids't sweat blood,
Since such a burthen did thee loade.

For both Heavens wrath, and the worlds sinne,
Thou meekely, didst vouchsafe to beare:
Millions of Sampsons, had not bin
Sufficient, such a weight to reare:
But at thy death, the Sunne puttes on
Blacke robes, while th' Elements did grone.

Never was such an obite kept,
For at thy death, the Dead did rise,
(Who in the graves long time had slept)
To celebrate thine Obsequyes:
Angells, and Devills, mourn'd to see
The Lord of life, dye on a tree.

The symptomes of thy passion (Lord)
Remembrancers are of thy love,
Who with thy bloud mads't an accord,
For sinners, in the Heavens above:
Numbers confine thy suffrings might,
But (Lord) thy love is infinite.

An Angell, with a reede of gold,
Did measure new Jerusalem;
But Angells tongues cannot unfold
Thy love, and mercy: To mete them
It passeth geometricke skill,
For they both Heaven, and earth doe fill.

Oh give me leave for to adore,
Thy wisedome, Justice, strength, and beauty,
Rich in desires I am, though poore,
In the performance of my duety,

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Let not thy love, my love despise,
But make my heart, thy sacrifice.

[36] The Descension

(Lord) in my Creede I find it not,
That Thou dids't downe to Limbo goe:
The Scripture mentions no such grotte,
Though thy descent to Hell's a knot,
Which many labour to undoe:
But I see no necessity at all,
That Thou so farre, shoulds't from thy center fall.

Yea from thy mouth I have't in briefe,
That Thou to Paradise didst clime;
For it can't enter my beliefe,
Thou wouldst deceive the Godly Thiefe,
And faile to meete him, at the time,
And place prefix'd: Who fully was possest,
That His soule, should with thine, that day find rest.

But though Thou dids't no jorney take,
Into that darke infernall sphere,
Yet thou excursions wont'st to make,
Even to the gates of that foule lake;
For while my soule did wander there,
Thou metts't it (Lord) and (through thy benigne grace)
Dids't it reduce unto a better place./

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[37] Unconstancye

Sometimes I am transfigur'd to a saint,
And seeme like those who mett upon Mount Tabor;
And then againe My Soule through feare wax'd faint,
Doth in the Valley of Gehennon labour:
Sometimes I mount like fire, or aire;
Then petrify'd by cold dispaire,
I to the center sinke,
And my self thinke,
At the pittes brinke./

(Lord) ballance mee with discreete moderation,
But from my heeles the clogges of Sinne untye,
Least that I fall too low, through desperation,
Nor through presumption, let mee soare too high:
But let thy Grace teach mee to acte,
And to observe a middle tract:
Hee that on waxen plumes,
To rise presumes,
Himself consumes.

[38] Devotion

While that my knees doe bowe unto my God,
And my officious tongue doth pray,

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My heart seduced by some fancyes odde,
Doth wander quite another way:
(Lord) chaine my heart, with feare, and love,
That it may not at randon rove:

Thy essence seemes triangular (oh God)
And such the cell is of my heart:
Vouchsafe therein t'establish thine abode,
And let thy vertue fill each part,
Let not my Sinne, keepe Thee aloofe,
But daigne to dwell beneath my roofe.

I bowe my knees, erect mine hands, and eyes
To Thee; but These (without an heart)
Are but a vaine unseason'd sacrifice;
Like that, which made the Ethnickes start,
Who in their profane victimes fear'd,
Ill lucke, when there no heart appeared.

[39] The Bottle

Thou bears't the Bottle, I the Bagge (oh Lord)
Which daily I doe carry at my backe,
So stuff'd with sinne, that ready 'tis to cracke:
I have no unfain'd Nectar for thy Gourde,
Mine eyes will no such precious drinke afford:
Yet both my heart, and eyes, are Deserts dry,
Even Lybian sands, where Serpents crawle and fly.

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Yea the two extreme Zones tuke up my heart,
For unto good, as cold as ice, I am;
But unto evill, like an Ætna flame:
I paralyticall seeme in each part,
One utterly depriv'd of strength, and art,
When I should execute my Masters will,
But active am as fire, t'accomplish ill.

I beare the Bagge like Judas: (Lord) doe Thou,
From this unwieldye burthen mee dismisse,
And this bagge emptye, which so heavy is:
Then shall my teares into thy Bottle flow;
Not onely teares, which doe from sorow grow,
But cooler droppes, which doe from joy distill,
And to the brimme, these shall thy Bottle fill./

[40] The Deliverance

One blindfold went, upon the narrow ridge,
Of a steepe bridge,
Which with an arched bitte, did curbe, and chappe
A fomeing flood:
Hee haveing pass'd along, free from mishap,
Threw of his hood,
And lookeing on the danger Hee had scap'et,
With infinite amazement Hee was rap't:

Then conscious of that Providence sublime,
Which at that time,

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Had him preserved from the jawes of Hell,
Immediately,
In humble sort, upon his knees Hee fell,
And zealously,
No dry devotions did to him forth powre,
Who from those waters deepe, did him secure.

[41] The Triumphe

The King of Heaven, the Conquerour
Of Earth, and Hell, mounts on
An Asse, which never did before,
Weare bridle, or caparison:
For t'was unmeete Man should bestride,
That Beast, on which the Lord did ride.

The way, where this yong steede did sett
His humble steps, with palmes was crown'd
And least the stones should hurt his feet,
Men threw their garments on the ground;
The Rider they did honour so,
They could have throwne themselves there too.

The very word, Hosannah, was
Such an applause, and acclamation,
That it alone, did farre surpasse
A Panegyricall Oration:
The Romane Triumphes, were to this,
Mere puppet playes, and mummeryes.

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No ostentation here was seene,
But glory pure, unmix'd with pride,
Humility, and worth serene,
In heavenly bonds, together ty'd:
Why should thy Daughter faire (oh Sion)
Feare this approche of Judahs Lion?

Who, though Hee could have mannaged,
Even th' Elephant, without a bitt,
Or made Rhinoceros his steed,
Yet on an Asses colt would sitt:
'Till then, and since, none ere did know,
Such supreme glory sitt so low.

No spoyles of Monarchyes undone,
Were here before him carryed,
No captive Kings him waited on,
Admired for their exoticke weede:
No silver Donative was strew'd,
To please the greedy multitude.

These were resultes of glory vaine,
Mere pompous showes, of humane pride,
This victour did such toyes disdaine,
Hee did his spoiles, and captives hide,
And all those spectacles, which might,
Beholders to applause invite.

Had Hee his spoiles and captives shew'd,
Those Crownes, and Garlands brought to sight,
Which to his Victorye accrew'd,
Spectatours had bene ravish'd quite,
And would have wondered for to see,
Captivity a Captive bee.

