The complete poems of Dr. Joseph Beaumont :: :: University of Virginia Library

The complete poems of Dr. Joseph Beaumont

... For the first time collected and edited: With memorial-introduction, notes and illustrations, glossarial index, and portrait &c. by the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart

Beaumont, Joseph (1616-1699)

I, II.

VOL. I.

PSYCHE

MINOR POEMS IN ENGLISH AND LATIN.

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I, II. VOL. I.

PSYCHE

IN XXIV. CANTO's.

CANTO I. The Preparative.

The ARGUMENT.

Enrag'd at Heav'n and Psyche, Satan laies
His projects to beguile the tender Maid,
Whilst Phylax proper counter-works doth raise,
And mustereth Joseph's Legend to her aid;
That fortify'd by this chast Pattern, She
To Lust's assaults impregnable might be.

I

Eternal LOVE, of sweetest Poetry
The sweeter King, from thine high Mercies' Throne
Deign to behold my prostrate Vow, and Me:
No Muse, no Gods, but greater Thee alone
I invocate; for both his heads full low
Parnassus to thy Paradise doth bow.

2

Thy Paradise, thro' whose fair Hills of Joy
Those Springs of everlasting Vigor range,
Which make Souls drunk with Heav'n, which cleanse away
All Earth from Dust, and Flesh to Spirit change.
Wise loyal Springs, whose current to no Sea
Its panting voyage ever steers, but Thee.

3

Sage Moses first their wondrous might descry'd,
When, by some drops from hence imbraved, he
His triumph sung o'er th'Erythræan Tide.
But Royal David, and his Son, by free
Carrowsing in these nobly-sacred Streams
With Poets' chaplets crown'd their Diadems.

4

Defiance other Helicons! O may
These precious Founts my Vow and Heart refine!
My task, dear Love, art Thou: if ever Bay
Court my poor Muse, I'll hang it on thy shrine.
My Soul untun'd, unstrung, doth wait on Thee
To teach her how to sing thy MYSTERY.

5

A MYSTERY envelop'd in a cloud
Of charming horror, barricado'd round
With dainty Riddles, guarded by a crowd
Of quiet Contradictions; so profound
A Plain, that Psyche's long-acquainted eye
Stagger'd about its misty Clarity.

6

A MYSTERY, which other Shades beset;
Substantial Shades, made up of solid Hate;
Born in the Deep, which knows no bottom, yet
Vent'ring to block up Heaven's sublimest gate:
Whilst Belzebub, in blackness damn'd to dwell,
Plots to have all things else as dark as Hell.

7

For He, th'immortal Prince of equal spight,
Abhors all Love in every name and kind;
But chiefly that which burns with flames as bright
As his are swarthy, and as endless find
Their living fuel: These enrage him so,
That all Hell's Furies must to council go.

8

For (as the wounded Lyon frights his Den
By roaring out his grief;) his shatter'd heart

Vomits a hideous groan, which thundring in
His hollow realm, bellow'd to every part
The frightful summons: all the Peers below
Their King's voice by its sovereign stink did know.

9

Nor dar'd they stay their tails vast volumes to
Abridge into a knot's Epitome;
Or trim their hoofs foul cleft with iron shoe,
Or their snarl'd snakes' confusion unty:
Only their paws they fill with Rage, and bring
That desperate subsidy to their mad King.

10

Hell's Court is built deep in a gloomy Vale,
High wall'd with strong Damnation, moated round
With flaming Brimstone: full against the Hall
Roars a burnt bridge of brass: the yards abound
With all invenom'd Herbs and Trees, more rank
And fruitless than on Asphaltite's bank.

11

The Gate, where fire and smoke the Porters be,
Stands always ope with gaping greedy jaws.
Hither flock'd all the States of misery;
As younger snakes, when their old serpent draws
Them by a summoning hiss, hast down her throat
Of patent poison their aw'd selves to shoot.

12

The Hall was roof'd with everlasting Pride,
Deep pavèd with Despair, checker'd with Spight,
And hangèd round with Torments far and wide:
The front display'd a goodly-dreadful sight,
Great Satan's Arms stamp'd on an iron shield,
A Crownèd Dragon Gules in sable field.

13

There on's immortal throne of Death they see
Their mounted Lord; whose left hand proudly held
His Globe, (for all the world he claims to be
His proper realm,) whose bloody right did weild
His Mace, on which ten thousand serpents knit,
With restless madness gnaw'd themselves, and it.

14

His insolent feet all other footstools scorn'd
But what compleatest Scorn to them suggested;
This was a Cross; yet not erect, but turn'd
Peevishly down. The robe which him invested,
In proud embroidery shew'd that envious Feat
By which of Paradise he Man did cheat.

15

His Diadem was neither brass nor rust,
But monstrous Metal of them both begot;
Which millions of vilest Stones imbost,
Yet precious unto him, since he by that
Artillery his fatal batteries had
On heav'n-belovèd Martyrs' bodies made.

16

His awful Horns above his crown did rise,
And force his fiends to shrink in theirs: his face
Was triply-plated Impudence: his Eyes
Were Hell reflected in a double glass,
Two Comets staring in their bloody stream,
Two Beacons boyling in their pitch and flame.

17

His Mouth in breadth vy'd with his palace gate,
And conquer'd it in foot: his tawny Teeth
Were raggèd grown by endless gnashing at
The dismal Riddle of his living Death:
His grizly Beard a sing'd confession made
What fiery breath through his black lips did trade.

18

Which as he op'd, the Center, on whose back
His Chair of ever-fretting Pain was set,
Frighted beside it self began to quake:
Throughout all Hell the barking Hydra's shut
Their awèd mouths: the silent Peers in fear
Hung down their tails, and on their Lord did stare.

19

Three times he shak'd his horns; three times his Mace
He brandish'd towards heav'n; three times he spew'd
Fell sulphur upward: which when on his face
It sousèd back, foul Blasphemy ensu'd,
So big, so loud, that his huge Mouth was split
To make full passage to his Rage, and it.

20

I yield not yet; Defiance Heav'n, said He,
And though I cannot reach thee with my fire,
Yet my unconquer'd Brain shall able be
To grapple with thee; nor canst thou be higher
Than my brave Spight: Know, though below I dwell,
Heav'n has no stouter Hearts than strut in Hell.

21

For all thy vaunting Promise to the seed
Of dust-begotten Man, my head is here
Unbroken still: When thy proud foot did tread
Me down from my own Spheres, my forehead there
Both met and scorn'd the blow: And thou at first
(Whate'r thou talk'st to Man,) didst do thy worst.

22

Courage my Lords; ye are the same, who once
Ventur'd on that renown'd Design with me
Against the Tyrant call'd Heav'n's righteous Prince.
What though Chance stole from us that Victory?
'Twas the first field we fought; and He being in
His own Dominion, might more easily win.

23

How oft have We met Him mid-way since then,
And in th'indifferent world not vainly fought!

Forc'd We him not to yield all mortal Men
At once, but simple Eight? though He'd be thought
Then to have shown his pow'r, when he was fain
Basely to drown what he could not maintain.

24

Poor shift! yet make the best on't, still the odds
Is ours; and that our yelling Captives feel:
Ours is a fiery Deluge, but their God's
A watery flood: His scarce had strength to swell
For some vain months; ours scorns the bounds of age,
And foams and boils with everlasting rage.

25

And let it boil, whilst to the endless shame
Of our high-bragging Foe, those Pris'ners there
With helpless roars our Victory proclaim:
What nobler Trophies could we wish to rear!
Are they not Men of the same Flesh and Blood
With that frail Christ, who needs would seem a God?

26

A pretty God, whom I, sole I, of late
Caus'd to be fairly hang'd. 'Tis true he came
By stealth, and help'd by sly Night, forc'd Hell's gate:
But snatch'd he any Captive hence, that Fame
Might speak him valiant? No, he knew too well
That I was King, and you the Peers of Hell.

27

Yet to patch up his tatter'd credit, He
Sneak'd through that Gulf, to barbarous Abraham's den,
Who for his ready inhumanity
Was dubb'd the Father of all faithful Men.
Less, less my Pilate, was thy Crime; yet Thou
(O righteous Heav'n!) now yellest here below.

28

His willing prizes thence he won; (but how
Forlorn a Rout, let Lazarus witness be,
Who the late pity of vile dogs, was now
A special Saint:) and this vain victory
Homeward he bore, with banner proudly spread,
As if with his own blood t'had not been red.

29

Me thinks I could permit him to possess
That pilfer'd honor, did he now forbear
My Subjects from their Loyalty to press,
And lure poor cheated Men his yoke to wear.
But by my Wrath I swear, I'll make him know
That I of Earth and Air am Sovereign too.

30

Well beat, O my immortal Indignation!
Thou nobly swell'st my belking Soul; and I
Success's Omen feel. Brave Desperation
Doth sneaking fear's objections defy:
Shall we be tamely damn'd, and new ones bear,
Because our old Wrongs unrevengèd are?

31

Was't not enough, against the righteous Law
Of Primogeniture, to throw us down
From that bright Home, which all the World do's know
Was by most clear Inheritance our own:
But, to our shame, Man, that vile Worm must dwell
In our fair Orbs, and Heaven with vermin fill?

32

What tricks, charms, promises, and mystic Arts,
What blandishments of fainèd fawning things,
He musters up to woo these silly hearts!
Doubtless God-like into the field he brings
This jugling strength of his Artillery:
Yet, who, forsooth, the Tempters are, but we?

33

Psyche, a simple thing I wot, and one
Whom I as deeply scorn, as Him I spight,
He seeks to make his prize; Psyche alone
Takes up his amorous Thoughts both day and night.
Were't not our wrong, I could contented be
Heaven's goodly Prince had such a Spouse as she.

34

But she is ours; I have design'd a place
Due to her vileness in yon brimstone Lake,
Which shall revenge whatever in her face
Do's now her lusty God a Wooer make.
He promis'd her, that with the Angels she
Should live; and so she shall; but those are We.

35

We, noble We, who true unto our pure
Original, disdainèd to betray
Our native excellence; and by demure
Baseness, in stead of Ruling, to Obey.
What proof of virtuous bravery could be greater,
Than thus to scorn ev'n God himself to flatter?

36

But since this God now thinks it fit to fly
From open Force, to his Reserve of Art;
Surely 'twill no dishonour be, if I
Deign to outplay him in his own sly part.
That all th'amazèd World may understand
Our gallant Brain's as potent as our Hand.

37

Lust, thou shalt give the Onset: quickly dress
Thy self with every beauteous charm, which my
Aerial Kingdom yields, and subtly press
Our counterplot: remember but how thy
Sweet guiles did once a mighty King subvert,
However fam'd to be After God's heart.

38

Then Philauty and Pride shall stretch her Soul
With swelling poison, making her disdain

Heav'ns narrow gate; whilst Wealth it self doth roll
Into her bosom in a golden Rain;
That she may grow too rich to match with one,
Of a poor Carpenter the poorer Son.

39

Next shall my Secretary Heresy
Right sagely teach her to become too wise
To take up points on trust, and foolèd be
By saucy Faith plainly against her eyes.
Then Persecution's flame shall earnest give
Of that full fire which she shall here receive.

40

If still she tough and stubborn prove, do thou,
My dear Despair, about her sullen heart
Millions of black confusions toss, and through
Her tortur'd thoughts all Hell aforehand dart.
'Tis my Prerogative, that I can dare
To build assurèd Hope ev'n on Despair.

41

Nor shall this Service due requital want:
That trusty lucky Fiend who do's the feat,
Shall wear the Prize he wins, and by my Grant
Of Charter Royal be confirm'd the great
Master of Psyche's torments; He, and none
But he, shall order her Damnation.

42

Nay for his greater honor, every night
With seven full lashes he shall plow the heart
Of Judas and of Cain; nor from my sight
Henceforth on any work shall he depart,
But here at my right hand Attendant be
For ever, and Blaspheme the next to me.

43

Go then in God's name, but that God am I,
And here my blessing on you all I deal.
Catch but this Wench; and by that Victory
We'll torture Christ more deeply than this Hell
Doth you or Me, and so revenge the pain
To which the Tyrant all brave Us doth chain.

44

This said; he from his scaly bosom draws
Five Dragons' hides tann'd in the Stygian Pool,
And scratch'd with his own Adamantine Claws.
Then, lo, he cries, here in a several scroll
Each Warrant ready sign'd. Fly, fly; delay
Doth oft the strongliest-founded Plots betray.

45

His Senate strait with an obsequious roar
Applaud their Prince: and those designèd Fiends
Their Snaky-heads thrice bowing to the floor,
Take their damn'd leave. Forthwith a Tempest rends
Hell's wide mouth wider ope, that thro' the gate
They may their march begin in horrid state.

46

Old Tellus wonder'd what wild Treason 'twas
Which tore her deepest Bowels; for as from
The monstrous Cannon's thundering mouth of Brass
A sudden cloud of Rage and Death doth foam,
So from beneath these hasty Furies broke:
Such was the flashing fire, and such the smoke.

47

But fouler was the stink: all honest Flowers
Frighted from their own sweets fell sick and dy'd;
Stout Trees which had defy'd all Tempests powers,
From this dire Breath sneak'd their faint heads aside.
Only some venemous Weeds, whose roots from Hell
Suck in their deadly living, lik'd the smell.

48

Lust falls to work the first: a Spirit as foul
As he's ambitious beautiful to seem;
Uncleanness keeps her Court in's muddy Soul;
Poison's own breath from's rank mouth's grot doth steem;
Black is the fire which burneth in his eye;
Diseases thick in every member lie.

49

But being cunning in the cheating trade
Of Circe and Medea [who had been
His Prentices,] he soon contrivèd had
What comely lie his ugly truth should screen;
What goodly Body's spruce hypocrisy
Should to his filthy mind the Pander be.

50

The purest Air which Virgin sweetness breaths
On Libanus his Cedar-crownèd head,
With Magic nimbleness he grasps, and wreaths,
And shrinks, and kneads, and moulds, till worried
From her soft self she is content to wear
The shape of any Fraud he thrusts on her.

51

And thus the Nymph, tho' weak and loose before,
And at the mercy of each busy blast,
Becomes a stiff stout Man: whose face to store
With Beautie's brightest charms, strait to the East
The Spirit flies, and in Aurora's cheeks
The best of Oriental sweetness seeks.

52

But since his breath still reek'd with stinks, and spoke
The Gulf which spew'd him forth; he slop'd his flight
To blest Arabia's Meads, from whence he took
Each Flower's best Flower, each Spice's sweetest might:
That from th'aromatizèd double bed
Of his soft lips, he vocal Balm might shed.

53

Then raking thousand Virgins Tombs, he there
Plunder'd the richest of their Amber tresses;

With which, new curl'd and powdered, his bare
And parchèd Scalp he amorously dresses:
Then with perfumèd Combs instructs them how
To smile, wave, play, and wantonly to flow.

54

This done; the Silk-worm's wealth, the Ermin's skin,
The tissues in whose pride young Princes shine,
Into one gorgeous suit he crowds; and in
Each seam doth Gold and Pearls and Gems intwine:
For thro' Earth's closets when his way he tore,
He wisely pilfer'd all her gaudiest store.

55

But for the fashion he was fain to run
To Court, and learn how Gallants there were drest;
Men of more various transformations, than
In Proteus wit or fiction e'er exprest:
Chamelion's Apes, who rather than forbear
To change their hue, will choose to live on Air.

56

An Amoroso here he chanc'd to spy
Devoutly idolizing Her, whom he
Only contriv'd to undermine; and by
That Squire's quaint mode, he did his own decree.
Bravely dissembled thus from head to feet,
He plots where he may Psyche safeliest meet.

57

That morning she was feasting it at home
Close in the sweets of His dear company,
Who from her Lord, the King of Souls, was come
His restless but delicious Suit to ply,
And with exact attendance see the Maid
Might to no sudden danger be betray'd.

58

A Mine of beauties in the Symmetry
Of his all-ravishing aspect sweetly smil'd;
Heaven clearly lookèd out at either eye;
His roseal cheeks ten thousand Graces swell'd;
As many little Loves their Nests had made
In the curl'd Amber of his dainty head.

59

He from the Rain-bow, as he came that way,
Borrow'd a Lace of those fair-woven beams
Which clear Heaven's blubber'd face, and gild dull day;
And this he sew'd on all his Mantle's seams,
A Mantle spun of milky down, which had
On Birds of his own Paradise been bred.

60

Upon his lovely shoulders dwelt a pair
Of correspondent wings: no driven Snow
On Scythian Hills durst vouch its plumes for fair
If questionèd by these, which fear no thaw:
Less white, less soft are they, and will at last
With melting tears confess themselves surpast.

61

Well did his body's nimble vessel suit
With those its gallant Oars; so pliant were
His goodly timber'd Limbs, and yet so stout,
That Wax and Steel seem'd kindly marry'd there.
Hence, tho' he martial were, he lov'd to prove
Himself the Warrior of none but Love.

62

High is his great Extraction, full as high
As is the loftiest and the purest Sphere:
There reigns his Father, Prince of Majesty,
There millions of his Brethren shining are,
And all as Princes too; that Land alone
Contains innumerable Realms in one.

63

Yet did this Royalty not puff his heart
Too high to his grand Sovereign's Will to bow;
Or count it Earthly work from Heaven to part
And wait on Jesus's business here below.
O brave Obedience, whose wondrous art
Can depth to height, and Earth to Heav'n convert!

64

At Psyche's birth his guardian Wing he spread
With ready watchful tenderness, that she
Might gently rest in that delicious bed,
To which all other Feathers thorny be:
Great was the Mother's care and love; but yet
The Infant was to Phylax more in debt.

65

That was his Name; and sure he made it good:
No Tutor ever spent more learnèd care,
The stoutest Champion never bravelier stood
Affronting Peril, and affrighting Fear;
Than He in Psyche's quarrel, being able
To prove himself as strong as she was feeble.

66

For Danger never drew its Forces near
His precious Charge, but He was nearer still:
All plots that Envy's cunning aim'd at Her,
He counterplotted with profounder skill.
While she was weak and knew not how to go,
About flew He, and joy'd her work to do.

67

As she grew greater, so his care would grow;
And he must wean her too, and stretch his Art
To damp her relish of vain things below,
Which likelier were to cheat and choke the Heart,
Than make it live its proper life; for she
Was born to live unto Eternity.

68

When she had learn'd to build a word aright,
He taught her Heaven's high Language, and the Song

Which lately in the Quire of Sovereign light
Had been the task and joy of his own Tongue;
Desiring Virtue might be her first growth,
And Hallelujah broach her holy mouth.

69

To season then and preposses her tender
Unwritten Memory; with Rarities
Cull'd from God's Book he first allur'd her wonder,
And then her pretty study did entice:
Thus she well skill'd in holy Scripture grew,
Before she knew what Book it was she knew.

70

Her prattle thus was Piety, and she
By her own sport engagèd was in Bliss:
Long, long before her Heart could movèd be
Her Tongue could fly thro' Love's dear Mysteries;
She having innocently learn'd the way
Thro' both the serious Testaments to play.

71

But when her Soul could go, and well discern
The way it went; he spread before her eye
Ten goodly Paths; and these you needs must learn,
Says he, to trace, as leading to the high
Gate of pure Rest; for God's own finger did
Draw for thy feet these Tracts on Sinai's head.

72

As for that broad and glaring way wherein
Wild Sinners find full space to wantonize;
It leads but to the guerdon of their sin,
And in the closest Prison ends: but this
Which with strict straitness seems besieg'd, will thee
Convey to everlasting Liberty.

73

That straitness ne'r was meant to pend or press,
But sure and upright make thy Passage: by
The Nurse's wary hands the Child is thus
Close guarded when he his young feet doth try.
This is the heavenly temper of thy Way,
To yield full room to go, but not to stray.

74

Room, room enough: the King's High-way is less
Kingly than this: the greatest Heroes who
Have climb'd above the World, wish'd not to press
Beyond these bounds. Be but content to go
Where Saints, and where thy Lord before hath gone,
That thou mayst overtake him at his Throne.

75

Thus did He gently grave upon her Heart
The Characters of Heaven; thus every day
He reads some Lecture, lest the Tempter's Art
Upon her young and plyant Soul should prey.
But they this morning being private, she
A story begg'd; and thus replyèd He:

76

Know then, my Dear, there liv'd a Youth of old
Almost as young, and no less fair than Thou:
On his rich Head smil'd a soft grove of Gold;
Two small half Heavens were bent in either brow.
Nor were those Hemispheres sham'd by his Eyes,
Which the best Stars above dar'd not despise.

77

All Roses blush'd when near his lips they came,
Whose purer Crimson, and whose sweeter Breath
They thought (and well they might) their double shame;
No Lilly ever met him in his path,
But dreading his pure hand, in reverent fright
Grew pale to see it self outvy'd in white.

78

The portly Cedars whose high mounted pitch
O'r all the Trees advanc'd them to be Princes,
Envy'd this stripling's lower stature, which
Degraded their aspiring excellencies:
The tallest lankness shows not half so high
In Beautie's scale, as graceful Symmetry.

79

Thus tho' compounded all of lovely Charms,
No wanton mixture did his sweets deflower:
With gentle gravity his looks he arms;
And, as the Heaven is Heaven altho' it lour,
So are his graces still themselves, tho' He
Invelop them in serious Chastity.

80

His noble Sire, renownèd Jacob was,
Not by the Wife whose blear and watery eye
Did its dim self bewail, and was the glass
In which the World read her deformity:
But by fair Her, who tho' she cost him twice
Seven years hard service, low he thought the price.

81

He Rachel's Son, and her best Graces heir
For her dear sake, but much more for his own,
Sate precious next his Father's Soul; whose care
Was bent his own delights in him to crown.
He lov'd his Children all, yet far above
The rest, his Joseph he did love to love.

82

(Joseph, whose strangely forward Soul would not
Wait the dull leisure of Experience to
Conduct him in the paths of Knowledge, but
Speeded by Heaven did Time's own pace outgo;
Thus proving in his bud maturely sage,
And long in Wisdom, e'er in years of age.)

83

He hunts about the proudest World to buy
The choice of purest and of brightest Cloth

Brisk in the Tyrian and Sidonian dye,
As due to his fair Darling: seeming loth
That fewer Colors should embrave his Coat
Than all the World in him did Beauties note.

84

Yet when the starry Peacock doth display
His train's full Orb, the wingèd People all
Disgracèd into anger and dismay
Let their out-sparkled Plumes sullenly fall:
So Joseph's Robes which his sweet self adorn,
His Brethren cloath with shame and ireful scorn.

85

And is pert He alone, said murmuring They,
His Father's lawfully-begotten Child,
And we By-blows? Or must his Boyship prey
On all our Seniorities? How wild
A Hysteron Proteron's this, which Nature crosses,
And far above the top the bottom tosses!

86

'Tis true, our partial Father, tho' he were
The puny Brother, yet right slily did
Into that Blessing steal, to which the Heir
Was doubtless born: but yet by craft he sped,
And not by Right: had Isaac had his eyes
As Jacob now, sure he'd have been more wise.

87

But tho' the old Man loves his lucky cheat
So well, that he upon his younger Son
Throws all his Heart: We hope no want of Meat
Shall force us willingly to be undone;
Nor any Pottage this fond Boy can dress,
Our Birth-right buy of the least He of Us.

88

Thus they repin'd; (not knowing there was writ
Upon Heaven's Adamantine leaves a Law,
By which this scorn'd Youth was decreed to sit
In first-born Reuben's noble Chair, and grow
Like an imperial Branch, whose teeming Root
Dips in a living Fount its blessèd foot.)

89

Nor could his Innocencie's gentle charms
Prevent the tempest of their groundless hate:
For Brotherly salutes, with froward storms
Of scornful language they his patience beat:
And what they dar'd not venture with their Swords
Of Steel, they try to do by those of Words.

90

Yet in the sweetness of simplicity
Ingenuous He tells them his sacred Dream:
From off my Bed by active Fancy I
Hurry'd into the open Field did seem;
And well my journie's pains were paid, for she
With your dear company there blessèd me.

91

To work we fell, and reap'd the Field, and bound
Our Sheafs; which strangely started all upright,
Mine in the midst, yours in a decent round:
Mine fixèd stood, yours seiz'd with awful fright
Their reverential heads did all incline,
And render meek obeysance unto mine.

92

This word his Brethren stung, who stamp'd and bit
Their ireful lips; but yet could not bite in
Their indignation, whose high torrent split
Their foaming Mouths: and must, said they, thy fine
Fancies usurp and reign, and by a trick
Down into vile contempt thy Betters kick?

