The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton For the First Time Collected and Edited: With Memorial-Introduction, Notes and Illustrations, Glossarial Index, Facsimilies, &c. By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart. In Two Volumes |
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What is Loue?
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 | The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton |  |
12
What is Loue?
Men talke of Loue that know not what it is:
For could we know what Loue may be indeede,
We would not haue our mindes so led amisse
With idle toies, that wanton humours feede;
But in the rules of higher reason read
What Loue may be, so from the world conceal'd;
Yet all too plainely to the world reueal'd.
For could we know what Loue may be indeede,
We would not haue our mindes so led amisse
With idle toies, that wanton humours feede;
But in the rules of higher reason read
What Loue may be, so from the world conceal'd;
Yet all too plainely to the world reueal'd.
Some one doth faine Loue is a blinded God;
His blindnesse him more halfe a diuell showes:
For Loue with blindnesse neuer made abode,
Which all the power of Wit and Reason knowes:
And from whose grace the ground of knowledge growes:
But such blinde eyes, that can no better see,
Shall neuer liue to come where Loue may be.
His blindnesse him more halfe a diuell showes:
For Loue with blindnesse neuer made abode,
Which all the power of Wit and Reason knowes:
And from whose grace the ground of knowledge growes:
But such blinde eyes, that can no better see,
Shall neuer liue to come where Loue may be.
Some onely thinke it onely is a thought
Bred in the eye, and buzzeth in the braine,
And breakes the heart, vntill the minde be brought
To feede the senses with a sorrie vaine,
Till wits, once gone, come neuer home againe:
And then too late in mad conceit do proue,
Fantasticke wits are euer void of loue.
Bred in the eye, and buzzeth in the braine,
And breakes the heart, vntill the minde be brought
To feede the senses with a sorrie vaine,
Till wits, once gone, come neuer home againe:
And then too late in mad conceit do proue,
Fantasticke wits are euer void of loue.
Some thinke it is a babe of Beautie's getting,
Nurst vp by Nature, and Time's onely breeding;
A pretty worke to set the wits a whetting,
Upon a fancy of an Humour's feeding;
Where Reason findes but little sense in reeding.
No, no: I see, children must goe to schoole;
Philosophie is not for euery foole.
Nurst vp by Nature, and Time's onely breeding;
A pretty worke to set the wits a whetting,
Upon a fancy of an Humour's feeding;
Where Reason findes but little sense in reeding.
No, no: I see, children must goe to schoole;
Philosophie is not for euery foole.
And some againe thinke there is no such thing,
But in conceit, a kinde of coynèd iest;
Which onely doth of idle humors spring,
Like to a bird within a Phœnix nest,
Where neuer yet did any yong one rest.
But let such fooles take heed of blasphemie,
For Loue is high in his Diuinitie.
But in conceit, a kinde of coynèd iest;
Which onely doth of idle humors spring,
Like to a bird within a Phœnix nest,
Where neuer yet did any yong one rest.
But let such fooles take heed of blasphemie,
For Loue is high in his Diuinitie.
But to be short, to learne to finde him out,
'Tis not in Beautie's eyes, nor babyes' harts;
He must goe beate another world about,
And seeke for Loue but in those liuing parts
Of Reason's light, that is the life of arts;
That will perceiue, though he can neuer see,
The perfect essence whereof Loue may be.
'Tis not in Beautie's eyes, nor babyes' harts;
He must goe beate another world about,
And seeke for Loue but in those liuing parts
Of Reason's light, that is the life of arts;
That will perceiue, though he can neuer see,
The perfect essence whereof Loue may be.
It is too cleare a brightnesse for man's eye;
Too high a wisedom for his wits to finde;
Too deepe a secret for his sense to trie;
And all too heauenly for his earthly minde;
It is a grace of such a glorious kinde,
As giues the soule a secret power to know it,
But giues no heart nor spirit power to show it.
Too high a wisedom for his wits to finde;
Too deepe a secret for his sense to trie;
And all too heauenly for his earthly minde;
It is a grace of such a glorious kinde,
As giues the soule a secret power to know it,
But giues no heart nor spirit power to show it.
It is of heauen and earth the highest beautie,
The powerfull hand of heauen's and earth's creation
The due commander of all spirit's duety,
The Deitie of angels' adoration;
The glorious substance of the soule's saluation:
The light of Truthe that all perfection trieth,
And life that giues the life that neuer dieth.
The powerfull hand of heauen's and earth's creation
The due commander of all spirit's duety,
The Deitie of angels' adoration;
The glorious substance of the soule's saluation:
The light of Truthe that all perfection trieth,
And life that giues the life that neuer dieth.
It is the height of God and hate of ill,
Tryumph of Trueth, and Falshood's ouerthrow;
The onely worker of the highest will;
And onely knowledge that doeth knowledge know;
And onely ground where it doeth onely growe:
It is in summe the substance of all blisse,
Without whose blessing all thing nothing is.