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But if Hee had expos'd to view,
Those Kings of Darknes, and of Sinne,
Which Hee did utterly subdue,
A stranger spectacle t'had bin;
That had with terrour men amazed,
As well as admiration caus'd.

But though no sullen Kings forlorne,
Or spoiles of pillag'd empires brave,
Appear'd, his triumph to adorne,
Yet Hee a Congiarye gave,
Which did their Donatives excell
As farre, as highest Heaven doth Hell./

For Hee salvation did disperse,
To all, that would in him beleeve:
The Gentile wilde, and Jew perverse,
Admitted were it to receive:
But many were so blind, and cold,
That they despis'd this proffer'd gold.

[42] The Extremes

When I (at Rome) beheld poore people fall,
Before brasse, stone, and paper painted,
Yea every metall, and materiall,
That canonized was, and Saynted;
I wonder'd then, where the least sense did lye,
Or in the Idoll, or the Votarye.

345

But I (at home) doe more admire, while they
Who are instructed oft, and told
To whom, and how, they daily ought to pray,
Are in devotion so cold:
And then, I thinke, that our neclects at home,
May well those follyes match, I saw at Rome./

Where though they doe no frankinceense consume,
Beneath the boughes of each greene Tree,
Yet rotten wood, they oftentimes perfume,
And of their od'rous smoke are free
To those dumbe Gods, whom they should rather throwe
Into the fire, then smoke on them bestowe.

While on their Ignorance I doe reflect,
And their absurdnes in devotions,
I the Almighty pray, them to direct,
With light, and better motions:
Yea that Hee would give us devotion true,
And with more heavenly notions them endue.

[43] The Feast

(Yee divine Epicures) whom sacred thirst
Of high Beatitude, doth move,
T'approche this Table; Here drinke, till yee burst
Into a flood of teares, and love:
That heavenly diet, of which Greece did fable,
By Grace, is truely serv'd in to this Table.

346

All well prepared Appetites, may here
Take diet, whose concoction breedes
Eternall Life, this is that mysticke cheere,
Which both the soule, and body feedes:
Apples of life, compared with this foode,
Appeare not halfe so pleasant, or so good.

With Nectar, and Ambrosia, let the Greekes
Feast their supposititious Jove:
(Egypt) adore thy Garlicke, and thy leekes,
Which may our scorne, not envuye prove.
Our foode not onely endles life doth give,
But also makes the dead to rise, and live./

[44] Weakenes

(Oh Lord) how can I observe thy commands,
Since I have neither heart, nor hands,
I want both eares, and eyes:
The facultyes,
Of my decrepite soule, are so decayd,
That they can lend my will no ayde:
For those things, I would doe,
I can't reach too:
So infirme am I, and so overlayd.

Hereditary sinne stickes in my bones,
From many generations;
The Parents of us all
Were sensuall,

347

And fix'd on us, through their intemperance,
That epidemicall disease,
Which none can cure, but Hee,
Who on a Tree
Expir'd: Thus Life with Death in race aggrees.

The crosse was/the tree of life/ & the tree of the/forbidden fruite,/the tree of death/

(Lord) even thine owne Disciples, who beheld
Thy great miracles, and were fill'd
With thy instructions, they,
Oft went astray:
Thy Parables, they did not understand,
And though by power from thy hand,
They went to cast out Devills,
And heal all evills,
Yet alwayes could not performe thy command.

Though in their sight, Thou, not with many dishes,
But a few loaves, and fewer fishes,
Didst many thousands feede,
Yet want of bread,
Did them perplexe, bicause they faith did want:
Though They, with Thee were conversant;
Infants to Thee presented,
Them discontented,
Though Thou to such alone, thy realme dos't graunt.

On land, They Thee but a meere Man esteem'd;
At sea, They Thee a spirit deem'd:
They wanted faith t'espy
Thy Deitye,
By sea or land; though Thou, by sea, and land,
Thy Godhead shewd'st: yea though thy hand
By wonders did out acte,
Eves whole extracte,
Yet They, Thee a mere Prophet understand.

348

Yea, one of those, who at thy Table fed,
Who tooke from thee that mysticke bread,
Which being taken right,
Gives life, and light:
Even Hee, thy life betrayd, with a light kisse,
Unto thy cruell enemyes,
Hee sold (for thirty pence)
The quintessence
Of life, and the Elixir of true blisse.

How then thy Flocke was scatter'd, on each hand,
Like winde-driven dust, or flyeing Sand:
Yea, that stout Champion,
(Who stood upon
His valour most) most faintly thee deny'd:
A silly Mayde his weakenes try'd,
Made him to curse, and sweare,
And shrinke for feare;
His Faith the touch, and tryall would not bide.

I feare, and wonder, when I doe behold,
These fayleings in thy chosen fold,
Therefore at thy feet low,
My self I throwe:
Begging that I may bee thought acceptable,
To gather crummes beneath thy Table;
For to drinke of thy cup,
I dare not hope,
Bicause I am unworthy, and unable./

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[45] The Lamentation

The Heavens did mourne: The windes did grinne:
These vapours blacke,
Their rise did make,
From the vast Ocean of our sinne:
For from our crimes,
Proceedes th' ill weather of the times.

No humide Planets mett together,
In a moist signe:
No wat'ry Trine,
Hath bene the cause of our ill weather:
Planets below,
Have made the higher cloudes to flow.

Plenty from these was wont to droppe,
But now they lowre,
As if their power,
Intended famine, not a croppe:
Thus our excesse,
Our blessings turnes to our distresse.

The noyse of Musicke, and of laughter,
In our feasts heard,
Were omens fear'd:
For mischiefes needes must follow after;
Sinne the way leades,
And in her footsteps vengeance treades.

350

The Heavens are our Remembrancers,
And plainly showe,
What wee should doe,
By their uncessant floods of teares:
But wee are flint,
And from their Item's, take no hint.

(Oh Thou) who from th' obdurate stone,
Mads't waters rush,
And fountaines gush,
A greater miracle worke on
Hearts, that may vaunt,
For hardnes, with the Adamant.

[46] Sanctification

What medlye Linsy wolsye stuffe
Am I made of?
I had bene good, and ill enough,
If my desires had bene fulfill'd:
But God repell'd
The evill, and the good witheld.

My heart Thebaicke marble is,
Spotted like this,
With lusts, and divers vanityes:
All colours, but the virgin white,
Are there in sight,
Yet 'tis no object of delight.

351

My God disdaines in it to dwell,
'Cause 'tis a cell,
As darke as an Abysse, or Hell,
And when on it I doe reflect,
I in't detect
Nothing but folly, and defect.

Lord dippe me in the purple flood,
Of thine own blood;
Then shall my ill bee turn'd to good,
And I seeme stuffe, though not so fine
Thy vest to line,
Yet, for thy pantoffles divine:

And let my heart of spotted stone,
By lotion,
In rivers of thy Passion,
Turne white: so shalt thou banish quite,
Hardnes, and night,
And to dwell there, Thou shalt delight.