93

Proud Brat, know'st thou what meek Obeysance is?
How dares thy upstart Insolence but dream
That we thy Elders must bow down and kiss
Thy Boyish foot, and tremble at thy Name?
Believe it Child, 'tis not thy gewgaw Coat,
(Tho' too too princely for thy back) can do't.

94

Altho' thus smartly check'd, Heaven-spurrèd He
Dreads not his second Dream to represent;
Yet wisely takes the opportunity
Of Jacob's presence, that their Discontent
Aw'd by their Father's looks, might cooler grow,
And civil audience to him allow.

95

Then, misconstructions to forestall, he thrice
Bows down; and cries, Dread Sire, and Brethren dear,
When this last night had sealèd up mine eyes,
And open'd Heaven's, whose countenance now was clear,
And trimm'd with every Star; on his soft wing
A nimble Vision me did thither bring.

96

Quite thro' the Store-House of the Air I past
Where choice of every Weather treasur'd lies:
Here Rains are bottled up; there Hail is cast
In candy'd heaps; here banks of Snow do rise;
There Furnaces of Lightning burn, and those
Longbearded Stars which light us to our Woes.

97

Hence towr'd I to a dainty World: the Air
Was sweet and calm, and in my memory
Wak'd my serener Mother's looks: this fair
Canaan now fled from my discerning eye;
The Earth was shrunk so small, methought I read
By that due prospect, what it was indeed.

98

But then arriving at an Orb whose flames
Like an unbounded Ocean flow'd about;

Fool as I was, I quak'd; till its kind beams
Gave me a harmless kiss. I little thought
Fire could have been so mild; but surely here
It rageth, 'cause we keep it from its Sphere.

99

There, reverend Sire, it flam'd, but with as sweet
An ardency as in your noble Heart
That Heavenly Zeal doth burn, whose fostering heat
Makes you Heaven's living Holocaust: no part
Of my Dream's tender wing felt any harm;
Our journey, not the fire, did keep us warm.

100

But here my Guide, his wings soft oars to spare,
On the Moon's lower horn clap'd hold, and whirl'd
Me up into a Region, as far
In splendid worth surmounting this low World,
As in its place: for liquid Crystal here
Was the tralucid matter of each Sphere.

101

The Moon was kind, and as we scourèd by
Shew'd us the Deed, whereby the great Creator
Instated her in that large Monarchy
She holdeth over all the Ocean's water:
To which a Schedule was annex'd, which o'er
All other humid Bodies gives her power.

102

Now complemental Mercury was come
To the quaint margin of his courtly sphere,
And bid us eloquent welcome to his Home:
Scarce could we pass, so great a crowd was there
Of Points and Lines; and nimble Wit beside
Upon the backs of thousand shapes did ride.

103

Next Venus's face, heav'n's joy and sweetest pride,
(Which brought again my Mother to my mind,)
Into her Region lur'd my ravish'd Guide:
This strew'd with Youth and Smiles and Love we find,
And those all chast: 'tis this foul World below
Adulterates what from thence doth spotless flow.

104

Then rapt to Phebus's Orb, all pav'd with gold,
The rich reflection of his own Aspect:
Most gladly there I would have staid and told
How many Crowns and Thrones his Dwelling deckt,
What Life, what Verdure, what Heroic Might,
What pearly Spirits, what Sons of active Light.

105

But I was hurried into Mars his sphere,
Where Envy (O how curs'd was its grim face!)
And Jealousy, and Fear, and Wrath, and War
Quarrel'd, although in heaven, about their place.
Yea, Engins there to vomit fire I saw,
Whose flame and thunder Earth at length must know.

106

Nay in a corner 'twas my hap to spy
Something which look'd but frowardly on Me:
And sure my watchful Guide read in mine ey
My musing troubled sence; for straitway He
Least I should start and wake upon the fright,
Speeded from thence his seasonable flight.

107

Welcome was Jupiter's Dominion, where
Illustrious Mildness round about did flow;
Religion had built her Temple there,
And Sacred Honors on its Walks did grow:
No Mitre ever Priest's grave head shall crown,
Which in those mystic Gardens was not sown.

108

At length we found old Saturn in his bed;
And much I wonder'd how an He so dull
Could climb thus high; His house was lumpish Lead,
Of dark and solitary corners full;
Where Discontent, and Sickness dwellers be,
Damn'd Melancholy, and dead Lethargy.

109

Hasting from hence into a boundless field,
Innumerable Starrs we marshall'd found
In fair array: This Earth did never yield
Such choice of floury Pride; when she had crown'd
The plains of Shechem, where the gaudy Spring
Smiles in the beauties of each verdant thing.

110

This was our journie's end: but here began
A stranger Pageant than all those before:
I, who till now Spectator was, must in
The glorious Masque an Actor be, or more
Than so: I still am pos'd about the case,
But wiser you shall judge; and thus it was:

111

A knot of Lights constellated into
A radiant Throne, on which my self was set:
When lo, the Sun and Moon themselves did throw
Into obsequious duty at my feet;
And then eleven great Stars thought it no shame
To couch before me who admirèd them.

112

But shame I thought it for poor Me to take
Homage of Starrs, who was but Dust and Clay;
Big with excuse I grew, and 'gan to speak,
But then my Dream took wing and fled away.—
And fly thou after it, bold Dreamer, cry'd
His Brethren, who in Dreams dost mask thy Pride.

113

Sage Jacob, though he ponder'd every word
In's own prophetic heart, and judg'd the Dream

Not fram'd by Joseph, but by Joseph's Lord;
Expedient thought it something wroth to seem;
Finding no readier way that Rage to smother
He saw smoke from his Sons against their Brother.

114

But Child, said He, where is that blush of thine
Which us'd to paint meek Virtue on thy face!
How dar'st thou tell a Dream which doth design
Unto thy puny Self such Sovereign place?
Think'st thou thy Brethren and thy Parents must
Crouch to young thee, and lick thy footsteps' dust?

115

Or dream no more, or thy fond Dream conceal,
If any fancy rise which may offend:
On this condition I thy pardon seal,
And all thy Brothers shall their quarrel end.
Go you my Sons, be careful of my sheep:
This Boy at home as meek as them I'll keep.

116

And so he did: for little pains it cost
To tutor Him whom Virtue long ago
Espousèd had; the Care he found which most
Busied his loving tenderness, was to
Prevent his being made that Mischief's prey
Which rankling in his Brothers bosoms lay.

117

Dear Joseph see thy caution be no less
Than in thine Innocence; take heed how these
Thy Brethrens Anger thou, said he, dost press,
Least its rebound thine own blood out do squeeze.
I know their furies, and from whence they move:
O that their ground of Hate should be my Love!

118

Hast thou not mark'd how if a flint we lay
Soft on a downy bed, and gently smite;
Its conquer'd stubborness gives willing way:
But harshly usèd, it defies our might,
And spits its sudden rage in fire, nor shall
The stoutest hammer cool its wrath at all.

119

Those bosoms of my Sons sure cannot be
More hard than Hardness, and the Flint's stiff heart:
Or if my charity deceiveth me,
Thy Mildness must be temper'd with such art
As may the softness of that Down exceed
Which on the Cygnet's dainty neck is bred.

120

When they begin to bluster, give them way;
T'has often cost the boldest Cedar dear
To grapple with a Storm; whilst flow'rs which lay
Their weak heads low in meek and trembling fear,
Waiting the leisure of the Wind, again
Rise up unbruis'd, and see the Cedars slain.

121

Thus I of late thy furious Unkle met,
Whose Indignation I had kindled by
More than a Dream; and made him vow that great
Affront with no less vengance upon my
Head to return, and in a murderous fit
Tear back his Birthright, and my life with it.

122

With droves of Presents, the best bribes of wrath,
I meekly block'd up his Revenge's way:
With gentlest phrases I bestrew'd his path;
Seven times before his feet I prostrate lay;
And by submission so superior grew,
That from the jaws of Rage untouch'd I flew.

123

And now, sweet Child, 'cause many days are gone
Since sullen they went hence; lest they surmise
I treasure all my Joys in thee alone,
Feasting mine own on thy all-lovely eyes;
To morrow thou unto their Folds shalt go,
And in their Father's name see how they do.

124

The virtuous Youth of this Commission glad
Thought the nocturnal hours all clogg'd with lead;
Fir'd by ingenuous Zeal, such hast he made
That Time seem'd unto him asleep in bed:
And since his thoughts afore were marchèd, He
No longer patience has behind to be.

125

Long e'er the Morn her eylids had withdrawn
And op'd the East into its hopes of day,
Up was he got and drest, and by his own
Fair eyes being lighted well on in his way;
Conning Submission's language as he went,
And plotting how his Brethren to content.

126

But by the various beauties of his Coat
Discerning him from farr, Behold, said they,
The saucy Dreamer comes; and since w' have got
Free help of time and place our foe to slay,
Wisdom commands us to prevent in time
That Tyranny to which his Pride doth climb.

127

O no, cries Reuben (one in whose mild heart
More genuine drops of Jacob's blood did thrill,)
He is a Child, and acts but his own part:
Dreams are but flitting toys; but if we spill
His harmless blood, the spot upon our head
Will be no Dream, believ't, but Guilt indeed.

128

O rather give him to yon' gaping pit,
That he from you may only have his grave:

Let Fate's sure wrath, or wild Beast's fury fit
Him with a death, and bury in that Cave
Your less offence: doubtless no Stars will bow
To him whom from the sight of heaven you throw.

129

Whilst Reuben thus with cruel-looking Love
Him from the worst of rage plots to secure;
The gentle Stripling near was drawn, and strove
With lowly winning gestures to allure
Kind entertainment: but alas in vain;
Desert swells Envy up with more disdain.

130

As hungry Wolves upon the helpless Lamb,
Upon him strait they rush, who fruitlesly
Ran o'er all blandishments sweet Wit could frame
To tune their harsh Wrath to mild Concord's key:
With loud revilings his meek Prayers they drown,
And stripp'd, into the deep pit throw him down.

131

Down Joseph sunk; and up went their proud Cry
In Scorn's ignoble triumph: See, said they,
How low our Loyal Sheaves couch down to thy
Imperial Bundle: See how flat we lay
Our twinkling trembling Stars before the bright
Effusions of thy dread and royal Light.

132

O that the old and crazy Moon and Sun
Should now forgetful of their duties be,
And let their Wheels in any Circle run
But that which might their homage roul to thee!
Thus flouted they, and heartned one another
Lower to plunge their most dejected Brother.

133

But then a troop of Merchants passing by,
They money of more precious Joseph make:
The thrifty Ishmaelites admirèd why
For such rich Ware they would so little take:
No new-digg'd Pearl such fair beams ever shot
As beauteous He drawn from his mirey grot.

134

Yet twenty silver pieces was his price,
Which soon they paid; and now were sure they bore
To Memphis's Mart far richer Merchandise
Than all their swelling Packs of Midian store.
And thus the Saint a slave to strangers is,
As were his Brethren to strange Avarice.

135

Yet fold they not his Coat: With this said they,
As Jacob vex'd us, We'll vex Him again.
There innocent Brother's pattern then they slay,
A gentle Kid; with whose meek blood they stain
The Robe; which thus unto their Sire was sent
Blushing for them, whose own shame all was spent.

136

And soon He knew't. O me, the good Man cries,
It is my Joseph's Coat, all wildely rent,
And Bloody too: Be free my weeping eyes,
Y' have nothing now to do but to lament:
That only Day which joy'd and blest your sight,
My Darling's face lies burièd in night.

137

Ah sadly-precious Relict! and were all
Thy glorious Colours not enough without
This fatal too-too-costly Crimson! shall
I by my Joy's choice Livery be taught
Only my Sorrows to remember, and
By the torn fleece my Lamb's death understand!

138

Dear Coat, behold I rend mine own with thee,
Less, O less worthy to be whole than thou.
Sure some wild beast thy Master tore, and me
Together with him, though I felt not how.
Unrighteous partial Beast, which didst forbear
Me in my old less worthy self to tear.

139

Sweet Child, I hop'd to have prevented thee
In seeing Rachel thy deceasèd Mother:
But surely long behind I will not be,
Thy death brings grief enough my life to smother;
I'll come as fast as an old Man can go,
And see you both: Peace Friends, it must be so.

140

But holy Joseph now to Egypt brought,
Is set to sale; where Potiphar, the head
Of Pharaoh's guard, the goodly Stripling bought;
And in's ingenuous countenance having read
Pure characters of Worth, he doubted not
All freest Trust in his fair Slave to put.

141

Nor did the issue ever flag below
His expectation; for fidelity,
For care, for prudence, his Example now
The only Rule to all the rest must be:
Each Servant daily is admonishèd
To mind his charge, as trusty Joseph did.

142

But how could they keep pace with Him, who through
Successe's paths was led, and hastned by
Heaven's constant prosperous hand, Earth knew not how!
Which when his wondring Master did descry,
With pious Wisdom thus concluded He:
My Servant has some greater Lord than Me.

143

Contented therefore only with the Name
Of Master, Him he trusts with every key

Of highest charge, impow'ring him to Frame
As he thought best, his whole Oeconomy.
Thus did this unknown Slave the Lord become
Though not of his own Lord, yet of his Home.

144

Lord of his Home, yet more his Servant still
Than all his numerous Family beside:
High was his Place, but Lowliness did fill
It to the top: Thus He on Honor's tide
Was more securely born, by striving how
Against the envy-breeding stream to row.

145

But whilst this wonderous Steward doth allure
All other eyes to reverential Love;
His Mistresse's grew sick of an impure
And black disease: which did it self improve
To such foul strength, that now abroad it flies
Like Basilisk's beams, to poison neighbour eyes.

146

Deep was it bred in that invenom'd Lake,
Which in hell's bottom stinks; from whence a Fiend
It in a red hot vial up did rake,
And by unfelt degrees profoundly blend
With fair Potiphera's blood; whose tainted veins
Were strait made chanels of Lust's boiling pains.

147

Though Joseph's virtue might aforehand be
Assurance of denial, yet her flame
With such impatient fury burnt, that she
All amorous enchantments brews to tame
His rigid heart. Lust ne'r despairs to try
A duel in Wit's field with Chastity.

148

What ever word inhanceth Joseph's praise,
Her Echo doubles it, and doth supply
Some more pathetic and transcendent phrase
To raise his Merit to a pitch so high,
That He oblig'd in modesty might seem
To Her to render what she heap'd on Him.

149

Of partial Fortune she did oft complain
Who with no Crown rewarded Joseph's brow:
Then that Complaint as oft retract again,
And cry: Her boons let foolish Fortune throw
On worthless heads; more glorious 'tis by far
A Diadem to merit, than to wear.

150

With many a courtly wile she pry'd and sifted,
His parentage and family to find:
All which when prudent He more subtly shifted;
In fawning discontent she cry'd, unkind
Can Sweetness prove, and not inform us where
That fair Stock grows whose Branches wonders are!

151

If any bit were choice, she thought it due
To Joseph's palate more than to her own:
The rarest flowers which in her garden grew
Must out be cull'd, and wreathd into a crown,
Or some quaint posie, which herself invents,
And in a smile each morn to him presents.

152

Go's He abroad? with longing eye she still
Doth to the furthest prospect him pursue;
And sadly counts the tedious minutes till
His wish'd return doth feast her hungry view:
His shadow's bliss she envies, which hath free
Leave his dear Bodie's Follower to be.

153

Stays he at home? not all the world can call
Her thoughts abroad: some pretty quaint pretences
She duly finds to be concern'd in all
Her Steward's business; and with speaking glances
Labors to intimate, that she has more
Delicious work for lovely him in store.

154

If he be well, she dares not but be so:
If he be sick, she scorneth to be well;
And yet about him will be busy too,
To hold his head, or hand, his cup to fill,
His meat to dress, but most his bed to warm,
And watch all night that Joseph take no harm.

155

Creeps Chillness on him? She foments and heats
His flesh, but more profoundly burns her own.
The precious dew, if feaverish he but sweats,
She wipes, and treasures up in amorous lawn.
Thus hot or cold, some way she doth devise
To feast on him her Touch as well's her Eyes.

156

And more significant that Touch she makes
By odd and sudden pressures, which Design
Taught Chance to counterfeit: deep-laid mistakes
She covers with Solicitude, and in
Wary hypocrisy lets slip her hand
Much farther than she seem'd to understand.

157

Then by officious carelesness her own
Robe she instructs how to betray her skin;
And strait corrects that error of her gown,
Yet studiously lets it err again;
By this sly dalliance of the crafty bait
Hoping what she could not subdue, to cheat.

158

O with what thankful hecatombs did she
The Altars load, if from the smallest ache

Joseph were freed: yet that Idolatry
With which her Gods she flattered, could not match
This which at Joseph's shrine she daily paid;
More of his anger, than of Heav'ns afraid.

159

Whate'r she sees, or sweet, or rich, or rare,
She something in his Person findeth still
To which those precious things must not compare:
And in impatient Lust's bold-boiling zeal
At last she cries, How blessèd should I be,
If Potiphar were such an one as Thee!

160

He ken'd that treacherous Language for a while
No more than do's the Lark the Fowler's pipes.
But when he 'gan to smell her dangerous wile
Now by its stink betrayed; off he wipes
That praise's froth which she so thick did strow,
And by his own Blush taught Her what to do.

161

But dull to that hard lesson finding Her,
To Heav'n's tuition he commends her heart:
His own sweet Looks then souring with severe
Sternness, against Lust's shaft he throws the dart
Of Continence; and by neglected Dress
Feigns, what he could not make, Unloveliness.

162

Never did Slovenry more misbecome
Nor more confute its nasty self than here:
The Sun in dusky clouds, in dirt a Gemm,
Of Joseph now but faint half-emblemes were;
So stoutly his oppressèd Beauty got
The victory o'r its incourag'd Blot.

163

This forc'd Him virtuously to undermine
His graceful virtue, and grow plainly rude.
Yet Rudeness too in Joseph fair did shine,
And by repulses drew what he eschew'd:
She, like the Ball, the stoutlier on the ground
'Tis thrown, with greater zeal doth back rebound.

164

In's Lady's ear at length right wisely He
High Panegyrics of his Master made,
And magnify'd her rare felicity
Who Virtue's own Spouse to her Husband had:
But signally above his other praises,
That of his constant Chastity he raises.

165

This Word of all the rest, most deeply stung
Her unchast heart: She now resolves, no more
To rack her self within, but plainly bring
To light her soul's dark torments, and before
Her Steward's face her wounded bosome ope,
That Pity him might force those wounds to stop.

166

His shyness to surprize industrious she
Having an ambush in her garden laid;
Fortune, the friend of vice, and enemy
Of virtuous Worth, Him to her wish betray'd:
Where, Serpent-like in Paradise, she over
Her foul Design spread this fair-facèd cover:

167

Sweet Sir, said she, though Wit's own Pride you are,
In our Egyptian Hieroglyphics you
Seem yet but little studied; wherefore here
I'm come to be your Tutoress, and bestow
My dearest skill; being grievèd much to see
You in the best of Arts unlearn'd should be.

168

The dialect of that tenderness and praise
I showrèd thick upon you day by day,
You understood not, though ten thousand-ways
I try'd to speak it plain: And what I pray,
Meant all that sweet ado, but only this,
Potiphera in love with Joseph is?

169

Nay, start not at the word, nor think that thy
Affected sourness can thy sweets imbitter:
Dear Hypocrite, I know thy plot, and by
Love's Powers I swear, thy value grows but greater
By that contraction: Thus heaven's Tapers are
So much the higher as they less appear.

170

Just, just my Passion is; and hear how I
With solid arguments can make it good:
'Tis sacrilege to let Divinity
Pass by unlov'd: yon banks of Nilus's flood
Did ne'r Serapis half so God-like see,
As this more blessèd garden's walks do thee.

171

Which as thou traversest, thou by the way
The choisest flowers instructest with thine eye
How to look brisk and brave, how to display
Some pretty beam of amorous Majesty:
By their steps dainty copy thy fair feet
Teach all the Beds of Spices to grow sweet.

172

When on yon crystal Fount thou deignst to look,
It tickles the soft Nymph to think that she
Is by thy self each evening made the book
Where thy sweet face thou printest. Wo is me,
Why was not I a Fountain too, that thou
Thy dear impression might'st on me bestow!

173

That Appletree's fresh ruddy Sons, which in
Their mother's arms so delicately smile,

Less approbation from wise judges win
Than thy plump cheeks, which such full graces swell,
That had my soul's best longing leave to choose,
My tast should banquet on no fruits but those.

174

Right lovely are those arms that courteous Vine
About her strait-embracèd Elm doth throw:
But how much, how much pleasanter are thine!
In whose blest bands were I a Pris'ner now,
Not all heav'n's high temptations should on me
Prevail once to accept of liberty.

175

Wouldst count me wanton, if I long'd to kiss
That youthful Rose, which looks inchantments there?
Yet his soft ruby lips themselves confess
Dusky and harsh, when they with thine compare.
And is't a Crime, to wish that Kiss which poses
The purest complement of virgin Roses?

176

That Nightingale which hants yon cypress grove
I thought th'Intelligence of Music's sphere;
Till thy more charming Accents did reprove
My monstrous error: And if but to hear
Inamoring thee, such ravishment doth steal
Into my heart, what would it do to feel?

177

Long did my Husband woo the Gods, to gain
Their blessing on his pining stock; yet he
Did still as needy as devout remain,
Untill he thrivèd by diviner Thee.
Judge then what reason I have to inshrine
And honor now no Deity but thine.

178

And sure I'm orthodox in this, and dare
Dispute it with the graveliest-cheating Priest:
For house and home those Gods beholden are
Plainly to Us: but We our selves are blest
With rich subsistence by thy influence: Thus
We keep our Gods, but Thou, Thou keepest Us.

179

Hath Nature any beauteous Piece to make
On which her credit stands ingagèd? She
Distrusting her own fancy's power, doth take
Her copy from Perfection in Thee.
O, wouldst thou fall to work thy self, above
All Rarities must thy Productions prove.

180

The Morn betimes repaireth to thine eye,
And asks what weather heaven shall have that day:
In vain the Clouds combine to damp the sky,
If thou thy Face's sunshine dost display:
If thou but lowr'st, in vain the foolish Air
Forceth it self to smile, and to look fair.

181

What fools our Scholars are, their time, and care,
And brains upon the Stars above to spend,
Searching the Seasons which are hatching there!
'Tis Heresy, say I, but to ascend
Above the Orb of thine illustrious Eye,
The fairest book of best Astronomy.

182

This way no Winds from blest Arabia trade,
But from thy mouth snatch thy more balmy Breath
Into their own; and as they forward speed,
With gallant Odours all perfume their path.
The world admires whence such rich Blasts should fly;
But none the sweet Original know, but I.

183

For strange ev'n to thy self thou needs wilt be,
And take no notice how all Excellence
In thee alone doth hold its Monarchy.
I tell thee Dear, 'tis but a fond pretence
Which thou call'st Modesty, and might undo thee,
If Providence had not sent me unto thee.

184

Let me be bold, that so I may be loyal;
Duty, not Envy, spurs me now to speak:
And if my Zeal be check'd with a Denyal,
(Which Love forbid!) yet shall thy stern mistake
But whet the edge of my fidelity,
Since none dare tell thee of this fault but I.

185

Canst dream wise Heaven's strange Bounty ever meant
To plant the best of all its store in thee,
There to ly hid and dy, and not be spent
In their free course of natural Charity?
Let those be Chast, who can no love invite;
'Twere sin in thee, created for delight.

186

Indeed the other Phœnix knowing none
Of his own feathered kind, is fain to spend
His virgin love upon himself alone,
And hatch his life's beginning by its end:
His amorous flames kill and revive him so,
That to himself he's Son and Father too.

187

But Thou, as rich and fair a thing as He,
Hast fitter fuel for thy fire: Lo here
I ready drièd am with thirst to be
Its sacrifice; and will thy bed prepare
With such life-breeding sweets, as shall contest
With all the spices of the Phœnix nest.

188

In this dear pile of Aromatic love
We'l burn together and vie flame with flame:

Why may this Bonfire not mount far above
The Phœnix's in more renownèd fame;
With much discreeter fervency reprieving
The old, and life to a new Joseph giving?

189

To my contrivement leave the welcome care
Of making sure that he, and none but he
To Potiphar's estate do prove the heir.
Indeed, plain Justice calls for this; since we
Owe all our wealth to thee, whose child can merit
But only thine, that portion to inherit?

190

Why stay we then? The good-Man's now from home,
As he is from my heart; which both are thine.
Fear not this glaring Day; I'l make Night come
With one quick twitch, and cloud up our design:
Close are my Curtains, and no tales they tell;
Come then, my dearer self, all shall be well.

