Divine Meditations upon Several Subjects Whereunto is annexed, God's Love, and Man's Unworthinesse. With Several Divine Ejaculations. Written by John Quarles |
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 | Divine Meditations upon Several Subjects |  |
[[THE FIRST BOOK.]]
God!
how that word hath thunder-clapt my Soul
Into a ravishment; I must condole
My forward weakness; Ah, where shall I find
Sufficient Metaphors t'express my mind?
Thou heart-amusing word, how hast thou fil'd
My Soul with Halelujahs, and distil'd
Wonders into me! Oh, that I could break
My heart in pieces, and divinely speak
My mind in Raptures, that the frantique Earth
May bath it selfe in these sweet streams of mirth,
Then rouze my Soul, and practise how to turn
Thy wonders into language; do not burn
Thy sacred fuel in a place where none
Can have the benefit but thee alone.
Hoist up thy Sails, and let thy speedy motion
Hurry thee hence into the boundless Ocean:
Observe thy compass, keep a constant pace,
And Heav'n will steer thee to the Port of Grace.
Into a ravishment; I must condole
My forward weakness; Ah, where shall I find
Sufficient Metaphors t'express my mind?
Thou heart-amusing word, how hast thou fil'd
My Soul with Halelujahs, and distil'd
Wonders into me! Oh, that I could break
My heart in pieces, and divinely speak
My mind in Raptures, that the frantique Earth
May bath it selfe in these sweet streams of mirth,
2
Thy wonders into language; do not burn
Thy sacred fuel in a place where none
Can have the benefit but thee alone.
Hoist up thy Sails, and let thy speedy motion
Hurry thee hence into the boundless Ocean:
Observe thy compass, keep a constant pace,
And Heav'n will steer thee to the Port of Grace.
'Tis strange to think, how the Almighty can
(That is so pure) love such a thing as Man,
Whose primitive corruption makes him worse
Then nothing, whose Rebellion claims a curse,
More then affection: How can Heav'n endure
A thing that can be nothing but impure?
Man (like a word that's voyd of reason) sounds
In every ear, his very name expounds
A misery; at best, he needs must be
But vain; And how can Heav'n love vanitie?
Man (like a shadow) flies before the Sun
Of his afflictions, and is still undone
By his own doing, he's his own pursuer;
And how can Heav'n love such a self-undoer?
Man (like a naked worm) is often found
Digging himself into the loathsome ground
Of ruine, he's a Traytor to his Bliss;
And how can Heav'n love such a worm as this?
Man (like a flash of lightning) courts the world
With lavish flames, and by and by is hurl'd
Into that Nothing, whence it first he came;
Then how can God love such a short-liv'd flame?
Man (like a Reed) is evermore inclind
To shake, and totter with each blast of wind;
He's alwayes running to the ground with speed:
And how can Heav'n love such an earthly Reed?
Man (like the dust) is always blown, and tost
From place to place, and flies, till it has lost
Its Center; never resting in one place:
Then how can Heav'n love that which flies in's face?
Man (like a Fly) still buzzes up and down
From cup to cup, and sips on, till he drown
Himself in pleasure; fears no stander by:
And how can Heav'n love such a drunken Fly?
Man (like a Rain-bow) oftentimes appears
Clothed in colours, but can claim no years,
No days, nay hardly hours, but must decay;
And how can heav'n love that which loves no stay?
Man (like a bubble) floats upon the waves
Of his desires, whilst every blast enslaves
His brittle substance, fill'd with windy troubles;
And how can heav'n love such uncōstant bubbles?
Man (like the froth) spew'd from the Oceans brest,
Is tyded up and down, but knows no rest,
Nor perpetuity; and can betroth
It self to nothing: Heav'n loves no such froth.
Man (like the wind) is every moment flying
To every place, and hates to be complying
Or resting any where: how can it be?
That Heav'n can love so much inconstancie?
Man (like a swallow) loves the fragrant Spring
Of Earths delights, but with a spreading wing
Flies from the Winters more congealed brest;
And how can Heav'n love such a Summer guest?
Man (like a smoak) presumptuously aspires
Into the air, and by and by retires
Himself to nothing, nothing's his conclusion;
And how can Heav'n love such a base confusion?
Man (like a fire) whose green and scragged fuel
Denies to burn, until it fight a duel
With the incount'ring Bellows, which at last
Obtains the conquest, then it burns as fast,
And seems as 'twere, ambitious to expire;
Then how can Heav'n love such a raging fire?
Man (like an arrow) being once let go
Out from the Archers well commanded bow,
Affronts the Clouds; at last, having spent the store
Of his smal strength, fals down, and seemst' adore
Th'inferior Earth, which, with a welcome, hides
His down-cast head within her wounded sides,
Where he remains, and scorns to be withstood:
(That is so pure) love such a thing as Man,
Whose primitive corruption makes him worse
Then nothing, whose Rebellion claims a curse,
More then affection: How can Heav'n endure
A thing that can be nothing but impure?
Man (like a word that's voyd of reason) sounds
In every ear, his very name expounds
A misery; at best, he needs must be
But vain; And how can Heav'n love vanitie?
Man (like a shadow) flies before the Sun
Of his afflictions, and is still undone
By his own doing, he's his own pursuer;
And how can Heav'n love such a self-undoer?
Man (like a naked worm) is often found
Digging himself into the loathsome ground
Of ruine, he's a Traytor to his Bliss;
And how can Heav'n love such a worm as this?
3
With lavish flames, and by and by is hurl'd
Into that Nothing, whence it first he came;
Then how can God love such a short-liv'd flame?
Man (like a Reed) is evermore inclind
To shake, and totter with each blast of wind;
He's alwayes running to the ground with speed:
And how can Heav'n love such an earthly Reed?
Man (like the dust) is always blown, and tost
From place to place, and flies, till it has lost
Its Center; never resting in one place:
Then how can Heav'n love that which flies in's face?
Man (like a Fly) still buzzes up and down
From cup to cup, and sips on, till he drown
Himself in pleasure; fears no stander by:
And how can Heav'n love such a drunken Fly?
Man (like a Rain-bow) oftentimes appears
Clothed in colours, but can claim no years,
No days, nay hardly hours, but must decay;
And how can heav'n love that which loves no stay?
Man (like a bubble) floats upon the waves
Of his desires, whilst every blast enslaves
His brittle substance, fill'd with windy troubles;
And how can heav'n love such uncōstant bubbles?
Man (like the froth) spew'd from the Oceans brest,
Is tyded up and down, but knows no rest,
4
It self to nothing: Heav'n loves no such froth.
Man (like the wind) is every moment flying
To every place, and hates to be complying
Or resting any where: how can it be?
That Heav'n can love so much inconstancie?
Man (like a swallow) loves the fragrant Spring
Of Earths delights, but with a spreading wing
Flies from the Winters more congealed brest;
And how can Heav'n love such a Summer guest?
Man (like a smoak) presumptuously aspires
Into the air, and by and by retires
Himself to nothing, nothing's his conclusion;
And how can Heav'n love such a base confusion?
Man (like a fire) whose green and scragged fuel
Denies to burn, until it fight a duel
With the incount'ring Bellows, which at last
Obtains the conquest, then it burns as fast,
And seems as 'twere, ambitious to expire;
Then how can Heav'n love such a raging fire?
Man (like an arrow) being once let go
Out from the Archers well commanded bow,
Affronts the Clouds; at last, having spent the store
Of his smal strength, fals down, and seemst' adore
Th'inferior Earth, which, with a welcome, hides
His down-cast head within her wounded sides,
5
Man can be any thing, but what is good.
And cannot Man be good? strange kind of tone!
What? has he wept himselfe into a stone,
Like Niobie? no sure; I fear his eyes
Were never loaded with such large supplies:
Ah, could he weep a flood, Heav'n that prepares
His eares to hear, would bottle up his tears
In his remembrance; every drop should shine
Like Pearls absconded in a golden Myne:
His sins command a deluge; could his head
Be turn'd into a fountaine, could he shed
An Ocean at a drop, it could not cover
His sins (which are mountainous) from the Lover
Of real drops for he would soon discry
Those sand excelling crimes, where ere they lie:
Yet would his Soul so much compassionate
The flowing sorrows of his wat'ry state,
That with a calming hand he would remove
His rocky sins, and hide them with his Love;
He would have pity, and with speed consent
T'express his love, when all our tears are spent.