[47] The Pedigree

While I did narrowly investigate,
The race, and linage of my sinnes,
I found that sinne, and I were twinnes,
Begotten, and brought forth, at the same date
Of time, and so by consequence,
Subject unto the selfsame influence.

352

Destin'd to live, and dye together: Then
I blush'd for shame, and could have cry'd,
Because I was so closely ty'd,
To such an ougly Ethiopian:
But most it did afflict my heart,
'Cause t'was ordain'd, that wee must never part.

I wish'd her not my sister, but my wife,
For then I could have found a course,
To bee reliev'd by a divorce,
And to lay downe this burthen of my life:
But when more strictly I look'd in,
Reflecting on my self, as well as sinne,

I found, that wee two were together knitte,
More neare, then any Twinnes can bee
Ally'd; at least by a degree:
For wee bothe made but one Hermaphrodite;
This double shape, and forme I hated,
Which by figge leaves could not bee palliated.

While I my monstrous feature did deteste,
I tooke in hand a holy glasse,
Therein for to reviewe my face,
Bicause I knew, this Mirroir well exprest,
The just proportion of each line:
No glasse was ever seene so true, so fine.

And though this Glasse did to me represente
Mine owne deformityes, yet there
A ray of beauty did appeare,
The ruine of a feature excellent:
This spectacle my spirits sad
Refresh'd, and did some consolation adde.

353

And while I still did with this glasse advise,
More comfort to me did accrewe,
For it a heavenly forme did shew,
Though much defac'd by carnall vanityes,
Encourag'd by this good successe,
I still did hope to make my sorowes lesse.

And makeing still inquirye in this Glasse,
By humble speculation, I
Found out a present remedy,
For all deformityes, which did deface
My native shape, and by what art
I might a Monster to a saint convert.

It shewd how I a liveing well might find,
Which from five conduits did cast forth,
Pure crimson streames, of soveraigne worth,
And here to bathe my self I was injoyn'd,
And then these springs should mee endue,
With an angelicke shape, and heavenly hue.

[48] Peace

(Peace) whether ar't thou fled? Thy native soyle
Is Christendome:
Into what unknowne Ile
Ar't Thou retir'd from us?
What made thee to estrange thy self from home?
Turne exile thus:

354

Salem, lyes in her ruines buryed,
And yeldes no place,
For Thee to rest thy head,
'Cause Shee refus'd t'afford
A place of rest, (long since) unto his grace,
Who is thy Lord.

Oh whether ar't thou fled? To Scythian snowes
Or lybian Sands,
Wher fiery Phoebus glowes,
And pois'nous serpents crawle:
How have our sinnes, forc'd Thee to seeke for lands
Unhospitall?

Oh whether ar't thou fled? What ha'st thou quite
Left us; And ar't
Turn'd Nunne, or Anchorite:
Thy Lord did Thee ordaine
With us t'abide, although Hee did depart:
Oh turne againe.

Our Arke, hath long enough bin tost upon
The rageing billowes,
Of dire dissention,
Which makes us to lament,
And hang our harps, and hearts upon the willowes,
Of discontent.

Thou, Who dids't from Mount Olivet ascend,
And like a Larke
Didst soare; then downe didst send
Thy Spirit from above;
Now with an olive branch, unto our Arke,
Send backe this Dove.

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[49] The Nosegay

If I could weepe my self into a spring,
Or a perpetuall current: then
This Metamorphosis might seeme a thing
Of merit, in the eyes of Men:
But what requitall can this bee,
To him, that did weepe blood for me?

Could I for penitentiall sigheings, vye
With the whole compasse, some might guesse,
That my contrition was a motive high,
To melt an heart, even mercyles.
But what requitall can this bee,
To him that sigh'd his last for mee?

What if I should to death my self expose?
And feele a torture in each nerve:
Yet all these torments in one death must close,
And what by it could I deserve
From him, who dyeing once, did mee
From millions of deaths sett free?

Lord since by acte I can effect no good,
Nor yet by suffreing, lend Thou mee,
The flowers of thy Passion, strip'd with blood,
Which I will render unto Thee,
Dew'd with my teares, hopeing by these,
(Though not to merite) yet t'appease.

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[50] The Pilgrimage

Errours of youth

How did my sorowes mount above
My hopes, and threate
Me to defeate,
While I did wander in a grove,
Through crooked pathes of doubts, and feares,
Where little light of joy appeares.

On neither hand I could descry,
A beacon bright,
To sett mee right,
No pillar, or dumbe Mercury,
Appear'd to answere my desires:
I nothing saw but foolish fires.

Sometimes I thought to rest, and stay,
Conceiveing it,
Better to sitt,
Then more and more to goe astray:
But then I found, that I could have,
No resting place, but in the grave.

Fortune.
While thus perplex'd I did abide,
A beauto'us Dame,
Unto mee came,
And profferd for to bee my guide,
Then I, who long since wont t'admire,
The fairest objects of desire,

357

Her proffer gladly did embrace,
Not doting on,
Proportion,
Or any beauty in her face,
But hopeing that her prudencye,
Should sett mee right, that went awrye.

Shee with Her cinque foyl'd Lilly prest,
my rougher hand,
And did command,
I should chase terrours from my brest,
For shee would mee conduct in peace,
Unto a place of joy, and ease.

Shee led, I followed close behind,
But ere wee had
Three furlongs made.
I did perceive my guide was blind,
Deepe holes, steepe Hills, and pathwayes glaz'd
With slipp'ry ice, made mee amaz'd.

Then I conceiv'd it better farre,
To wander still,
At mine owne will,
Then follow such an errant starre,
Wherefore I presently withdrew,
And bade my leader blind adieu.

Pleasure.

I had no sooner taken leave,
When t'was my fate,
To meete a Mate,
Whose lookes seem'd destin'd to deceive,
Her face, her dresse, might even have mov'd
A second Joseph to have lov'd.

358

Her hayres, in a disorderd order,
Disheveld hung,
With tresses long.
Her temples circled in a border,
Of rubyes, pearles, and emraulds greene,
Declar'd her to be beautyes Queene.

Her mantel breath'd Arabian fumes,
And seemd t'envuy,
The precious dye
Of thee, immortall Pheenix's plumes:
Shee woo'd mee to submit to her,
And then I should no longer erre.

Then shee mee to a mountaine led,
Where flowers grew,
Of every hue,
And Trees of pleasure their armes spred,
Where did melodious Birds rejoyce
Admir'd for colour, and for voyce.

This Hill appear'd so exquisite,
That now I thought,
I had found out,
The very palace of delight.
Now no more errours did I feare,
Bicause I thought my rest was neare.

With mickle joy I did ascend,
This pleasant Mount,
And did account,
I was come to my journeys end;
But horride spectacles did then
Make mee myself wish backe age'n.