Tryumph of Trueth, and Falshood's ouerthrow;
The onely worker of the highest will;
And onely knowledge that doeth knowledge know;
And onely ground where it doeth onely growe:
It is in summe the substance of all blisse,
Without whose blessing all thing nothing is.
But in itselfe itselfe it all containeth;
And from itselfe, but of itselfe it giueth;
It nothing loseth, and it nothing gaineth,
But in the glorie of itselfe it liueth;
A ioy which soone away all sorrow driueth:
The prouèd truth of all perfection's storie,
Our God incomprehensible in glorie.
And from itselfe, but of itselfe it giueth;
It nothing loseth, and it nothing gaineth,
But in the glorie of itselfe it liueth;
A ioy which soone away all sorrow driueth:
The prouèd truth of all perfection's storie,
Our God incomprehensible in glorie.
Thus is it not a riddle to be read,
And yet a secret to be found in reading;
But when the heart ioynes yssue with the head,
In settled faith to seeke the spirit's feeding,
While in the woundes that euer fresh are bleeding,
In Christ His side, the faithfull soule may see,
In perfect life what perfect loue may be.
And yet a secret to be found in reading;
But when the heart ioynes yssue with the head,
In settled faith to seeke the spirit's feeding,
While in the woundes that euer fresh are bleeding,
In Christ His side, the faithfull soule may see,
In perfect life what perfect loue may be.
No further seeke then for to find out Loue,
Then in the liues of euerlasting blisse,
Where carefull conscience may in comfort prooue,
In sacred loue that heauenly substance is,
That neuer guides the gracious minde amisse:
But makes the soule to finde in life's behoue,
What thing indeed, and nothing else is loue!
Then in the liues of euerlasting blisse,
Where carefull conscience may in comfort prooue,
In sacred loue that heauenly substance is,
That neuer guides the gracious minde amisse:
But makes the soule to finde in life's behoue,
What thing indeed, and nothing else is loue!
13
Then make no doubt of either good or bad,
If this or that, in substance, or in thought;
And by what meanes it may be sought or had;
Whereof it is, and how it may be wrought:
Let it suffice, the word of Truth hath taught,
It is the grace but of the liuing God,
Before beginning that with Him abode.
If this or that, in substance, or in thought;
And by what meanes it may be sought or had;
Whereof it is, and how it may be wrought:
Let it suffice, the word of Truth hath taught,
It is the grace but of the liuing God,
Before beginning that with Him abode.
It brought forth Power to worke, Wisedom to will,
Iustice to iudge, Mercie to execute,
Vertue to plant, Charitie to fill,
Time to direct, Truth Falshood to confute,
Pitie to pleade in Penitence's suite,
Patience to bide, and peace to giue the rest,
To prooue how loue doth make the spirit blest,
Iustice to iudge, Mercie to execute,
Vertue to plant, Charitie to fill,
Time to direct, Truth Falshood to confute,
Pitie to pleade in Penitence's suite,
Patience to bide, and peace to giue the rest,
To prooue how loue doth make the spirit blest,
And this is God, and this same God is Loue:
For God and Loue, in Charitie are one:
And Charitie is that same God aboue,
In Whome doth liue that onely loue alone;
Without whose grace true Loue is neuer none.
Then seeke no further what is loue to finde,
But only carrie God within the minde.
For God and Loue, in Charitie are one:
And Charitie is that same God aboue,
In Whome doth liue that onely loue alone;
Without whose grace true Loue is neuer none.
Then seeke no further what is loue to finde,
But only carrie God within the minde.
Leaue in the world to looke for any loue,
For on the earth is little faith to finde;
And faithlesse hearts in too much trueth doe proue,
Loue doth not liue where care is so vnkinde:
Men in their natures differ from their kinde;
Sinne fils the world so full of secret euils,
Men should be gods to men, but they are deuils.
For on the earth is little faith to finde;
And faithlesse hearts in too much trueth doe proue,
Loue doth not liue where care is so vnkinde:
Men in their natures differ from their kinde;
Sinne fils the world so full of secret euils,
Men should be gods to men, but they are deuils.
Christ lou'd to death, yet Loue did neuer die!
For Loue, by death, did worke the death of death!
Oh liuing Loue, oh heauenly mystery,
Too great a glory for this world beneath,
The blessed breathing of the highest breathe:
Blest are they borne that onely find in Thee,
Oh blessed God, what blessed loue may be.
For Loue, by death, did worke the death of death!
Oh liuing Loue, oh heauenly mystery,
Too great a glory for this world beneath,
The blessed breathing of the highest breathe:
Blest are they borne that onely find in Thee,
Oh blessed God, what blessed loue may be.
Let then the Poets leaue their idle humours,
That write of Loue, where there is no such thing:
And let the world not hearken to those rumours,
That speake of Loue, or whence that life doeth spring;
Except it be in this our blessed King,
And Lord of life, in Whom our soules may proue
The onely life of euerliuing Loue.
That write of Loue, where there is no such thing:
And let the world not hearken to those rumours,
That speake of Loue, or whence that life doeth spring;
Except it be in this our blessed King,
And Lord of life, in Whom our soules may proue
The onely life of euerliuing Loue.