Should Heav'n, who justly may, for every sin
Drop down a plague, and make it live within
Mans guilty Soul, the world would quickly be
Transform'd, and chang'd into a leprosie.
Let none dispair, for Heav'ns known mercies can
Out-infinite the greatest sins of man.
Oh love beyond degree! Shall Heav'n indulge
Himselfe to Man? and shall not Man divulge
A gratefulness to him, whose hand prepares
To wipe away his sin-polluted cares?
Ungrateful Miscreant, how canst thou view
Thy former miseries, and not renew
Thy thanks to him, whose power set thee free,
And brought thee back from thy captivity?
Hast thou abandon'd Love? Wilt thou imprint
Thy Soul with baseness? Ah, what obvious flint
Hath turn'd Affections edg? What, art thou bent
To shoot at him, that labours to prevent
The arrows of thy ruine, which will fly
Into thy brest, except he puts them by?
Hast thou transform'd thy heart into a rock
That will not move? Shall mercy call and knock,
And thou not hear? What? hast thou arm'd thy heart
With sensless marble, that no flaming dart
Of love can enter? Hast thou vow'd to stand
In opposition? Cannot Gods Command
Force thee to bow? Art thou resolv'd to sport
With thy destruction, and not yeild the Fort?
Oh yeild be times; do not resolve to be
Too much a slave to Infidelitie:
For know (frail wretch) thy strēgth consists in clay;
When Mercy's lost, then Judgment finds the way.
Rally thy thoughts together, and throw down
Thy brazen walls, thy yeilding yeilds a Crown:
For 'tis in vain to oppose an arm that can
Out-grasp the measure of so small a span,
Alas, Alas! it may be quickly seen
What a large disproportion is between
Thy God, and thee: Consider, he is all,
And thou art nothing; what can be more small?
Or what more great? for he is infinite,
And thou art finite: He is full of light,
And thou of darkness; He is fill'd with love,
And thou art stuff'd with baseness; He's a Dove,
And thou a Worm: Thus, thus thou mayst discry
His firmness, and thine own infirmity.
Then be not obstinate, but strike the sails
Of thy desires to him that never fails;
And know, 'tis easie in an inch of time
To take a worm ingarrison'd with slime;
For such a thing thou art, and all thy power
Must yeild to Heav'ns assaults; thy April showre
Has no continuance: therefore do not strive
Against a God, whose Wisdom can contrive
What pleases him: Alas! thy state is grounded
Upon contingencies, thou art compounded
Of nothing but uncertainties; thy arm
Assumes no power, except it be to harm
Thy wilful self: Then why wilt thou contend
With him that importunes to be thy friend?
Thy friend, (soul-saving word) what higher bliss
Can crown a heart, then such a Friend as this?
Oh life of Ravishment! how can it be
A God, a worm, and yet a sympathie?
Strange condescention! was the like e're known,
Or spoke by any mouth, except his own?
His balmy breath declares, that he will save
And succor those that faithfully do crave
His blest assistance: Hark, and hear him say,
Ye that are heavy loaded, come away,
Oh come to me, I am content to bear
Your burthens, and extenuate your care.
What higher note of love was ever strain'd
To any ear? Oh how hath man obtain'd
So great a friendship! 'Tis a happy lot,
Nay, and a wonder not to be forgot.
And yet it is not strange, that he should prove
So true a Lover, that's compos'd of Love,
And can do nothing else: If he correct,
'Tis for thy crimes; he only has th'effect
Of anger: for his grieved Spirit moans
To punish sinners, and to hear their groans.
His Soul takes no delight to crush to death
The offending pris'oners of th'inferior Earth:
He is the rich Exchequor of all good,
And is by nothing (except man) withstood.
All things perform what they was made to do,
But only man, that strives to prove untrue
To his Creator: nothing can be found
Within thy breast, but that which is unsound.
How sad it is to hear th'Almighty say,
I've nourish'd children, that are gone astray,
And scorn to own me! Oh rebellious dust!
That hate my paths, because my ways are just.
The Ox will know his Owner, and the Ass
His Masters crib; but Israel, alas,
Will not acknowledg me, but have destroy'd
Themselves, & made their understandings voyd:
Was not my fury then just cause to swell,
Because they can do nothing but rebel?
And cannot Man be good? strange kind of tone!
What? has he wept himselfe into a stone,
Like Niobie? no sure; I fear his eyes
Were never loaded with such large supplies:
Ah, could he weep a flood, Heav'n that prepares
His eares to hear, would bottle up his tears
In his remembrance; every drop should shine
Like Pearls absconded in a golden Myne:
His sins command a deluge; could his head
Be turn'd into a fountaine, could he shed
An Ocean at a drop, it could not cover
His sins (which are mountainous) from the Lover
Of real drops for he would soon discry
Those sand excelling crimes, where ere they lie:
Yet would his Soul so much compassionate
The flowing sorrows of his wat'ry state,
That with a calming hand he would remove
His rocky sins, and hide them with his Love;
He would have pity, and with speed consent
T'express his love, when all our tears are spent.
Should Heav'n, who justly may, for every sin
Drop down a plague, and make it live within
Mans guilty Soul, the world would quickly be
Transform'd, and chang'd into a leprosie.
6
Out-infinite the greatest sins of man.
Oh love beyond degree! Shall Heav'n indulge
Himselfe to Man? and shall not Man divulge
A gratefulness to him, whose hand prepares
To wipe away his sin-polluted cares?
Ungrateful Miscreant, how canst thou view
Thy former miseries, and not renew
Thy thanks to him, whose power set thee free,
And brought thee back from thy captivity?
Hast thou abandon'd Love? Wilt thou imprint
Thy Soul with baseness? Ah, what obvious flint
Hath turn'd Affections edg? What, art thou bent
To shoot at him, that labours to prevent
The arrows of thy ruine, which will fly
Into thy brest, except he puts them by?
Hast thou transform'd thy heart into a rock
That will not move? Shall mercy call and knock,
And thou not hear? What? hast thou arm'd thy heart
With sensless marble, that no flaming dart
Of love can enter? Hast thou vow'd to stand
In opposition? Cannot Gods Command
Force thee to bow? Art thou resolv'd to sport
With thy destruction, and not yeild the Fort?
Oh yeild be times; do not resolve to be
Too much a slave to Infidelitie:
7
When Mercy's lost, then Judgment finds the way.
Rally thy thoughts together, and throw down
Thy brazen walls, thy yeilding yeilds a Crown:
For 'tis in vain to oppose an arm that can
Out-grasp the measure of so small a span,
Alas, Alas! it may be quickly seen
What a large disproportion is between
Thy God, and thee: Consider, he is all,
And thou art nothing; what can be more small?
Or what more great? for he is infinite,
And thou art finite: He is full of light,
And thou of darkness; He is fill'd with love,
And thou art stuff'd with baseness; He's a Dove,
And thou a Worm: Thus, thus thou mayst discry
His firmness, and thine own infirmity.
Then be not obstinate, but strike the sails
Of thy desires to him that never fails;
And know, 'tis easie in an inch of time
To take a worm ingarrison'd with slime;
For such a thing thou art, and all thy power
Must yeild to Heav'ns assaults; thy April showre
Has no continuance: therefore do not strive
Against a God, whose Wisdom can contrive
What pleases him: Alas! thy state is grounded
Upon contingencies, thou art compounded
8
Assumes no power, except it be to harm
Thy wilful self: Then why wilt thou contend
With him that importunes to be thy friend?
Thy friend, (soul-saving word) what higher bliss
Can crown a heart, then such a Friend as this?
Oh life of Ravishment! how can it be
A God, a worm, and yet a sympathie?
Strange condescention! was the like e're known,
Or spoke by any mouth, except his own?
His balmy breath declares, that he will save
And succor those that faithfully do crave
His blest assistance: Hark, and hear him say,
Ye that are heavy loaded, come away,
Oh come to me, I am content to bear
Your burthens, and extenuate your care.
What higher note of love was ever strain'd
To any ear? Oh how hath man obtain'd
So great a friendship! 'Tis a happy lot,
Nay, and a wonder not to be forgot.
And yet it is not strange, that he should prove
So true a Lover, that's compos'd of Love,
And can do nothing else: If he correct,
'Tis for thy crimes; he only has th'effect
Of anger: for his grieved Spirit moans
To punish sinners, and to hear their groans.
9
The offending pris'oners of th'inferior Earth:
He is the rich Exchequor of all good,
And is by nothing (except man) withstood.