191

So foam'd hot Lust from her hell-kindled heart.
But sober Joseph (though youth's nimble flame
Leap'd in his sanguine breast,) well knew the part
Of cool chast Gravity, and how to tame
If not her fury, yet what ever heat
Could Lust's wild March in his own bosome beat.

192

Madam, no hast; since you vouchafe, said He,
All love to me, of all love hear me speak:
To travel in Successe's company
Hast has no patience; but delights to make
Her pace so fierce and violently mad
As quite outruns all fortune but the bad.

193

Chiefly when Passion cheats her of her sight,
Concealing all the dangers of the way;
So that her wildfires flames afford no light
But desperate darkness to her passage. Say,
Say then, can headlong Lust a good end find
When both her self, and her fond God are blind?

194

Were they not so, how couldst thou me invite
To those strange Joys that must lie sneaking in
Thy guilty curtains, and avoid heav'n's light,
As too too fair a witness for a sin
So foul and hellish. Thus aforehand thou
Ashamèd art of what thou fain wouldst do.

195

Call hither but thy Men or Maids; or walk
With me into the Market-place, and there
Try if thou dar'st that ugly motion make:
O no! Thy Rhetoric's best wardrobe ne'r
Will furnish thee with any dress so spruce
As may in others ears this filth excuse.

196

Did I those high elogiums merit, thou
Didst gild me with, I could return them back
As arguments against thy suit: For how
Can such bright beauty choose to grow so black!
Such prodigies are past: No more must Evil
Hope of a Lucifer to make a Devil.

197

True, I a Slave was to my Master brought,
And unto You in him; but not to Lust:
Yet my Desert, or his mistake, hath wrought
So great a change, that in my single trust
He treasures up his numerous Family,
Whereof He Father, I must Ruler be.

198

Thus gave he me my freedom from the bands
Of Vassallage, but not of Virtue too.
O no; this obligation stricter stands,
And Joseph must more hearty homage do
To Potiphar, than meanest they who lie
Still fetter'd in the sink of slavery.

199

Trusty obedience is all their debt,
But most ingenuous Loyalty is mine:
Their limbs and labours he did purchase, but
My heart and soul: And O what more divine
Distinction of our duties can you have!
They to his Power, I to his Love am Slave.

200

Seest that fair Sun, to whom his God hath given
The free dispensing of his stock of Light
To all the starry Family of heaven?
When that high Steward can his Master slight,
Then (nay not then) the copy hope to see
Of that Ingratitude transcrib'd by me.

201

Himself my Lord ne'r gave into my hand,
Therefore not Thee, who art but one with Him:
Nor could he do it, since so close a band
Do's cement you together, that no limb
Of his own Body Nature's hand did join
Nearer unto himself than is all thine.

202

O wish me not so barbarous as to tear
Him from himself, and rend you both in sunder.
If needs I must be faithless, be it there
Where I may nothing but his Fortunes plunder.
What Cheat is more inhuman, than to seem
To spare his Goods, and yet imbezil Him?

203

Except the venerable Temples, what
Place is more reverend than the Nuptial Bed?

Nay heav'n has made a Temple too of that
For Chastitie's most secret Rites: and did
I violate its sanctity, no less
Than sacrilegious, were that wickedness.

204

In vain thou plead'st, that Potiphar's away:
He's so to none but those who serve his eye;
And therefore all the while they him obey,
Obey not him, but base necessity.
True Duty's Master at her loyal hand
When He's abroad, as well's at home, doth stand.

205

But grant Him absent: still God's round about,
And in the midst, between ev'n Me and Thee;
His eye needs make no search to spy us out,
Which Us before we were at all, did see.
I would not wrong My Master, but much less
Injure that God, who is my Lord and His.

206

A Lord whose Indignation is attended
By all heav'n's thundering artillery:
A Lord whom wilful Rebel ne'r offended
With safe and unrevengèd villany.
A Lord whom did not Pow'r make awful, yet
His Goodness might our reverence beget.

207

A Lord so pure, that we may saflier gaze
Upon the burnish'd Sun's meridian beams,
Than he his eye can fasten on God's face;
A face whence such excess of lustre streams,
That He in mercy casts on Us below
A veil, which though We cannot, He looks through.

208

He looks through that, and through all Curtains too
Which we upon our selves and sins would draw.
Far be that fondness then, that we should go
Seeking some secret hole to break His Law,
And there no less expose to his bright Eye
The foulest of all spots, Adultery.

209

A spot which me so black would make, that thou,
Who with such loving fury me dost woo,
For mere deformity wouldst never know
Me more, but scorn'd and hated let me go:
So would I do my self, and never stay
With Joseph, knew I how to run away.

210

Yet with so much more hideousness that spot,
Madam, in you would stare, as you exceed
In beautie's choicest wealth: We wonder not
When dusky moles in Luna's cheeks we read;
But should Sol's face such foul incroachments wear,
Each mole would prove a Mount of blackness there.

211

O be what happily you are, be what
All other Ladies emulate in vain:
And since your Goodliness admits no blot,
Still let your Virtue too indure no stain:
At least let not your slave that monster be
Who must defile such noble purity.

212

Ask or command me what you please beside:
If you'l dispatch me to the furthest Sea,
To fetch you Pearls; the Sun shall not out-ride
My restless course, nor any Jewels be
Treasur'd so deep in the profoundest main,
But I will dig them thence and come again.

213

Or speak the word, and I'l revenge your wrong
On these bold sweets of my inchanting face
Which have abus'd and tempted you so long:
These nails of mine shall those fair charms erase,
And plow such ghastly wounds, as strait shall heal
All those, my beauty made your bosom feel.

214

I'l soon transform my self into a state
Which more your Pity, than your Love, shall crave:
Or if this truer Love of mine you hate,
Some where or other I shall find a grave;
And there with greater comfort rest my head,
Than if I slept on your delicious bed.

215

My grave's worst worms can never deeper gnaw
Than this poor flesh: but in thy bed will breed
One so rapacious, as quite through and through
My heart will eat, and on my conscience feed.
Ah Madam—Here, what he had more to say
Sighs cutting off, he sadly turn'd away.

216

As when a mighty Torrent hasting on,
Is by some sturdy Bank check'd in his way;
The waters roar, and foam, and swell upon
Themselves, for spight at their proud journy's stay;
So did Potiphera's heart, whose lustful course
Unshaken, Joseph back again did force.

217

A thousand Passions boyling in her breast
Raise up a Tempest of rebellious flames;
Whose Tide disdaining what did it resist,
Beats with themselves its unsuccesful streams;
Till miserably wrack'd, most woful she
Quite sinks in this self-torment's monstrous Sea.

218

Fair Day to her seems nothing but a mist
Through which no hopes can dawn on her desire:

Still Night, which to all others sealeth rest,
Wakes and alarms her heart-consuming fire:
Whether she walks, or sits, or stands, or lies,
Her wretched self still in her self she fries.

219

She finds no relish in the daintiest meat,
But only on distracted fancies feeds:
The spicèd wine, to other palates sweet,
Mocks her's alone, and odious loathing, breeds;
Thick sighs and tears from her swoln mouth and eyes
Echo the storms, which in her bosom rise.

220

With her most pliant bed of fawning down
No wrath of thorns in sharpness may compare,
Because her husband (now too much her own)
And not her Joseph, her joy's Spouse, is there.
Ah my dear Psyche, where, ah where may we
With Heavenly love a soul thus wounded see!

221

Oft she renew'd her suit, but su'd in vain:
Till faint and sick, at last she asks him how
He would her murder answer? Such a stain
Will scarce become, said she, thy lovely brow;
Deep in th'unnatural furrows of whose frown
The seeds of my unhappy death are sown.

222

But finding him still, like the constant Rock,
Fix'd firm upon his solid Chastity;
Her final resolution she awoke,
And all her passionate strength with it, that she
Might now correct her scornèd Love's mishap
By valiant managing her plotted Rape.

223

Shall squeamish He my Pleasure's harvest, by
Fond superstitious coyness thus prevent?
Since by my softness he grows harder, I
By Toughness now must teach him to relent:
I must, cry'd she; there's now no way but one;
Though he will not be woo'd, he shall be won.

224

Fool as I was, to sigh, and weep, and whine
Out long complaints, and pine my self away.
Just Fate doth Cowards' projects countermine,
Whilst only venturous Courage gets the day.
Love's Bow and Quiver signify that he
Is friend to none but such as warlike be.

225

Resolvèd thus, her former withering hope
Into proud forward confidence did flourish;
And perchèd now upon Presumption's top
Her Lust with fancy she mean while doth nourish,
Until the fit and lucky season might
Her freely to the real feast invite.

226

Which Invitation often chid by her,
And challengèd of leaden-pac'd delay,
At length appear'd, when tedious Potiphar
And all her tell-tale servants were away.
She welcom'd it, as fierce flames do their fuel,
And flew with raging joy unto her duel.

227

For having caught her Joseph all alone,
She Harpie-like clap'd one bold tallon fast
Upon those Cloaths she wish'd had not been on:
Her other Arm about his neck she cast:
Loose was her coat, bewraying more than He
Desir'd to view, or I to tell to thee.

228

My Pris'ner then she cries, art thou, as I
Have long been thine, though thou didst scorn thy Prize;
But better use of thy Captivity
I vow to make: Thou shalt no more despise
My Prayers, for I Command thee now to be
Whether thou wilt or no, happy with me.

229

Since you no other Arguments would trust
Of my Love's strength, this Act shall make it plain.
Know that this battel is my first, nor must
You dream that I'l turn Warrier in vain.
I but supply your part; 'tis fit that when
The Males will not, the Females play the Men.

230

Perhaps thy needless maiden modesty
Stay'd by thy Lover to be ravish'd; for
Your nicer Beauties, though they long to be
As kind as love can wish, seem to abhorr
Assent's free plainness, and all tricks devise
How to be Plunder's, not Persuasion's prize.

231

Lo then, that feat is done; as far at least
As may secure your Credit's Jealousy.
But if my loyal love you still resist;
Behold, I deeply swear by Thee, by Thee
(Whom yet I only worship,) that no blood,
But from thy heart, shall make that damage good.

232

Not of that lukewarm Mediocrity
You dull-soul'd Men mistake for Virtue, but
Of brave Excess we Women temper'd be:
Our Spirits are all Superlatives; and what
Extremities exalt our Loves, the same
Will blow up our provok'd Revenge's flame.

233

Loud I'l exclaim, and tell the Houshold how
With lustful force thou here surprizèdst Me:

This monstrous Crime will cost thy life; for know
My Lye can soon out-face thy verity.
Hadst thou not better take thy pleasure here,
Than be for nothing, judg'd a Ravisher?

234

Whilst thus her rampant Passion boilèd, He
Wisely considerèd, that no cool Reply
Could slack its rage: the Storm to that degree
Was swollen now so desperately high,
That venturing any longer stay to make,
Was but to run upon a certain wrack.

235

He therefore through close paths of wary hast,
Hunts his escape; and loosning secretly
His upper garment, which she grasp'd so fast,
Leaves that to her, and out himself doth fly.
The wise and watchful Serpent thus knows when
'Tis fit to stop her ear, and cast her skin.

236

But she with such an hideous outcry tears
Her throat, that all th'amazèd family
Into her Chamber brings their staring fears;
Where on her bed, heaving a woful sigh,
Behold, said she, this garment: which of you
Would think the Hebrew Slave so bold should grow?

237

He thought, because his Master was from home,
My Faith had been so too: He thought that he
Might as his Lord's Vicegerent freely come
And challenge right ev'n to my chastity.
'Twas time to cry: which I no sooner did,
But he, the guilty hypocrite, was fled.

238

He fled, but left for fearful hast behind
That pledge of his unfortunate impudence;
For, confident he me should willing find,
Off went the Villain's clothes. Come bear me hence
From this curs'd place: but bring the Vest with me,
That Potiphar his Darling's badge may see.

239

In desperate Revenge engagèd thus,
Her spightful slander she contriveth how
With every odious circumstance to dress,
Which heaviest mischief might on Joseph throw;
And Potiphar's return she covets more
Than for his absence, she had long'd before.

240

When home he came, she met him with this Lye,
And threw the garment to him for her proof.
He took no sober time the cause to try,
But judg'd that Argument more than enough.
Joseph's to Prison sent; a place less warm
To him, but sweeter than his Lady's arm.

241

Yet long he lay not loaded with his chains,
But ev'n the Jaylor's heart the Pris'ner takes:
Such potent sweetness still in Virtue reigns,
That her Commanders She her Subjects makes.
Heav'n would not suffer other bonds to yoke
Him, who through all Lust's chains and charms had broke.

242

The Keeper now keeps nothing but his Name:
The keys at Joseph's girdle hang, and he
Is in this closer Stewardship the same
He was in Potiphar's free Family;
Nay more than so, no Mistress being here
To make his Jayl as bad's his freedom there.

243

At length the guerdon of his worth drew near,
And Dreams, th'occasions of his low estate,
Assist him now in climbing Glory's sphere.
The great Events ripe uncontrollèd Fate
Was into Egypt suddenly to bring,
Are in a mystic Vision shew'd the King.

244

Their curious brains the old Magicians beat
About the Riddle, but were all too weak
To pierce that mighty cloud wherein the great
Secret inshrinèd lay: The King must seek
Some wiser head; and who d'y' think was he?
Joseph alone his Oracle could be.

245

Joseph, whose wisdom's strangely-searching beams
Rose in the dazlèd Court's horizon, by
Clearing the Butler's and the Baker's Dreams
From mists of most profound obscurity:
Joseph, who now from Prison's freed, that He
May set the hamper'd thought of Pharaoh free.

246

And soon he taught Him what the Kine did mean
Heaven shew'd him feeding upon Nilus's shore:
Why seven were wondrous Fat, and seven as Lean;
Which did portend the Famin, which the store;
What sign grew in both kinds of Corn; What Cares
Were requisite against the following Years.

247

Such full Conviction seiz'd th'astonish'd King,
As left no entrance for the least Demurr:
So plain, so consonant was every thing,
That as on Heavn's sole Privy-Counseller
He looks on Joseph; and thenceforth detests
The dull-ey'd Magic of his cheating Priests.

248

First thanks to Heav'n, he cries, then thanks to thee
In whom its spirit so clearly I descry.

And who can better my assistant be
Than Thou, who hold'st all Wisdom's Monarchy?
The Throne and Sceptre shall continue mine;
All Egypt else, and justly, shall be thine.

249

Which said; his royal Ring, his love to seal,
On Joseph's hand he puts, and him invests
With purest Linen: on his neck, which steel
Had lately gall'd, a golden chain he casts;
And then to him his second Chariot gave,
Who lately into Egypt trudg'd a Slave.

250

What he had been to Potiphar before,
What to the Jaylor; now he's to the King:
The soverein Steward and Vicegovernor
Of his whole Realm. And here true Heav'n did bring
About full proof to justify his Dream,
Whilst both his Sire and Brethren bow'd to Him.

251

Thus Chastity's pure King his Champion sees
Amply repaid; who having got Command
Of his own Flesh and Blood, can rule with ease
A Kingdom's reins. Mark well and understand,
Dear Psyche, this Narration's design.
The Case which here was His, may once be Thine.

252

So spake the blessèd Guardian; and then
His own on Psyche's lips clos'd with a Kiss.
She strait her reverent thanks return'd him in
Low-bowèd Modesty: and, warn'd by his,
And by Time's Item, kindly took the hint,
And to her wonted task of Prayers went.

CANTO II. Lust Conquered.

THE ARGUMENT.

Lust, who in ambush lay, the Onset gives
To careless Psyche, as she gads abroad:
Charis the overpowered Maid relieves:
Phylax unmasks the Fiend. Her penitent flood
Psyche pours out, and is conducted by
A Vision to the Court of Chastity.

1

No foolish Tinder ever strove to catch
In its soft amorous arms the treacherous spark,
And with such zealous rashness joy'd to hatch
Its own destruction; as fond Man doth mark
And treasure up those fair-fac'd Counsels, which
With fatal charms his heedless heart bewitch.

2

No wretchèd Adder ever soder'd up
His wilful ear with trustier cement; than
With retchless obstinacy He doth stop
His Memories unhappy portals, when
Wholsom Advice with sweetness wooes it, and
Long knocking for admission doth stand.

3

In self-destroying Vanity so much
Is He engag'd, that He no leisure hath
To listen after Bliss; but still of such
Importance counts his Nothing, that 'tis death
To harbor Life, and entertain those dear
Counsels, which more than their own charges bear.

4

Or if strong Importunity (whereby
The tenderest Drops are taught to pierce the Flint,)
His sullen stiffness constantly doth ply,
Perhaps he yieldeth to the dainty dint
Of such unwearied Gentleness; which yet
Her conquest more by stealth than force doth get.

5

But though at length a wicket ope he sets,
His slighted Guest in some out-room he lays:
But when vain Fancy, or Seduction beats
Summons upon his gates, He strait displays
Their way, and lets them quite thrust out of door
The former Stranger, scarcely in before.

6

For as the honey of Heav'n's lovely hives,
The Summer Clouds, snugging in laps of Flowers,
That correspondent dwelling quickly leaves
To churlish drops of less-deserving showers,
Or rankling mildew, which such venome sheds
As soon deflowereth all those Virgin beds:

7

So far'd it now with Psyche's careless breasts,
On which more dainties drop'd from Phylax tongue
Than e'r on Hybla made their verdent nest.
Abroad she will, and please her self among
The fields' wide sweets, forgetting that some wind
Might steal upon, and blast her honied mind.

8

Abroad she will, because she understands
Not truly what it is to be abroad;
And knows as little what safe bliss commends
Her private home: that Robbers haunt the road
She never dreams; or that the broader way
Gives Danger room more ambushes to lay.

9

The sportful Twins of heav'n now 'gan to reign,
And brought a season fitting for their play;
Thick did they scatter upon every Plain
A flow'ry verdure, and dishevel May
Round Tellus's springing face, who thus beguiles
Her Winter's sadness with this Month of smiles.

10

And why, said Psyche, may not I comply
With Heav'n and Earth, now both are of a mind?
Yet Guilt's fore-runner doubtful Jealousy
Advisèd her this wild design to blind;
And by sly Stealth to snatch those joys for which
Though earnest, yet still fearful was her itch.

11

She therefore plotted to slip out alone:
But sage Syneidesis, her trusty maid,
Hunted out every step where she had gone;
And Charis, an old friend of her's, afraid
What might betide the Wanderer, follow'd too,
Yet in her company forbore to go.

12

Nor could her foolish craft escape the eye
Of warye Phylax: never-sleeping he
Discover'd with what politic vanity
Her own betrayer she contriv'd to be:
And all the way she went, with heavy sighs
Ponder'd the dangers of her jollities.

13

As pleasure's paths she in the fields did trace,
It joy'd her dreaming heart the lambs to see
Skipping in harmless sport from place to place:
And who would be so sad and dull, said she,
To sneak at home, when thus abroad we may
Behold how sweetly Innocence doth play!

14

No smiling flower could meet her as she went,
But gathering it, she with a kiss would pay
The courteous price of that delicious scent
With which so kindly it perfum'd her way:
And still cries out, How poor a place is home,
Which for such free full Joys affords no room?

15

Thus loosly tripping, she was lost at last
Through pathless paths, into a pleasant Grove;
The gentle winds through crowds of trees made haste,
And in her face a gale of odours drove:
Needs would she venture, and see whether this
Were not the Copy of old Paradise.

16

The courtly boughs laden with generous spice,
Stoop'd to salute her as she forward went;
And woo'd her to accept the sacrifice
Of any fruit which might her choice content:
The dangling Apples smil'd, and seem'd to say,
Madam, behold we meet you half the way.

17

But all their cheeks with such thick charms were set
That every one did her amazement win:
When one prevail'd, his neighbor straight would get
The victory, but yield it back again.
About looks she, yet knows not which to choose,
And in those sweets her sweeter self doth loose.

18

When on the sudden, from a neighbor tree
Her ears were captiv'd, as before her eyes:
For mystic chains of purest harmony
Insnar'd them by inchantment's soft surprize;
Whilst a wing'd Quire through their new-tunèd throats
Pour'd out a deluge of their daintiest Notes.

19

Divided thus with pleasures, needs she will
Seek where her fond self she may recollect:
Close by she stealing spies a silver Rill,
Whose gorgeous bank with golden flowers was deckt.
There pitching down, once more adieu, said she,
Dull home, which no such feast couldst spread for me.

20

Syneidesis, her Mistress being set,
Couch'd down behind her, and fell fast asleep.
Old Charis kept aloof, resolv'd to let
The venturous Maid some smart experience reap
Of her rash confidence, who needs would stray
Like some vain child, so far from home to play.

21

She play'd indeed, and little thought that she
Was playing all her happiness away:
She play'd, and knew not what catastrophe
Would sour the fickle sweetness of her play;
But wholly yielding to the fair-fac'd Treason,
Into her Sense she melted all her Reason.

22

When lo, into the Grove a monstrous Boar
Loud roaring out his ugly thunder came,
And brought more Terror thither, than before
Appear'd Delight. Never did whiter foam
Smoke on the Ocean's stormy face, than now
This hideous Beast about his own did throw.

23

As are the Comets, fierce with ominous light,
Such were his eyes, compos'd of fire and blood:
His dismal tusks, the engines of his spight
Held forth their greedy points: a hedge of dread
Star'd on his back, with bristles stern and high,
Whose sharpness did all wrath of thorns defy.

24

At this dire spectacle their troubled heads
The trees did shake, and all their leaves did quiver:
The fearfull flowers fell down upon their beds,
Closing their fainting eyes: the frighted River
Doubled his course, and headlong through dismay
Sought from his channel how to run away.

25

Strait startled out of her unfortunate pleasure
Psyche flies too upon the wings of fear;
Whose steps the hungry Beast as fast did measure,
And swallow'd up the way to tear down Her:
His roars, though high, her shriller shreeks transcend,
Which heav'n and earth and her own throat did rend.

26

Philax, her soul's most watchfull friend, was near,
Flying from tree to tree still as she ran:
But was by heav'n forbidden to appear,
And rescue Her who needs would be undone:
He wisely was forbidden, till her jolly
Progress, had fully pay'd her for her folly.

27

Through thousand snarlèd thickets posting, she
Darted her self, regardless of her way:
No peevish bushes' claws, though busily
They snatch'd and scratch'd her, could command her stay:
Become all speed, she found not now that deep
The Vallies were, or that the Hills were steep.

28

But long flight at the last shortning her breath,
Which twixt her trembling lips lay strugling, she
Crys out, dear Philax, from these jaws of death
The Monster opes so wide, deliver me!
Where is thy God and mine! O can, can my
Almighty Lover love to see me dye!

29

Hear helpless Dread and fainting sunk her down,
Unto the ready Beast an easy prey:
Whose hasty tusk straight through her dainty gown
Unto her softer body tore its way.
When lo, a sudden spear flew through his neck
And frighted on the ground return'd him back.

30

A lusty Gallant, Aphrodisius Knight,
Who in that lucky instant thither came,
Directed it; and strait with equal might
Drew out his glittering blade; whose dreadful flame
A forehand strook the dazlèd Monster dead,
Whose keener edge snatch'd off his ravenous head.

31

This done, he gently takes the Virgin up;
Then with a courtly kiss he gives her joy.
Scarce could her hopes grow bold enough to ope
Her eyes, seal'd close with desperate dismay:
But when she view'd the slaughter'd Boar, and Him
As sweet and fair, as that was foul and grim,

32

I see there are more Phylax's than one,
Cries she: This life, dear Sir, which heretofore
Was mine, your love hath now made your's alone:
For helpless I had left it to that Boar,
And lay'd me down to measure out my grave;
Whence you to me this Resurrection gave.

33

Yet trust me Sir, a life you have not giv'n
To one who can forget by whom she lives:
Whether you come from Earth, or rather Heav'n,
(For seldom Earth such strange salvation gives,)
Let my Soul big with just thanks, learn, and see
Whether her debt divine or humane be.

34

The debt you mean, was mine, reply'd the Knight
You nothing owe but courteous acceptation:
In Ladies' rescues who forbears to fight,
Forfeits all Knighthood's noble obligation.
Yet by a great and dearer bond than this
Was I oblig'd your danger to repress.

35

But Madam, first be pleasèd to repose
Your lost-found self: a little distance hence
(For well I know this place,) a Current flows
Between two flowry Banks: there will I rinse
My bloody hands; there shall you sit and hear
A wond'rous story, and due to your ear.