359

For the swolne Toade, and th' hisseing Snake,
With speckled hides,
Upon all sides
Did crawle, and their vagaryes make,
Who did their livide poyson spue,
Upon all flowers which there grew.

These objects caus'd mee to make halte,
While this coy Dame,
Cry'd fye for shame,
And did my lacke of courage fault:
Shee drew mee on, but then a cry
Did warne mee to returne, or dye.

I heard one cry: returne, returne:
If you proceede,
You are but dead:
Then I beheld the mountaine burne:
For Ætna like, it fire did vomite,
And flames of sulphur issu'd from it.

Then I, with terrour sore aga'st,
My Guide forsooke,
No leave I tooke:
But downe the mountaines side fled fast:
With more haste, then I did ascend
For feare did much my speed amend.

Knowledge.

When I had left this horride place,
I chanc'd to meete
A Lady sweet,
Of sober garbe, and comely grace,
Her eyes were perspicills to find,
The hidden beautyes of her mind.

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No Torce of flowres, or precious stones,
Did decke her browes,
With glorious showes:
Her beauty needed no additions,
Nor did her will of things approve,
That rather tempte to lust, then love.

She proffered my course to steere,
But I, as one,
Who had misdone,
Through my credulity, did feare
To bring my self to worse estate,
Then I had rashly done of late.

But then my Genius prompted mee,
not to be nice,
But take advice
From Her: then wee did soone aggree,
And shee did mee t'a garden guide,
Where Art, and Nature mastr'yes try'd./

All fruites, and flowers there did grow,
Here birds did warble;
And polish'd marble,
Did streames from his hard intrayles throwe,
Which did perpetually gush,
And made the very cristall blush.

Here statues prais'd the Sculptour's art,
And like things stood,
Of flesh and blood:
Onely the touch serv'd to convert,
Deceiv'd spectatours, who did guesse,
That these were liveing substances.

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While I admired these delights,
Which seem'd design'd,
To take the mind,
As well as sense: the Dame m'invites
To plucke fine flowres, and fruite to taste;
Whose gentle offer I embrac'd.

But when I had well satisfy'd,
My appetite,
And curious sight;
The Dame did to a porte mee guide,

Grace./

And here another Lady was,
Mee to conduct to a new place.

It to my mind was troublesome,
To leave so soone,
This station,
Which I thought an Elysium:
But yet I was resolv'd t'obey,
Bicause I could not well say nay.

Nor did th' aspect of this last Dame,
lesse good foreshew,
Then I earst knew;
With modesty her cheekes did flame,
Devotion in her eyes did blase:
The mappe of heaven was in her face.

Her faire diportment did mee winne,
And her sweet mine,
Which was divine,
And seem'd an antidote 'gainst sinne:
For it such pow'rfull rayes did cast,
As might have made a Tarquine, chast.

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I followd Her, and shee mee leades,
into a vale,
unhospitall:
Where thorny shrubbes uprear'd their heads,
And prickeing briers did abound,
Which did my feet and ankles wound.

While that these difficultyes hard,
Procur'd my smart,
And vex'd my heart.
The Lady no good Counsell spar'd,
But still repayr'd my courage weake,
Which ready was to faile, and breake.

To patience shee did mee incite,
And to beare out,
With a mind stout,
This brunt displeasant; that I might
Arrive soone at a place of rest,
Where I should dwell for ever blest.

Then I my spirits recollected,
And in my sorow,
Did comfort borow,
From future joyes, which I expected;
My tedious toyle I did subdue,
Bicause my hopes had blisse in view.

When I had pass'd this dreary vale,
My self I found,
On better ground,
And in aire that was cordiall;
Fresh spirits here did in mee breathe,
My former life was but a death.

363

All things seemd here compos'd, and sett
To please a mind,
From sinne refind:
Order, and beauty here were mett,
No sullen cloude envuy'd the day,
No blustring windes their prankes did play.

Here was such fullnes of delight,
That forepast joyes,
I counted toyes.
And former labours forgott quite;
Here of my God I did request,
To sett up my repose, and rest.

[51] The Transmutation

I lately in a garden GREWE,
But was nor Charity, nor REWE,
But rather an unhappy EWE.

Then Heaven upon my branches FROWND,
And dangers mee environ'd ROWND,
For I no fruite of goodnes OWND.

Then I was like a wither'd BRAKE,
Which to'st is underneath the RAKE,
My sappe consum'd, my heart did AKE.

364

My Conscience did mee bite, and CLAWE,
I feard the rigour of the LAWE,
And of Gods anger stood in AWE.

I humbly then besought his GRACE,
That Hee would change my name and RACE,
Bicause I was not worth an ACE.

My brest then felt a blessed SPARKE,
And I transplanted to a PARKE,
Became an Oke to build Gods ARKE.

[52] The Burthen

While on my self I doe reflect,
I spy a brittle House of clay,
With many imperfections deck't,
Which while I labour to correct,
To these I new additions lay:
So fraile, so vaine am I, in each respect:
(Oh God) teach mee thy way.

I beare a Burthen on my backe,
And lay it downe to lessen it,
Bicause it makes my shoulders cracke;
But I so much discretion lacke,
Am so devoyde of sense, and witt,
That I more weight still on the same doe packe:
(Oh God) my Sinne remitt.

365

Thou dos't (oh Lord) poore Soules invite,
That are surcharg'd with burthens great,
To seeke for succour, from thy might,
Who wilt their heavy loades make light:
My soule doth therefore Thee intreate,
That Thou woulds't please to ease me of my weight;
(Lord) doe mee not forgett.

[53] Ostentation

The world Nobility doth measure,
By acres, or by bagges of treasure:
And some with more apparent sense,
Doe it compute by long descents;
Like Adams sinne, they it confine
To a continu'd race, or line:
Of Vertou's habites none doth notice take;
Of piety no more esteeme they make,
Then of an old, unusefull Almanacke.

When Romane Vertue bare the bell,
And did bothe East, and West compell,
To buckle to her Eagles proud,
Then Gentr'y did arise from bloud;
Not from bloud, which becomes combust,
Through extreme surfeting, and lust,
And is confin'd to veynes, and arteryes:
For from such bloud no Gentry can arise,
But somwhat hidde in a gentile disguise.

366

Then Vertue, which was most regarded,
With marble statues was rewarded,
Whose strong composure did sett forth,
The solidenes of their true worth:
But an Escocheon gay displayes,
The colour'd vertue of these dayes:
Concerning feild, and charge they much inlarge,
Yet few or none his foe in feild dare charge,
A Carpet Knight may well weare such a targe.

Like Siserah's spoyles, their fine coates bee all
Mere things of fancy, nothing reall,
Bicause the Bearers are not brave,
And no heroicke endowments have:
For Vertue now may bee ingro'st,
Among antiquityes quite lost,
Who fled to Heaven, when Earth became unkind,
But in her flight, shee left her coate behind,
Which upstart Gentry did by fortune find.