All things perform what they was made to do,
But only man, that strives to prove untrue
To his Creator: nothing can be found
Within thy breast, but that which is unsound.
How sad it is to hear th'Almighty say,
I've nourish'd children, that are gone astray,
And scorn to own me! Oh rebellious dust!
That hate my paths, because my ways are just.
The Ox will know his Owner, and the Ass
His Masters crib; but Israel, alas,
Will not acknowledg me, but have destroy'd
Themselves, & made their understandings voyd:
Was not my fury then just cause to swell,
Because they can do nothing but rebel?
Nefandeous Creature, how canst thou endure
Thy wretched self? Ah, why wilt thou procure
Thine own destructions? Shall all creatures be
Obedient to their owners, only thee?
And wilt thou not acknowledg him that gave
Large blessings to thee, and desires to save
Thy soul from torments, if thou wouldst incline
Thy will to his, whose thoughts are all divine?
Forget obduracy, and learn the art
Of loving him, that loves an upright heart:
Go ruminate upon thy base estate,
And be, unto thy self, compassionate.
Yeild to thy Maker with a cheerful brow?
First know what 'tis to love, and after, how.
Love is the Laws fulfiller; he that will
Love God aright, must practise how to fill
His Soul with true affection; for the ways
Of Heav'n are pav'd with Love: Immortal praise
Attend his Courts; He that forgets to Love
Forgets his God: They that desire to prove
Heav'ns amatorious Guests, must first admire
How such a spark as Man came to aspire
To such a flame, and how he came to be,
Not only Earths, but Heav'ns, Epitomie:
Be serious then, and let thy thoughts reflect
Upon Heav'ns goodness, and thy disrespect.
Thy wretched self? Ah, why wilt thou procure
Thine own destructions? Shall all creatures be
Obedient to their owners, only thee?
And wilt thou not acknowledg him that gave
Large blessings to thee, and desires to save
Thy soul from torments, if thou wouldst incline
Thy will to his, whose thoughts are all divine?
10
Of loving him, that loves an upright heart:
Go ruminate upon thy base estate,
And be, unto thy self, compassionate.
Yeild to thy Maker with a cheerful brow?
First know what 'tis to love, and after, how.
Love is the Laws fulfiller; he that will
Love God aright, must practise how to fill
His Soul with true affection; for the ways
Of Heav'n are pav'd with Love: Immortal praise
Attend his Courts; He that forgets to Love
Forgets his God: They that desire to prove
Heav'ns amatorious Guests, must first admire
How such a spark as Man came to aspire
To such a flame, and how he came to be,
Not only Earths, but Heav'ns, Epitomie:
Be serious then, and let thy thoughts reflect
Upon Heav'ns goodness, and thy disrespect.
God out of Nothing (except Love) compil'd
This spacious World, as if some princely child
Were to be born: His providential care
Was (as it were) ambitious to prepare
The quintessence of pleasures to invite
Some stately Guest to banquet with delight.
First he extracted from a darksom Cell
A glorious Light, whose beauty pleas'd him well
Then he prepar'd a Canopie, inlayd
With glittring pearl, whose twinkling luster made
Heav'nly shew; and afterwards his hand
Pusht back the waters from the naked Land:
Then he commanded, that the Earth, being come
Out from the Oceans new delivered womb,
Would be adorn'd with an imbroidered Gown,
That so her new-warm'd bowels might abound
With several fruits.—
This spacious World, as if some princely child
Were to be born: His providential care
Was (as it were) ambitious to prepare
The quintessence of pleasures to invite
Some stately Guest to banquet with delight.
First he extracted from a darksom Cell
A glorious Light, whose beauty pleas'd him well
11
With glittring pearl, whose twinkling luster made
Heav'nly shew; and afterwards his hand
Pusht back the waters from the naked Land:
Then he commanded, that the Earth, being come
Out from the Oceans new delivered womb,
Would be adorn'd with an imbroidered Gown,
That so her new-warm'd bowels might abound
With several fruits.—
—Thus having playd his part
Upon this Theatre, this life of art,
[illeg.]sher'd in a thing, which pleas'd him best,
(He made the Feast, and after made the Guest;)
Call'd by the name of Man, a naked, small,
And dusty, shiftless Creature; this was all,
And all this nothing, but a lump of death,
Until inspir'd by Heav'ns all-quickning breath.
[illeg.]in, simple wretch; ah, how could'st thou behave
Thy self before a Judg, so great, so grave?
Hadst thou but seen thy self, thou would'st have cry'd
Thy self to death, and with a blush, defy'd
Thy base estate, to think that thou should'st be
Natures most rude and base Anatomie.
Wouldst thou expect that Heav'n would entertain
Nothing so poor? so weak? so vile? so vain?
Which, like a spark blown from a new-made fire
Can only shew it self, and then expire,
Was it for this the All-Creator made
Such large Provision? Was't for this he layd
Such rich Foundations? Was't for this his Power
Deckt this well-pleasing odoriferous Bower?
Was it for this (this little world) he form'd
A world so great? Was it for this he warm'd
The Earths chill bosom? Was't for this he spent
His six days labour? Was't for this intent
He made a Paradise? where Flora spread
Her fragrant Off-spring, and made Earth a bed
Of rare compounded Pleasures, where he plac'd
This new-come Guest, whose very looks disgrac'd
The face of beauty, to whose thriftless hand
He gave that Government, with this Command
Upon this Theatre, this life of art,
[illeg.]sher'd in a thing, which pleas'd him best,
(He made the Feast, and after made the Guest;)
Call'd by the name of Man, a naked, small,
And dusty, shiftless Creature; this was all,
And all this nothing, but a lump of death,
Until inspir'd by Heav'ns all-quickning breath.
[illeg.]in, simple wretch; ah, how could'st thou behave
Thy self before a Judg, so great, so grave?
Hadst thou but seen thy self, thou would'st have cry'd
Thy self to death, and with a blush, defy'd
Thy base estate, to think that thou should'st be
Natures most rude and base Anatomie.
Wouldst thou expect that Heav'n would entertain
Nothing so poor? so weak? so vile? so vain?
12
Can only shew it self, and then expire,
Was it for this the All-Creator made
Such large Provision? Was't for this he layd
Such rich Foundations? Was't for this his Power
Deckt this well-pleasing odoriferous Bower?
Was it for this (this little world) he form'd
A world so great? Was it for this he warm'd
The Earths chill bosom? Was't for this he spent
His six days labour? Was't for this intent
He made a Paradise? where Flora spread
Her fragrant Off-spring, and made Earth a bed
Of rare compounded Pleasures, where he plac'd
This new-come Guest, whose very looks disgrac'd
The face of beauty, to whose thriftless hand
He gave that Government, with this Command
Of all the trees that here thou dost behold,
Thy lips being authoriz'd, thou mayst be bold
To taste with freedom, only one, which I
Conjure thee from, therefore restrain thine eye
From lusting after it; if not, thy breath
Shall glut it self in everlasting death:
Forget not my Commands, but let thy brest
Be always faithful, and thou shalt be blest.
Thy lips being authoriz'd, thou mayst be bold
To taste with freedom, only one, which I
Conjure thee from, therefore restrain thine eye
From lusting after it; if not, thy breath
Shall glut it self in everlasting death:
Forget not my Commands, but let thy brest
Be always faithful, and thou shalt be blest.
Thus the Recorder having spoke at large
This well-deliv'red (although ill-kept) Charge
He after said;
It is not good that man should be alone
Without a help, Ile therefore make him one.
Oh sacred prudence! Here we may discern
A sweet Conjunction; here our Souls may learn
Wisdom and Love, both which, if not enjoy'd,
Pleasures prove vanities, and blessings voyd.
Heav'n, whose unidle art-ful hand had set
Man, as Jewell, in his Cabinet,
Thought it unfit, that those delights which he
Had made by his most powerfull Love, should be
Monopoliz'd by one, he therefore laid
Adam asleep, and having done, he made
Out of a crooked rib (strange kind of art)
A woman, fair, compleat, in every part;
Nay, and a helper too: for in conclusion
She helpt poore Adam to his own confusion.
Oh most detested deed! Unconstant wife,
To prove a Traytor to thy husbands life
As soon as made: Fond wretch, could nothing suit
With thy nice pallate, but forbidden fruit?
Oh, could thy longing lie no longer hid?
What? did'st thou long, because thou wert forbid?