36

The place was where she wantoniz'd but now:
Thither they go; and thither Phylax flies,
Perching unseen upon a neighbour bough.
The Gallant wash'd his hands; and she her eyes,
But in her own soft tears of joy, to think
How she had come from Death's to that Brook's brink.

37

The various pleasures of the Grove, no more
Monopolize her wond'ring eyes; for she
In Aphrodisius reads far nobler store
Of love-commanding miracles: and He
As much admiring his own prosp'rous art,
Aforehand acts his triumph in his heart.

38

Then on the flow'ry couch by Her he sits,
And ushers in his talk with cunning sighs;
His cheating cheeks with lying tears he wets,
Three times he strikes his breast, three times his eyes
He casts up towards Heav'n, three times he smiles
And sighs again, and her as oft beguiles.

39

At length, I crave, said he, your pardon till
You know my case; then blame me if you can:
And since my self my self to you must tell,
Bate me the Laws of that which squeamish men
Call modesty; my story must be high;
High Truth's more modest than the humblest Lie.

40

Know Lady then, I am a Man who by
My birth as deep ingag'd to fortune stand,
As any he that lives, if Majesty
Crown not his head, and Sceptre gild his hand.
My Stock's the noblest in this Land but one,
Nor bears it any Branch but Me alone.

41

This made my tender Lord and Father spare
No noble cost which might his Son adorn:
From learnèd Athens Tutors hirèd were
Whom first the wings of Fame had hither born
They Athens left, but brought with them to me
From thence the truer University.

42

Thus did the public Wit of Greece become
A member of our private family,
And I with all the world convers'd at home;
Yea in their dialects too, as fast as my
Young breath I could transform: nor was it long
Ere many sate upon my single Tongue.

43

For never in the long and tedious tract
Of slavish Grammar was I made to plod;
No tyranny of Rules my patience rackt;
I serv'd no prentisehood to any Rod;
But in the freedom of the Practic way
Learnd to go right, ev'n when I went astray.

44

This with a Pass supplyèd me by which
Without disturbance I might travel through
All Learning's Provinces, and in her rich
Commodities, a skilful Trader grow.
Their gains be doubtful, who for all their wares
Are forc'd to traffique by Interpreters.

45

A clear survey of those dark steps I took
By which Philosophers have Nature trac'd:
Then Mathematics were my buisy book;
A thousand Lines I placèd and displac'd:
To heav'n upon the Artist's Staff I went,
And studied round about the Firmament.

46

Those mighty Pow'rs which so securely dwell
On th'open forehead of the brittlest Glasses,
Melting the boldness of the thickest Steel
Whilst through the furnace of thin light it passes;
With all those Optic Miracles I learn'd
Which scorn by Eagles eyes to be discern'd.

47

Music's most mystic soul I hunted through
All her sweet Orb, and with unwearied pains
Measur'd long nights and days, in hopes to know
What reason married Concording Strains.
What divorc'd snarling Discords, but no knot
E'r mock'd my fruitless industry like that.

48

With proud delight, and with no less success
I tun'd my heart to those soul-conquring Charms
Which flourish in smooth Numbers: how to dress
In fierce aray War's thundering Alarms;
How to belace and fringe soft Love, I knew,
For all my Ink was now Castalian dew.

49

The treasures of Antiquity, lap'd up
In old historic leaves I ransackèd:
How Kingdoms sprung, and how they made their stop,
I well observ'd; with what brave Spirits did,
How they their honors managèd, and what
The beams of their nobility did blot.

50

But with my Soul's delight no Study e'r
Concenterd so, as that which led me through
The Paradise of sacred Scripture, where
All Trees of Knowledge unforbidden grow.
The fond World mock'd me, as too grave and sad;
But ne'r would I for fashion sake be mad.

51

My Recreations were such as few
Durst make their work, so serious was my Play:
Tir'd with my bookish study, fresh I flew
To practise Martial Feats: thus ev'ry day
In both her brave Professions I strove
To follow Pallas, whom I most did love.

52

Oft have I fac'd stern War, and seen the Field
With streaming Ensign's goodly terror spred;
Where how much more I lov'd to die, than yield,
Upon my brest good witness you may read;
Ev'n these seven Wounds, whose mouths once open'd wide,
In mine own blood my virtue testify'd.

53

Oft through the gloomy'st Woods alone I rode
To find, some wild Antagonist, some Bear,
Some Boar, some Lion, the accustom'd food
Wherewith I diet this my hungry spear:
You well may gather by the certain blow
I gave yon Beast, I am no Learner now.

54

Thirty such barb'rous heads as that of his
With noble horror trim our stately Hall:
Which furniture was purchasèd by this
Sole hand of mine: to glorify a Wall
With tapestry feats, is womanish, say I,
Give me a Suit of real Chevalry.

55

And will you think Pride speaks the word, if here
I tell you Fame's Trump breath'd my History?
Through Court, through City, Country, ev'ry where
Reports of Aphrodisius's worth did fly:
No highstrain'd Parallel was made but thus,
As good, or brave, as Aphrodisius.

56

Through any rural Village did I ride?
With gaping eyes and mouths the swains beset me:
The Mothers, with their Children by their side,
Pointed and talk'd strange things: The Pedant at me

Discharg'd, part through his lips, part through his nose
Some wellmeant volley of ill verse or Prose.

57

But when I movèd in the Court's high sphere;
Stars of the noblest magnitude, although
They twinckled at my fairer presence, ne'r
Did an oblique malignant aspect throw
Upon my motion: Honor seem'd in me
To have forgot her own fragility.

58

So sov'reign were my Beams, that fewer eyes
Paid homage to the King's, than unto Mine:
Devoutly did the Ladies sacrifice
Their Looks, and sighs, and Languors at my shrine;
Oft has the Queen gone out alone, whilst they
Forgot to follow her if I did stay.

59

How many a pretty Embassy have I
Receiv'd from them, which put me to my wit
How not to understand! but by and by
Some Comment would come smiling after it;
Which yet with modest art endeavor'd how
Not to profess what most it strove to show.

60

But though thus oft and delicately haunted
By these sweet fairies; still with resolute heed
Some handsome way or other I invented
How not to be at leisure: for indeed,
I other business had which fill'd my head,
Books call'd me up, and Books put me to bed.

61

This my Disease thus known, a Lady sped
To me a Handful of Conceit, cloath'd in
So quaint a Cover, as forc'd me to read
That unwrit lesson e'r I could begin
To ope the Book; and what did that contain,
But A Discourse to prove all Learning vain?

62

Bold Title, then said I, if thou can'st make
Thy Promise good, by Learning thou must do it.
With that I threw't aside; yet could not slake
My curious itch to look again into it.
I look'd and read, and saw how finely Wit
Had whipp'd it self; and then grew friends with it.

63

Then summon'd by Civility I went
To court the Giver, and my thanks repay.
Look not, said I, for polish'd complement,
Whose art, sweet Madam, rather would gainsay,
Than thank you for your Book: Since Learning's vain,
My wisest thanks must simple be and plain.

64

Between a blush and smile, she welcome gave
To her new Convert. But dear Sir, said she,
I sent another Book, in which you have
More of my mind than in those leaves can be!
A Book, writ by a Dart shot from above,
In rubric lines and characters of love.

65

Yet think not that a gift: No; 'twas the Debt
Which I did to all Sweetness pay in you.
How could I chuse? for had I more than that,
They would be more than due: but having now
But only one poor heart, your praise must be
Not to disdain my helpless poverty.

66

I would not for a thousand worlds again
Receive it back: with how Divine a nest,
If your all-lovely bosome shall but deign
To entertain it, will it there be blest!
If thence you cast it, take't who will for me!
I ne'r shall love what hated is by Thee.

67

Yet give me leave to ask, what Lady 'tis
Thou wilt exalt to sit Queen in thy heart:
Whether her face more graceful be than this,
Which blusheth here in pleading its own part:
Whether her Lineage or Estate afford
More arguments then mine to win my Lord.

68

If not; then by these loyal tears I offer
At thy fair feet, this venturous Truth forgive:
Thy Love is due to me. Can just Heaven suffer
The best of Men should only live, to live?
No; Thou an Off-spring ow'st the world, which may
With Heroes furnish it another day.

69

And let it be no bar against my Bliss,
That I turn Wooer, and change parts with thee:
Poor I, indeed, but passive am in this,
For thou although most chaste, hast ravish'd me;
And all that I have said, If rightly spell'd,
Will signify no more but that I yeild.

70

O may all Equity forbid, that Thou
Should'st count it boldness in me to Submit:
To infinite Necessity allow
What Thou thy self imposest: Never let
The yeilding innocent Tinder suffer blame
For taking fire, when she's beset with flame.

71

As when the Pris'ner at the bar has done
His tongue's last Plea; he plants his craving Eye

Upon the Judge, and from his mouth alone
In hopes and fears expects his destiny:
So look'd the Lady, with preparèd eyes
To see her joys, or weep her obsequies.

72

Full loth was I to speak, but lother by
Inhuman Lingring silence to torment
Her most suspended soul, and make her die
Without her sentence. Many a sigh I sent
Before to tell how painful was the birth
Of that sad Answer, which I thus brought forth:

73

How wretched is his Bliss, whose single heart,
Whilst Diverse Ladies of choice worth attend
With loyal passion, He must either part,
And so destroy his own; or empty send
Them all away but one; and thus be fain
By many a Loss to make one piteous Gain!

74

Had I as many bosoms as I owe
To such sweet Creditors as Thou; with speed
I all my scores wou'd pay: But first I vow,
To thee, dear Lady, in whose Worth I read
Such rich Attraction, that were I to choose
My heav'n, for thee I would all other loose.

75

But long ago my Choice was made, and I
Affiancèd: Yet to what sacred she,
Is so divine a Secret, that no Key
Could from my bosom pick that Mystery.
My reverend Mother's tears and kisses sought,
But never yet prevail'd to wooe it out.

76

Yet thy breast's cabinet I honor so,
That I dare trust this Jewel there: but see
Thou keep'st it safe and close, as thou wouldst do
My blood and soul, things not so dear to me.
And give me leave to cast this charm about,
For fear thou lett'st it and my life slip out.

77

So may thy heart-strings hold thy heart, as thou
This more than heart of mine: so may thy Love
Be true to thee, and to thy wishes bow,
As to my Secret thou shalt trusty prove:
So may thine Angel hug thy soul, as in
Thy faithful breast thou shalt this thing inshrine.

78

A thing which mine own Guardian Angel did
Acquaint and bless me with. When through mine eyes
Love first began his amorous beams to shed,
And with his soft Desires my heart surprize,
This wingèd friend of mine look'd through a frown,
And told me, my own heart was not my own.

79

It is, said he, thy privilege, (and see
Thou thank Heav'n for it,) not to run and spend
Thy youth on wantonesse's mystery:
Let others study how to walk, to bend,
To smile, to look in print, and their spruce lip
With dainty lies and softer kisses tip.

80

With Taylors for their best accomplishment
Let Vanitie's gay Sons run on the score:
Idolatrous Poetry let them invent,
And into Sonnets change their Psalter: more
Manly and generous Arts decreed are
To exercise thy parts and crown thy care.

81

Court thou thy Books, and gain such treasure there
As may inhance thy worth, and thee complete
For a fit match for her whom Heav'ns prepare
To be thy Spouse: whose face when thou shalt meet,
The reading on that fair-writ Book of love
For all thy studies, ample Pay will prove.

82

But dream not that the Court's all gaudy scene
Will e'r present her to thy longing eye:
No public glaring Gem is she, but in
Abstrusest shades of virtuous modesty
Delights to glimmer. Thus from common Day
To private Night slip all the Stars away.

83

To yon dark Grove a pilgrim thou must go
Each morn, to find thy Saint; and with thy sword
Make her thine own Prey of a monster's: so
Shall she salute thee with no other word
But plain confession that thine is her life:
Thus Heav'n contrives that thou shalt win thy wife.

84

These are my fortunes, Madam, yet unknown
Ev'n by the sweetest half unto my self:
And sure your hand would help to thrust me down
Deservèd vengeance's profoundest gulf,
Should wantoness invite me to despise
A blessing higher than my Pride durst rise.

85

The former scarlet of the Lady's face
This answer into piteous paleness turn'd:
Her Suit's strong flame to ashes fainted was;
And She although rejected, yet not scorn'd,
Wander'd about her thoughts, and all agast
Found her sad self in musing silence lost.

86

Yet happy she, at length she cries, whoe'r
She be that must hug happiness in you.

And yet permit mine eye one other tear:
'Tis not of envy; No: Dear Sir, adieu.
It pitied me to see this gentle fashion
Of her sincere but unsuccessful Passion.

87

We parting thus, I hasted to this Grove,
Amongst whose spicey trees I knew would grow
My sweeter hopes. But Heav'n it seems would prove
The valour of my patience, and throw
Procrastinations in my way, that I
Might earn my bliss by hardy Constancy.

88

How often came I, and with bended knee
On every flow'ry cushion of the Grove
Implor'd the speed of my felicity!
How oft to this sweet Temple has great Love
Receiv'd my heart an offering all on fire,
Kindled, and fed, and blown by strong Desire!

89

How often with this Brook have my poor eyes
Sadly contended which should fastest flow!
How often has the tempest of my sighs
Outstorm'd the loudest Winds that blustred through
These groaning Trees! How often has my cry
Taught gentle Echo mournful sympathy!

90

At length my groans were heard; and this dear Day
In that sad-welcom moment sent me hither,
Which shew'd me that my long-expected joy
Was now fullgrown and ready ripe to gather.
Which strait had I not pluck'd, the monster had
Of all its sweetness his foul booty made.

91

First then to Heav'n my fultide thanks I pay;
And next to thee, my noble Guardian, who
Before my hopes no forgèd bait didst lay:
Each smallest circumstance agreeth so,
That this the Lady is, the only she
Design'd by Heav'n to crown my joys and me.

92

All blessings on thy head, my Psyche: that,
That, I am certain is thy precious name.
That Angel told me it, whose counsels put
Me on this blest adventure, when I came
To save thy life both for thy self and me,
And make of thine my joint felicity.

93

I with no prying questions stand to sift
Thy lineage, education, or estate:
To follow not examin Heaven's, my drift;
Nor must my Policy my Faith abate.
O no! I am secure; all things cannot
But suit aright when Heav'n do's lay the plot.

94

Here then, my heart I give thee, and I seal
The Deed on thy fair lips: may curses rain
Thick on my head, if ever I repeal
This sacred Act, or challenge back again
That Gift of mine, whose fault is only this,
Of thy Desert it too unworthy is.

95

So spake the glorious Impostor; and
Granting commission by a graceful kiss
To his own snowy yet lust-burning hand,
Sent it to treat with Psyche's, and to press
With feeling eloquence that Project He
Hop'd would conclude in tactile villany.

96

But as the Seaman by fierce tempests thrown
Into the seeming depth of roaring Death,
If he by sudden fortune back be blown
Into the gentle harbor; wondereth
At his strange safety, and scarce trusts his eyes,
Long doubting whether yet he lives or dyes:

97

So Psyche snatch'd from Danger's desperate jaws
Into the arms of this illustrious Lover;
Her self into Doubt's misty mazes throws,
And in suspensive thoughts a while doth hover.
Deceive me not, said she, a frighted maid,
Too poor, great Sir, by you to be betray'd.

98

If still I live; and all this be no Dream,
(For sure your story's such a heavenly thing,
That simple I alas unworthy am
To be concernd in it,) be pleas'd to bring
Some Proofs which my faith's dazled eye may chear,
And it for your bright miracles prepare.

99

Then be the first Proof, Aprodisius cries,
This diamond Ring; a glass where thou maist see
The sparkling copy of thine own bright eyes:
The next, this Jewel; what thou art to me
Let that attest; yet pardon me that I
Gave it that precious Name, now Thou art by.

100

The third, that delicate Embrace shall be
For which all Loves are kindled: that which will
Most solid sweet assurance seal to Thee;
And my great Guardian's prophesy fulfil.
Come, I can give thee leave to blush; a Maid
Of what she most loves, must be most afraid.

101

Were not our case divine, I well could stay,
And by our human Ceremonies marry:

But We did wed above; and what can they
Add to Heav'n's Rites? O no! 'tis sin to tarry.
Shall Matrimony's mighty Author not
Be thought sufficient to tie the Knot!

102

When God to Adam brought his Eve (as thee
He did to me,) bold had her niceness been,
If to pronounce her Match authentic, she
Had linger'd till some Priest might intervene.
Nor could my Angel, if in this I err,
Forbear to tell me so. Come then my Dear.

103

Forgetful Psyche now inchanted quite
By these harmonious Wiles, set ope her breast
To the loose fancies of unclean Delight:
Forthwith a knot of unseen serpents prest
Into her heart, and set it so on fire,
That strait it flamèd out with foul Desire.

104

But Phylax seeing that outrageous flame,
Wakes heavy-brow'd Syneidesis, and cries,
Run, run, and help to save your dying Dame;
Look how her funeral flames aforehand rise.
Up flies the maid, and instantly thrust in
Between the Lovers and their ready sin.

105

Back Psyche flung, and from her forehead shot
Mix'd darts of guilty Wrath and wild Disdain:
Impudent Wretch, crys Aphrodisius, what
Has made thy life so vile, that thou shouldst strain
To forfeit it to me? I prithee go,
Dy somewhere else: I'd be no Woman's foe.

106

O then, said she, forbear to stain my pure
And spotless Mistress. Fy, cries Psyche, fy,
I know her not: My Lord, can you endure
I should such saucy servants own, as she?
Is your Love's might less mighty than before?
Tear down this Sow, as you dispatch'd the Boar.

107

He having steeping, in a box of Jett,
A blacker Liquor, drawn from Lethe lake,
Upon Syneidesis strait emptied it.
She rubb'd her eyes; but found their strength too weak
To grapple with that stupor which did creep
On her dull'd brow, and down she fell asleep.

108

As when the Child, ventring his feet to prove,
Carelesly stumbles to some Precipice;
His tender Nurse, wing'd both with fear and love,
Makes on amain, with most intentive eyes
Not on her way, but Him, who now she knows
Is stepping into Death's wide open jaws:

109

So watchful Charis, who did distance keep
Till her Assistance might more useful be,
Now snatch'd Speed's wheels; and rousing from her sleep
Syneidesis, be not dismay'd, said she,
But try with me, whether Heav'n's bridle will
Not curb your Lady's fierce career to hell.

110

With that, as Phœbus steals his subtil Ray
Through virgin Crystal, so through Psyche's breast
She darts her hand, and strives to snatch away
The poisonous Brood from their usurpèd Nest:
Yet she flings back, and though herself forlorn,
Casts on her fairest Friend foul frowning scorn.

111

Thus when the Prince's gracious Proclamation
Woo's the successful Rebel from his sin:
Outrageous he with sullen indignation
Kicks the kind offer, and had rather in
His pleasing Poison wallow, than confess
That he, heav'n-favor'd he, infected is.

112

But Aphrodisius amazèd now
To see a Beauty whose dawn damp'd his eyes,
A Beauty which on Psyche's face did throw
Unlovely blackness, and monopolize
All heav'n within it self; recoilèd back,
Some Counsel in his troubled brain to take.

113

Mean while, Syneidesis pour'd this loud Cry
In Psyche's ear: Mistress, believe it now
I am awake, and see your Misery:
But ô how foul a sleep possesseth you!
Whilst monstrous Dreams and Apparitions roul
About your pleas'd because inchanted soul.

114

Home, home, I pray: this Grove grows thick with Charms
And will bewitch you from your self, untill
All help grows tardy for your rampant Harms.
Home soon will cure you, and your bosom fill
With better flames than these, which only be
Lighted to plunge in Darkness you and me.

115

Why linger We? see, see your Lover's gone;
Perhaps to fetch more poison for your heart,
And double on you your Destruction.
This unexpected News made Psyche start:
She turn'd her head, and saw 'twas so indeed;
Frighted by Charis, He away was fled.

116

Yet after him a heavy Sigh she sent,
And would have more dispatch'd: but tuggèd by

Syneidesis, at last she homeward went.
Her feet crept homeward, but her heart did fly
Back to the grove; which Charis, as she came
Watching behind, met, and brought safely home.

117

But Aphrodisius could not make such haste
As to out run the Angel's nimbler hand;
Half this curs'd Paradise he had not past,
But Phylax lighted down and bid him stand.
Stand fiend, said He; thy punishment shall be
Upon this scene of thine own Treachery.

118

Fair hideous Sir, how has your wretched spight
Tore from your Memory that deep-writ Blow
By which mine and my heavenly Brethrens Might
You and your fellow-feinds to hell did throw?
Did that fall bruise your heart so little, that
It, and our Victory you have forgot?

119

But grant your spight (which as immortal is
As your too-lasting Essence) triumphs o'r
Your mightiest Pangs; grant that your stubborness
Made you delight to earn still more and more
Extremities of Vengance, and forget
That bottomless already was your Pit.

120

Was't not enough that in your burning Home
Hot blasphemies you day by day did spit
At Heaven and God: but you to Earth must come
And all your trains of sly Delusions set
To ravish his own Spouse, for whose dear sake
I here his Lieger lie the Match to make?

121

Poor harmless Psyche, how did she offend!
Did she incroach on your black Realms below?
Did she e'er envy Hell to any feind,
Or strive to snatch Damnation from you?
Sure you have injur'd Her, and Phylax too;
For she's my Charge, and you shall find it so.

122

With that, He from his angry bosome drew
A golden Banner, in whose stately lap
His Lord's Almighty Name wide open flew,
Of Hell-appalling Majesty made up:
The feind no sooner Jesus there did read,
But Guilt pull'd down his eyes, and fear his head.

123

For as the Lightning darts on mortal Sight
Dazling confusion: so this brighter Name
Flash'd in the Fury's face with killing fright.
Strait Phylax hal'd him pale with dread and shame
To that inchanted Tree, whose conscious shade
Roof'd the green Stage where he the Lover play'd.

124

So have I seen a learing Cur drawn back
Into the field where he had torn the Lambs,
With guilty ears thrown flat upon his neck;
With woful tayl sneaking between his hams;
With grinning chaps, whose whining dialect
Spake both what he had done, and did expect.

125

In vain he struggles: for the nearest bough
Phylax with potent art twines round about
It's own tough self, and teaches how to grow
Into a Band more obstinate and stout
Than his fell Pris'ner: whom forthwith he ties
Fast to the Tree, and home to Psyche flies.

126

Poor Psyche; who no sooner was come home,
But Charis hasts her to her Closet, where
The holy furniture which trimm'd the room,
Piously-sullied and worn Prayerbooks were.
But she so strange an eye now casteth on them,
As if her soul had never dwelt upon them.

127

Her idle Thoughts were grown so squeamish, that
Such serious Acquaintance she abhorr'd:
Which surer out to keep, the wilful gate
Of her unhappy heart within she barr'd:
Nor could wise Charis, though all ways she try'd,
Slip that untoward peevish Bar aside.

128

Yet by untir'd Love's diligence, at last
She in that heart found out a private door;
Through which with blessèd stealth her arm she thrust,
And valiantly rent from thence, before
Psyche's astonish'd eyes, that viperous fry
Which her snarl'd soul in unfelt bands did ty.

129

And see, said she, the Token your brave Love
Hath hung about his Darling's heart, is this:
What kind of favors His were like to prove,
By these fine Knots of Ribands you may guess.
If they thy Heavenly Suiter's gifts excell,
Then love they Hellish Aprodisius still.

130

The hissing Serpents scrambled on the floor,
Which, and their shamèd selves, they gnaw'd for spight.
Psyche starts back afraid of what before
She in her bosome hugg'd with blind delight;
Till potent Charis in disdain did throw
Them whence they came, home to their hell below,

131

Deeply agast, the Virgin ponder'd now
The monstrous Witchery with serious thought:

Horrid Amazement's torrents rushèd through
The breaches of her wounded soul: about
All her breast's region, with wide-streaming dread
The Banners of Confusion were spread.

132

At length fall'n on her lamentable face,
Her grief burst ope into this rueful cry:
My shameful presence maketh any place
Unworthy of thy noble company:
Hence, hence, pure Charis; let me blush alone,
Left fouler than those serpents which are gone.

133

And you my rev'rend Books, your leaves shut up,
Where my Damnation frowns in ev'ry line.
When holy Eyes draw near, then freely ope,
But O, you are too fair and chast for mine:
Mine, which let out my soul, and usher'd in
All Hell, and, what is far more hellish, Sin.