[54] The Race

This life is an Olympicke Game, a Race,
Wherein the Victours shall bee crown'd,
With liveing bayes; which Time cannot deface:
But many obstacles abound,
Us to impeach, and stoppe us in our pace;
For wee runne on such unev'n ground,
That they who are most sure of foote, and strong,
Doe trippe, and fall seven times a day.

367

And wee are prone to linger, and goe wrong:
Besides, The World casts in our way
Apples of gold, for which our palates long,
Yet these no nutriment convey
To us, seemeing faire, onely to the eye,
Like those which fond Eve did presente
Unto uxorious Adam, who thereby,
A curse on us his children sent.
Some in the trenches fall of luxury,
Hoodwink'd by lust incontinent:
The Devill in the eyes of some throwes dust;
Plants engines, settes his nettes, and snares,
To catch the eye, the Eare, the touch, the gust:
Delves pittes of pleasures, and of cares;
For to entrappe the Wicked, and the Just
No toyle no trickes no time He spares.
At morne, at even, at midday, and midnight,
For youth, old Age, and Mans estate,
Hee layes what trappes Hee thinkes most requisite,
And for each temper hath a bayte,
(Oh Thou) who a'rt the Guide, the Way, the Light,
And to eternall life the Gate,
In this Race by thy Grace let mee proceede,
And let thy merit Crowne my want of speede.

[55] Vivacitye

When Phoebus is ascendent in the morne,
With the old Archer, or cold Capricorne,
The world remaines forlorne:

368

The Birds, are then as silent as the Trees,
Devested of their sommer liveryes,
And clad in mossy freeze.

So when thy Spirit (Lord) is from mee fled,
I am a body without heart, or head,
Even but a masse of lead.

But when this blessed breath doth mee inspire,
I loathe the center, as a lumpe of mire,
And mount like active fire.

Then I ascende with wings of zealous heate,
Throweing my self before thy mercy seate,
Fraught with devotion great.

And ravish'd to this heavenly height, I can
Neclect the frownes, of supercilious Man,
Count richesse drosse, and branne:

Pleasure but dyrte: Honour a foolish fire:
And strength a property for Brutes t'admire:
Beauty a fraile attire.

Nor am I cur'd in my desires alone,
But in my feares, not dreadeing any stone,
Which may at mee bee throwne:

For Death I thinke to life a portall is,
And sicknes but a ready way to this,
And woe a seale to blisse.

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[56] Hardnes

Th' obdurate Adamant disdaines to feele
The hardest Chesills edge;
Submitting neither unto stone, nor steele;
Yet many doe alleadge,
That the warme bloud of Goates, hath power on
This unrelenting stone:
But for the bloud of an unspotted Lambe,
I humbly will entreate,
A hard, and refractory heart to tame,
Made of obdurate Jeate:
For this doth take away all hardnes quite,
And changeth black to white.
Droppes, by their frequent distillation,
Doe pretty cesternes make,
In hardest flints': (Oh Thou) the cornerstone,
Vouchsafe my teares to take,
Into thy bosome, where they may impresse,
A sense of my distresse.
Oh let those liquid rubyes, trickleing from
The Cinque ports of thy wounds,
Make my hard contumacious heart become,
Like overflowed grounds:
Then floods of penitentiall teares I'le bring,
T'increase thy mercyes spring.

370

[57] Intemperance

Let them, who doe attempt both day and night,
To sacke the fort of reason,
Perverting Natures lawes, and order quite,
Misuseing Time, and season,
Ballance the jeopardy, and the delight,
Resulteing from their treason,
Whereby they doe disthrone rebell'ously,
The Soules high hegemonicke faculty,
And doe the image of their God transmute,
Into that of a brute.

God hath given Man the rule, and soveraignty,
Over both Fowles, and beasts:
But Hee, as weary of his dignity,
Desertes his interests,
Quittes both his empire, and his Majesty,
And with their formes invests
Himself: and madly personates those creatures,
Of brutish sense, and worst proportion'd features;
As if his life were nothing els at all,
But a long Carnevalle,

A season of disguise, and as if God
Did love a Masquerade,
Or did delight in shapes, and postures odde,
More than devotion sad,
Or in Lymphaticke braines to make abode,
And be with Orgyes mad

371

Ador'd:/ (Oh Thou) who didst turne water cleare,
Into most gen'rous wine,

And by this miracle, didst make t'appeare,
Thy essence was divine
Teach mee t'accomplish (by the Spirit deare)
A miracle like thine;
That I may turne sweet wine to brinish teares,
My looser sonnetts, into holy verse:
And while I thus turne wine to Holy water,
I shall praise my Creatour.

[58] The Combate

The World's a spacious Amphitheater,
And wee are slaves each one:
The sinne of our first Parents, did conferre
This sad condition
On us: and wee are all ingag'd
To combate with wild Beasts, inrag'd:

Such as prodigious Affrica doth thrust
Upon the world: th' effects
Of flames unlawfull, and promisco'us lust,
Which divers kinds connects,
Upon the bankes of some blacke lake,
Where each his thirst, and lust doth slake.

372

Against such Monsters wee must fight it out,
Wild Beasts more furious,
Then those with which St Paule th' Apostle fought
(Long since) at Ephesus:
No Missions wee can here procure,
The combate must to th' outrance dure.

A serpent old fraught with invet'rate hate,
Assayles us night and day:
But wee an Holy Dove must imprecate,
T'assist us in this fray:
If we desist, wee are subdu'd;
Death onely must the strife conclude.

[59] The Echo

Telle me (my Soule) how doth thy comfort flow?
Ech.
Low
What thoughts dos't Thou retaine of Melancholy?

E.
Holy
What made thine holy sorow thus to rise?

E.
eyes
What object did thine eyes to thee designe?

E.
Sinne
What made thee sinne, and thus thy God incense?

E.
Sense
What punishment thy great offence succedeth?

E.
Death
Cans't Thou for death find any remedye?

E.
I.

373

Where growes this blessed Balme of sanctimony?

E.
On high
Then seeke thy God with a pure holy will.

E.
I will
And Thou shalt find that cure which Thou desirest.

E.
I rest./

[60] Moderation

Arts are th' Egyptian Handmaydes, to the Queene
Of sciences:
Moses the chiefe of Prophets, and of Men,
Did these possesse:
Our moderation must give these esteeme,
But if wee trye,
(Like Icarus) to flye a pitch extreme,
And over high,
Neclecting Her, who is their soveraigne just,
Then ten to one,
While to our waxen wings wee vainly trust,
Wee are undone.
Concerning creatures Arts enquiryes hold,
And labour much,
In secundary causes; but this gold,
Will not hold touch:
The circuite of the Primum Mobile
Must not confine
Our spirits, which accommodated bee,
For things divine:

374

Nor here must wee confide in soareing plumes,
But humbly rise:
For while some one on his owne strength presumes,
And too high flyes,
He dazled falls, and tumbles to the center,
With members crack't,
Because Hee was too rash, in his adventure:
A middle tract
Must bee observ'd, by every pious heart,
Who find the port,
While they their course shape by the holy Chart,
In pious sort.