Was there no tree that could content thy eye,
But only that which was forbidden? Fie,
Oh shame to think thou shouldst so quickly waste
Thine hours of pleasure for a minutes taste:
Couldst thou not like, or fall in love with any
But that? Heav'n had but one, & thou hadst many
Wherewith to please thine appetite; and yet
Wouldst thou prove so ambitious, as to sit
Upon the highest twigg? Ah, could th'advice
Of Satan tempt thee to this avarice
With so much ease, and make thee rashly do
So foul a deed, and tempt thy Adam too?
Preposterous wretch, how hast thou spread a cloud
Over thy head? What? didst thou think to shroud
Thy self from vengeance? Having eat thy death
Couldst thou expect to live? Oh no, thy breath
Offended Heav'n: but ah, hadst thou but thought
(Before thy heart had entertain'd a fault
So great as this) what 'twas to dye, thy mind
Had made thee more abstemious, and confin'd
Thy base inordinate desires; thy meat
Had prov'd delightful, and thy comforts great
But now, unhappy now, thy crimes have made
Thy Soul Deaths debtor, and thou art betray'd
By thine own self; therefore prepare to meet
Thy wrathful Judg: 'tis said, stoln goods are sweet
But thine prov'd sour, the fruits wch thou hast stole
Sugar'd thy mouth, but worm woodiz'd thy soul
When thou hadst eaten, Ah! why didst thou not
Tremble to death, to think thou hadst forgot
Thy Gods Commands, & that his Judgments must
Follow thy soul, and blow thee into dust?
This well-deliv'red (although ill-kept) Charge
He after said;
13
Without a help, Ile therefore make him one.
Oh sacred prudence! Here we may discern
A sweet Conjunction; here our Souls may learn
Wisdom and Love, both which, if not enjoy'd,
Pleasures prove vanities, and blessings voyd.
Heav'n, whose unidle art-ful hand had set
Man, as Jewell, in his Cabinet,
Thought it unfit, that those delights which he
Had made by his most powerfull Love, should be
Monopoliz'd by one, he therefore laid
Adam asleep, and having done, he made
Out of a crooked rib (strange kind of art)
A woman, fair, compleat, in every part;
Nay, and a helper too: for in conclusion
She helpt poore Adam to his own confusion.
Oh most detested deed! Unconstant wife,
To prove a Traytor to thy husbands life
As soon as made: Fond wretch, could nothing suit
With thy nice pallate, but forbidden fruit?
Oh, could thy longing lie no longer hid?
What? did'st thou long, because thou wert forbid?
Was there no tree that could content thy eye,
But only that which was forbidden? Fie,
Oh shame to think thou shouldst so quickly waste
Thine hours of pleasure for a minutes taste:
14
But that? Heav'n had but one, & thou hadst many
Wherewith to please thine appetite; and yet
Wouldst thou prove so ambitious, as to sit
Upon the highest twigg? Ah, could th'advice
Of Satan tempt thee to this avarice
With so much ease, and make thee rashly do
So foul a deed, and tempt thy Adam too?
Preposterous wretch, how hast thou spread a cloud
Over thy head? What? didst thou think to shroud
Thy self from vengeance? Having eat thy death
Couldst thou expect to live? Oh no, thy breath
Offended Heav'n: but ah, hadst thou but thought
(Before thy heart had entertain'd a fault
So great as this) what 'twas to dye, thy mind
Had made thee more abstemious, and confin'd
Thy base inordinate desires; thy meat
Had prov'd delightful, and thy comforts great
But now, unhappy now, thy crimes have made
Thy Soul Deaths debtor, and thou art betray'd
By thine own self; therefore prepare to meet
Thy wrathful Judg: 'tis said, stoln goods are sweet
But thine prov'd sour, the fruits wch thou hast stole
Sugar'd thy mouth, but worm woodiz'd thy soul
When thou hadst eaten, Ah! why didst thou not
Tremble to death, to think thou hadst forgot
15
Follow thy soul, and blow thee into dust?
Thus Eve, thus Adam, having vilipended
Their Gods Commands, their happines soon ended;
Their joys were turn'd to mourning, & their light
Was turn'd to darkness, and their day to night:
Both being too much conscious, fled with speed
To hide themselves from God, but not the deed.
Their Gods Commands, their happines soon ended;
Their joys were turn'd to mourning, & their light
Was turn'd to darkness, and their day to night:
Both being too much conscious, fled with speed
To hide themselves from God, but not the deed.
Even as some poor distressed wretch desires
To hide himself from the enraged fires
Of his incensed Foe, runs up and down
To shun the rage of a condemned frown;
At last observing his enquiring Foe
Approach the place, lies still, and dares not blow,
For fear the wordless Eccho of his breath
Should soon betray him to a sudden death:
Being at last discry'd, his throbbing heart
Gives an Alarum to each trembling part;
Fear, like an Earthquake, then begins to shake
His loos'ned joynts, he knows not how to make
A ready answer to his foes demands;
[illeg.], as a sad convicted man, he stands
Abjected to his will, that can dispence
With nothing, but with death, to calm th'offence.
Even so guilt-loaded Adam having done
A deed so foul, prepares himself to run
To some close shelter, where he might immure
His naked body, and repose secure:
But ah, in vain, in vain he strove to hide
Himselfe from God, that need implore no guide
To teach him where his sad offender lay;
He needs must find, when sin hath chalk'd th'way
But when Heav'ns shril-enquiring voyce surrounded
The ears of Adam, Adam was confounded
With deep distress, his heart began to call
His quivering Senses to a Funerall:
Fear, like a powerfull fire, began to thaw
His frozen thoughts, and keep his Soul in awe
He breath'd in a Dilemma, and could find
No Sanctuary for a perjur'd mind:
At last the language of th'eternal God
Storm'd his sin-armed Soul, and like a Rod
Whipt him from his security, and cry'd,
Adam, where art thou? Adam thus reply'd,
I heard thee walking in the pleasing shade
Of the cool ev'ning, and I was afraid,
And hid my self, because I must confess,
I blusht to see my shameful nakedness.
GOD.
To hide himself from the enraged fires
Of his incensed Foe, runs up and down
To shun the rage of a condemned frown;
At last observing his enquiring Foe
Approach the place, lies still, and dares not blow,
For fear the wordless Eccho of his breath
Should soon betray him to a sudden death:
Being at last discry'd, his throbbing heart
Gives an Alarum to each trembling part;
Fear, like an Earthquake, then begins to shake
His loos'ned joynts, he knows not how to make
A ready answer to his foes demands;
[illeg.], as a sad convicted man, he stands
Abjected to his will, that can dispence
With nothing, but with death, to calm th'offence.
Even so guilt-loaded Adam having done
A deed so foul, prepares himself to run
16
His naked body, and repose secure:
But ah, in vain, in vain he strove to hide
Himselfe from God, that need implore no guide
To teach him where his sad offender lay;
He needs must find, when sin hath chalk'd th'way
But when Heav'ns shril-enquiring voyce surrounded
The ears of Adam, Adam was confounded
With deep distress, his heart began to call
His quivering Senses to a Funerall:
Fear, like a powerfull fire, began to thaw
His frozen thoughts, and keep his Soul in awe
He breath'd in a Dilemma, and could find
No Sanctuary for a perjur'd mind:
At last the language of th'eternal God
Storm'd his sin-armed Soul, and like a Rod
Whipt him from his security, and cry'd,
Adam, where art thou? Adam thus reply'd,
I heard thee walking in the pleasing shade
Of the cool ev'ning, and I was afraid,
And hid my self, because I must confess,
I blusht to see my shameful nakedness.
Tell me, thou trembling wretch, how dost thou know
That thou art naked? say, who told thee so?
33
Conjur'd thee not to touch? if so, reply.
Adam.
The woman which thou gav'st me, gave to me,
And I did eat of the forbidden tree.
GOD.
Unconstant woman! Ah, why hast thou run
Beyond thy bounds? what's this that thou hast done?
Woman.
The Serpents flowing language swel'd too great
For my low banks: he tempted, and I eat.
Gods Curse against the Serpent.
Because thou hast thus subtilty deludedThe lustful woman, thou shalt be excluded
From future good; more shall thy curses yield
Then all the beasts and cattle in the field:
Thy belly shall (because thou hast done this)
Give to the earth a life-remaining kiss;
Thou shalt not taste of any thing that's good,
Dust shall supply the place of wholesome food.
Curst be thy ways, thou shalt no more be seen
By me: I will put enmity between
34
A bruised head, and she a bruised heel.