134

They nothing else can do but blurr you now
With those perpetual streams of bounden brine
Which to my wilful misery I owe.
O Eyes; if ever your salt tide decline,
May you fail too: so dead a life live I
That if you drown me not, I needs must dye.

135

Shine not on me fair Sun, though thy brave Ray
With safety can the foulest dunghils kiss:
I am a nastyer heap than those, and may
Taint thy sweet Lustre by my filth's excess.
Black Night will fear no spots; O may she roul
Up in her pitch my correspondent soul!

136

What have vile I to do with noble Day
Which shews Earth Heav'ns bright face? that face which I
Wantonly scorn'd, and cast my love away
Upon impostur'd Lust's foul Mystery.
Did e'r Heart make so mad a choise as mine,
To grow plain devilish rather than divine!

137

My stern Revenge sure on this Heart shall smoke:
A tempest will I raise of sighs and groans
To scourge that smooth-tongu'd Gale whose whispers woke
That Wrack which stole on me: with ruthless stones
I'l make this harder breast without appear
As black as 'twas within when Hell dwelt there.

138

I with my howlings will these ears torment
Which joy'd to drink the Cheater's tickling charms;
These lips which lov'd his kisses, shall be spent
In courting nasty Dust: these lustful arms
Which hug'd his body, shall mine own chastise,
Which now I hate more than I lovèd his.

139

His Jewel's sparks I'l quench and punish by
A Coat of swarthy'st and of harshest hair:
For his rich Ring of smoothfac'd Diamond, I
By a course knotty rope will pay full dear:
(And here, in wrathful scorn, her foot upon
Them both she set; and thus went wailing on:)

140

O all ye Griefs which ever find your sting
Deep in a guilty treach'rous bosom, hear
Unhappy Psyche's Pray'rs, and hither bring
Your stoutest pow'rs; my heart has room to spare
For your full train: (Adieu all Loves,) I now
Must only study to wooe Hate, and you.

141

Why was I born! (may Darkness choke that Day
Whose light faun'd, on my cursèd birth:) or why
When in the Boar's my Death his paw did lay
Upon my throat, had I not leave to dye.
Why did I scape that Monster, to be thrown
To fouler ones, Hell's Treason, and mine own!

142

Why play'd such flaming beauties in mine eye
As might allure and shew to Lust its way!
Why smil'd my face with such mild majesty,
As bad false Love, be bold me to betray!
Why was not I deform'd, that shelter'd in
Secure neglect, I might have scap'd this sin!

143

The universal World's Contempt could not
Have wrong'd or wounded me so deep, nor thrown
Upon my Beauties such a fatal Blott,
As they upon themselves and me have drawn.
I had not now been heir to heaven's just scorn
If in Earth's eye my shape had been forlorn.

144

But in my Bodie's graceful features, my
Proud graceless folly needs would surfet so
As to persuade me, my felicity
Upon a rotten carnal Stock did grow.
To beastly solace thus with gay content
My self did I an holocaust present.

145

O righteous Prophet of unrighteous Pleasure;
Whose total sum's made up of desperate loss!
How justly, when we trade away our Treasure,
Requit'st thou us with rusty fretful dross!
For all the Gains fond Wantonness brings in,
Prove but a bank of vengeance on the sin.

146

Still still I burn; my fire but changèd is;
And though my Lust be cool'd, my Guilt is hot,
And belks and boils; whilst wroth Syneidesis;
Blows up its more incensèd coals. O what
Can help my ænigmatic sorrows, who
Thus on my self my Execution do!

147

Stings, conscious stings, have made my heart their Butt,
Graving outrageous Memorandums there
Of those snakes' tongues which Aphrodisius shot
Into my heedless breast: strange tongues, which here
Were tame and mild, but being hence withdrawn
Most barb'rous in their successors are grown.

148

Ay me! can Pity injure Justice so
As to relieve me with a gracious glance?
Durst any Cordial undertake a Woe
Which helps itself to fester? What pretence
Shall I devise, to seek abroad for aid,
Who willingly have been at home betray'd?

149

As thus she lay lamenting on the floor,
And strove to sink yet lower: Charis, who
Had all this while but stepp'd behind the door,
Comes clearly in, and crys, Break of thy Woe,
Dear Psyche; 'tis enough, thy hearty cry
Hath pierc'd already, and appeas'd the Sky.

150

The Copies of those Tears thou there hast shed
Upon the ground, reflected high, and are
Already in Heaven's Casket bottlèd;
Thy grief now smiles above, and maketh clear
God's louring face: Look up and see how Day
Right friendly on thee shines, and bids thee joy.

151

With that, her blessèd News to justify,
She breath'd into the wondring Virgin's breast
Mysterious seeds of pure tranquillity;
Pledges of reconcilèd Heav'n, a feast
Of Paradise's most delicious cates,
Spiritual joys, and soul-enliv'ning sweets.

152

Her squalid count'nance with such verdant pow'rs
Of chearfulness, ne'r did the thirsty Ground
Reform and beautify, when Summer Show'rs
The deep pains of her gasping Drought had drown'd;
As overjoyed Psyche, now she feels
Warm in her bosom Grace's gentle Gales.

153

Gales on whose dainty wings strange Influence rides;
An Influence of such speedy operation,
That though all Opposition's highest tides
Roar in its way, through their proud Conjuration
With instant Might it flies, and ev'ry where
Finds Victory attending its career.

154

Forth from her eyes, in spight of all those tears
Whose deluge domineerèd there before,
Sweet flames of gladness broke; her head she rears
With sudden briskness, and upon the shoar
Of Comfort having fix'd her foot, forgets
Her shipwrack's Loss, and hasts to pay her debts.

155

To Heav'n to Charis, to Syneidesis
Her wingèd thanks she speeds; but all aray'd
In scarlet, from her cheeks, whose graceful Dress
The beauty of her Penitence display'd.
Blushes, though Blame's own Colours, are not blam'd:
The greatest shame is not to be asham'd.

156

But whilst She melted into joy to see
Her buried Soul rise up to life again;
A sudden Damp clouds her Serenity,
Alarming her with unsuspected pain:
For Phylax flutters in, and, Come, said he,
You to the Grove must back again with me.

157

As when the place of Robbery you name
The Thief in white or red betrays his fear:
So Psyche's heart gall'd with renewèd shame
By that word's piercing rub, makes it appear
In her appalèd looks: And, ah, said she,
Com'st thou thus to revive my Misery?

158

Bid me go find some desp'rate rock from whence
Down I may plunge into the deepest Main:
Bid me post headlong to th'infernal Prince
And cov'nant with him for eternal Pain:
Nay bid me do 't: or bid me not go where
My far worse Hell will meet my guilty fear.

159

I like thine anger well, crys Phylax; but
The Grove is not the Grove it was this Morn:
Another visage I on it have put,
Both chaste and safe, and fit for thy return.
No Boar, no Wooer's there: come let us go;
Both Charis and thy Maid will with us too.

160

This high assurance cheer'd her tim'rous heart
Long us'd to holy confidence in Him:
Besides, her faithful Consorts bore their part
In this encouragement. Yet did there swim
About her breast, some tender trembling Doubts,
Which spread like Mist upon her clearer thoughts.

161

Along they went: but coming near the Grove,
Suspicious Psyche quak'd and closer clung
To Phylax, who reach'd out his shield of Love,
The downy shelter of his Heavenly wing;
Under whose chearly shadow her he led
Into the gloomy shades the Wood had spread.

162

For now those pageant beauties which of late
Had there trim'd up a Temple for Delight,
Were all unmask'd; and Melancholy sate
Shrowding her hideous self in mid-day night.
The heavy nodding Trees all languishèd.
And ev'ry sleepy bough hung down its head.

163

There Aphrodisius his best teeth had try'd
(And four of them lay broken on the ground)
With irefull restless knawing, to divide
The Withe by which he to his shame was bound
Straiter than to the Tree; which yet he shook
Till all its frighted Leaves their boughs forsook.

164

But at the Visiters' approach, he bit
His lips and Tongue, and spit them in their face.
See Psyche, Phylax crys, the Gallant's wit,
Who hopes to 'scape confessing his Disgrace:
But strait I'l make his Dumbness find a Tongue
To speak out his imposture, and thy wrong.

165

Forthwith he from him snatch'd all He had stoll'n
Of Earth's, of Air's, of Water's goodly'st store:
The beauteous veil no sooner off was fall'n,
But Aphrodisius appears no more:
It proves an hideous fiend: and Psyche crys,
Running behind the Tree, God bless mine eyes!

166

A pois'nous stink then seasing on the Air,
Strait Phylax blew't down to its native hell:
And chearfully confuting Psyche's fear,
Be bold said he, and mark the Monster well:
There wantoniz'd his curl'd Peruque, where now
Two ragged Horns with rusty horror grow.

167

That forehead he so fair had plaister'd over
With polish'd Flesh, hath chang'd its stolen hue;
Being rough-cast with odious sores to cover
The deadly juice that from his brain doth sue.
Yet lo, the Boils spew on his eyelids' hairs
Fit matter for so foul a Monster's tears.

168

Like to some Oven's black Arch, so hangs his Brow
Over the furnace of his Eyes, wherein
Delicious flames did radiantly glow,
But now the Fire's as dark as his own Sin;
And being fed with sulphure, doth confess
What is its work, and where it kindled was.

169

A double alabaster Conduit hung
Down from his forehead; where is nothing now
But those two rotten Pipes, not to be wrung
Least they together with their Moisture flow;
That baneful Moisture, which as deeply do's
Poison, as it is pois'ned by the Nose.

170

Two rows of Roses on those Lips did grow
To sweeten every Word that travell'd by;
But now scorch'd black as Hell's own mouth, they show
What kind of breath steams from his bosom's sty.
A breath like that which from the chimnie's top
Speaks its own stink by what it vomits up.

171

His Cheeks, which lifted up two hills of Joy
With flourishing spices crown'd; are sunk so low
That like two hollow untill'd Valleys, they
With nothing but pale Desolation grow.
Now grizely Hair deflowres his polish'd Skin,
Shewing what he to Satyrs is of kin.

172

His slender Hands are swell'd to monstrous Paws,
Whose Nails much longer than their fingers are.
Sure his Imbrace is dainty when he throws
Those chains about his Love! but see'st thou there
What at the portly Gallant's back doth trail?
His courtly Sword's turn'd to a dangling Tail.

173

The martial Vigor which both spred and knit
His manly limbs, is withered into
Diseasèd Craziness; his Joints forget
Their sturdy office, and his Sinnews no
Tokens of their late active selves express:
Witness his crinkling hams and trembling knees.

174

Behold his goodly feet, where one great cleft
Devides two toes pointed with iron claws.
The rest of his fine body must be left
Close sealèd up by Modesty's chaste Laws.
Yet may'st thou safely view his Bosom's cell
And see what Jewels in that casket dwell.

175

This said; his strangely-potent Wand's petard
He smartly to the Monster's breast apply'd:
Forthwith the bones which had so strongly barr'd
The guilty passage up, flew all aside.
This foulest Book now fairly open'd, on
The Angel thus did in his Lecture run:

176

Mark where ten thousand Charms and Kisses lie
And Complements of every garb and kind;
With which on heedless Virgins he doth flie,
And whom he softliest toucheth, surest bind.
Look where upon the top those Courtships be
Which bravely wooèd and inchanted Thee.

177

In that sly corner, (and observe it well,)
Sneak various Shapes, which allway changing be;
Shapes trim and smooth and fair without, but full
Of inward Venom: which industrious He
Subtly improves to comely Treacheries,
Handsom Impostures, and welfavor'd Lies.

178

See'st thou not there the model of the Beast,
That hideous Witchery which chafèd Thee;
With all the amorous story sprucely drest
To court and cheat thy credulous chastity?
Never did Cozenage with more lovely art,
Or face more honest, act a fouler part.

179

But yet there's something stranger lurks behind:
Spy'st thou that Scroll? It is a full Commission
By which he made this voyage, ready sign'd,
And strength'ned by the broad Seal of Perdition.
Come, I'l untwine the knot of snakes which tye
It up, and fain would hide it from thine eye.

180

Lo here a scheme of such confounding Letters
And scrambling Lines, as never Conjurer writ:
His forks, hooks, prongs, racks, gibbets, grid-irons, fetters,
And all the wild Tools of his spightful Wit
Are Belzebub's made Alphabet: but hear
How well I ken his mystic Character.

181

Satan the great, God of Hell, Earth, and Air;
Of Men and Angels everlasting foe;
Rival of Heav'n, and of Heav'n's only Heir;
Monarch of Pride, Rage, Blasphemy and Woe;
Out of our princely grace, to our right vicious
And trusty friend and Cousin Aphrodisius.

182

To thee by these our Letters-Patents, we
Give full authority the Soul to seize
Of hated Psyche; by what treachery
Shall best thy cunning and thy malice please;
That here her Guilt may fry in that degree
Of Pangs which our just vengeance shall decree.

183

And see thy diligence as great appear
As are thy Helps; for hereby over all
The Forces in our Realms of Earth and Air
We constitute thee Captain General.
Giv'n at our flaming Court of Desperation,
This sixt age of our Soverain Damnation.

184

Thus having read these cursèd Lines; again
He crow'ds the Scroll into the Furie's breast;
And, Home, says he, and ask your Soverain
A larger Patent: see you are releast.
But here I hang the withe, that ever you
Return this way, this Token please to know.

185

Th'unfetter'd feind heaving an hidious sigh,
And tearing his fell locks with helpless wrath,
Flung down his Patent, and away did fly.
The Grove smoak'd as he went; in all his path
What Trees he met, he rent, and burnt in pain
Till in Hell's flames he plungèd was again.

186

This Spectacle so melted Psyche's heart
That flowing forth in holy Shame and Joy,
Fresh Thanks and Blushes to her Friend's desert
Most earnestly she pays: O never may
My God remember me, said she, if I
Forget your blessèd Love's dear Constancy.

187

Farewel false Beauties; Heav'n above, I'm sure
Is full as fair within as 'tis without:
No Aphrodisius there; but all as pure
As virgin Crystal, or your spotless Thought
Dear Phylax, which from thence its pattern takes,
And a new Heav'n in your sweet bosom makes.

188

There will I fix my heart: there dwells my Love,
My Life my Lord, much purer then his palace;
Whose Paradise shall be the only Grove
To which my Soul shall pant for genuine solace.
Forbid it Jesu, any thing below
Be Master of this breast, whose Lord art Thou.

189

Most, most deserving Thou; who to intice
My undeserving Soul, beset'st her ways
With such rich Baits as far transcend the price
Of all this vain World's most illustrious Toys:
Safe Baits, which hide no hooks, or none but such
As into Liberty their Pris'ners catch.

190

Thus sweetly breathing out her ardent Passion,
She with her heav'nly Consorts homeward goes;
Yet by the way renews at every station
Her cordial Thanks and her pathetick Vows.
At length got home, she to her Closet hasts,
Where all her Soul at her Love's feet she casts.

191

What prayers were there, what thanks, what sighs, what tears,
What zeal, what languishment, what ecstasies,
What confidence, what shame, what hopes, what fears,
What pains, what joys, what thoughts, what words! She dies
And yet she lives, and yet she dies again
And would for ever live so to be slain.

192

So to be slain; for every Death she dies
Higher and higher lifts her into life.
Her Weakness is strong Love; in which she tries
The utmost of her power, and by that strife
Of humble boldness wrestles to obtain
Her will of Him who on Heav'n's Throne doth reign.

193

But fainting Nature (for 'twas midnight now,
And hard sh'had wrought and travell'd far that day,)
Permitted sleep to grow upon her brow;
And tho' unwilling, down at last she lay.
Sweet was her Rest; but sweeter far that Dream
Which now about her wond'ring soul did swim.

194

Imagination's chariot convoy'd her
Into a garden where more Beauties smil'd
Than Aphrodisius's Grove's false face did wear,
And gentler Gales the air with odours fill'd:
Lilies on every bed such sheets did spread
As scorn'd the whitest cap of Taurus's head.

195

The goodly Walks politely pavèd were
With Alabaster, whose unspotted face
Lay'd fairly ope unto the silver sphere
Which roll'd above, a comely Looking-glass:
Whether upward She, or downward turn'd her eye,
Still she beheld the same heav'n's majesty.

196

Their heads no trees presumèd there to shew
Which e'r had been deflour'd by Winter's blast:
Plants of eternal verdure only grew
Upon that virgin soil; such trees as cast
Both cool and constant shades; and having been
Planted of old, still livèd young and green.

197

No fountain bubled there, but fed with springs
Of purest milk; upon whose dainty shoar
Chaste-sighing Turtles sate, and wash'd their wings,
Though full as white and pure as it before.
But thus one Candor pour'd upon another
Do's kindly kiss and sport it with his brother.

198

A princely Castle in the mid'st commands,
Invincible for strength and for delight;
Fram'd all of massy crystal, and by hands
As pure as those Materials were bright.
A clearer Court was ne'r by Poet's brain
Built for Queen Thetis in her watery Main.

199

Ten thousand Blushes stood before the Gate,
With Magnanimities all hand in hand:
As many Purities in modest state
Were rangèd with as many Beauties, and
Young smiling Graces; whose sweet task it was
To be the Guard of that dilicious Place.

200

As Psyche wonder'd at th'illustrious sight,
Her constant Phylax met her puzl'd eye:
Strait she demands, What Place was that, so bright
With more than earthly pomp! for Chastity
'Twas built, said He, and built by Him who is
The Soverain of all vertuous Clarities.

201

Behold, the Gate is opening now, and all
Th'officious Guard gives way: here shalt thou see
(For this is Chastitie's high festival,)
A strange Procession's solemnity;
And witness be what splendid Princes are
The stars which move about this limpid sphere.

202

There comes the first: Observe his royal gate,
Majestic yet not proud: about his brows
A glittering Coronet wreaths his princely state,
And in his hand a Palm his triumph shows;
Full flows his Robe, and following his steps,
Them with a train imperial fairly sweeps.

203

Less white this Pavement is, less sweet are those
Perfumèd Lilies, than that Robe of his.
From his own Fleece Heav'n's Lamb was pleas'd to choose
The richest snowiest Wool, to cloth and dress
His spotless friends and fellow-lambs, who are
All privileg'd this Livery to wear.

204

Those graceful Eyes, in which Love's Throne is set,
Are they which did Potiphera defy:
What need I that fresh History repeat?
This is that Joseph, tho' advancèd high
In Pharaoh's realm, yet now more glorious grown,
Holding a fairer Kingdom of his own.

205

The next's a Female, in the same array;
For Sexes here no outward difference show,

But all like Angels live, since noble They
Strove to forget their He and She below
And, tho' clogg'd with gross Earth, yet overtake
That spotlesness which us doth equal make.

206

Susanna is her Name, and gloriously
Her Virtue made it good: What Lily e'r
Could clearer fairer proofs produce that She
Did in her native whiteness persevere?
Ev'n Life could not, altho' its price be high
Hire her to give her Lily-name the ly.

207

The goodly Orb of that her radiant face,
Which none but chaste and holy beams did shed,
Two lustful Elders made their daily Glass,
And with the Antidote invenomèd
Their shameless Hearts. So bold is Lust, that she
Dares hope to find a Blot in Purity.

208

When Cancer scorch'd the World, and tender She
Went in her private Garden's shaded Spring,
(As in the Emblem of her Chastity)
To cool her bashful self; They issuing
Out of their ambush, in their cloaths express
More shame, than Her discover'd Nakedness:

209

We too, are hot, cry they; but none but Thou
Canst quench the fury of our mighty flames:
Thou art the Fount in which all Pleasures flow,
And we are come to bath us in thy streams.
Yield, as thou lov'st thy life; else We will swear
That in Adultery we caught Thee here.

210

Nay swear we will: nor must thy Vows and Tears
E'r hope to make the Truth as naked be
As Thou art now: such Reverence guards our years,
That in our lies no Eye dares falshood see.
Fond squeamish Soul, what profit is't to Thee
To lose thy Life, and keep thy Chastity?

211

Then welcome Death; thy gastly face, said She,
Is fairer than the Visage of this sin.
Here she cry'd out aloud; and instantly
Her startled Handmaids all rush'd shrieking in:
Whom both the fulmouth'd Elders hastenèd
To catch th'Adulterer, who, said they, was fled.

212

Then haling Her unto the Bar, their own
Guilt upon her they throw, and she must dy:
But strait a Miracle crowds in to crown
The truth of her unconquer'd Chastity.
This turn'd the Sentence on her slanderous Foes:
They to be ston'd, and She to triumph goes.

213

There comes the second Joseph, but as far
Before in honor as in time behind:
In Virtue's shop as skill'd a Carpenter
As in his own; whose Art a way could find
To frame a Life (and raise the building high,)
Both of Heroic Worth, and Poverty.

214

Mine and my Brethren's Office (tho' it be
Both sweet and glorious,) down must stoop to His:
His, who was Guardian of Divinity,
And of the Mother of all Sweetnesses.
And yet no Angel envy'd Him his place,
Who ever look'd upon his wonderous face.

215

What Gravity dwells there, and what Delight,
What Tenderness, and what Austerity!
How high and humble are his Looks, how bright
And gently-meek his Eyes! how sweetly He
Seems here in glorie's Heav'n not to forget
That Cloud which upon him in Earth did sit!

216

But look, and see thou start not at the sight,
Those Beams, tho' more than sun-like, lovely be;
Now dawns of Heav'n and Earth the choice Delight.
The Queen of Softness and of Purity:
Millions of Loves come tripping in her way,
Flown from her Eye in a forerunning Ray.

217

Behold her face, and read all Paradise,
And more, in Flesh and Blood: in vain we seek
By Flora's Jewels to emblematize
The Gallantry of Her illustrious cheek,
At whose sweet composition every Grace
Ran crowding in, for fear to lose its place.

218

All Cherubs and all Seraphs have I seen
In their high Beauties on Heav'n's Holydays;
But still the gracious splendor of this Queen
Sweetly outglitters their best tire of Rays:
For all her wondrous Glories' Texture is
A Web of Sweetness fring'd with Joy and Bliss.

219

How rude and course-spun those Idea's were
Which sprucest Pagan-Wits did ever frame,
When Beautie's Idol they desir'd to rear
In amorous fancies' temple! What broad shame
And studied scorn would their best Pens have thrown
Upon that Venus, if they This had known!

220

This Mother of divinest Love, as pure
As is that other putid! Noblest Tongues
When they triumphant are, and would be sure
With double Heav'n to swell and bless their Songs;
First chant the Son, and then the Mother; He
Begins, and She makes up the Harmony.

221

Her Crown imperial scorneth to be deckt
With oriental Diamonds, being set
With purer Sons of Light, whilst most select
Virtues (because her own) embellish it.
Yet those but poorly-glimmering Copies be
Of her rich heart's original Treasury.

222

I need not tell thee Mary is her Name;
Her potent influence me prevented has:
This cold dead Pavement lively doth proclaim
What Feet with newborn lilies trimm'd its face:
Whose but the Virgin-Mother's steps could bless
A soil so barren with such fertileness?

223

Turn, Psyche, and behold who cometh there:
The King, the King of royal Chastity.
She look'd; but look'd not long: For upon her
Weak face such mighty beams from His did fly,
That starting at th'intolerable stroke,
She rubb'd her dazlèd eyes, and so awoke.

CANTO III. The Girdle, or Love-Token.

The ARGUMENT.

Her Spouse, in token of his royal Love
A Girdle unto Psyche sends; wherein
The accurate Works historic Beauty strove
The radiant Materials to outshine.
Phylax the rich Embroidery expounds,
And with the Token then the Maid surrounds.

1

Short Taste of Pleasures, how dost thou torment
A liquorish Soul, when once inflam'd by thee!
Desire's sweet-cruel edge might soon relent,
Didst thou not whet it to that keen degree,
That nothing but complete fruition will
The longing of its wakened stomach fill.

2

The Seaman, who hath with unwearied pain
Wrought through a thousand storms, and gain'd the sight
Of his sweet Home; that some cross wind again
Robs him of that dear-purchasèd delight,
He finds a greater storm in's breast arise
Pouring his sorrows through his mockèd eyes.

3

The pinèd Man, on whom a thinner She,
Insatiable Famin, long hath fed;
Covets no Heav'n or Paradise to see
But what lies moulded up in any Bread.
One glimpse of this, bids Hope return, and light
Life in those eyes which were bequeath'd to Night.

4

But if that cheerful Morn o'rclouded be,
And his young Comforts in their cradle slain;
The fugitive Blessing feeds his misery,
And by rebound exalts it to a strain
Of higher Anguish: now his fancy more
Do's gnaw him, than his Hunger did before.

