The Garden of Prudence Wherein is contained, A patheticall Discourse, and godly Meditation, most brieflie touching the vanities of the world, the calamities of hell, and the felicities of heaven. You shal also find planted in the same, diuers sweet and pleasant Flowers, most necessarie and comfortable both for body and soule [by Bartholomew Chappell] |
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 | The Garden of Prudence |  |
THE GARDEN of Prudence.
To the Right Honorable, the most vertuous and renowmed Lady, Anne,
Countesse of Warwick, B.C. wisheth in this life all prosperity, and in the life to come sempiternall felicity in the blessed kingdome of God.
Of the Vanities of the WORLD.
VVhat wilfull rage? what furious fit?what madnesse pearste the worldes braine?
To serue in thrall, once for to sit,
in Chayre of pompe, that is so vaine:
Whose glittering glee is deckt with woe,
whose fickle weale we all do see:
As flitting streame from thee doth goe,
and can no time remaine with thee.
For all thy pleasures sorrowes bring,
all thy delights most bitter paine:
All thy conceiptes turne thee a ring,
wherein to run: but all in vaine:
For when thou doest thy selfe assure,
that thou doest sit in state most strong,
When thou doest thinke still to endure,
then suddenlie thou liest along.
When thou in Center of thy blisse,
with Salomon hast thee enthroand:
when Crœsus wealth to thee is bound:
When all things els that world can yeeld,
at thy command and becke do stand:
Then commeth Death like Mars in field,
and pluckes thy life into his hand.
Thy landes, thy rentes, thy wife most graue,
thy daughters clad with Venus hoe:
Thy sonnes adorn'd with vertues braue,
thou art compeld to bid adue.
Thy houses high, thy castles strong,
thy gardens square in each degree:
Thy pleasant courts and towres long,
all to forsake thou forst must be.
Thy lambes, thy goates, thy fatlings all,
which feed themselues in pastures green
Thine Oxen eke within thy stall.
thou wilt then wish hadst neuer seen.
Thy horses which in stable stand,
and praunce most stately in their kind:
Thine Oxen eke that plow thy land,
thou art full loath to leaue behind:
Thy Deere which raunge thy forrest wilde,
and brouse on boughes, in winter cold:
And such as rome abroad the field,
doe please thee well, though thou bee old.
which on thee wayt in comely glee:
No longer with thee must thou haue,
but leaue them al, thus must it be.
Thy brothers kind, and sisters deare,
thy kindred all that lou'd thee best:
Hereafter may not keepe thee here,
but trudge thou must among the rest-
Contemne therefore all worldlie wealth,
and craue no more then may suffice:
So God wil blesse thy soule with health,
which stil shal dure without surmise.
But if with want thou be opprest,
if pinched eke with pouertie,
Let all by sufferance be redrest,
when it shal please our God on hie,
For Iob by patience wan great praise,
cruel Pharaoh could not Dauid daunt,
By patient hope they both had ease,
and al their foes could not once vaunt,
Or say, loe here we haue preuaild,
loe here is he, whom we subdude:
But Peacocke like they al were quaild,
and forste to flie in sort most rude.
Let these examples mooue thy hart,
al woes, al paines for to endure:
none can atchieue, I thee assure.
All crosses who so doth imbrace,
all miseries who doeth sustaine:
Adorn'd is hee with diuine grace,
with Angels eke shall he remaine.
But he that liueth wantonlie,
he wicked Mammon that doth loue,
He that desires to climbe on hie,
forgetting God that sits aboue.
And he whose mind is puft with pride,
whose heart with malice great doth swell:
With Lucifer still shal abide,
and with the Furies must hee dwell.
Wherefore O man, O wretched wight,
this wicked vale seek thou to scorn:
Thy latter end haue still in sight
least soule and corpes be both forlorne,
For what can it thee ought auaile,
if all the world thou doe possesse?