Gods Curse against the woman.
And as for thee, oh Woman, I'le enlargeThy grief and thy conception; I'le discharge
Thy joys, and load thee with a weighty grief;
Thy pains in child-bed shall find no relief:
Thou shalt desire thy husband, and his hand
Shall over-rule thee with a strict command.
Adams Curse.
Rebellious Adam, unto thee I'le give
A life as bad as death, for thou shalt live
To see thy sorrows more and more abound,
And for thy sake I'le curse the loathed ground;
For thou hast hark'ned to the conquering voyce
Of thy frail wife, and made my fruit thy choyce
And sepulchred my words within the grave
Of thy false heart; begon, thou selfe-made slave
The thorny ground shall give a large increase
To thy laborious hand; the name of Peace
Shall prove a stranger to thy ears, and thou
Shalt eat thy bread with a sweat-dropping brow
I'le murther all thy joys; thy brest shall burn
With flaming care, untill thy corps return
To the bowels of th'inclusive earth,
From whence thou hadst thy substance, and thy birth:
But base thou art, and therefore thou shalt be
Food for gnawing worms, and not for me:
As thou art dust, to dust thou shalt retire;
A life as bad as death, for thou shalt live
To see thy sorrows more and more abound,
And for thy sake I'le curse the loathed ground;
For thou hast hark'ned to the conquering voyce
Of thy frail wife, and made my fruit thy choyce
And sepulchred my words within the grave
Of thy false heart; begon, thou selfe-made slave
The thorny ground shall give a large increase
To thy laborious hand; the name of Peace
Shall prove a stranger to thy ears, and thou
Shalt eat thy bread with a sweat-dropping brow
I'le murther all thy joys; thy brest shall burn
With flaming care, untill thy corps return
35
From whence thou hadst thy substance, and thy birth:
But base thou art, and therefore thou shalt be
Food for gnawing worms, and not for me:
As thou art dust, to dust thou shalt retire;
Hereafter let not dust presume't aspire.
Change alteration! Oh pernicious Fate!
So quickly bred in such an infant-state!
He that but even now enioy'd a life
Balanc'd with pleasures, now is fill'd with strife:
He whose majestick Soul was lately crown'd
With blest content, is now ingulf'd, and drown'd
In Sorrows Ocean; He, which was before
Touch'd with happiness, is now as poor
As poverty can make him; He, which had
The countenance of Heav'n to make him glad,
Is now eclipst; he knows not where to run,
[illeg.] having interpos'd between the Sun
And his dark Soul, the Center of whose rest
Now remov'd, and he survives unblest:
[illeg.] which but even now had leave to dwell
[illeg.]d revel in Heav'ns eye, desires a Cell
[illeg.] entertaine him; he, which liv'd in Peace,
Now thrown down, and forfeited his lease:
[illeg.]at was his Crime, great was his sudden Fall,
[illeg.]at was his Tenement, his rent but small:
Poor Adam's taken by his own decoys;
Change alteration! Oh pernicious Fate!
So quickly bred in such an infant-state!
He that but even now enioy'd a life
Balanc'd with pleasures, now is fill'd with strife:
He whose majestick Soul was lately crown'd
With blest content, is now ingulf'd, and drown'd
In Sorrows Ocean; He, which was before
Touch'd with happiness, is now as poor
As poverty can make him; He, which had
The countenance of Heav'n to make him glad,
Is now eclipst; he knows not where to run,
[illeg.] having interpos'd between the Sun
And his dark Soul, the Center of whose rest
Now remov'd, and he survives unblest:
[illeg.] which but even now had leave to dwell
[illeg.]d revel in Heav'ns eye, desires a Cell
[illeg.] entertaine him; he, which liv'd in Peace,
Now thrown down, and forfeited his lease:
[illeg.]at was his Crime, great was his sudden Fall,
[illeg.]at was his Tenement, his rent but small:
36
Sin is the Sequestrator of all joys.
Sad Pilgrim of the world, where wilt thou find
(In the unpathed earth) a place so kind
To entertain thee? Ah, where wilt thou keep
(Thus tumbled from a Precipice so steep)
Thy sad unpeopl'd randezvouz? Oh where
Wilt thou procure a hand that will unsnare
Th'intangled Soul? Alas thy wearied life
Hath two most sad companions; first a Wife,
Then a bad Conscience; what two greater crosse
Can hang upon a brest, whose cares, whose losse
Are grown so infinit, that no relief,
But what distils from Heav'n, can ease their grief
Thou wert the first of men that entertain'd
So grand a sorrow, thou the first that stain'd
So pure a colour, thou the first that dwelt
In Edens garden, thou the first that felt
The scourge of fury; hadst not thou transgrest,
Vengeance had found no hand, nor grief a breast
Ah, hadst not thou offended, sin had found
No habitation, nor thy Soul a wound:
Had not thy hand so wilfully unlock'd
The door of Death, Destruction had not knock'd
At thine impenetrable gates, or ventur'd
T'approach so near, but being open'd, enter'd
Bold Customer of fate, that sought about
To come within, and turn poor Adam out;
Thy strēgth outstrengthd his strēgth, & made him weak
A vessel crack'd, how can it chuse but leak?
[illeg.]n prov'd Deaths father, & mans heart the womb
That brought it forth; this death shall find a tomb
When the Determiner of time hath hurl'd
[illeg.] finis to the volume of the world;
[illeg.] then, man (mortaliz'd by sin) must be
[illeg.] subject unto Deaths Soveraigntie.
Sad Pilgrim of the world, where wilt thou find
(In the unpathed earth) a place so kind
To entertain thee? Ah, where wilt thou keep
(Thus tumbled from a Precipice so steep)
Thy sad unpeopl'd randezvouz? Oh where
Wilt thou procure a hand that will unsnare
Th'intangled Soul? Alas thy wearied life
Hath two most sad companions; first a Wife,
Then a bad Conscience; what two greater crosse
Can hang upon a brest, whose cares, whose losse
Are grown so infinit, that no relief,
But what distils from Heav'n, can ease their grief
Thou wert the first of men that entertain'd
So grand a sorrow, thou the first that stain'd
So pure a colour, thou the first that dwelt
In Edens garden, thou the first that felt
The scourge of fury; hadst not thou transgrest,
Vengeance had found no hand, nor grief a breast
Ah, hadst not thou offended, sin had found
No habitation, nor thy Soul a wound:
Had not thy hand so wilfully unlock'd
The door of Death, Destruction had not knock'd
At thine impenetrable gates, or ventur'd
T'approach so near, but being open'd, enter'd
37
To come within, and turn poor Adam out;
Thy strēgth outstrengthd his strēgth, & made him weak
A vessel crack'd, how can it chuse but leak?
[illeg.]n prov'd Deaths father, & mans heart the womb
That brought it forth; this death shall find a tomb
When the Determiner of time hath hurl'd
[illeg.] finis to the volume of the world;
[illeg.] then, man (mortaliz'd by sin) must be
[illeg.] subject unto Deaths Soveraigntie.
Poor man, in what a wilderness of sorrow
Dost thou now ramble in; where wilt thou borrow
A minutes rest; On what inclining ear
Wilt thou expend thy groans? what canst thou hear
[illeg.]t dialects of misery to vex
Thy bankrupt thoughts? The fatal disrespects
Of Heav'n will blow and toss thee up and down
From place to place, his still-renewed frown
Will follow thee; therefore provide t'endure
The hot pursutes of such a fierce pursuer:
Canst thou expect that this thy grand abuse
Which runs beyond the limits of excuse)
Can be forgotten; Dost thou think t'out-live
Thy long-liv'd crimes, or hope for power to give
[illeg.]e satisfaction to thy God, whose rage
Thy heart cannot endure, much less asswage?
Most lachrymable state! What canst thou do,
Oh man that may ingratiate or renew
Thy former love? Alas, thy base condition
Makes thee incapable of a Petition.
Prepare thy selfe, see if thou canst invade
His Soul with pray'rs, see if thou canst perswade
His Heart to yeeld unto thy sad request,
And re-inthorne thee with thy former rest;
Dissect thy Soul with groans, anatomize
Thy heart with sighs, and let thy winged cries
Fly through the angles of his sacred ear
And breed a harmony within the sphere
Of his blest Soul; be circumspect, and lay
The best foundation; hear what Heav'n will say.