Let wantons weepe that laughing sought for loue,
Within the gems of their mistaken ioyes;
And turne with teares that perfect path to proue,
That leades the spirit from the world's annoyes,
Vnto that treasure that admits no toyes;
But in the riches of the soule doth proue
The heauenly life of blessed spirits' Loue.
Within the gems of their mistaken ioyes;
And turne with teares that perfect path to proue,
That leades the spirit from the world's annoyes,
Vnto that treasure that admits no toyes;
But in the riches of the soule doth proue
The heauenly life of blessed spirits' Loue.
And let the wise, (if any such there be,
As God forbid, but there were many such,
That in their soules by secret wisedom see,
In the true triall of true Vertue's touch,
The worth that Faith cannot affect too much:)
Confesse, they finde, in Trueth's effects alone,
That God is Loue, without Whom there is none.
As God forbid, but there were many such,
That in their soules by secret wisedom see,
In the true triall of true Vertue's touch,
The worth that Faith cannot affect too much:)
Confesse, they finde, in Trueth's effects alone,
That God is Loue, without Whom there is none.
Amidde the skie there is one only sunne,
Amidde the ayre one only Phœnix flies;
One only Time by which all houres do runne:
One onely life that liues and neuer dies:
One onely eye that euerie thought descries:
One onely light that shewes one onely Loue:
One onely Loue, and that is God aboue!
Amidde the ayre one only Phœnix flies;
One only Time by which all houres do runne:
One onely life that liues and neuer dies:
One onely eye that euerie thought descries:
One onely light that shewes one onely Loue:
One onely Loue, and that is God aboue!
To say yet further what this Loue may be;
It is a holy heauenly excellence,
Aboue the power of any eye to see,
Or Wit to finde by World's experience;
It is the spirit of life's quintessence:
Whose rare effects may partly be perceiued,
But to the full can neuer be conceiued.
It is a holy heauenly excellence,
Aboue the power of any eye to see,
Or Wit to finde by World's experience;
It is the spirit of life's quintessence:
Whose rare effects may partly be perceiued,
But to the full can neuer be conceiued.
It is Repentance' sweete restoratiue,
The Rosa solis the sicke soule reuiueth,
It is the faithfull heart's preseruatiue:
It is the hauen where happie grace arriueth;
It is the life that death of power depriueth;
It is, in summe, the euerlasting blisse,
Where God alone in all His glorie is.
The Rosa solis the sicke soule reuiueth,
It is the faithfull heart's preseruatiue:
It is the hauen where happie grace arriueth;
It is the life that death of power depriueth;
It is, in summe, the euerlasting blisse,
Where God alone in all His glorie is.
It is a ioy that neuer comes in iest;
A comfort that doth cut off euerie care;
A rule wherein the life of life doth rest,
Where all the faithfull finde their happie fare;
A good that doth but onely God declare.
A line that His right hand doth drawe so euen,
As leads the soule the highwaye vnto heauen.
A comfort that doth cut off euerie care;
A rule wherein the life of life doth rest,
Where all the faithfull finde their happie fare;
A good that doth but onely God declare.
A line that His right hand doth drawe so euen,
As leads the soule the highwaye vnto heauen.
If then henceforth you aske what thing is Loue,
In light, in life, in grace, in God, goe looke it:
And if in these you doe not truely proue,
How in your hearts you may for euer booke it;
Vnhappy thinke yourselues you haue mistooke it.
For why the life that death hath ouer-trod,
Is but the Loue of Grace, and that is God.
In light, in life, in grace, in God, goe looke it:
And if in these you doe not truely proue,
How in your hearts you may for euer booke it;
Vnhappy thinke yourselues you haue mistooke it.
For why the life that death hath ouer-trod,
Is but the Loue of Grace, and that is God.
All kinde of loue but this is but mistaken,
And all conceit but this is misconceiued;
All kinde of loue but this must be forsaken;
All trust but in this trueth may be deceiued;
All in this loue all trueth may be perceiued:
All heart's beliefe and all soule's seale vnto it,
All what is good this loue doeth onely doe it.
And all conceit but this is misconceiued;
All kinde of loue but this must be forsaken;
All trust but in this trueth may be deceiued;
All in this loue all trueth may be perceiued:
All heart's beliefe and all soule's seale vnto it,
All what is good this loue doeth onely doe it.
What shall I say? but 'tis beyond my saying,
To tell you all may of this Loue be sayd:
And yet that trueth be free from all betraying,
That hath no more then what she knowes bewray'd.
Let me but stay, but where as shee hath staid,
And say but this, as I haue said before,
That Loue is God, and I can say no more.
To tell you all may of this Loue be sayd:
And yet that trueth be free from all betraying,
That hath no more then what she knowes bewray'd.
Let me but stay, but where as shee hath staid,
And say but this, as I haue said before,
That Loue is God, and I can say no more.
Solus Amor Deus.
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