[61] The Prodigall

Disrob'd by Sinne, expos'd to the cold aire,
Of dire dispaire,
I sighe I grone:
Famish'd for want of heav'nly sustenance,
My spirit faints,
And is nigh gone.
My time, my prime, and patrimonye I,
Have made to flye,
In forraine lands:
Lands farre remote from new Jerusalem,
Or Bethleem,
On cursed bands
Of Ruffians, Baudes, and whores: These Ruffians dire,
Were wrath, and ire,
These baudes, and whores,

375

Were Riote, Pride, Concupiscence, and Lust,
And these have thrust
Mee, out at doores:
Nothing but Want, and Shame, is left behind:
No hope I find,
To ease my mind:
How I desir'd to feede on those coarse huskes,
Which t'wixt their tuskes,
The swine did grinde:
But none vouchsaf'd to give, or let mee taste
Of this repast,
'Cause I had bin
Both to my God, and to my self unkind,
And had declin'd,
To extreme sinne.
Then g'an I of my Fathers House to thinke,
Where meate, and drinke,
Did much abound:
His hired servants I to mind did call,
Replenish'd all,
With diet sound:
Then did I say, I will arise, and goe
My Father to,
And thus make mone:
'Gains't Heaven, and before Thee, I have transgrest,
And merite least,
The name of sonne:
Account mee but among Thy servants hir'd;
This I desir'd,
And forward pass'd.
But when my Father mee farre of descry'd,
Himself Hee ply'd,
And made great haste:
On mee (poore soule) Hee sweet compassion had,
As one full glad,

376

My necke Hee prest
With his embraces deare, and kiss'd my cheeke,
With love full meeke,
While I confest
My sinne: then Hee for the best robe did call,
And therewithall,
Did mee invest:
A ring upon my hand Hee did impose,
And with new shoes,
My feet Hee drest:
Hee caus'd them to prepare the fatted calfe,
In my behalfe,
And sayd, let's feede,
Rejoyce, and merry bee, for this my Sonne,
Who was undone,
And given for dead.
Is now alive./ Thus my Indulgent sire,
With love entire,
Tooke mee ag'en.
And Heaven alone, those inward joyes can shew,
In figures true,
Which I felt then./

[62] The Harpe

Some may occasion snatch to carpe,
Sayeing that I have sung to Nero's Harpe,
And therefore am for Davids most unfitt,
Which piety requires, as well as witt:

377

But thus, I my defence prepare,
Sheweing how I have travell'd farre,
And by the streames of Babylon have sate,
Where I deplor'd my sad, and wretched state;
Upon a willow there I hung
That Harp, to which I whilome sung:
This Tree, which neither blossomes yeldes, nor fruite,
Did with this instrument unhappy sute:
There let it hang, consume, and rotte
Since I a better Harpe have gott,
Which doth in worth as farre surpasse the other,
As Abel in devotion, did his brother.

[63] The Mistake

Wee blame the times,
But doe not on our selves reflect,
To view our crimes,
And Sinne the chiefest architect
Of our disasters.
Our optickes tend to distances,
And wee are Masters,
Which things at home doe not redresse;
But all our losses,
Unto our neihboures wee impute,
Although our crosses,
Wee daily by our sinnes recrute:
If Each would seeke himself t'amend,
How soone our miseryes should end./

378

[64] The Terrours

T'was time to rise,
My Saviour knock't,
But I was rock't
Asleepe, by lusts, and vanityes:
And when I wak'd,
My self I found,
Environ'd round
By perills, which my vitalls shak'd:
An angry God
I saw above,
Whose hand did move
A flameing sword, and burning rodde:
On my right side,
Death I beheld,
Whose hand did wield
A dart, ne're flyeing short, or wide:
But on my left,
Sinnes thronging stood,
Like a thicke wood,
Which more then death my heart did cleft:
But underneath,
Hell I espyd,
Yawneing full wide,
More terrible then Sinne, or Death./
Like Balthasar
(When Hee beheld
His ruine spelld

379

Upon the wall) so did I fare,
My Jesu saw
Mee sore agast,
Then Hee in haste,
Did from these terrours mee withdraw./

[65] The Tempest

The fraile Carine of my distemperd soule,
Did on the billowes rowle,
Of this tempesto'us World: The rageing gusts
Of Passions, and lusts,
Did from all quarters blow: The helme was lost:
Never was ship so tost:
The Maine mast strayn'd, and ready was to fall,
So was misne Mast and all:
The tackleing crack'd, like rotten threed, or strawes,
And the vast deepes wide jawes,
Each minute, threaten'd to involve this barke,
Within their bowells darke:
Then (like the Galileean Masters) I
Cry'd loud, and fervently,
(Lord) save me least I perish: whereupon,
The Tempest ceased soone./

380

[66] Conversion

Gold is the chiefest labour of the sunne:
Gemmes are his artifice: His beames intrude
Upon the darke Abysse, and Mansion
Of the blind subterraneous multitude,
Whereby his pow'r is shew'd.
But true Conversion doth transcend the starres,
Where it creates such joyes, that Gemmes, and Gold
Compar'd with these, are vitiated wares,
Thus Pious Soules more vertues doe infold,
Then this great light doth hold:
And him in force excell,
As farre as Heaven doth Hell.

[67] The Refuge

Oh whether shall I flye?
To Hills or Valleys:
Where shall I hidden lye?
T'escape the malice,
Of my pursuers hote.
No Mountaine high,

381

No vale, or dismall Grotte,
Can shelter mee:
Yet on Mount Calvary,
I kenne a Tree,
Though seemeing seare, and dry,
Yet t'is (I see)
Laden with fruite divine,
Whose shadow blest,
All cursed Fiends decline:
Oh here's my rest./

[68] The Mansion

My Lord lay in a stable twice;
First when his Godhead was,
Plac'd in that homely edifice,
Where the tame Oxe, and Asse,
His Innemates were; and also when
Hee did in Mee abide;
That am a stable most uncleane,
Defil'd with lusts, and pride:
But when I call to mind, that Hee
Vouchsafed to retaine,
Some few poore Fishermen, to bee
The chiefest of his traine,
And how Hee chose the Province low,
Of despis'd Galile,
There his first miracle to showe,
To prove his Deitye:

382

Then I conceive that humble love,
Which to this earthen cell,
Him brought, from his bright Throne above,
Caus'd him in mee to dwell.

