 | Divine poems |  |
A Dialogue between a Carnal Man, and a Penitent Sinner.
1.Come, leave these Melancholly Fits:
They'l put thee quite out of thy Wits.
When thou art Old, thou mayst have leisure
To Grieve: now take thy fill of pleasure.
Let Bacchus, and sweet Venus too
With their Fresh Garlands Crown thy Brow.
That it may be kept Smooth and Fair,
That Sorrow make no Wrinkles there.
In Mirth pass all this time away:
Come don't make Winter of thy May.
Now whilst it is thy Ages Spring,
Thou shouldst learn with the Birds to Sing:
Reserve thy Tears, and Sighs and Groans,
For Old dim Eyes, and Aking Bones.
2.
My Sadness is no Melancholly:
I'm then most Merry, when least Jolly.
My Pleasure is to Grieve for Sin:
Hence 'tis that I so soon begin.
Besides, My friend, we seldom see
A Crooked Plant, prove a straight Tree.
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Which makes men Stutter, Reel, and Nod.
Fond Venus Bird (I dread such Love)
Looks like a Vulture, not a Dove.
If of Her Fire one Spark appear,
Ile Quench it with a Pious Tear.
Now is my Ages Spring I know;
Now is the Time for Grace to Grow.
When Age with Pain shall fill my Bones,
And turn my shortned Breath to Groans.
Ile think it but an Aking Head,
And straight I shall be call'd to Bed.
1.
Go, Zelot: Christian Liberty
Allows us all to be more Free:
The way to Heaven is broader, then
'Tis said to be by Pulpit-men.
Those Black Coats are meer Rocks, they tell
Strange Stories of the Devil and Hell,
They, say so many go astray,
'Cause they'd be Hir'd to shew the way:
Those Big-words which they throw about,
Are onely fit to Scare the Rout.
I'le Care not what Precisians say,
But Swallow all the joyes I may.
2.
My Friend, True Christian Liberty
Wo'nt make us Loose, though't make us Free.
VVe are not bound vvith any Chain:
VV'are Girt for Ornament, not Pain.
VVe may VValk, but we must not Stray:
VV'are onely Bound to keep our VVay.
The Liberty, you boast, is none,
But to Run to Destruction.
VVhilst you abhor to be Precise,
And Gallop in the Road of Vice,
You Laugh, like Mad men in your Pains:
And love the Chinking of your Chains.
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VVho Hidden Manna do disclose:
Who Handle the Two-Edged Sword,
Even the ALMIGHTY's Powerful Word;
Which if it Search not, to make Sound,
Will give you an Eternal Wound.
1.
What Countrey-parson told thee so?
VVhy speakst thou what thou dost not know?
VVho knowes but when our Bodies Die,
Our Souls Die too? therefore will I
The Pleasures of this VVorld to VVin,
Nere stick at that, vvhich Fools call Sin.
2.
That is, Thou art Resolv'd to be
Thine ovvn Soul's Mortall Enemie.
What thou callst Pleasure, is but Baite:
Thus thou lov'st Death, and hug'st thy Fate.
Those Comforts, vvhich in Sin vve find,
At first Embrace, then Stab the Mind.
When Svvarmes of Thoughts buz in thy Brain,
When thy Head's full of Cares and Pain;
When thou liest Tossing on thy Bed,
Then think of Me, and vvhat I've said.
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