5

So Psyche famishèd with strong desire
To view her Spouse, no sooner 'gan to taste
Of his first Lustre, but that dainty fire
Made her all-ravish'd Heart Joy's Holocaust:
All other Days she counted Night to this,
Whose Dawn had broach'd such golden floods of Bliss.

6

But when immensity of Beams had cast
That cloud of weakness on her mortal eye;
And whilst she found it, she the Light had lost
In too much Light; her longing swell'd so high,
That did not sighs unload her bosom, it
Had by th'impatient belking Tumor split.

7

She sighs, and thinks; and then she sighs again:
Each frustrate thought which labour'd to comprise
What seeing kept from sight, makes her complain
Her thoughts were dazl'd, as before, her eyes.
Yet still she thinks, and grieving loves to be
Puzl'd in that delicious misery.

8

That Glorious she knew not what, whose glance
No less attracted than repuls'd her look,
Rack'd her upon Imagination's Trance
Untill her over-strainèd Passion broke:
Whose torrent through her lips now gushing out,
This amorous Lamentation forth she brought:

9

O happy ye, stout Eagles, happy ye,
Whose pure and genuine eyes are temperèd
To that brave Vigor, that the Majesty
Of your belovèd Sun can never shed
Such bright extremities of Heav'n, but you
Can drink them in as fast as they can flow:

10

You perch'd on some safe Rock can sit and see
How when the East unlocks his ruby gate,
From rich Aurora's bed of Roses He
Sweeter than it doth rise; what Robe of state
That day He deigns to guild, what Tire of light
He on his temples binds there to grow bright.

11

Not one of those brisk Eyes with which by night
Heav'n looks so big and glorious, but at
The mighty dint ev'n of his dawning light
Its conquer'd and abashèd self doth shut.
'Tis your prerogative alone to bear
That Splendor's stroke which dazles every Star.

12

Into his Chariot of flaming gold
You see him mount, and give his purple steeds
Leave to draw out the Day: you see him roll'd
Upon his diamond Wheels, whose bounty breeds
That gorgeous Family of Pearls, which dwells
On eastern shores in their fair Mother-shells.

13

You see him climb Heav'n's highest silver hill,
And through cross Cancer make the Hours run right.
There with his widest looks your own you fill,
And riot in that royal feast of light;
Whilst to your eyes your souls fly up and gaze
On every Beauty of his high-noon face.

14

You see Him till into the steep-down West
He throws his course, and in th'Atlantick Deep
Washes the sweat from his fair brow and breast,
And cool his smoaking steeds, and yields to sleep
Among the watry Nymphs, who in his rest
Waft him through by-paths back into his East.

15

The kind Day thus makes all her hours attend
Your undisturbèd Joys; but fainting me
With one poor minute she will not befriend
That I my fairer sweeter Sun may see.
Yet why blame I the Day? she's clear and fair:
But you, adulterate eyes, you cloudy are.

16

Had you been constant, such had been my Bliss:
But you with faithless cowardize gave in.
Surely I'l be reveng'd on you for this,
Till you repent your treachery in brine.
Perhaps when tears have wash'd you clean, you may
Suit with the pureness of my Spouse's ray.

17

These querulous sighs, by their impatient blast
Drove on the cloud, and now the Rain began;
Down her swoll'n cheeks drops great and numerous haste,
For more and greater still came crowding on;
Whilst either eye-lid sprinkled in the crow'd
A living rainbow on its margin showd.

18

Strange Fire of noble Love, which thus can feed
And feast on Water; which disdains to find
Delight in Joy, or Rest in Pleasure's bed!
Which seeks its Calm in sighs' tumultuous Wind!
Which dares amidst Grief's Sea expect a shore
Of Peace, and Quiet in a Tempest's roar.

19

But as this storm swell'd high, in Phylax flies,
Whose yerning sweetness almost loos'd the rein
To his own gentle sympathetic eyes,
Seeing the flood of Psyche's: but in pain,
Till she was out, He hastes to chase away
Those sullen clouds which damp'd her joyous day.

20

For with his wing he wip'd her blubber'd face,
And fann'd fresh comfort on her fainting mind:
Quarrel not with thine eyes; thy Vision was
Too visible; and they by growing blind
Their duty did, said He, being clogg'd as yet
With lazy dust, for sprightful sights unfit.

21

Have patience till that Dust be put to bed,
And mixèd with the grave; then shall thine Eye,
From its dull former self awakenèd,
Open into a full capacity
Of viewing Him, whose lovely Princely Look
Shall be thy safe and everlasting Book.

22

Mean while, this Token He is pleas'd to send,
Hoping thou'lt for his sake wear't next thy heart:
No Lover e'r woo'd his adorèd Friend
With richer Present; that thou ne'r maist start
From his affection, with this Girdle He
Contrives to bind thee to Felicity.

23

The Ground's a texture all of Turtles' down,
Which dares call virgin-snow both harsh and black:
For He himself deep dy'd it in his own
River of Whiteness, whose meek head doth make
Its nest at his throne's foot; where once when He
But dip'd his hand, the fount prov'd Purity.

24

To a choice Grace to spin He put it out,
That its fine thread might answer her neat hand;
And then through all heav'n's Jewel-house He sought
What Gems to honor with this Ground: The strand
Of precious India no such Treasure shows;
Above, the Ocean of true Jewels flows.

25

Ten thousand glittering things He turning o'r,
Cull'd out a glorious heap: Yet if, said He,
I throng my Darling with this massy store,
'Twill to a Burden swell my Courtesy:
She tender is, and so my Love is too:
I wish her all; but these for all shall go.

26

And those were Jaspers, Diamonds, Onyxes,
Topazes, Beryls, Rubies, Amethysts;
All fitly polish'd for embroideries;
But brighter far than ever flam'd on Priests'
Or Princes' crown: Which as He sending was
To honor with the work, another Grace,

27

His Snowy Mother, waiting all that while
At his right hand, melted down on her knee,
And sweetly beg'd that Office: In a smile
(His constant aspect towards Her and Thee.)
He grants her kind request; Yet stay, and let
Says He, my choice Thee with a Needle fit.

28

A Twist of Glories o'r his shoulders thrown,
About his back a sportful Quiver roll'd,
Of metal in this grosser world unknown,
The thrice-refinèd Quintessence of Gold.
Yet was the splendid House less pure and fine
Than those Inhabitants it did inshrine.

29

No sooner He unlock'd the glorious Lid,
But lo, a Cloud of living Joys and Smiles
Which in that merry Region were bred,
Breaths out itself, and all Spectators fills
With vigorous Pleasures, and with fresh Desires
To view that fountain whence such Bliss expires.

30

Innumerable Shafts there nestling lye
And keep each other warm with mutual flames,
Since all their metal's mystic Ardency;
A Metal which outbraves the gaudiest beams
That play about the Stars, or those which flow
From Titan's eyes, when they in Highnoon glow.

31

For those top raies which dart pure Spirits of Splendor
Love once selecting from his royal Crown,
These Arms, said He, as solid are as slender;
My Quiver shall this sole Artillery own:
My Heavn's the Bow which at my Earth I bend,
And that my Arrows to their Mark shall send.

32

There's no such thing, believe it Psyche, there,
As leaden Bolts, steep'd in cold Scorn and Hate:
Each Dart's a Son of fervor, and do's wear
A rich remembrance of its Master's fate;
For deep dy'd in his mighty precious Blood,
It keeps the pow'r and tincture of the flood.

33

With these He wounds his best-belovèd Hearts,
And by each Wound sets ope to Life its way:
Life is the point of these mysterious Darts
Which with clear Joy and dainty Vigor slay.
They slay indeed, yet still reviving be;
They nothing murder but Mortality.

34

The threads of softest flax show gross and course
Compar'd with these, so delicate are they:
Yet cruel Steel strikes with less boistrous force,
And with less fatal certainty doth slay.
Immortal Eys alone can view them, but
No way they see to fence the subtile shot.

35

They quench their noble thirst wheree'r they list
Sucking and quaffing in the royal veins
Of our sublimest Cherub's deepest breast:
All Heav'n's bright Hierarchy with joy complains
Of those sweet deaths these potent Weapons give,
By which in Pains of amorous Bliss they live.

36

Love choosing one of these from its bright Nest
Applies it near his own all-piercing Ey,
From whose acute intention there prest
A Dint so searching, that immediately
The yielding Dart did answer't by a new
Eye of its own, and so a Needle grew.

37

Then from his golden Locks, that curled Grove
Of thousand Little Loves, one single Hair
He pluck'd: And this alone, said He, will prove
Sufficient Thread to finish all thy fair
Embroidery; 'twill stretch, and always be
Longer and longer to Eternity.

38

Here take thy Tool; but let th'Invention be
Thine own; for who with comelier art can fit
The emblematic Gift of Chastity,
Than Thou, the Mother both of Me and it!
She bowing low, her thanks and duty throws
Before his feet, and to her work she goes.

39

Th'officious Graces trippèd after Her
With meet attendance on her lily train,
Unto that Tower of living Crystal, where
Thy Vision lately thee did entertain.
That milky Way which down Heav'n's mountain flows
Its beauteous smoothness to Her footsteps ows.

40

Oft had she trac'd and travers'd it; but ne'r
With cheerlier countenance or nimbler pace:
The pleasure of her Task could not forbear
To shew itself both in her feet and face;
So much she joy'd this Virgin-work should be
Child to the Mother of Virginity.

41

The Castle Gates in a soft smile flew ope
To see their Queen, and bid her welcome in.
She looks about her in that curious shop
Of Purities, uncertain where to 'gin:
She all approves, and therefore doth demur
Among so many Bests, which to prefer.

42

The lofty Roof of that illustrious Hall
With Sighs and amorous Languishments was seal'd.
From whence in most delicious drops did fall
Down to the floor heartmelting Tears, and yield
A pearly pavement, which the ground's cool kiss
Into chaste Firmitude did crystallize.

43

The Twilight's tears shed in the laps of flowers
Less gracefully reflect Heav'n's rising Ey,
When Phoebus lets in the Diurnal Hours
And trims his face upon the Morning sky;
Than these reverberated that fair Look,
Which from the Virgin's entring face they took.

44

Thick were the Walls impeopled with the stories
Of those whom Chastity had cloth'd in White,
From antient Abel's most unspotted glories,
Unto the latest beams of virgin-light:
That Abel who first to his Lilies tied
Martyrdom's Roses, in whose bed he died.

45

But at the upper end a Table hung
All of one sparkling Diamond, fair and high,
Whose brighter Lines the noblest Angel's tongue
Is proud to read. It was the History
Of Love himself, in sculpture so divine
That every Word the Table did outshine.

46

For every Word seem'd more than seemingly
To live and breathe and walk and operate,
And gloriously maintain affinity,
With that immortal Word whose mortal state
Reviv'd on this fair Stage; on which were met
Both his first Bethlehem and last Olivet.

47

Long look'd she on this Pourtrait, and forgot
By looking long, that she had look'd at all:
Her Eyes, whose prey that Object was, did not
Perceive how by their pris'ner they were stole;
Nor was she well aware how with her eyes
Her heart was gone, and made the Picture's prize.

48

At length she sweetly cries, O that this hand
Might draw those Lines of Bliss, of Life, of Love!
Till Time do's fall I'd be content to stand
And practise here, so I at last might prove
Artist enough to form one Copy which
With more than all Heav'n would poor Earth inrich.

49

But my Almighty Lord and Son who did
React his Stories on this diamond Scene,
By his own finger, can be copied
Only by it: Though He would make a Queen
Of worthless me, yet meet He judg'd it still
That in his Handmaid some defect should dwell.

50

This word strait summon'd in th'ingenuous cheek
Of all the Graces, which about her prest
An universal blush, to hear their meek
Though highest Empress: And, may we at least
Copy, said they, this Lowliness, more due
To vulgar us, than unto Soverain you.

51

But turning to the next her busy eye,
And reading there in glorious triumph drawn
The sweet Exploits of her Virginity;
She blushèd more than they, and of their own
Shame made them all asham'd, to see how far
It was outpurpled and outgrain'd by Her.

52

By her, who cry'd, since He is Lord supreme,
What help, if He be pleas'd to have it so.
If next his own He ranks his Vassal's fame,
And, prints it in a Book of Diamond too.
'Tis not the Picture of what I did merit,
But what His favour maketh me inherit.

53

For what was I, a Lump of sordid Clay,
Who would have Lowly been, but could not be;
For when I sunk my self, and lowest lay
Flat in the dust of my Humility,
Too high I was, and might most justly in
My native Nothing's gulf have plungèd been.

54

Had I had any thing in truth mine own,
I from that step might lowlily have bow'd:
But seeing all is His, aforehand thrown
Was I beneath descent, though truly Proud
Vile Dust may be, yet properly to speak,
What springs from Nothing never can be Meek.

55

Whilst in this Paradoxe's rapture she
Breathes forth her Piety; the Graces by
Her, strong Dispute against it, clearer see
Th'illustrious Truth of her Humility.
(Thus when the blushing Rose her self doth close
Up in her bud, her sweetness widest flows.)

56

Then round besieging Her with bended knees,
In a conspiracy of reverend love,
They charge Her thus: Seek no more stories; these
Of thine, the best imbroidery will prove.
Degrade not what thy Son prefers, nor be
Because He loves thee, thine own enemy.

57

Nay gentle Sisters, sweetly she replies,
I love my self too well so proud to grow;
Though other hands applaud my victories,
Mine own would them deface by doing so.
Were that my work, this Needle at each letter
Would prick my heart, because I was no better.

58

Lo in that next, that ruby Table there,
And heav'nly Pattern: well the Man I know,
Both to my Lord and Me a friend most dear,
When we with him were sojourners below.
Pure was his Life, and pure his Office was,
Clensing the way where Pureness was to pass.

59

Chaste Excellence, devout severity,
Courageous Temperance, death-daring Zeal,
All flourish in his blessèd History:
Of both the Testaments the middle Seal
And Clasp was He; and who so fit to be
This Girdle's beauty, as conjunctive He?

60

Whilst on the noble Baptist thus her eyes
And praises dwelt; a Grace had fill'd in haste
Her lap with lilies, and the dainty prize
Into a chair of Alabaster cast.
The gentle Virgin smil'd at first to see't;
Then down she sits and makes her Cushion sweet.

61

Her maiden Train strait gathers close about,
And with a Jewel each one ready stands.
To her dear Work she falls; and as she wrought,
A sweet Creation followèd her hands:
Upon her knee apace the Table grew
And every figure to the Texture flew.

62

As active fancy in a midnight's dream
With strange extemporal dexterity
What Scenes, what Throngs, what Worlds she lists doth frame,
Making the most divided things agree,
And most united snarle; though in a scant
Nook of the brain her spacious works be pent.

63

So wrought this nimble Artist, and admir'd
Her self to see the Work march on so fast.
Surely th'ambitious History desir'd
To this new dignity amain to haste,
And purchase to its single ruby beams
The various Lustres of ten thousand Gems.

64

The hindmost features forward crowd; for all
Would needs thrust in, and rather choose to be
Justled, and press'd, and nipp'd into a small
(Yet fully glorious) epitomy;
Than in that little Dwelling loose their seat,
Where sweet Contraction made their worth more great.

65

And now the Girdle proves a Throng, which in
Each several Gem did find an Union:
But eminent above the rest did shine:
The lovely Master of the business, John;
One-different John, who, as the Work doth rise,
Lives, preaches, washes, suffers prison, dies.

66

Th'Imbroidery finish'd thus: that with more speed
She might present it to her mighty Son,
She gives command her Birds be harnessèd:
Quick as the Word, her ready Maidens run,
And from the shore of her next milky spring
Five pair of her immortal Pigeons bring.

67

Her Coach was double gilt with that pure Light
Whose grosser part fills Phœbus' face with glory:
Not glaring, like his eyes, but Mild and White,
And shining like its Owner's Virgin-story.
The Reins were cloath'd in whitest silk, to hold
Some 'semblance to the Hand which them controll'd.

68

The gentle Birds bow'd down their willing head
Not to be yoakèd, but adornèd by
The dainty harness: Joy and Triumph spread
Their wings, who well knew whether they should fly.
Strait nimble She into her Chariot step'd,
Which glad and proud to bear Her, upward leap'd.

69

As through the whirling Orbs She faster flies,
The glittering Girdle to the Stars She shows:
They twinckled strait, asham'd of their faint eyes,
Round all the dazl'd Zodiac which throws
His spangled Cincture o'r the slippery Spheres
To keep in order and gird up the Years.

70

Orion's Blush confess'd how much this sight
Outvy'd the glories which about him flow:
His yielding countenance fell, and to the bright
Triumphant Apparition did bow;
Three times he try'd, and studiously felt
How to unbuckle his out-shinèd Belt.

71

But mounting to the soverain Palace, She
Hastes in to her expecting Lord and lays
Her face and Work upon his footstool: He
Her curious pains with high approof repays;
Yet, on this Ground had thine own Story grown,
The Girdle would, said He, have fairer shown.

72

Then to his royal Cabinet He goes,
Which Spirits of gold, and Souls of Gems inshrines;
And having from that heart of Richness chose
The softest Drops, He in one Jewel twines
Such Rarities as my tongue cannot tell;
But thy dear Soul their ravishments shall feel.

73

For to the Girdle straitly linking it,
He deign'd to grace Me who stood wondring by;
Take this, said He, and see how it will fit
Thine and my Psyche's: But be sure to ty
It on so close, that by this Token She
May understand how near She is to Me.

74

The second hour's scarce entring since I took
It, and my leave: and here the Present is,
Come, wipe thine eyes; a purified look
Is but a due debt where the sight is Bliss.
This said, the Girdle's volume ope he threw,
Whence a full volley of Light's weapons flew.

75

But as the rural Swain, whose courser eyes
Ne'r star'd on other beauteous things than what
Begay the simple fields; when first he spies
His Prince's Wardrope ope, quite through is shot
With wondring fear, and much doubts least it be
Treason in him such royal sights to see:

76

So mortal Psyche was dismay'd at this
Immortal Spectacle's first flash: When He
Cries out, Error cheats and frights thee thus?
This Zone's not torrid though it flaming be;
Nor sent thy Spouse this Token to destroy
Thine Eye's, but diet them with sparkling Joy.

77

Feed then and feast them here; whilst I in it
Interpret this rich dialect to Thee
Which Mary's needle hath so fairly writ,
And taught dumb Colours eloquent to be.
These words reliev'd the dazl'd passion
Of Psyche's eyes, and Phylax thus begun:

78

See'st thou that Fabric there, which lifts so high
Its glistering head, and scorns to pay the Sun
Homage for any beams, since Sanctity
Flames round about it, and 'twixt every stone
Lies thicker than the Cement? know that this
Illustrious Pile, the Jewish Temple is.

79

Forty-six years had run their race, and spent
Their own upon Heav'n's lasting Orbs, before
This Structure gainèd its first complement:
But here a moment rais'd it, and to more
Pomp than proud Herod's Treasury could dress:
These Stones grew in a richer mine than His.

80

That reverend Senior whose high-miter'd Head
Points out his heav'nly Office, is the Priest.
Plain in his awful Countenance thou maist read
What his Attire proclaims: were He undrest,
He still with virtues would arraièd be,
Who now clothes holy Robes with Sanctity.

81

His left hand on his sealèd mouth he lays,
His right he backward to the Altar stretches;
His eyes are full of talk; his gestures' phrase
Without a tongue, his Mind's oration Preaches.
At length that throng of People there, began
To guess the Sense, and what befel the man.

82

Whilst on the Incense-altar He did place
Its aromatic fuel, and supply
What Heat or Sweetness there deficient was
By many a fervent Vow and precious Sigh;
His Cloud out-flew the fainting Incense smoak,
And stoutly through Heav'n's highest stories broke.

83

Where as it roll'd, an Angel leaps upon
Its odorous back, and posteth down to Earth;
Hither he steers his flight; his station
He by that Altar takes; and there breathes forth
A sweet repayment unto Zachary
Of what his Soul had panted out so high.

84

Behold, says he, thy Vows and Prayers are
Come back to fill thy bosom with success:
No Messenger am I of fright or fear;
Trust Me, and trust thy privilegèd Bliss:
Thine Heart, so fruitful in sublime Affection,
Hath for thy Body earn'd an high Production.

85

Thy dear Elisa, who is join'd to Thee
As near in Virtue's as in Wedlock's Tie,
Shall bear a Son, in whom thine eyes shall see
The fruit of both those Knots; a Son so high
In Heav'n's esteem, that God thinks fit to frame
His sacred Title; John must be his Name.

86

A Name of high Ingredients, God, and Grace:
For ne'r was Man so grac'd by God, as He.
His Life shall justify before the face
Of all the World this Etymology.
Needs must that Name infallible Success
Assert, where God the Nomenclator is.

87

A Son of smiles and Gladness he shall prove,
Making thine agèd heart young with Delight.
On his birthday together Joy and Love
Shall spring with Him, and take their blessèd flight
To thousand Souls, where they shall sit and tell
What Hopes, what Wonders in thy Infant dwell.

88

When friendliest Stars had their propitious powers
Join'd in the straitest league of Love, to crown
With Fortune's own blest Soul the native hours
Of noblest Princes; they were never known
To dart so much of kind Heav'n down to earth,
As forth shall break at His auspicious Birth.

89

For in his own Creator's mighty Eye,
(In which the burly bulk of all this World
Less than the simplest Atom shows, which by
The feeble Air in scorn about is hurl'd,)
Great shall thy Son appear; Let Doubting go,
Immensity resolves to make him so.

90

For whilst he nestles in the narrow Cell
Of thine Elisa's womb, the Spirit of Heav'n
(Much vaster than its boundless Realm) shall fill
His breeding Heart: which, when it once is thriven
Unto a pitch mature, shall nobly prove
To Earth, how it by Heav'n alone doth move.

91

No boistrous roaring Wine, or rampant Drink
Shall his sweet lip deflour: his Cup must be
Fed on some virgin-fountain's crystal brink,
To teach his Palate too Virginity:
For in his sacred veins no fire must flow,
But what Heav'n's Spirit pleaseth there to blow.

92

With which brave fire He Israel must refine;
Israel, o'regrown with rust and filth: and so
Chastise and cleanse the Way where his divine
Redeemer means close after him to go.
For nobler flames ne'r warm'd Elijah's breast,
Than in thy Son's shall make their gallant nest.

93

So spake the wing'd Ambassadour, but Doubt
Ran shivering through the Old man's jealous heart:
Through his uncertain Eye Dismay look'd out;
And his sear joints did too-too nimbly start.
Thus vain fear forc'd the Priest himself to be
A sacrifice to Infidelity.

94

And this Reply he sigh'd: Decayèd, I
Alas want blood to paint a Blush at this
Too worthy News: Can fifty Summers fly
Back, and with Youth my wither'd Spirits bless!
Frost in my veins, and Snow upon my Head
Bid me already write, More than half dead.

95

Nor in Elisa doth less Deadness live:
How then in two such Winters can there grow
A Spring whose sudden Vigorousness may give
New Lives to Us, and make them overflow
Into a third? Sweet Angel, thy strange Word
May well some Sign to cheer my faith afford.

96

Sure then thou know'st not Me, the Angel cries;
Wer't thou aware that Gabriel I am,
Who in the Presence-chamber of the skies
Attend on God and his Almighty Lamb;
From purest Verity's eternal Home
Thou would'st not dare to dream that fraud could come.

97

Yet shalt thou have a Sign; and I will fast
Seal't on thy faithless Tongue which askèd it.
Mute shall that Tongue remain, until thou hast
Seen what thou would'st not credit: Then I'l let
The Pris'ner loose again, that it may sing
A Benedictus to its gracious King.

98

That stiptic Word full in the Priest's face flew,
And fastned mystic chains upon his Tongue.
He strait rejoyc'd to feel his Censure true;
And with his eyes and heart forestall'd his Song.
He thinks and looks his earnest Hymn, and pays
For his dumb Punishment, his silent Praise.

99

But now observe that sober Matron there,
Through whose well-poisèd eyes sage Chastity
Her reverend prospect takes: Lo how the dear
And trusty Promise in her Womb grows high;
Which by still swelling tacitly confesses
The same the Muteness of her Spouse expresses.

100

Mark that most humbly-gentle Stranger come
To see her pregnant Cosen: Her array
Is plain and poor; her Looks still seem at home,
So closely cloyster'd in their veil are they:
Spectators were so much her Dread, that she
Ev'n in this Girdle would not viewèd be.