Dost thou now ramble in; where wilt thou borrow
A minutes rest; On what inclining ear
Wilt thou expend thy groans? what canst thou hear
[illeg.]t dialects of misery to vex
Thy bankrupt thoughts? The fatal disrespects
Of Heav'n will blow and toss thee up and down
From place to place, his still-renewed frown
Will follow thee; therefore provide t'endure
The hot pursutes of such a fierce pursuer:
Canst thou expect that this thy grand abuse
Which runs beyond the limits of excuse)
Can be forgotten; Dost thou think t'out-live
Thy long-liv'd crimes, or hope for power to give
[illeg.]e satisfaction to thy God, whose rage
Thy heart cannot endure, much less asswage?
38
Oh man that may ingratiate or renew
Thy former love? Alas, thy base condition
Makes thee incapable of a Petition.
Prepare thy selfe, see if thou canst invade
His Soul with pray'rs, see if thou canst perswade
His Heart to yeeld unto thy sad request,
And re-inthorne thee with thy former rest;
Dissect thy Soul with groans, anatomize
Thy heart with sighs, and let thy winged cries
Fly through the angles of his sacred ear
And breed a harmony within the sphere
Of his blest Soul; be circumspect, and lay
The best foundation; hear what Heav'n will say.
Adams Petition to God.
Incensed Father of eternal light,Permit a darkened Soul t'approach the sight
Of thine incomparable eye; unmask
Thy anger-clouded Soul, and let me ask
Forgiveness for those loading Crimes which press
My stagg'ring Soul, I know not whom t'address
My apostate self unto, but only thee,
Whom I offended; Please to pity me:
I have no pleasing Sacrifice t'attone
Thy wrathful Brest, except a hearty groan
39
Upon the lines of my all-blotted book:
Although I'm full of most detested spots,
Yet Lord, I know that thou canst read my blots;
Oh read them then, and let thy mercies run
With thy progressive eye; I am undone,
If not forgiven; Lord I thee implore
To shew some mercy to me, thou hast store,
Discipher all my sins, and let them not
Bear record in thy rouls, but rest forgot;
Revoke this Act of death, that I may sing
Th'admired mercies of so blest a King.
Oh lift me up, that now am thrown below;
Make not my Soul the Custom-house of woe.
Oh hear these bitter groans that I have spent,
And send some comfort from thy Parliament.
Gods Reply.
Thou skelleton of baseness, hie thee hence,Disturb me not; return, I say, from whence
Thou cam'st at first; thou shalt as soon remove
A mountain, as my mind: I cannot love,
No nor I will not, nothing shall intreat
My resolutions, for my fury's great.
Begone, proud Rebel, do not think thy prayers,
Thy vows, thy groans, thy sighs, thy sobs, thy tears
40
How can I be a friend to such a foe?
Surcease thy importunities, let fall
Thy high desires, I will not hear thee call,
Thy sins have barr'd my ears; I'le not be won
With thy base airy words, for thou hast spun
The thread of thy destruction, therefore wear
What thou hast labour'd for, and so forbear
T'intrench upon my patience; 'tis in vain
To seek for that which thou shalt not obtain.
And is it thus, that Heav'n will not regard
My cries? Ah me! and must my groans be heard
With disrespect by him, whose tongue affords
Nothing but grief, involv'd with bitter words?
Alas, alas! what greater woe can crowd
Into a brest then to be disavow'd
By Gods high Voyce, whose most enraged breath
Darts forth the arrows of eternal death?
What shall I doe? Oh, whither shall I run
To hide my selfe, until the glorious Sun
Of his affections usher in the day
Of welcom Joy? Oh, whither shall I stray?
If I am silent, then my silence turns
My thoughts to fire; If speak my speech returns
Trebbl'd with wo, into the brazen Tower
Of my sad heart, my language has no power
41
[illeg.]nded, and thrown against th'obdurate walls
Unyielding brest) bounds back againe, and breaks
[illeg.]to my heart, and every sorrow speaks
[illeg.] volume at a word; yet, yet must I
Return unheard; 'tis misery to dye,
And pain to live; thus in despair I draw
The loathsom air: Destruction knows no Law.
Grief rains a flood of doubt into my Soul;
[illeg.] me! I can do nothing but condole:
[illeg.]m despis'd; and if I bend the force
Of my desires to him, he will divorce
All thoughts of pity, and with rage re-double
Th'unsum'd up sums of my infringing trouble.
[illeg.] sail into the Straits, both wind and tyde
Prevail against me, and I have no guide
To Pilot me unto the long'd-for Port
Of pleasing happiness; I am a sport
To threating Ruine, whose presumptuous waves
Out-dares my Soul, whilst every blast enslaves
My reeling Pinnace: If I strive to go
Towards Scylla, Scylla will contemn my wo.
[illeg.]as in vain I can expect relief,
Scylla will bark at my unbridled grief;
[illeg.]r if my head-long vessel chance to hit
Against Charybdis; I am torn and split
42
Thus am I tossed in Destructions lap.
Where shall I find a heart that will advise
My friendless Soul, and audiate my cries?
I will not thus desist, I must implore,
He that's lost once, sure can be lost no more.
Adams Petition to God.
Once more, thou Metropolitan of allThe spacious world, I here presume to call
Upon thy mercy; Oh let me inherit
The pleasing fruits of thy re-pleased Spirit:
I am thy fabrick. Oh some pity take,
Preserve the building for the Builders sake.
Clothe not thy brow with frowns, but let thine eye
(That rests inshrin'd with glorious Majesty)
Reflect upon my sorrows; Oh encline
Thy willing ears to hear this grief of mine:
Oh doe not say I shall as soon remove
A mountain as thy heart, thou canst not love;
Let not such harsh, imbitter'd language flow
Out of a mouth so sweet; I know I know,
Thou art as good as great; oh therefore bow
Thy sacred ears to hear, oh hear me now:
Bestow some scraps on me, that have deserv'd
Nothing but stripes; for I have fondly swerv'd
43
Against thy Majesty: Great God of Reason,
View my in-humbled Soul, see how it lies
Before thy sight, a weeping Sacrifice.
I know thou knowst I am a hainous sinner,
Yet pity me, that am a young beginner
In this rich art of begging: Do not slight
My real prayers; I know thou tak'st delight
In being merciful; Oh let me not
Return unanswer'd, or my prayers forgot:
Oh hear the sorrows of my bleeding state,
Let my complaints make thee compassionate,
And let the fervor of my language turn
Thy thoughts to pity; quench these flames that burn
My wasting Soul; speak peace to me, that find
A civil war in my uncivil mind:
Oh I have tasted of thy hot displeasure
Too much, Ah shall thy vengeance know no measure?
Say 'tis enough; though (Lord) I must confess
I have deserved more, yet give me less.
Thus with a melting heart I end my Suit,
Ah me! how bitter is forbidden fruit!
Gods Reply.
Thou bold-fac'd Orator, how dar'st thou come
Before me, or be otherwise then dumb?
Tell me, how dar'st thou interrupt my brest?
I hate to see thee, or hear thy Request.
Audacious wretch, what, has my Judgmentt made
Thy heart grow peremptory? Have I layd
Too small a burthen on thee? if I have,
I'le lay a greater, thou apostate slave:
I will not note thee, nor I will not hear
Thy words, which have usurp'd my deafned ear:
Love thee, for what? be't known, sad wretch, I scorn
To love a thing so base, so vile, forlorn;
And if I cannot love, how can it be,
That I can pity such a worm as thee?
I'le neither love, nor pity, for my heart
Is adamantine; thou shalt feel the smart
Of my displeasure: Go, my Soul disdains
To look upon thee; thou art fill'd with stains,
And smel'st too much of fruit to find respect,
Thou art the subject of my great neglect:
Thou art a barren soil, nothing will grow
Upon thy heart, except the seeds of woe.
Tell me, from what conceit dost thou derive
Thy working confidence, that thou dar'st drive
Thy language to my ears, and be so bold
T'approach my sight, and wilt not be controul'd?
Art thou resolv'd to make (what dost thou mean)
My ears thy stage, and every word a scean?
Sum up thy small, thy weak deserts, and see
What large respects thou hast deserv'd from me.
I plac'd thee in a garden, not to eat
The fruit forbidden, but to keep it neat:
Had not the violation of my Laws
Mov'd me to anger, thou hadst had no cause
T'ave felt the burthen of my weighty stroke,
Or live thus much subjected to the yoke
Of thine own sins; most shameful is that loss
That's crown'd with negligence, & great the cross
That's made with a self-hand; and they that clime
Above their strengths impropriate a crime
To their own Souls; Destruction is the end
Of all rebellion: Ruine knows no friend.