Sith griefly graue is thy reraile,
where worms thee gnaw without redres
Yet worse then that doth it remaine,
when Spirits thy silly soule shall rent:
In fiery flame, with hellish paine,
Which neuer staies, nor will be spent.
a place from God, that's farthest cast:
Where damned soules both houle and crie,
where fiery chaines doe hold them fast.
Wherefore with Salomon I crie,
O sonne remember thou thine end:
Then wilt thou wicked sinne defie,
then wilt thou neuer God offend.
Now sith that we compassed be,
with dreadfull death on euery side:
And that the same all creatures see,
what of vs all shall now betide.
May not we call this wretched life,
a vale whose corne is bitter woe:
The crop whereof we reape with strife
in age, which lustie yeares did sowe.
The worms which vexe our minds be cares
most griping griefe our bodie presse:
And sicknesse takes vs in his snares,
whereof we hardly get redresse.
Our bodies are a cursed ground,
our skin is like to withered hay:
Our humours weake and watrish found,
which filthie wormes shall suck away.
Behold now, marke you what we are,
Behold, but dust and brittle glasse:
behold a wind that soone doth passe,
Behold, here are we turnde and cast,
Behold, we often times do change,
Behold, from piller to the post,
both to and fro are forst to range.
The sands in sea, the grasse we see,
in fertile lands and fields most faire,
With all the starres may reckoned be,
that glister in the healthsome aire:
Much sooner, I doe tel thee right,
then al the woes and pinching paine,
Which stil on men doe fal and light,
that in this loathsome vale remaine.
Amongst mankind was neuer one,
that euer here on earth did dwel,
Of miseries that taste had none,
or once could say, all things run wel:
Although he were in glorious state,
although he liu'd in high degree,
Yet forst was he to blame his fate
and say, I see it wil not be.
But if both poore and indigent,
thou be, and canst not wealth attaine:
Thy life thy breath thou doest repent,
and stil in sorrowe doest remaine.
but euen now if thou were borne:
Thy life is death, we all do see,
thou art a silly wretch forlorne.
And when a tender childe thou art,
thine age is chiefest spring of woe:
Ten thousand griefs oppresse thy heart,
and stil on euery side they floe.
If that by yeares thou be a man,
most great mishaps on thee will fall.
And dangers will sure now and than,
cast thee and thine int' wofull thrall.
When crooked age comes stealing ou,
then haue we lost all worldly blisse,
With pinching paine and sicknesse strong,
then all our bodie troubled is,
If that a wedded man thou bee,
then art thou tide to blocke of paine:
Then art thou bound, which once wert fre
and so for ay thou must remaine.
If thou a single life doest lead,
then sunke thou art in all annoyes,
And drownd in griefe, although indeed
thou thinkst to swim in sea of ioyes.
Although thy bodie thou adorne,
with glittering gold and pearle bright.
because in sorrowes thou art pight.
What life thou wilt, do thou professe,
of want and woe thou shalt haue store:
Be what thou wilt thy cares to cease,
thy dolors yet are as before.
Vnconstant is the state of man,
his life as brittle as the clay:
And is compared to a spanne,
for in short time it fades away.
It to a bubble likened is,
which to our sight appeareth hie
And in the time thou canst say this,
flat with the water doeth it lie.
The man that late in wealth did flowe,
in pouerty is now, and thrall,
And is constrain'd to lie full lowe,
vvhich lately vvas the prince of all.
Whom God in mercie hath extold,
and set in golden chaire of blisse:
Death plucketh downe in sort most bolde,
and vnto him least partiall is.
He liues to day quite void of paine,
no griefe hath he nor yrksome care,
Passing the time in pleasures vaine,
vvith iolitie and daintie fare.
to morrow put in mournfull tombe:
And to the earth his corpes he must
commit: till dolefull day of dombe.
Such is the state which we enioy,
such is the end all doth betide:
That in this vale of all annoy,
mongst mortall men doe once abide.
Though Nestar's yeares we can attaine,
though thousand ages yet we haue:
The wormes to feed we must be faine,
and fill we must the gaping graue.
Not Hercules, not Sampson strong,
not Pompey stout, nor Cæsar braue,
But forced were to lie along,
and take the blow which Death them gaue.