[69] The Imprese

God mee a Rubye gave,
And I therein,
Desir'd t'ingrave,
Some Imprese fine.
The world did mee advise,
There to display,
High dignityes,
And honours gay:
Or treasures rich at least:
The Flesh invites,
To have imprest,
There, all delights.
While dubious counsells thus,
Did mee divide,
With various gusts,
I look'd aside,
And saw a blessed Name,
Of one, who dy'd
A death of shame,
'Cause Hee was try'd
By unjust suffrages:
His name then I,
Made my Imprese,
Most joyfully./

383

[70] Knowledge

The subtile Adder doth refuse to heare
Th' Inchanters sound,
But layes one eare,
Unto the ground,
And stoppes the other with his venom'd tayle:
But facile Eve,
Through nature frayle,
Would not bee deafe,
Unto the serpents charmes; but him shee lent
(without delay),
Sense, and consent:
The Apples gay,
Did tempte her eye; and cursed Satans lye,
Who falsly sayd,
Shee should not dye,
Her soule betray'd.
And this Impostour fix'd another snare,
For this poore Madame,
Hee did declare,
That shee, and Adam,
Once haveing tasted this forbidden fruite,
In science should,
Prove absolute,
And bee inrold
Among th' immortall Gods: By this pretence,
Hee so bewitchd,
Her inward sense,
Which through pride itch'd

384

For knowledge; that shee wholy did submitt
Unto his charmes,
And did forgett,
Ensueing harmes.
Thus thirst of knowledge did on Mankind bring,
The Curse, which shewes,
It is a thing,
That may produce
Evill, as well as good; wee therefore must
With holy fire,
By love, not lust,
The same desire./

[71] Prayer

Though Jewish sacrifice (wee see)
Extinguish'd bee, and out of date:
Yet sacrifices still there bee,
Which wee must daily immolate;
Their sacrifice could not bee done,
Without fine salt, and flames of fire:
So wee, in our devotion,
Must knowledge mixe, with hote desire:
For Prayer without fervent zeale,
And holy knowledge mix'd with this,
A bond is without name, or seale:
Of no effect, and force it is.

385

[72] Sicknes

Sicknes is Balme of Gilead,
It makes the dead to live,
Breakes Satans head.
It is a life contemplative,
The soules Memento sweet,
It settes all right,
And in safe pathes directs our feet:
It is a golden bitte,
For sinnes restraint:
It makes our soules cease to bee idle,
Although our bodyes faint:
It youth doth bridle,
And middle Ages makes to thinke,
Of their declineing state,
And how they sinke,
Toward the common House of fate:
It is a bitter pill,
Which renders life,
Although it doth the body kill:
It is Heavens pruneing knife,
Which by abscission,
Doth sinfull branches take away,
And mends the soules condition:
What shall I say?
Although it bee the bodyes griefe,
It is the soules reliefe./

386

[73] The World

What magicke spell
Confines mee to this Circle wide?
What characters devis'd by arts of Hell,
Have my affections to this prison ty'd?
This place of exile, where my life,
No better is then lingring death;
This stage of strife,
Where with such paine I draw my vitall breath.

A Holy knot,
And league, that's solemnly combin'd,
T'wixt two unequall partyes makes mee dote
Upon this place, where I small comfort find;
But t'is decreed, I must abide,
'Till Death shall with impartiall blade,
This knot divide,
And all my sorowes in the grave unlade.

But thou (Oh Lord)
Which in the Lions denne dids't save
Thy servant Daniel, and didst him afford,
What his necessityes did duely crave,
From roareing Lions mee defend,
And let mee necessaryes find,
Which may incende,
(Unto thy praise, and glory) my weake mind./

387

[74] Preacheing

Some, sermons preache, as if they yet had not
That old Comedians Aphorisme forgott,
Which they in unripe yeares at schoole did learne:
All their instructions holy doe concerne,
Chiefely the pleaseing of the people, who
Returne, as from a play they wont to doe:
They praise the Preachers learning, and his voyce:
They in his witt, and fine conceites rejoyce:
Such Preachers seeme Embassadours, not sent
For busynes, but for mere complement.
And some are like a foolish Leache, who gives
Sweet cordialls, in stead of corrosives:
And rather then Hee will incisions trye,
Or cauterismes, will let his patient dye.

Some preach all peace, when They should denounc[e] warre,
'Gainst Satan, Sinne, and Vice irregular:
And some on needles ceremonyes stand,
As things that must be done by Gods command.
Few (like John Baptist) doe repentance preache,
Or (like the Elder Prophets) their lungs stretche
With Proclamation of those judgements dire,
Which Heaven doth threaten, and our sinnes require.
(Like Ahabs Prophets) some with raptures mad,
Dare Kings, send up to Ramoth Gilead:
Some turne the pulpitt to the Plaustrum old,

388

Where they their private passions venting, scolde.
Most preach to please, but happy's Hee, that can
Preach, both to please his God, and profite Man.

[75] Memorye

Thou, that of all parts,
Merits't to bee call'd,
The Roome, and Armarye of arts,
Which in Thee are wall'd,
There by the intellect inclos'd,
Mays't bee to better use transpos'd.

Cast out this false ware,
And now bring me in,
An hollow scalpe, naked, and bare,
The relique of sinne;
This wormes fragment may doe more good,
Then painted papers, which there stood.

Those Foli'os hence throwe,
And that Picture bring,
Which doth a thousand tortures showe,
Guilty soules to sting:
This will doe better, then a storye,
That kindles self love, or vaine-glory.

Those guilte bookes sette by,
And in their roomes place,

389

The Palme, and Crowne; those ensignes high
Of th' achieved race:
This Closett now, which was profane,
Is cleans'd, and become Christian.

[76] Simplicitye

A middle way some did attempte to find,
T'wixt Truth, and Falsity:
But They their Logicke lost, or left behind,
And their philosophye,
When they this taske assum'd: They did forgett,
That contradictoryes,
Will not of any Medium's admitt:
Wee reade in historyes,
Of many who attempted for to sayle,
By seas bound up in ice,
To th' Indyes; though each one did ever fayle,
In this bold enterprise:
But these our Navigatours did assay,
To sayle by lukewarme seas,
And unto Heaven to find a middle way,
Which God did never please.
For wee must travell through the Torride zone,
Since without ardent zeale,
Religion's but a thing of fashion,
A playster not to heale,
But rather hide a sore. That heavenly flame,
Kept by the Jewes entire,

390

Untill their Preistehood vendible became,
Expos'd to sale and hire,
A type was of this defecated wine,
This gold throughly refin'd,
Sent from above, not from an earthly mine,
To deifye Mans mind:
Religious zeale, that fiery charrett is,
Wherein Eliah mounted;
It lifts us to the skyes: To bee remisse,
Is for contempt accounted.
Hermaphrodites in faith, more odious bee,
Then those, which come from Nature:
Centaures, and Harpyes, doe with these aggree,
In twofold shape, and feature:
Partye per pale no lawfull beareing is,
In holy Armorye:
Religion hates a linsey woolsey dresse,
Allowes of no mixte dye:
No Paphlagonian Partridges shee loves,
But single hearted Doves.