101

She would not viewèd be, yet shines more bright
Than all the rest, because herself she clouds.
So the most pure and star-like Hypocrite
Of all the Tribe of sparks, is that which shrowds
Its bashfull Lustre in th'unlikely nest
Of the cold flint's ignoble swarthy breast.

102

'Tis She whose Handy-work the Girdle is,
And who upon herself least cost bestows;
She, whose salute with ravishment did seize
Elisa's heart. See how her arms she throws
In wide astonishment; how fain would those
Pearls which have op'd her mouth, her words disclose;

103

All Glories which our female Tribe have crown'd,
Cry'd she, shrink in their conquer'd eyes, to see
Those brighter Blessings which in Thee abound,
Thou Miracle of Virgin-pregnancy.
All Happiness dwells in thy God; and He
Takes up his mansion now in chosen Thee.

104

For when thy Salutation through mine ear
Shed Heav'n into my heart; the Babe which lay
Listning within me, prov'd that he did hear,
And ken the language too: nor would he stay
To act his triumph in some larger room,
But, for his dancing-house, leap'd in my womb.

105

He by thy voice well knew that WORD which was
Within, and finding now his Lord so near,
Thought it high time to be at work, and as
He might, begin his active Office here:
A true fore-runner, who doth leap unborn;
Unto his Lord's strange Day, a wonderous Morn.

106

See'st thou that knot of buisy Jewels there,
Whose cheerly Looks some happy News proclaim?
The Infant's born, and those his Kinsfolks are,
At Circumcision's Rites: but for his Name
A kind Dispute makes their loves disgree;
All these will have it none but Zachary.

107

His holy father's Name will sit most fair
Upon the Son, say they, who now doth rise
The long-expected and miraculous Heir,
From whom may flow a Brood of Zacharies.
The Eagle's Progeny must needs inherit
As well their father's princely Name, as Spirit.

108

O no! the Mother cries, mis-call him not;
His Name, before himself, conceivèd was,
Surely wise Heav'n best understandeth what
Title will fit its Gifts. Might I the case
Resolve, my honor'd Spouse's Name alone
I would prefer; but Heav'n hath chosen John.

109

So hot the kind Contention grew, that now
To Zacharie's decision they run.
See where He writes: that golden leaf doth show
The Oracle's Decree: His Name is John.
In what fair equipage those Letters stand!
For Marie's finger here did guide his hand.

110

No sooner had his pen drop'd that sweet Name,
But his long-frozen Tongue again was thawn:
For Gabriel (though undiscernèd) came
To melt the chain which he on it had thrown.
The Captive, glad of this Releasment, dances,
And with inspirèd Lays his Joys advances.

111

Behold his friends in that admiring Throng,
Whose eys and hands Amazement lifts so high,
To see at length his dead and buried Tongue
Revive, and yield a vocal Progeny
Of holy Praise: thus strangely answering
That Birth which from his cold dry body sprung.

112

That featherèd and party-colored Thing
Who to her puffing mouth a Trump doth set,
And hastens hence with ready-stretchèd wing,
Is noble fame; which posteth to transmit
These Miracles in such a sound as may
Through every ear and heart command its way.

113

Look where she's perch'd now upon yonder Hill,
And on that advantageous Theatre
Doth all the Quarters of Judea fill
With stranger News than ever thundred there.
Thus John, who came to be a Voice, doth in
Fame's and his Father's Tongue, his Cry begin.

114

But there the Scene is chang'd, where Desolation
Was sole Inhabitant, until that one
Poor Ermite chose his tamest habitation
Amidst its Wildness: That plain Thing is John.
'Tis strange how Mary taught such Gems to seem
So vile a garb, as here becloudeth him.

115

That Cincture stands but for a thong of Leather,
That Vestiment for a coat of Camel's Hair:
The sum of all his Wardrobe was no other
But what upon his simple self he bare.
No Riches will I own, said noble He,
But what may make me rich in Poverty.

116

I know my Dust; nor shall my flesh and Blood
Flatter my heart into forgetfulness,
That they are sentenc'd to become the food
Of Putrifaction: and why should I dress
Corruption's seeds in Beautie's livery,
And be a painted Tomb before I dy?

117

I'l rob no Ermyn of his dainty skin
To make mine own grow proud: No cloth of gold
To me shall dangerous emulation win:
I live to live; I live not to be sold:
And fine enough this Clod of mine shall be
In Weeds which best will suit Humility.

118

Let Scarlet's Blush the guilty Court attend,
Let wanton Silk smile on the Gallant's back,
Let pure and snowy-countnanc'd Linen lend
Its own to those who other Whiteness lack:
My Bravery must be, an Eye to please
Which reads no beauty in such Joys as these.

119

Let gaudy fashion-mongers day by day
Misshape themselves, and vex their giddy Brain
About some upstart Cut or Garb, which they
Were never yet disfigur'd with: in vain
Striving to catch the fashion, which is still
Like Phœbe's face, but one day at the full.

120

My fashion constant as my Nature is,
Which taught me it: Nor is the Sun midway
His race e'r I have travell'd through my Dress.
The same East op's mine eyes, which op's the Day;
And I'm as soon attir'd as wak'd, who ne'r
Do any other but my Bed-cloths wear.

121

This hairy Covering is my only Bed,
My shirt, my cloke, my gown, my every-thing.
When over it these several Names I read,
His furniture I well can spare the King,
The tumult of whose store yeilds no supply
So fully fit, as my Epitomy.

122

Mark now that bubling Crystal, Psyche, there;
That spring's the living Cellar of the Saint:
Thence do's he draw his tame and virgin beer,
And makes his Blood with those cool streams acquaint:
Cool streams indeed; yet such as best agree
With fervent flames of noblest Piety.

123

No Kitchin he erects, to be the shop
Wherein to forge his Bellie's ammunition:
His Table's full as cheap as is his cup,
And no less stor'd with fountains of provision;
This Region doth him his Catès afford,
And even his Habitation is his Board.

124

His common Diet those poor Locusts are;
And when he feasts, he lifts but up his head,
And strait those courteous Trees, to mend his fare,
Into his Mouth sincerest honey shed.
Nor turns he down that Mouth, untill it has
Pay'd for its sweet feast by a sweeter Grace.

125

Here with himself he do's converse: a rare
And painful thing, when Men in Presses dwell;
Where whilst on those who crow'd them, still they stare,
Unhappy they, alas, though too-too well
Skillèd in all their Neighbors, never come
To be acquainted with themselves at home.

126

The rest of his Acquaintance dwelt on high,
Beyond his eye's reach, but within his heart's:
For with what speed brave Lightnings downward fly,
Through every stage of heav'n, this upward darts:
Nor will its sprightful journey bounded be
By any Rampart but Immensity.

127

At God it aims, nor ever fails to hit
Its blessèd mark, whilst on strong Prayer's wings,
Or Contemplation's, it steers its flight:
And rank'd above with joyous Angels sings,
Admires, adores, and studies to forget
There is a Breast below which wanteth it.

128

How often has his fainting Body made
Complaint of his injurious Piety!
How often has it cry'd, I am betray'd;
My life and spirits all away do fly
And smile in Heav'n, whilst I below am left
To live this Death, of death and life bereft.

129

He fetch'd no bold Materials from the deep
Bowels of any Marble Mine, to raise
A daring Fabric which might scorn the steep
Torrent of headlong Time; as if his Days
And years had been his own, and he might here
Lord of his life for ever domineer.

130

He knew the least Blast's indignation might
His brittle Dust and Ashes blow away:
He knew most certain Death's uncertain Night
Lurk'd in the bosom of his vital Day:
He knew that any House would serve him, who
Look'd for no Home so long's he dwelt Below.

131

That Cave his Palace was, both safe and strong,
Because not kept by jealous Door nor Bar:
Those Groves his Gardens, where he walk'd among
The family of Dread, yet knew no fear:
For fear's wild Realm is not the Wilderness,
But that soul Breast where Guilt the dweller is.

132

Those Bears, those Boars, those Wolves, whose ireful face
Strikes terror into other Mortal Eyes,
With friendly Mildness upon him did gaze,
As on sweet Adam in calm Paradise.
They slander'd are with savageness; no spleen
They bear to Man, but to Man's poison, Sin.

133

So wild, so black, and so mis-shap'd a Beast
Is Sin, that other Monsters it defy
As a more Monstrous thing than they, and cast
About how to revenge it: But the eye
And Port of Purity so reverend are,
That Beasts most fearèd wait on it with fear.

134

The beams of this Angelic Life at last
Broke out, and summon'd in new Admiration;
For Man at length, that duller, ruder Beast,
Is by these Brutes convinc'd to imitation.
Behold that thronging Rout which hither flies;
See how they stare, and scarce believe their Eys.

135

These Deserts nothing less than desert seem,
Being crowded from themselves, and now become
Jurie's thick Towns, and fair Jerusalem,
Which hither have remov'd their populous Home.
What now has John lost by his private Cell,
To which whole Towns and Cities flock to dwell?

136

Thus generous Honor righteously disdains
Ev'n to be touched by th'high-panting reach
Of bold Ambition: but through hills and plains,
And dens and caves, and Deserts' hunts, to catch
The modest fugitive, whom Worth doth hurry
From Worth's Reward, and makes afraid of Glory.

137

His Auditory now so ample grown,
The noble Ermite is resolv'd to Preach:
Behold, says he, that promis'd Glorie's Dawn,
(Which to behold, the Patriarchs did reach
Their necks and eyes through many a shady thing)
In your horizon now begins to spring.

138

O fail ye not to meet his gracious Beams
With undefilèd hearts; for such is He;
And will Baptize you with refinèd streams
Of searching fire, that you may Metal be
Of pure alloy, and, signèd with his face
And Motto, through his Realm for current pass.

139

Let not that Power of Spots and Blots, which in
Your Souls now reigns, make you despair to be
Freed from the nasty bondage of your Sin,
For you aforehand shall be Wash'd by me:
My water for his fire the way prepares,
As for my water must your hearty Tears.

140

Observ'st thou, Psyche, how that silver stream
Its limpid self doth through the Girdle wind:
This Jordan is, and there the People seem
At busy crowding strife who first should find
A better Baptism in those floods, which may
Their fruitless Legal Washings wash away.

141

But mark that grateful He: how sweet his eye,
How delicate and how divine his face
Embellish'd with heart-conquering Majesty!
Were't thou to choose thy Spouse, wouldst thou no place
Thy soul to Him? 'Tis He: O no, it is
As much of Him as Jewels can express.

142

To be Baptisèd, but not cleans'd, comes He,
Who is more spotless than that living Light
Which gilds the crest of Heav'n's sublimity:
He comes, by being washèd to wash white
Baptism itself, that it henceforth from Him
And his pure Touch, with Purity may swim.

143

As when amongst a gross ignoble crowd
Of flints and pebbles and such earth-bred stones
An heaven-descended Diamond strives to shroud
Its luster's brave ejaculations;
Although it 'scapes the test of vulgar eyes,
The wiser Ieweller the Gem descries:

144

So most judicious John's descerning eye
This Stranger's shy but noble splendor read.
Besides, when others to their Baptism by
A penitent Confession prefacèd,
He wav'd that useless Circumstance, and so
Himself conceal'd, yet intimated too.

145

See how Suspense astounds the Baptist: for
The Promis'd sign his Master to descry
Appearèd not: this made his just Demur
Dispute the case, and resolutely cry,
If thou art spotless, fitter 'tis for me
Who sinful am, to be baptiz'd by thee.

146

But when his Lord reply'd, For once let me
Prevail, since thus alone we must fulfil
The sum of righteousness; ambiguous He
Felt sacred Aw surprize his trembling Will:
He mus'd, and guess'd, and hoverèd about
The glimmering Truth with many a yielding thought.

147

Which Jesus seeing, He upon him threw
The urgent yoak of an express Injunction;
Whose virtue forthwith efficacious grew,
And made the meek Saint bow to his high function.
Cast but thine eye a little up the stream,
Wading in Crystal there thou seest Them.

148

Old Jordan smil'd, receiving such high Pay
For those small pains obedient he had spent
Making his water's guard the dryèd way
Through wonders when to Canaan Israel went.
Nor do's he envy now Pactolus' streams
Or eastern flouds, whose paths are pav'd with Gems.

149

The waves came crowding one upon another
To their fair Lord their chaste salute to give:
Each one did chide and justle back his brother,
And with laborious foaming murmur strive
To kiss those Feet, and so more spotless grow,
Than from its virgin spring it first did flow.

150

But those most happy Drops the Baptist cast
On Life's pure head, into the joyless Sea
Which borroweth from Death its stile, made haste,
And soon confuted that sad Heraldry:
The Deep that day reviv'd, and clapt his hands,
And roll'd his smiles about his wondring strands.

151

See there thy Spouse is on the bank, and more
Than Heav'n flown down and pitch'd upon his head:
That snowy Dove which perchèd heretofore
High on the all-illustrious Throne of God,
Hath chose this seat, nor thinks it a Descent
On such high terms to leave the Firmament.

152

For wheresoever Jesus is, although
In the profoundest sink of black Disgrace,
Still Glory triumphs in his soveraign brow,
Still Majesty holds its imperial place
In the bright Orb of his all-lovely Eye;
Still most depressèd He remains Most High.

153

And Heav'n well-witness'd this strange truth, which in
That wondrous instant op'd its mouth and cry'd,
This is my Darling Son, in whom do shine
All my Joy's Jewels. O how far and wide
That Voice did fly, on which each Wind gat hold,
And round about the World the Wonder told.

154

From hence to Court the valiant Baptist goes,
Where Lusty sins no less than Herod reign:
Meek Sanctity had arm'd him well with those
Proud Enemies a combat to maintain.
He who dares nothing but his Maker fear,
Against all Monsters may proclaim a War.

155

Behold how Pomp besots great Herod there:
O what imposthumes of fond Majesty
Pride puffs into his face! Durst there appear
A Censor now a just Truth to apply
Home to the King, and tell him that his eyes
Should rather swell with Tears, his breast with Sighs?

156

Yes, there the Heav'n-embravèd Preacher is,
Who therefore in strong pity melts to see
A Prince made Subject to vile wickedness.
Great Sir, the Match unlawful is, cries he:
O far be it from Kings to break the Law,
For whose defence so strong their Scepters grow.

157

Since to thine own Commands, just duty Thou
Expectest from thy Subjects; let thy neck
Not scorn to thine own Maker's yoke to bow.
The Precedent may dangerous prove, and wrack
Thy throne and kingdom, if thy People read
Highest Rebellion's Lesson in their Head.

158

Thy Brother's Wife to Him as near is ty'd
As He himself; O tear him not in sunder:
You murder him alive when you divide
His Dearest Unity: The worst of Plunder
Is Mercy, if compar'd with this, which doth
By tearing off one half, unravel both.

159

Live, live O King, and flourish; live for ever;
Yet not for works of Death, but Acts of Life.
Death's proper hateful office 'tis to sever
The loving Husband from his lawful Wife:
But He his wrath as yet deferrèd hath;
O why wilt Thou more cruel be than Death!

160

God who made this enclosure, hedging Her
In to her Philip, still hath left to Thee
And thy free choice, an open Champain, where
Millions of sweet and virgin Beauties be.
Adorn thy bed with any one beside,
Only thy Brother's must not be thy Bride.

161

Must not? th'Adulteress cry'd (for she was by)
Whether is Herod, or that Youngling, King?
And shall the Acts of awful Majesty
Be flouted by this upstart pratling Thing?
My bodkin burns his traytorous tongue to bore,
And make it sure for preaching Me a Whore.

162

Be thou content my Dear, the King replies,
Strait I'l revenge thy Wrong, for 'tis mine own.
Rebellion's fiery Boils may likelier rise
From his invenom'd Words against my Crown,
Than from our spotless Match; which Heav'n long bless!
Drag him to Prison, he shall smart for this.

163

(Unhappy Truth, how gains vain flattery
More grace and freedom in the Court than Thou,
Who mightst secure and prosper Majesty,
Whilst that doth Lies, and Traps, and Poisons strew!
Who though thou meek and poor and naked art,
Yet bear'st a valiant and loyall heart!)

164

Deep in the City's bottom sunk there was
A Goal, where Darkness dwelt and Desolation:
Through all the Town's proud Taunts inforc'd to pass,
In glorious patience and meek exultation:
The Saint is thither hurried, and down
Into the miry dungeon headlong thrown.

165

So when unworthy Chance doth prostitute
Some noble Jewel unto sordid Swine,
The senseless Beasts unable to compute
Their Prize's worth, or read those beams which shine
With love-commanding beauty, rudely tread
Into the vilest dirt its precious head.

166

These rude dead walls, with stones almost as hard
As that which for a heart did serve the King,
The Pris'ner up in a new desart barr'd:
Yet his free Contemplation still did bring
Heav'n's latitude into those straits, and swell
With Angels and with God that lesser Hell.

167

This is his noble Company, and He
More liberty doth in his Goal enjoy,
Than foolish Herod, though his Tetrarchy
Op's to his loosest Lusts so wide a way.
Vice is the foulest Prison, and in this
Not John, but Herod the close Pris'ner is.

168

Yet Herod thinks not so: (what pity 'tis
Vain Thought and Fancy thus the scale should sway,
And ponderous Reason's sober solidness
Like light and idle froth be cast away!)
For this smart Preacher thus imprison'd, He
Judges himself, and all his Pleasures free.

169

And in that freedom means to celebrate
That Day which gave him welcome from the womb;
To crown which Ceremony with bright state,
His glittering Nobles all to Court must come,
That Men might in the splendor of each Guest
Read his magnificence who makes the Feast.

170

Abundant choice of every lusty Beast
Was hither brought: No Bird so dear and rare,
But it was fetchèd from its highest Nest
To build in some quaint py or platter here.
To Noah's Ark scarce came a thicker Croud
For life, than to be slain there hither flow'd.

171

The Ocean too streams in to fill this brim
Of more than spring-tide superfluity:
Large shoals of wanton fishes here must swim
In aromatic ponds of spicery;
That Herod's ominous Birth-Day forth may bring
A needless Death to every kind of thing.

172

Ambition was chief steward of the Feast;
Both Cook and Cater liquorish Luxury;
Only Lust mix'd the gallant sauce, and drest
The choice inflaming Dainties of the Sea.
Lo there the King is with his Nobles set,
And all the crouded Table smoaks with meat.

173

Intemperance attended on the board,
And crown'd with sparkling Wine each foaming Cup.
The King's health first went round, which every Lord
Drowning his own in it, hasts to drink up;
And loudly prays, His life as full may be
Of years, as they the Board of dishes see.

174

Next to the Queen their ranting homage they
All in a like drink-offering sacrifice,
And heap upon her second Nuptial day
The garlands of their courtliest flatteries;
Darting on Philip scorn's ignoble Wit,
Whom as the Married Widdower they twit.

175

Then wild with proud excess, bowl after bowl
Are to their female Idols pourèd down.
So monstrous were those Draughts, that Bacchus' soul
Had now all theirs subdu'd, and King was grown
Of them and of their Prince; who belching cries,
Enough of this feast; now let's feed our eys.

176

For he the young Herodias had spy'd;
Whose face no sooner dawnèd in the Hall,
But an inchanting meretricious Tide
Of sweets and Graces overflows them all.
Doubled her Looks' and Dresses' beauties be,
Because her fond Spectators double see.

177

No Syren ever on the watry stage
Did act so true, a false but lovely part,
The gazing careless Seaman to engage
In the delicious shipwrack of his heart:
Nor e'r was dangerous Sea so deep and wide
As in her narrow breast this Nymph did hide.

178

Behold her there: What studièd neglect
Upon her shoulders pours her tresses down!
How is her breast with Gems' allurements deckt,
Yet wins more eys and wishes by its own;
Whose speaking nakedness itself commends,
And lustful Fancies to what's cover'd sends.

179

Yea ev'n her quaint Attire all thin and light
With gorgeous hypocrisy doth lay
More open what it would deny the sight,
And whilst it stops, invites into the way.
About she swims; and by a courtly Dance
Her other beauties' value doth enhance.

180

All Eyes and Hearts trip after Her, as she
About the Hall her graceful motions measures:
No nimble Turn can in the Galiard be,
But Herod's brains turn too: who by these pleasures
Again seems drunk, and to his surfeit doth
Give ease by vomiting his plotted Oath.

181

By heav'n and my own Majesty, he cries,
This Dance, sweet Daughter, must not want reward:
For never Venus traversèd the skies,
With a more Soul-commanding Galiard.
Let thy Demand be high; for though it be
Half of my Realm, 'tis wholly due to Thee.

182

A cunning Blush in her well-tutor'd face
This mighty Promise kindled: to the ground
Three times she bows, and with a modest grace
Minces her spruce retreat, that she might sound
Her Mother's counsels, in whose joyfull ear
She chirps the favor Herod offer'd her.

183

The salvage Queen, whose thirst not all the Wines
At that great Feast could quench, unless they were
Brew'd with the richer blood of John, inclines
Her Daughter to request this boon for her.
I ne'r shall think, said she, that Herod is
Mine, or his Kingdom's Head, whilst John wears his.

184

Thou knowst my Wrongs, and with what pain I wear
The Name of Whore his Preachment on me pinn'd:
Help then my righteous vengeance on, and tear
Away this Grief which knaws thy Mother's mind.
This was enough: back flies the Damsel, and
Thus sweetens o'r her barbarous Demand:

185

As long as Heav'n's great King, may Herod reign;
And blessèd be this undeservèd Day
Wherein thine Handmaid doth such favor gain,
That half thy Kingdom shall not say me Nay;
For real is thy royal Word: But why
Should a poor Maid's ambition tow'r so high?

186

That mighty Promise well became the King,
That like thy self thy Bounty might appear.
But Heav'n forbid that I so vile a Thing,
Thy Scepter's glories should in sunder tear,
And break mine arm with Half of that Command
Whose Total is too little for thy Hand.

187

A slender Gift more equal Pay will be
To my Desert; Grant me but my just will
Over one wretchèd Worm which knaweth thee
And thy whole Stock: So shall the King fulfil
His royal Word: I only crave His head
Whose Tongue deflour'd your and my Mother's Bed.

188

But at this impudently-meek Request
Strait, startled Herod from the Table flings;
His locks and beard he tears, he beats his breast,
His teeth he gnashes and his hands he wrings;
He stares, he sighs, he weeps, and now seems more
With sorrow drunken, than with Wine before.

189

Alas, alas, he cries, what have I done!
O that my Kingdom might my Word recall!
How shall I help thee now, unhappy John,
Who in my Promise preach'd thy Funeral!
As thee thy careless Tongue a Pris'ner made,
So my rash lips have thee to death betray'd.

190

O that to day my Lords had not been here
The solemn Witnesses of my great Vow!
Must Death intrude, and his black Warrant bear
Date, on my sadly-joyous Birthday? How
Shall I unsnarle my Promise, and contrive
That both my Honor and the Saint may live!

191

Both cannot live; O that poor Herod were
Some private Man, that so he might be free
Of his Repute! But Prince's honors are
The People's too; and by Community
The guiltless Body would be perjurèd,
Should I my self forswear who am their Head.

192

Let my sad shipwrack steer you to the bay
Of cautious safety: Ne'r let Mirth and Wine
Your Tongues unbridle, and such fetters lay
On your best freedom as are thrown on mine.
Enslav'd am I, though King, by one wild Word,
And my own Promise is my cruel Lord.

193

A Lord which forces me to bath my sword
Deep in the veins of my most choice Delight:
What glimpse can all my Kingdom me afford
Of worthy joy, if my own Sentence fight
Against my heart's best Wish; if I alone
Must murder what I honor, holy John?

194

And must John die? bear witness all how loth
This fatal Word falls from my forcèd lip,
To recompence the too too hasty Oath
Which from Imprudence, not from Me did slip.
Then take his Head: Yet never say that I
Issu'd this Warrant, but Necessity.

195

Thus strove the Tyrant by a comely Ly
The visage of his hideous Hate to paint,
Least in the Damsel's Dance his Policy
Might seem to have been mask'd against the Saint.
Thus dreads He his unlawful Vow to break,
But fears not Lust with guiltless Blood to back.

196

'Twas plain, his finite though outrageous Vow
Did prostitute but half his Realm: and why
Must then the bloody Hypocrite bestow
More than the whole? what Prodigality
Is this, mad Herod? for John's Head alone
Is worth more than thy Kingdom, or thine own.

197

Lo there the last Dish of great Herod's Feast,
The Martyr's fair Head in a Charger lay'd:
He smiles within, though clouds his face o'r-cast,
And feeds his Soul on it, but that proud Maid
Knowing her Mother by this Death would live,
In triumph takes the Dish, and takes her leave.