Not Cato that in wit did flow,
not Salomon that did excell
All mortall wights from high to lowe,
in wisedoms court that bare the bell,
The tyranny of death could daunt,
or make his griefly face to blush:
For he doth boast, yea brag and vaunt,
and holds our force not worth a rush.
Behold rich Crœsus with his wealth,
could not the dart of death defend:
and all do trudge with death in end,
He spareth none, he taketh all,
both yong and old of each degree:
Both rich and poore both free and thrall,
he paies to eu'ry one his fee.
The Calamities of hell.
He throwes the wicked headlong downto Lymbo lake, where is no rest:
Where damned soules look grim, & frown,
and are with endlesse paine opprest.
This is the place that darkened is,
this is the place of bitter paine:
This is the place void of all blisse,
this is the place where deuils raigne.
This is the place of chillest cold,
this is the place of endlesse fire:
Whose forces great none can vnfold.
both tongue and pen though he do tire.
If monsters tell thou wouldest see,
which in this place make their abode:
Thy hart then daunted so would be,
that none thy feare could then vnlode,
If to thine eares their hellish sound,
should once be brought I thee assure.
but oh, none can the same endure:
These griesly ghosts such tortures haue,
such pinching paine doth them oppresse
That some reliefe still doe they craue,
but neuer can they get redresse.
They weep, they cry, they wring their hands
their miseries they doe bewaile:
They gnash their teeth in wofull bandes,
this is the gaine of their retaile.
They roare like Lyons in their dens,
like dogges they howle in kennels staide,
Like filthy Swine they lie in fennes,
and thus all reprobates are paid.
Their filthy place no tongue can tel,
no pen can wel rhe same descrie.
The stincke is such where they doe dwel,
that all it slaies that passe thereby.
Their entrie is of chillest yoe,
their doores and gates of fiery brasse,
Their house more hote then Etna thrice,
thats full of fire, and euer was.
Their walke on fierie serpents is,
which plucke the marrow from the bone
So is their comfort and their blisse,
to mourne, to weep, & make great mone
vvhat shall at last become of thee?
Of greater griefe who can delate,
what greater woe or paine can be?
Yet worse there is I tell thee plaine,
thy body must to iudgment rise:
And with thy soule it must sustaine
more torments then can heart deuise:
Because in earth both did offend,
because the lawes of God they brake
Together, therefore without end
must both be drownd in fiery lake,
All sinners would this day eschue,
all sinners wish their perill past:
All sinners hearts the same must rue,
all sinners must it find at last:
Behold it commeth now with speed,
behold the sun that shined bright,
Is darkened ouer all in deed,
Behold all things appeare as night.
Behold the starres as withered leaues,
in windie Autumne down do fall;
Behold the Moone God eke bereaues,
of light and shining brightnesse all.
Behold the hearts of men doe faint,
behold, their wits are scant their owne:
behold, with griping griefe they grone.
Behold their faces are but pale,
behold, their bodies vveakened be:
Behold, their doubt of endlesse thralle,
behold their flesh consumes we see.
Behold, what griefe doth men oppresse,
behold, they cast their heads on hie:
But to lament, they can no lesse,
marke vvell, all men doe seeme to die.
Marke how both trees and branches all,
doe sweat foorth blood against their kind:
Marke, all things are opprest with thrall,
marke nothing hath a quiet mind.
The roaring sea doth fret and fume,
her waues she flings aboue the land:
She shewes all things are out of tune,
she cries, Gods day is nigh at hand:
The earth of late hath shakt her selfe,
as wearie of her sinfull burne:
Which is our selues, with worldly pelfe,
but oh! thereby we are forlorne.
Of late she svvallowed in her gulfe,
twelue thousand out of London towne:
By sudden plague like rauening Wolfe,
yet are our hearts not once pluckt down.
our friends from vs she taketh still:
Our sinnes so much haue God displeasd,
that she reuenge doth vse, and will.