Give mee that Person, who can humbly vaunt,
Hee was at Rome, a perfect Protestant.

[77] Self-Love

Self love's th' Arcadian streame,
A brittle Lookeinglasse,
A transitory dreame,

391

Of what nor is, nor shall ere come to passe.
How doth it falsifye the face
Of our abilityes, and make us seeme
Cedars, that are but grasse.

The poisno'us Cockatrice,
If shee chance to surveye
Her owne effigies,
In a cleare Mirroir, doth her owne self slay:
So while wee prye in thee all day,
Doteing upon our selves, with partiall eyes,
Our lives wee weare away.

The crooked Camel loves
The troubled Element,
With Spongye heele Hee moves
The fluide water, and strives to prevent
The sight of what Hee disapproves,
Then with asswaged thirst, and well content,
Hee through the deserts roves.

Thus seemes it better farre,
Not to behold, or see
How wee deformed are,
Then foolishly enamourd for to bee
Of what to us may appeare rare:
But rather like blind Owles, then Camells wee,
Thinke our deform'dnes faire.

392

[78] The Hermite

Bury'd alive I dwell
(Like a defiled Vestall) in a cell:
This habitation is
Better, then Hell:
Here solitude I kisse,
And mende what is defective, or amisse:

T'is better to want aire,
Then to loose Heaven: chast soules from fountaines faire,
Drawe better drinke then wine,
Which for dispaire,
Is an ill medicine,
Mi'xte with more Opium, then Alkermes fine.

Unbloudy savage diet,
Unsmoky suppers, drest without disquiet,
Doe sweeter sleepes procure,
Then feasts of riot:
Dry soules are wise, and pure,
And to bee sober is to bee secure.

Full glasses fowle the braines,
And while wee seeke to wash away the staynes,
Of some sad motions,
We find more paines;
Such nimious potions,
Are rather impure sinkes, then cleanseing lotions./

393

[79] Retribution

What shall I render to the Lord,
For all his gifts and benefits?
What recompence will Hee accord
T'accept? what sacrifice befittes
Such infinite vouchsafements? how
Shall I poore wretch pay what I owe?

For I am so voyde of what's good,
That I am in a farre worse state,
Then Hee who for mere want of foode,
Did perish at the Rich mans gate,
His body onely was unsound,
But my soule doth with sores abound.

And all my members are unmeete
For pious use: My heart, and head,
Defective are: my hands, and feet,
Are impotent: yea, I am dead,
Or paralyticall (at least)
And if I live, am but a Beast./

A Beast, which God did not designe
For sacrifice, bicause uncleane:
For I a Dog am, or a swine,
That often have retird ag'en,
Unto my vomite, and the mire,
Not fitt for holy, but Hell fire.

394

(Lord) purge mee from my errours all,
Thine image faire in mee renue;
My heart, head, hands, and feet, then shall
Strive to discharge what is thy due:
But (for arrieres) I thee implore
They may be sett on Jesu's score./

[80] Remorse

Oh that my unrelenting eyes,
Could like two headed Jordan flow,
Who doth in swelling pride arise,
Enrich'd by Lebanons warme snow.

The Cocke hath crow'd, and crow'd againe,
Yet I in Sinne securely sleepe,
And wakeing, yet from teares refraine,
Oh that I could an Ocean weepe.

(Oh Eyes) looke downward, and regarde
That Darknes, and that Lake of fire,
Which destin'd is for Sinners hard;
Such objects sad yr teares require.

(Oh Eyes) looke backward, on those crimes,
Which I did greedily committ,
In many places, at all times:
(Oh stony Eyes) what no teares yet?

395

(Oh Eyes) looke upward, and behold
My God revil'd, condemn'd, and scourg'd,
Weaken'd with torments manifold,
Yet to support his owne Crosse urg'd.

Looke how my Lord his blood did shed,
What Hellish paines in soule Hee felt,
Boweing to death his glorious head:
Now, Now mine Eyes to fountaines melt./

L'Envoy

(Oh Lord) I confesse with shame,
I ought not to mixe thy name,
Either in my prose, or verse,
If not sprinkled with my teares,
Which cannot doe any good,
Except colour'd by the blood,
Of that Lambe unspotted slaine,
Us to free from endles paine:
His bloud was like scarlet bright,
Yet scarlet sinnes, it makes white:
Hee did conquer death, by death,
Which to us did life bequeathe:
Hee the Lilly was 'mongst thornes,
Scourged, and expos'd to scornes,
Judg'd to dye, yet King of Glory
Guiltles slaine: This is his storye,
Which when faithfull hearts shall reade,
Each shall droppes of pitty bleede,

396

And with sorow wounded cry,
My Sinne caus'd my Lord to dye./

University of Virginia Library

A GALLERY TO THE TEMPLE.

LYRICALL POEMES UPON SACRED OCCASION[S]

The Dedication

[1] The Incarnation.

[2] The Passion

[3] The Deprecation

[4] Solitude

[5] Resolution

[6] Blindnes

[7] The Newyeares Gift

[8] Sciences

[9] Teares

[10] Securitye

[11] The Bankrupte

[12] Griefe

[13] Truth

[14] The Vote

[15] The Antiphon

[16] Crosses

[17] The Sute

[18] Hypocrisie

[19] The Conception

[20] The Habitation

[21] The Dialogue

[22] Vanitye

[23] The Apparition A true French story

[24] The Rocke

[25] Bounty

[26] The Navigation

[27] The Apologye

[28] Infirmitye

[29] Contrition

[30] The Progresse

[31] Neclect

[32] The Treasure

[33] Jordan

[34] Prodigyes

[35] Infinitenes

[36] The Descension

[37] Unconstancye

[38] Devotion

[39] The Bottle

[40] The Deliverance

[41] The Triumphe

[42] The Extremes

[43] The Feast

[44] Weakenes

[45] The Lamentation

[46] Sanctification

[47] The Pedigree

[48] Peace

[49] The Nosegay

[50] The Pilgrimage

[51] The Transmutation

[52] The Burthen

[53] Ostentation

[54] The Race

[55] Vivacitye

[56] Hardnes

[57] Intemperance

[58] The Combate

[59] The Echo

[60] Moderation

[61] The Prodigall

[62] The Harpe

[63] The Mistake

[64] The Terrours

[65] The Tempest

[66] Conversion

[67] The Refuge

[68] The Mansion

[69] The Imprese

[70] Knowledge

[71] Prayer

[72] Sicknes

[73] The World

[74] Preacheing

[75] Memorye

[76] Simplicitye

[23] The Apparition

A true French story