Before me, or be otherwise then dumb?
44
I hate to see thee, or hear thy Request.
Audacious wretch, what, has my Judgmentt made
Thy heart grow peremptory? Have I layd
Too small a burthen on thee? if I have,
I'le lay a greater, thou apostate slave:
I will not note thee, nor I will not hear
Thy words, which have usurp'd my deafned ear:
Love thee, for what? be't known, sad wretch, I scorn
To love a thing so base, so vile, forlorn;
And if I cannot love, how can it be,
That I can pity such a worm as thee?
I'le neither love, nor pity, for my heart
Is adamantine; thou shalt feel the smart
Of my displeasure: Go, my Soul disdains
To look upon thee; thou art fill'd with stains,
And smel'st too much of fruit to find respect,
Thou art the subject of my great neglect:
Thou art a barren soil, nothing will grow
Upon thy heart, except the seeds of woe.
Tell me, from what conceit dost thou derive
Thy working confidence, that thou dar'st drive
Thy language to my ears, and be so bold
T'approach my sight, and wilt not be controul'd?
Art thou resolv'd to make (what dost thou mean)
My ears thy stage, and every word a scean?
45
What large respects thou hast deserv'd from me.
I plac'd thee in a garden, not to eat
The fruit forbidden, but to keep it neat:
Had not the violation of my Laws
Mov'd me to anger, thou hadst had no cause
T'ave felt the burthen of my weighty stroke,
Or live thus much subjected to the yoke
Of thine own sins; most shameful is that loss
That's crown'd with negligence, & great the cross
That's made with a self-hand; and they that clime
Above their strengths impropriate a crime
To their own Souls; Destruction is the end
Of all rebellion: Ruine knows no friend.
Suppose I should invest and intertain
Your Soul with love, and call thee back again,
The tree is still the same, the fruit as sweet,
Thy appetite as great, and thou mayst meet
A Serpent too, whose oratorious skill
May soon entreat thee to enact his will:
He has a voyce to tempt, and thou an ear
Will re-assume the priviledg to hear:
He has a hand to give, and thou another
Freely to take: thus wouldst thou quickly smother
Thy new delights; therefore I will not trust
A heart that can be nothing but unjust.
Your Soul with love, and call thee back again,
The tree is still the same, the fruit as sweet,
Thy appetite as great, and thou mayst meet
A Serpent too, whose oratorious skill
May soon entreat thee to enact his will:
He has a voyce to tempt, and thou an ear
Will re-assume the priviledg to hear:
He has a hand to give, and thou another
Freely to take: thus wouldst thou quickly smother
Thy new delights; therefore I will not trust
A heart that can be nothing but unjust.
46
Thou great Mugul of baseness, cease to plead,
Thy tongue's a canker, and thy words are lead;
Thy sins have made thee not deserve the air
Thou entertain'st; hadst thou imploy'd thy care
To serve me, when I lov'd thee, thou hadst had
My heart-delighting joys to make thee glad;
But now expect no favour, for no art
Of thine shall ever captivate my heart.
Hie thee unto the shades of grief, bewail
Thy sequestrated happiness, no bail
Of thy procuring will I take to set
Thy Soul at liberty; I will not let
The vision of a comfort creep within
Thy rambling thoughts, thou art a slave to sin:
Hadst thou but lov'd or fear'd me at the first,
Th'adst been as happy, as th'art now accurst:
If now thou lov'st me, I shall quickly prove
It is for fear alone, and not for love.
Thy heart is steel'd with wickedness, thy faults
Are sparks enlivened by thy flinty thoughts.
Breathe out thy groans unto a sensless rock,
And let thy sighs (like hammers) beat and knock
Against her scragged sides, thou shalt as soon
Have her consent, as mine, to grant thy boon:
'Tis therefore vain to multiply thy words,
For ah, my brest, my hardened brest, affords
Thy Soul no pity: and the more thy cry
Attempts my ear, the less I will reply,
Alas! thy guilt-o're-burth'ned words renew
Fresh thoughts of rage, I cannot hear thee sue
Without impatiency; for ah the longer
Thou crav'st, thou mak'st my fury grow the stronger.
Avoid my presence, for I will no more
Give audience to thy voyce, then cease t'implore.
Thy tongue's a canker, and thy words are lead;
Thy sins have made thee not deserve the air
Thou entertain'st; hadst thou imploy'd thy care
To serve me, when I lov'd thee, thou hadst had
My heart-delighting joys to make thee glad;
But now expect no favour, for no art
Of thine shall ever captivate my heart.
Hie thee unto the shades of grief, bewail
Thy sequestrated happiness, no bail
Of thy procuring will I take to set
Thy Soul at liberty; I will not let
The vision of a comfort creep within
Thy rambling thoughts, thou art a slave to sin:
Hadst thou but lov'd or fear'd me at the first,
Th'adst been as happy, as th'art now accurst:
If now thou lov'st me, I shall quickly prove
It is for fear alone, and not for love.
Thy heart is steel'd with wickedness, thy faults
Are sparks enlivened by thy flinty thoughts.
Breathe out thy groans unto a sensless rock,
And let thy sighs (like hammers) beat and knock
Against her scragged sides, thou shalt as soon
Have her consent, as mine, to grant thy boon:
'Tis therefore vain to multiply thy words,
For ah, my brest, my hardened brest, affords
47
Attempts my ear, the less I will reply,
Alas! thy guilt-o're-burth'ned words renew
Fresh thoughts of rage, I cannot hear thee sue
Without impatiency; for ah the longer
Thou crav'st, thou mak'st my fury grow the stronger.
Avoid my presence, for I will no more
Give audience to thy voyce, then cease t'implore.
Adams Lamentation.
Undone, undone! what mountain now will hide
My lothed body from the swelling tyde
Of raging Vengeance? Whither shall I fly
T'involve my Soul with true security?
Stretch, stretch my lungs, and roar unto the deep
[illeg.] entertain me: Oh that I might sleep
Within her wavey bowels, till the blast
Of Heav'ns all-shaking thundring Voyce were past.
Oh that some rock would hear my sad request,
And give me burial in her frigid brest!
Oh that my grief extended voyce could cleave
The soild Earth, and make her to receive
My wretched limbs! Oh that some ranging beast
Would prove so courteous to devovr, and feast
Upon my corps! Oh that I could contrive
A way to live, and yet not be alive!
Ah, thus my sorrow-shaken fancy flies
And envies at impossibilities.
I fain would dye, but that I have no heart
To kill my self, and yet I feel a smart
Transcending death; I see I cannot shun
The wrath of Heav'n: Ah, thus I am undone
By my own doing, this it is to eat
Forbidden fruit: Oh most pernicious meat!
I was too rash, and rashly have I taken
A deadly fall, and falling, am forsaken:
I'm bruis'd to death, and yet I cannot dye;
Ah, what can be so much unblest as I?
I am inflamed, and I dayly drench
My Soul with tears and yet I cannot quench
My raging fires; the more I strive t'asswage
And mitigate my pains, the more they rage.
What shall I do, or whither shall I go,
To hide me from this Labyrinth of Wo?
I am compos'd of sorrow, and my veins,
Instead of blood, are fill'd with griping pains.
My lothed body from the swelling tyde
Of raging Vengeance? Whither shall I fly
T'involve my Soul with true security?
Stretch, stretch my lungs, and roar unto the deep
[illeg.] entertain me: Oh that I might sleep
Within her wavey bowels, till the blast
Of Heav'ns all-shaking thundring Voyce were past.
Oh that some rock would hear my sad request,
And give me burial in her frigid brest!
Oh that my grief extended voyce could cleave
The soild Earth, and make her to receive
My wretched limbs! Oh that some ranging beast
Would prove so courteous to devovr, and feast
Upon my corps! Oh that I could contrive
A way to live, and yet not be alive!
48
And envies at impossibilities.
I fain would dye, but that I have no heart
To kill my self, and yet I feel a smart
Transcending death; I see I cannot shun
The wrath of Heav'n: Ah, thus I am undone
By my own doing, this it is to eat
Forbidden fruit: Oh most pernicious meat!
I was too rash, and rashly have I taken
A deadly fall, and falling, am forsaken:
I'm bruis'd to death, and yet I cannot dye;
Ah, what can be so much unblest as I?