Her fruits alfo she doth detaine,
and hath done fourtie moneths and moe:
Yet few of vs in heart complaine,
nor for our sinnes are prickt wit woe.
The skies also with misty cloudes,
are ouer cast and gush out teares:
Whereby the earth hath had grat flouds,
and with their noise haue fild our eares,
The blustering windes doe puffe and blowe,
they sob, they sigh in raging sort:
They force high tres to lie ful lowe,
they tempests stir in euerie port.
They range with furie East and West,
from North to South they also run,
They know not where to take their rest,
But beat the aire, as Cannon gun.
The stoutest hearts their faces hide,
both rich and poore are much dismaid:
No flesh Gods iudgment can abide,
but seek where they may find some aid.
All liuing things for help doe crie,
both sauadge beasts and birds also.
do wish for legges with speed to goe.
The earth doth quake and mountaines all,
both hearbs and roots their vertues lose,
Great toures long flat downe do fall,
and odours sweet do leaue the Rose.
Dame Nature in her furie strong,
receiues a curse and gins to quaile,
Her forces all do lie along,
whereby all things their vertues faile.
The Angels all, with Saints most blest,
the Cherub and the Seraphin,
All sinners that haue life possest,
both quick and dead that earst haue bin.
Assembled are, and dreadfully,
with terrour great our Lord expect:
And waite his comming from on hie,
for then each thing shall be perfect.
Behold both heauen and earth doe bow,
behold they downe and prostrate fall:
Behold Iehouah commeth now,
all flesh before him for to call.
In glorie commeth he and state,
his trumpets through the earth do sound.
All sinners suddenly t'awake,
in euery coast that may be found.
vvherein he comes most gloriously:
Which sight the mountaines great do feare,
and melt down flat, vvhich were on hie.
The seas eke tremble at his sight,
and dried are, most strange to see:
Whose waues did seeme in sand most bright
but now bare sandes there onely bee:
The craggie rockes are turnde to dust,
his furious wrath none can abide,
God stil will fauour all the iust,
but sinners seeke themselues to hide:
O cursed soule how art thou vext?
how art thou chok'd with wofull care?
Hovv doest thou quake when as the text,
of sinne doth vvill thee to beware.
When all these dreadfull sights appeare,
before thine eyes, and are at hand:
Hovv doth thine heart then shake and feare,
hovv doest thou care to flie the land:
Thy body novv doth rise also,
like griesly ghost from out the graue,
And in the same thy soule must goe.
and with the same due paines must haue.
Before thee sits a Iudge seuere,
vvhose vvrathfull rage thou must abide,
accusers eke on euery side.
Aboue thee hangs a dreadfull sword,
to cut thy body to the pot:
Which is of God the mighty word,
but woe to thee that hath this lot.
Below the fierie pot doth stand,
which filled is with boiling lead:
And will consume both heart and hand,
and euery limme from foot to head.
Most filthy brimstone is the fewel,
that makes the lead like burning fire:
Of wicked men this is the iewell,
of damned soules the perfect hire.
Yet worse then this remaines behind,
their hope is past of all redresse:
For dying still themselues they find,
yet liue they must a time endlesse.
Behold, thou canst no mercy win,
behold thy foes haue thee beset:
Behold, thy soule condemnd for sin,
in Stygian lake must pay thy debt.
O dolefull doome, of sinne the meed,
O wretched soule, that doest repent:
But too too late, thus doe we read,
for time of grace is past and spent
with Diues that is vext in hell:
Thy birth, thy life thou doest defy,
because with deuils thou must dwell.
Which raue with rage, which firebrāds cast,
which rome, which run, still in their kind,
Which only fiery trumpets blast,
this is the ioy which sinners finde.
Of the felicities of heauen.
Bvt come, beholde the ioyfull place,behold the comfort of the same:
Behold, where Saints, and soules of grace,
all ioy possesse, quite void of blame.
