Certaine Serious Thoughts which at severall times & upon sundry Occasions have stollen themselves into Verse and now into the Publike View from the Author: Together w[i]th a Chronologicall table denoeting the names of such Princes as ruled the neighbor States and were con-temporary to our English Kings, observeing throughout ye number of yeares w[hi]ch every one of them reigned [by Christopher Wyvill] |
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Dolor Inferni.
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 | Certaine Serious Thoughts |  |
Dolor Inferni.
Let not thy over-curious appetite
Thy puzled cogitations invite,
To lose themselves in seeking hell, nor it
Beyond the pillars of the holy-Writ,
Think to discover: looke not to advance,
Where God nil ultra writ's, thine ignorance.
Thy puzled cogitations invite,
To lose themselves in seeking hell, nor it
Beyond the pillars of the holy-Writ,
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Where God nil ultra writ's, thine ignorance.
But know that there doth nothing want which can
Adde tortures to that miserable man,
Who's thither cast for sinne; in that curst place
Nature run's retrograde to her own pace;
Fire administers no welcome light,
But serv's in torment, and makes sad the night,
The parched tongue for water call's, but that
It's cooling faculty hath quite forgot,
By gnashing teeth and trembling yet is show'n
That Hell is not without a Frozen-Zone:
Once sleeping-conscience, then shall in despight
Awake, and make those sufferings exquisite.
What Vulture-Thoughts shall gnaw for evermore
That heart which proffer'd mercy scorn'd before?
All objects, by the ever-weeping eye,
Shall wound the Soul with curst Eternity.
Now blessed Lord, inflame my keen desire
To seeke that narrow path, which from this fire
May keep my steps secure: sure 'tis not that
To which some fancies give a shorter date,
No, purge me here, and make me leane upon
That sure foundation, the true Corner-stone.
Adde tortures to that miserable man,
Who's thither cast for sinne; in that curst place
Nature run's retrograde to her own pace;
Fire administers no welcome light,
But serv's in torment, and makes sad the night,
The parched tongue for water call's, but that
It's cooling faculty hath quite forgot,
By gnashing teeth and trembling yet is show'n
That Hell is not without a Frozen-Zone:
Once sleeping-conscience, then shall in despight
Awake, and make those sufferings exquisite.
What Vulture-Thoughts shall gnaw for evermore
That heart which proffer'd mercy scorn'd before?
All objects, by the ever-weeping eye,
Shall wound the Soul with curst Eternity.
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To seeke that narrow path, which from this fire
May keep my steps secure: sure 'tis not that
To which some fancies give a shorter date,
No, purge me here, and make me leane upon
That sure foundation, the true Corner-stone.
| Certaine Serious Thoughts | |