I am inflamed, and I dayly drench
My Soul with tears and yet I cannot quench
My raging fires; the more I strive t'asswage
And mitigate my pains, the more they rage.
What shall I do, or whither shall I go,
To hide me from this Labyrinth of Wo?
I am compos'd of sorrow, and my veins,
Instead of blood, are fill'd with griping pains.
Curst be these eyes of mine, which have let in
The lawless tyrant of imperious Sin:
Curst be these lips of mine, which at the suit
Of my fond wife receiv'd forbidden fruit:
Curst be these ears, that entertain'd the charms
Of that inchantress, which procur'd my harms
Curst be these hands of mine, which took, and fed
My greedy Soul, and struck my Conscience dead:
And now my lips, my ears, my hands, my eyes,
Must see, hear, taste, and feel, my miseries.
Oh sad condition! Since there's no relief,
I must be subject to perpetual grief.
Here we will leave poor Adam in the state
Of woe, and thus begin to ruminate.
The lawless tyrant of imperious Sin:
Curst be these lips of mine, which at the suit
Of my fond wife receiv'd forbidden fruit:
Curst be these ears, that entertain'd the charms
Of that inchantress, which procur'd my harms
49
My greedy Soul, and struck my Conscience dead:
And now my lips, my ears, my hands, my eyes,
Must see, hear, taste, and feel, my miseries.
Oh sad condition! Since there's no relief,
I must be subject to perpetual grief.
Here we will leave poor Adam in the state
Of woe, and thus begin to ruminate.
Are there not many in this toilsom age
That meditate themselves into a rage,
And wonder how a Serpent could express
Himself, and reason with such readiness.
Being by nature brute, nay and the worst
Of living creatures, that he should at first
Perswade and conquer, and instruct his will,
How to determine both of good and ill?
It would seem strange, if Reason were without
Her wings, and could flie above this doubt:
We may (and yet not stain the truth) declare
It was the work of Satan to ensnare
Frail Eve; although he was not nam'd at all
By Moses in the Hist'ry of the Fall,
It may not trouble us, for we must know,
The bending Serpent was the Devils bow,
By which he shot the arrows of his spite,
Which did [Oh grief to speak it!] flie too right:
And he that dares so high a Crime to act
(Though by another) needs must own the fact:
And this our tongues may never cease to tell,
The Serpent was the Instrument of Hell,
Tun'd to the Devils voice: thus we may see
His fraud, his malice, and his subtiltie.
First when he saw he could not over-turn
The great Creator, he begun to burn
With flames of envy, lab'ring to invade,
And so disturb that order God had made
In the Creation, and to change the features
Of his own Image in the best of Creatures,
That so he may by his too sooth delusion
Make man run headlong to his own confusion:
Thus having laid the platform of his work,
He then begun to agitate, and lurk
For opportunity, which was effected
As soon, nay if not sooner, than expected;
He gave the blow, and by that blow he found
The weakest vessel had the weakest sound;
But yet it strongly eccho'd to the voice
Of his desires, and made him love his choice.
That meditate themselves into a rage,
And wonder how a Serpent could express
Himself, and reason with such readiness.
Being by nature brute, nay and the worst
Of living creatures, that he should at first
Perswade and conquer, and instruct his will,
How to determine both of good and ill?
It would seem strange, if Reason were without
Her wings, and could flie above this doubt:
We may (and yet not stain the truth) declare
It was the work of Satan to ensnare
Frail Eve; although he was not nam'd at all
By Moses in the Hist'ry of the Fall,
It may not trouble us, for we must know,
The bending Serpent was the Devils bow,
By which he shot the arrows of his spite,
Which did [Oh grief to speak it!] flie too right:
50
(Though by another) needs must own the fact:
And this our tongues may never cease to tell,
The Serpent was the Instrument of Hell,
Tun'd to the Devils voice: thus we may see
His fraud, his malice, and his subtiltie.
First when he saw he could not over-turn
The great Creator, he begun to burn
With flames of envy, lab'ring to invade,
And so disturb that order God had made
In the Creation, and to change the features
Of his own Image in the best of Creatures,
That so he may by his too sooth delusion
Make man run headlong to his own confusion:
Thus having laid the platform of his work,
He then begun to agitate, and lurk
For opportunity, which was effected
As soon, nay if not sooner, than expected;
He gave the blow, and by that blow he found
The weakest vessel had the weakest sound;
But yet it strongly eccho'd to the voice
Of his desires, and made him love his choice.
Even as some bold-fac'd General, that dares
To storm a well-man'd Town; at first prepares
A potent Army, which he soon sets down
Before the Walls of the alarum'd Town;
He after views the ruine-threatning-Fort,
Which speaks defiance, and begins to sport
Their severall shots, and with a sad delight
Ingage each other in a bloody fight:
Then if the fierce Besiegers once perceive
Themselves out-strength'd, they think it fit to leave
So hot a work, and for a little space
Desist, and fall upon a weaker place,
Where finding smaller opposition, venture
With greater courage, and at last they enter
The yielding Town, and cruelly begin
To take revenge of them that are within.
To storm a well-man'd Town; at first prepares
A potent Army, which he soon sets down
Before the Walls of the alarum'd Town;
51
Which speaks defiance, and begins to sport
Their severall shots, and with a sad delight
Ingage each other in a bloody fight:
Then if the fierce Besiegers once perceive
Themselves out-strength'd, they think it fit to leave
So hot a work, and for a little space
Desist, and fall upon a weaker place,
Where finding smaller opposition, venture
With greater courage, and at last they enter
The yielding Town, and cruelly begin
To take revenge of them that are within.
Even so the grim-look'd, malice-armed Devil,
The base-resolved Generall of Evill,
Perceiving, that he could by no meanes take
The sublime Fort of Heav'n, plots how to make
A fresh attempt, upon a weaker part,
And so prepares to storme the flexive heart
Of unresisting Eve; that could not grapple
With such a Foe, but yielded for an Apple
To those most false Alarums which surrounded
Her, much obedient, and soon confounded
Her inward parts, and gave her Soul a wound,
Which cannot be by time or art made sound,
Except the grand Physitian please to slake
His swelling fury, and some pity take.
The base-resolved Generall of Evill,
Perceiving, that he could by no meanes take
The sublime Fort of Heav'n, plots how to make
A fresh attempt, upon a weaker part,
And so prepares to storme the flexive heart
Of unresisting Eve; that could not grapple
With such a Foe, but yielded for an Apple
To those most false Alarums which surrounded
Her, much obedient, and soon confounded
Her inward parts, and gave her Soul a wound,
Which cannot be by time or art made sound,
Except the grand Physitian please to slake
His swelling fury, and some pity take.
52
Thus are our conquer'd parents sadly left
In a deplor'd condition, and bereft
Of all their comforts; they which have enjoy'd
The life of happinesse, are now destroy'd;
And man (his wretched off-spring) must be made
Sorrowes sad heir, and Peace must not be said
T'inhabit in him. Adams actuall sin
Made ours originall; for we begin,
As soon as made, to entertain the guests
Of sin, and lodge them in our infant-brests.
Now may our weak and despicable eyes
Behold in them, our ample miseries:
Now we may glut the Air with this sad cry,
The root being dead, the branches needs must dye
For Adam's gone beyond all humane call:
Rebellion never ends without a Fall.
In a deplor'd condition, and bereft
Of all their comforts; they which have enjoy'd
The life of happinesse, are now destroy'd;
And man (his wretched off-spring) must be made
Sorrowes sad heir, and Peace must not be said
T'inhabit in him. Adams actuall sin
Made ours originall; for we begin,
As soon as made, to entertain the guests
Of sin, and lodge them in our infant-brests.
Now may our weak and despicable eyes
Behold in them, our ample miseries:
Now we may glut the Air with this sad cry,
The root being dead, the branches needs must dye
For Adam's gone beyond all humane call:
Rebellion never ends without a Fall.
But stay my Muse, here let us rest a while;
Our Journey's long, and 'tis not good to toil
Too much at first, for Reason sayes 'tis best
To pause a time, and take a little rest:
Know then (kind Reader) that my Muse shall meet
Thy serious eyes within another sheet.
Our Journey's long, and 'tis not good to toil
Too much at first, for Reason sayes 'tis best
To pause a time, and take a little rest:
Know then (kind Reader) that my Muse shall meet
Thy serious eyes within another sheet.
The end of the first Book.
| Divine Meditations upon Several Subjects | |