Behold, who can conceiue in heart,
beholde, what tongue can els expresse:
What pen can well discrie in part,
the woondrous ioyes of heauens blesse,
Where Angels bright with Christ do raign
where honours hie doe flourish still,
Where darknesse all is banisht cleane,
where all things haue their wished will,
Where heat nor cold do once oppresse,
where thirst and hunger haue no place:
Where paine and sorrow alwaies cease,
where loue and peace haue all their grace.
where all conceipts do comfort bring,
Where nothing is that breeds annoy,
where perfect blisse doeth alwaies spring.
O caitiffe wight this place he hold,
which doth surmount the reach of thought
Whose gates are fram'd of finest gold,
whose wals of diamōds clear are wrought.
Behold the citie, where it standes,
whose pauements are of pearle fine,
Whose springs brings comfort to all lands,
for stil they run with oile and wine.
There all things bath in ioyful blesse.
There milke and honie doe abound:
There all men haue chiefe happinesse,
there musick hath her sweetest sound:
The lambe of God is there inthroand,
in chaire of state shining most bright:
Which all the wicked doth confound,
and brings the godly to his light.
The light is such, as would obscure,
both Sunne and Moon, if they were there:
And so for euer will endure,
most happie he that is his heire:
There flowes a pleasant siluer streame,
wherein the life of man doth run:
yea much more bright then is the Sunne.
There growes a tree on either side,
which sauing health and comfort brings:
Whereby in peace we alwaies bide,
and from the same all mercie springs.
The sap thereof doth iustice nurse,
the leaues as reliques left behind:
Do stil maintaine each Christians purse,
whose soules in fine our Lord doth find.
The blossoms of the same doe cease
all worldlie strife, euen in one houre:
The seeds thereof bring heauens blesse,
the fruits do showe Gods mighty power.
No time can well consume the barke,
it stronger is, then time can wast,
The substance eke appeares so starke,
that death it doth subdue at last.
The Song of the Angels, and of all the Saintes of God.
A famous Quire there is also,whose godly songs do sound most sweet,
Sanctus, Sanctus, and Laus Deo,
thus in their harmony they meet.
the Cherub and the Seraphin:
The holy Saints are eke in sight,
and all consent in well tuning.
Most happie be yea ten times blest,
amongst these Saints that beares a part:
In heauens high sure is his rest,
and hath all ioy plac'd in his heart,
There is also a pleasant field,
wherein all vertues flourish still,
Their humblenesse, which oft doth yeeld
and patience that gets good will.
Fidelity there eke doth raigne,
with her is ioin'd Dame Prudence graue,
Good gouernment for to maintaine,
whereby at last good rest we haue.
There Sapience sage, with Modesty,
there faithfull Loue doth come in place:
There Friendship deare with curtesie,
which fauour wins without disgrace.
There Probity her selfe doth stay,
a vertue rare I you assure:
There Piety remaines alway,
which bringeth blisse which will endure.
There Summum bonum shal we find,
the strongest Anchor of our hope:
there of all blisse the only scope,
This summum bonum is the well,
whence godly vertues al doe spring,
Wherin each faithfull seeks to dwell,
and there with gladsome ioy to sing:
O Fountaine cleare! O blessed spring,
whereby all vertues flourish still:
Most happie he in euerie thing,
that vertue loues and euer will.
By vertue honours here we haue,
By vertue, faithfull hearts we win:
By vertue cleane we are and braue,
by vertue purg'd of all our sinne:
Wherefore lets all with might and maine,
Embrace the course of Vertues lore:
That we in blisse with Christ may raigne,
where vertues spring for euermore.
O famous place that doth excell,
that doth al earthly blisse surmount:
Where Saints and Angels only dwel,
whose pleasant ioies no man can count.
Each Saint is higher in his place,
and brighter also in our sight:
Then Sun or Moon, whose glittering grace
our eyes refuse, they are so bright.
and doth in highest state abound:
Thrise happy hee that can see this,
most blessed they that haue it found.
Here Patriarkes and Prophets all,
here godlie martyrs weare the crowne:
Here Virgins pure are freed from thrall,
here sacred Saints haue all renowne.
Here sences all are fullie fed.
with their delights in highest degree:
1. Here musick seeks to fill thy head,
with sound as sweet, as sweet may be.
2. Most fragrant smels here eke abound,
to please thy nostrels in their kind:
3. Here tastes most sweet are also found,
to please thy palate: yet behind
4. Surpassing sightes here are also,
as obiectes for thy Christall eies:
5. More perfect feeling then we know,
here eke remaines by destinies.
O glorious God that hast assign'd,
these pleasures all, vs to content!
Inspire our hearts, that thou maist find
our soules with thee still to consent.
What greater ioyes can be exprest,
what sweeter blisse, what pleasure more:
then here haue bene rehearst before,
Yet more then all is ouerpast,
which one is all I dare well say:
For face to face we shall at last,
Our Sauiour sweet, see night and day,
And ioy in him with perfect blesse:
and liue with him, that death hath staine,
In loue and peace which are endlesse
and neuer toucht with woe or paine,
No good can be but there is found:
no good without him is possest:
All best delights do there abound,
each sight doth yeeld a perfect rest.
The Angels there most glorious are,
then humaine eyes can well behold:
More bright they shine then any star,
and still Gods mercies they vnfold:
What place more stately can there be,
for greatest Princes to enioy:
Then follow heires with him to be,
that grants all blisse without annoy,
Behold the time, which once hath bin,
behold the time, which present is:
Behold also each future thing,
most plaine are there with God in blisse.
O sence most cleare, that so can reach,
That so can bring all things in sight,
and so all saints and Angels teach,
O blessed state, where malice sleepes,
no one is here of base degree:
O glorious Lord, that Princes keeps,
his loyall seruants for to be!
O seat of ioy! O sea of blisse!
O happie house of all pleasures!
O state which neuer doth amisse,
O blessed place, which so endures!
O place which yeeldeth all contents,
O place which neuer wracke sustaines!
O place which needs ne lands, ne rents!
O place which still in blisse remaines!
O woondrous place of all the best!
O place which endlesse comfort brings!
O place of ioy and quiet rest!
O place whence chiefest goodnes springs!
O place, the nurse of loue and peace!
O place the fountaine of all faith!
O place where strife and discord cease!
O onlie place of life and breath!
O glorious Lord that there doth raigne!
and only giuer of all blisse.
and keepe his lawes in righteousnesse:
O happie we, to whome the light,
and knowledge of his word is brought.
O happie we, that liue in sight,
of such a Lord in word and thought.
O happie all that doe imbrace
this famous Lord in word and deed:
For they shal comfort get, and grace,
and on his Manna shall they feed.
O Manna sent from God aboue!
O, Manna sweet that bringeth blisse!
O onlie food of godlie loue,
that mends all things that are amisse.
O heauenly iewell of all the best!
O pearle passing glittering gold!
Wherein all Christian soules do rest,
and with all ioy the same behold.
No difference there of persons is,
Each one doth liue in like degree:
Each one possesseth heauens blisse,
all face to face our Lord do see,
O man to thee now must I call,
the end where first I did begin,
That ioyes, that blisse, that paine and thrall.
Thy heart will melt on them to thinke,
if any grace in thee remaine,
And from all filthy sinfull sinke,
thy heart and hand thou wilt refraine.
Vaine pleasures all, then wilt thou scorne,
when heauens blisse thou doest behold:
For they with damned spirits are torne,
that make a treasure of their golde.
When griefly death doth the assault,
it is too late for to amend:
Wherefore in time confesse thy fault,
and God to please see thou intend,
For when this life is gone and past,
there is no cure for any sinne:
Then as we are, so shall we last,
in ioy, or paine as we begin.
Wherefore thy life see so thou frame,
that it may please our Sauiour sweet:
And alwayes praise his holy name,
then thou in blisse shalt Angels meet.
And with them euer shalt thou be,
all peace, all ioy, with them shalt haue,
Surpassing pleasures stil shalt see,
and nothing euer need to craue.
till from this sinfull life they goe:
None to the same can haue accesse,
vnlesse in godlinesse they flowe.
FINIS.
| The Garden of Prudence | |