198

The royal Beldame in suspense did wait
To reap her sprightful stratagem's event:
And seeing now the bloody Present, strait
Grown young with salvage joy, her high Content
She to her dancing Daughter signifies,
In her own tripping and lascivious guise.

199

Then like a fell she-Bear, whose long-wish'd Prey
Is fall'n at last into her hungry paws:
She tears the sacred Lips and rends a way
Unto the reverend Tongue; which out she draws,
And with most peevish Wounds and scornful Jests
Her womanish Revenge upon it feasts.

200

But mark that Convoy of illustrious Light
Which makes from this low World such joyful haste:
The better Part of John there takes its flight
Unto a greater King's than Herod's feast,
Being from this Earth, that Goal, his Body,—three
Prisons to heav'nly Him,—at once set free.

201

The Prophets and the Patriarchs gave way,
When they this greater Saint approaching saw;
Who now at anchor lies in Blisse's Bay,
Far from those storms he grappled with below;
And sweetlier rests in Abraham's bosom, than
In that adulterous King's the lustful Queen.

202

This is the Story which the Virgin-Mother
Hath round about thy Girdle made to live:
Yet lives it not, comparèd with this other
Immortal Jewel, which thy Spouse did give
To crown the rest, and tie up all the story
In one divine Epitome of Glory.

203

Observe it well: but never let thy Tongue
Presume that any Eloquence's Dress
Can suit its beauties; which no Seraph's song
With due and equal sweetness can express.
The Angel here, his stately Lecture done,
Expected Psyche's approbation.

204

She, 'twixt Amazement and Delight divided,
Perusèd all the strange Imbroidery;
But when to that last Gem her eye she guided,
Excessive Joys so swell'd her soul, that she
Runs over with delicious tears, and cries,
Come Phylax, come, gird me with Paradise.

205

Content, said He, but then be sure to shrink
Your proper self alone within your self:
Severely strait's the Girdle; never think
That any supernumerary Pelf
Can find a room in this rich mansion, where
The outward Walls of solid Jewels are.

206

This said; before her self was well aware,
He nimbly buckling it about her heart,
Press'd forth this shrill Complaint: O Phylax spare
My squeesèd Soul, least from her self she start.
Loose, loose the Buckle! if the time be come
That I must die, at least afford me room.

207

Must I be girt to death, and not have space
To fetch one parting sigh before I die?
O me! whose sins have made my Spouse imbrace
Me with imbroyder'd tortures; so that I
The Riddle of unhappy Maidens, go
In travel with more than a Mother's Woe.

208

And so she did indeed: Such matchless Throws
And Pangs did sting her in her straitned heart;
At length her Grief she bringeth forth, and shows
Her wondering self the reason of her smart,
Whilst from her labouring breast she breaking sees
A shapeless Lump of foul Deformities.

209

Abortive Embryos, unformèd Lust,
Pinfeathered Fancies, and half-shap'd Desires,
Dim dawns of fondness, doubtful seeds of Rust,
Glimmering embers of corruptive Fires,
Scarce something, and yet more than nothing was
That mystic Chaos, that dead-living Mass.

210

O how tormenting is the Parturition
Of tender souls, when they unload themselves
Of their blind night-conceiv'd brats of Perdition!
O how the peevish and reluctant elves
(Mad with their own birth,) viperously contend
The worried bowels of the heart to rend!

211

This makes faint, foolish, Mortals oft prefer
The sad Reversion of eternal Pain,
Before this Conflict's pangs: So they may here
A quiet truce with their soft sins maintain;
They are content, though Hell must with their Grave
Set ope its mouth, and them as sure receive.

212

O bitter pleasantness of present Ease,
Which in thy bait Death's sharpest hook dost hide:
The most prodigious fatal Witcheries
Are harmless Joys to thee, who from the wide
Expansions of eternal Bliss canst Man
Seduce by rotten Joy's short flattering Span!

213

Psyche deliver'd of that monstrous Birth,
Finds her strict Girdle fit and easy grown,
Affording room for all the Train of Mirth
With which her bosom now was overflown:
She view'd the Newborn Heap, and viewing smil'd
Not out of love, but hate unto the Child.

214

As one from blind Cimmeria newly come,
Beyond his own ambition, into
Arabia's blessèd fields, and meeting room
Both for his eyes and joys; doth wondring go
Through those spice-breathing paths, and thinks that he
Doth now no less begin to Live than See:

215

So overjoyèd she admirèd now
The glorious Day new-risen in her breast,
Where carnal Clouds before would not allow
A constant beam to dwell; but overcast
Her soul's face with so gross a mist, that she
Nor Heav'n, nor what way led to it could see.

216

Her heart clear'd up, far fairer than the face
Of fresh Aurora wash'd in eastern streams:
Unspotted Thoughts flock'd in to take their place
In her pure bosom, which a garden seems
Of Lilies planted on warm beds of Snow,
Through which God's Spirit doth gales of odours blow.

217

All sublunary sweets she has forgot,
Nor thinks this bitter World can breed such things.
All Beauties to her eye are but one Blot:
All Bees to her are nothing else but stings:
All Loves are Hate: all Dalliance, Vexation:
All Blandishments, but Poison in the fashion.

218

For by this Girdle she His Pris'ner is
In whose alone the Name of Love she reads,
Whilst in the Languishments of softest Bliss
On dainty Torments her Delights she feeds;
Crying with mighty sighs, O Jesu when
Shall I have liv'd this Death, and Life begin!

219

What further business have I here below
In this vain World, whose joys I relish not!
Who is the Conqueror of my heart, but Thou?
And since thy Love this victory hath got,
Why must thy Captive not permitted be
To wait on thy triumphant Coach and Thee?

220

Though of thy Royal Scorn I worthy be,
Yet why wilt Thou thine own choice disallow?
If I had still neglected been by Thee,
This Body had not seem'd my Dungeon now:
But why's this Tast of Heav'n unto me deign'd,
If still to wretched Hell I must be chain'd?

221

To wretched Hell; for such is Earth to me;
And so would Heav'n be too, wer't Thou not there.
But to the gloomy Realm of Misery
Shouldst Thou remove thy Throne, I ne'r should dare
To any higher Paradise aspire,
Than what is planted in th'infernal fire.

222

O that some courteous Turtle me would lend
Her feather'd Oars, that I my soul might row
Up to the Port of my Desires, and blend
It with the Tide of bliss which there doth flow!
I never thought that Earth so low did ly,
Or that the Heav'n till now was half so high.

223

O why art Thou so lovely, if poor I
Must still live Exile from thy dearest Eyes!
This Token, Jesu, makes me louder cry
For Thee thy self, the far more pretious Prize.
O what will thy Supreme Imbraces be
If this small Cincture thus have ravish'd me!

224

I ravish'd am, and from Lust's swarthy flame
For ever by this blessèd Rape set free;
And yet by stronger Ardor spurrèd am
To be reveng'd on thy dear Love and Thee:
If I may be but thy domestic slave,
I of my Conqueror my Revenge shall have.

225

I yield, I yield, great Lord: Why must thy Dart
Be always killing Me, yet never slay
My ever-dying still-surviving Heart?
Why must thy furnace with my Torment play,
And burn, but not consume? O why, why must
I be no Mortal who am fragile Dust?

226

O cruel Absence! ne'r was present Hell
So true as thou unto its dismal Name!
O torturing Hope, which only dost reveal
A tempting glimpse of Light, but hid'st the flame
That so the sweetly-cheated Eye may be
Assur'd by that short sight, she doth not see.

227

Intolerable Joys, why smart you so?
What means this barbarous Rack of sweet Desires?
What makes my Tears so kindly-salvage now
As not to quench, but feed and mock my Fires?
Dear Girdle help! should'st heav'nly Thou be slack,
Soon would my overstretchèd heart-strings crack.

CANTO IV. The Rebellion.

The ARGUMENT.

Gall'd by severe Devotion's constant Reins,
The Senses and the Passions rebels prove:
Pride's voted General, who a while disdains
The Office his Ambition most did love.
Reason's surpris'd, and into Prison thrown:
The Will revolts, and Psyche's left alone.

1

Prosperity , how false art thou unto
Thy blessèd Name, who with a comly Cheat
Unwary Hearts so potently dost woo,
That thine unstable Bottom they forget;
And think thy foot sure on a Rock doth stand,
Whilst thy foundation is the faithless Sand.

2

The Day which smil'd so briskly in the Morn,
And left no frown in all the face of Heav'n,
E'r Ev'ning hath been made the Prey and Scorn
Of sullen Clouds, so furiously driven;
That Phœbus' stoutest help was all in vain,
When he the gaudy sky strove to maintain.

3

The Sea in winning looks demurely dress'd,
Hath often bid the Mariner been bold;
When strait an unsuspected storm hath press'd
Through the lamenting air, and having roll'd
Into a foaming mount the vexèd Deep,
In brine intombèd the presumptuous ship.

4

When all the glorious Realm of pure Delight,
Illustrious Paradise, waited on the feet
Of jolly Eve; she little thought that Spight
And envious Treason lurkèd in those sweet
Love-breathing Beds: yet there she met the fell
Serpent, and found in Heav'n the worst of Hell.

5

Eternal Change wheels all the Stars about:
What Patent then can seal Stability
To things below? How doth proud Fortune flout
The gayest Confidence which foolish We
Are not afraid to build; but vainly trust
Our Hopes are firm, whilst we our selves are dust!

6

Weak Dust, on which the least Wind domineers
Which through this mortal Life's faint climate blows;
A Life, which if not fenc'd by prudent Fears
And Jelaousies, its own self overthrows:
A Life so treacherous in its friendliest hue,
That Saints themselves have found its falseness true.

7

So true, that did not Heav'n's authentic Law;
And, what more sweetly binds, that Copy which
Heav'n's humble Son on his high self did draw,
The matchless worth of glorious Patience teach;
Not all the Joys the World and Life can give
Could charm their souls to be content to live.

8

For whilst all-ravish'd Psyche, feasts her heart
With amorous sighs and pains, and day by day
Riots and surfeits in delicious smart,
Which relish sweeter to her Soul than they
Who their too-tender studies fondly spent
To cherish Her with natural Content:

9

A knot of friends with Her together born,
And brought up under one soft roof of skin,
Began to stomach that imagin'd Scorn,
She heap'd on them; who thought their only Sin
Was too much Love to Her; a Crime which might
More Pardon challenge than Revenge invite.

10

'Tis true, said they, We now her Servants be:
And yet as truly are her Sisters too:
Nay were our native Seniority
Due privilege allow'd, we all should go
Before, and she, the youngling, come behind:
Sure she should not have found Us so unkind.

11

But now Sh' has chanc'd the upper hand to gain,
She makes Us feel it in her tyrannous Law.
So upstart Princes in their furious reign
Their weakness by their too much power show:
So paltry Currents, when swoll'n highest, pour
More rage than sober streams about the shore.

12

Our natural freedom We must not enjoy,
But when she lists; and O how seldom's that!
Great business she pretends both night and day,
Imploy'd about nor We nor she knows what.
It tickles Her, but hard on Us doth grate:
She calls it Love, but all we find it Hate.

13

Yet be it what it will, what's that to Us,
Who are not bound Her humors to fulfil
With our own Ruin? since her carriage thus
Is wild and rampant, why should we sit still
With desp'rate Patience, till we be undone?
What need we fear her? We are Five to One.

14

The worst that can befall us, is Destruction;
And that already gapes upon us heer:
But should kind Fortune's wings display Protection
Over our just Adventure, we shall stere,
To Safetie's Port; which way soe'r we Sail,
We can but Perish, and we may Prevail.

15

As when th'imprison'd wind in Earth below,
Vex'd with those straits, begins to rage and swell;
Its dungeon first it shakes, then forth doth blow
Its full-mouth'd indignation, and fill
The world with tumult, tearing down the trees,
Dismounting mountains, plowing up the seas:

16

So did their sullen murmur gather strength,
Unhappy strength, by mutinous degrees,
Boiling to such impatience, that at length
By flat rebellion they resolve to ease
Their overchargèd stomachs; being met
At council to contrive the venturous feat.

17

'Twas in an upper chamber dark and close,
Arch'd with thin Ivory: for their common seat
A white and soft and living couch they choose,
And then with fawning earnestness intreat
The Master of the house, that he would please
In Equitie's fair scales to weigh their case.

18

Grave He, whom vast experience had made
A Judge most competent in their esteem,
Smiling and nodding his assenting head,
Added this needless spur to headlong them:
Content, he cry'd, come let me hear your Plea:
'Tis just I to my friends should friendly be.

19

The pomp of my late Plenty I did ow
To your unwearied pains, which joy'd to bring
Crowds of all choice varieties which grow
In heav'n, or earth, or Sea: the wealthiest King
Could not outvy that furniture which you
To crown my Table daily did allow.

20

But now alas, I see my tribute's thin:
Some lazy sullen melancholic Things,
Guilty of their vile selves, come sneaking in:
But all your brisk and chearly Offerings
Are intercepted; and 'tis well that you
Begin, else I had been the Plaintiff now.

21

Glad were they all their reverend Censor spake
In their own discontented Dialect:
But strait their fond ambitions did awake
A strife who first should plead: In high neglect
Of all her Sisters, Opsis knit her brows,
And shot Scorn's arrows from those full-bent bows.

22

Who is your Queen, but I, who sit, said she,
High in the glories of my double throne,
Whilst all your motions regulated be
By my imperial direction:
Blind fools, what could you do, were't not for Me
In setting on our brave Conspiracy?

23

That proud Word from her mouth no sooner flew,
But Osphresis in high scorn snuff'd it up.
Coy Geusis bit her lips, which tumid grew
With boiling wrath, and scarce had pow'r to stop
Her tongue from railing vengeance: Acoe
Prick'd up her ears, and look'd as big as she.

24

But ireful Haphe least could rule her pride:
Imperious Dame, cry'd she, how durst poor thou,
Who in two little tender Cells are ty'd,
Such saucy scorn on all thy Sisters throw?
See not those eyes of thine my Empire spread
Through all the Body, ev'n from foot to head?

25

Who domineers but I, in and about
Thy total self? would not this single Nail

Be Arms enough to tear your Queen-ship out
From both your vain thrones? Nay should I assail
Thee with two wretched Motes, they would suffice
To damp that day in which thou prid'st thine eyes.

26

Thus mad Rebellion's always quarrelsom
Ev'n with itself. Had not their Judge made haste
To stifle their Contention in the womb,
Flat War had been brought forth: But in He cast
His peremptory Sentence: Hold, said He,
Your duty in my house, is to Agree.

27

This is the Main, how small soe'r it seems,
Whither all your several winding Courses tend:
Here do you pour in your concurrent streams,
And in this Sea of Sense your Rivers blend.
A Sea where never Tempest yet wag'd war;
Far be it then that Friends its Calm should tear.

28

The wrath of your impatient Spirits I
Applaud, as useful for bold Discontent:
But should the Nerves of your brave fury by
The frency of intestine War be rent;
More with your selves than with your Foe you'l fight,
And make her keep you slaves by your own might.

29

Highly I love you all, and could it be,
Would wish that every One might be Supreme.
'Tis true, what noble Haphe says, and she,
Most like my self, doth Universal seem:
Yet is she of a courser mixture, and
As well as highest, do's the lowest stand.

30

But gallant Opsis sprightful is and bright,
The glass of Heav'n above, an Heav'n below:
Her seat's completely highest; and the right
Of her Precedency her Beams do show.
She's all your Candle, and the way must lead;
Ev'n your own Interest for her doth plead.

31

Condemnèd Haphe, to this sentence paid
Scornful obedience; vowing not to speak
At all, or speak the last. But strait array'd
In joyous aspect, Opsis strove to wake
Her richest sweets, and let her sisters see
What cause she had to slight their poverty.

32

Yet what means joy to smile in these mine Eyes,
Said she, whilst cruel Psyche domineers,
And makes them worse than Blind? Could it suffice
Her now and then to set abroach my Tears,
I ne'r would for my Weeping mourn; but I,
Alas, in Grief's sink always steeping lie.

33

The Ocean with less constancy doth throw
Its tide of Salt upon th'afflicted shore,
Than from my springs the stream are forc'd to flow
And down my scalded cheeks their billows pour.
O why must here be everlasting brine,
Whilst all Tides else do know an Ebb but mine!

34

Yet were these Torrents needful to make clean
Mine Eyes and Me, I would not count them dear:
But what crime stains us? Is't that We drink in
All Beauties round about the Hemisphere?
What were we made for else? Alas that We
For our Creation's end must guilty be.

35

More justly Psyche might that God impeach,
Whom false and fauning she doth magnify.
Is not His sacred Law our Pass, by which
We travel through all Visibility?
Bold Hypocrite, who her own faults doth thus
Revenge upon her God by tort'ring Us.

36

Are not the Eyes those universal Glasses
In which the world doth fairliest copied lie?
Man for a Microcosme by favor passes,
But in a blind and dusky mystery:
Mine are the only faithful Mirrors, where
All things in their true colors painted are.

37

Heaven's not so high, nor glares the Sun so wide,
But I can force Him in these Orbs of mine
From morn to ev'n to roll his vastest pride:
The bashful jealous Stars which coyliest shine,
Can by their busy twinckling no way spy
From these of mine to snatch their wariest Eye.

38

Nay Psyche too, though her brisk mixture be
Pure and spiritual, knows not how to hide
Her subtile self from my discovery:
She by these Windows eas'ly is descry'd,
Whether she hopes or fears, or rests or moves,
Whether she sighs or smiles, or hates or loves.

39

Would sullen she but deign to mark how I
Am fram'd and seated, she could not despise
The manifest and secret Majesty,
Which doth both compass and compose mine Eyes.
But she is angry, and doth plainly prove
That Hate is also Blind, as well as Love.

40

Hence 'tis she pays no wonder to this Brow,
The princely Arch which roofs my habitation

In which as resolute Disdain doth grow
As she can dart at it: This fabric's fashion
Makes fair the World above, whose radiant Eye
The upper Orbs have arch'd with Majesty.

41

These double Doors, whose hinges are my will,
From all their sprightful motions banish Noise;
Else could they not catch tender Sleep, which still
Is shy and fearful, and flies every Voice.
These make my East and West; my Day by these
Doth rise and set as often as I please.

42

Nor do they vainly wantonize when they
Suddenly twinkle; but with needful speed
Sweep all th'incroachments of bold Dust away.
Which on my Glasses' face had flown, and spread
Their unctuous kindness gently to supply
What thirsty Air steals from my open Eye.

43

Two files of Pikes at either avenue
With prest attendance stand both night and day,
Which free admission to all friends allow,
But to injurious Guests shut up the way.
Right trusty Hairs; whose faithful fear to me
Breeds no dishonor, but security.

44

Full is my house of nimble servants, who
Their ready selves in all my bus'ness stretch;
Whither my wish, yea or my Thought doth go,
With sweet activity they thither reach.
No Prince's Steeds can with such speed or ease
Devour their way, as I am roll'd by these.

45

Six courtly Curtains close embrace my Bed,
Where I inshrinèd lie in dainty rest.
The Adnate Tunicle is outmost spread,
Which with protection doth the five invest,
And in her bosom shroud both them and Me
From hasty motion's importunity.

46

The next a Corneous Veil, both firm and bright:
My natural Lanthorn, whose diaphanous side
Can both transmit, and safely keep the Light
By which the Body and myself I guide.
No time can spend this Lamp, no boistrous storm
Can puff it out, or breath it any harm.

47

The third, of Grapes' soft polish'd coat is made,
Yet lin'd with roughness delicately fine;
Through which all kinds and tribes of Colors trade,
And traffic with the inner Crystalline:
The doubtful skin of Polypus did ne'r
Slide through such various Looks as sport it here.

48

This opes a casement to the Pupil, which
My gaudy Iris clotheth in a dress
Of perfect beauties, shaming all those rich
Streaks of that heav'n above, which can express
Only the semi-glories of a Bow;
For mine a fair and total Circle show.

49

The fourth's that tender Membrane which doth kiss
And hug the tender Pupil: when the Light
Looks on the Eye with fultide court'sy, this
Opes wide to meet and drink it in: when Night
Her sable curtains draweth over heav'n,
This shrinks the Pupil too into its ev'n.

50

The fifth of Crystal is, soft, warm, and thin,
Found no where but in my rich Treasury
This the pure Region is of Life, wherein
Things living live again; and things which lie
Dead every where beside, enlivened be,
And trip about with brisk activity.

51

The sixth's a Texture of so fine a thread,
That neat Arachne might the Spinster seem,
Whose matchless art is so distinctly read
In every line, that thence it takes its name:
We call't Aranea, a Net whereby
I catch the purest wingèd Beams that fly.

52

Besides, such precious Humors I contain
As furnish me with richer Purity,
Than do's the boundless jewel-pavèd Main
Its Empress Thetis: She in all her Sea
Is but of one salt-roylèd Liquor, Queen,
But I of three, all limpid and serene.

53

That which do's outmost smile, is Watery,
The spotless cover of a purer thing;
For under it doth liquid Crystal lie,
Couch'd fairly on a Bed as ravishing
As its illustrious self, a molten Bed
Of gentle Glass, upon the bottom spred.

54

And in the Mirror of this triple Spring
All sprightful forms have ample room to play:
The mystic shapes of every kind of thing
Close-moulded in a soft and unseen ray
On Instant's posting wings do hither fly,
And dive into these Deeps of Purity.

55

Not in their glittering Crowns and Sceptres, but
In Prince's Eye their Majesty doth reign:

Eyes, Eyes those Champions are, whose conflict yet
No Soldier's hand or heart could e'r sustain:
Ev'n manly Troy prov'd a burnt sacrifice
To the more flaming Might of female Eyes.

56

Love's conquering Monarch borrows from the Eye
His ammunition,—quiver, bow, and darts;
And wins by that soft fierce Artillery,
His mighty Principality of Hearts.
Eyes of his own had He, what might He not
Atchieve, who has such power by others got!

57

And this is my Domestic beauties' Store:
Lo now my outward equal Magazine:
She beckned here; when at an unseen door
With splendid haste a silver Globe roll'd in,
Whose sparkling Eyes shew'd it the way to turn
And wheel from Ev'n through all the Night to Morn.

58

This done: a dusky Veil she threw aside,
And through a roseal East let ope the Day:
Up Titan sprung, and, as the Globe did glide,
Speeded into the West his golden way;
Where, red and hot with his long journy, He
Plummed the cool bath of th'Atlantic Sea.

59

Then bluster'd in the Winds, on whose broad back
Rode laboring Clouds; of which some crumbled Snow,
Some spit forth Lightnings through a thundering Crack,
Some with more peaceful show'rs of Rain did flow,
Some pour'd down monstrous vermin, some a flood
Of not desirèd Corn, some squeez'd out Blood.

60

That Storm blown o'r; the Spring march'd forth array'd
With fragrant Green, whose sweet Embroidery
In blooms and buds of virgin smiles display'd
A scene of living Joys, all echoed by
Ten thousand Birds, which, perch'd on every Tree,
Tun'd their soft pipes to Nature's harmony.

61

Yet underneath, in higher gallantry
The Peacock strutted, whose enamel'd train
Of the celestial Model's bravery
Brandish'd her stout and gorgeous disdain;
For that Boul's winking eyes could not express
So full a proof of heav'n as flam'd in these.

62

Summer came next, with her own riches crown'd,
A wreath of flow'rs upon her goodly head;
Large sheaves of ripened gold did her surround,
And all her way with wholesom Plenty spread;
Where as she went, no Tree but reach'd his Arm
(For it was hot) to shade her head from harm.

63

Then follow'd Autumn, with her bosom full
Of every fruit which either tempts the Eye
Or charms the Taste; here Wantoness might cull
And weary grow: here wide-mouth'd Luxury
Might her own boulimy devour with more
Facility, than spend this teeming store.

64

At last came drooping Winter slowly on,
For frost hung heavy on his heels; the year
Languish'd in Him, and lookèd old and wan:
He quak'd and shiver'd through his triple fur:
Which way soe'r he works, and strives to creep,
He's to the knees in Snow at every step.

65

For Snow was all things now; and in this White
The wanton World, which made such jolly sport
In Autumn's, Summer's, and in Spring's Delight,
Must (girded up by Ice,) do penance for't:
This cold, chaste, strait-lac'd garb will best repel
The faults those loose hot Seasons taught to swell.

66

This graceful Pageant past: up leap'd upon
The stage, a City, whose ambitious head
Threatned the clouds with interruption:
What Art was here to Riches married!
How thick the marble Spires and Towers stood,
Shading the houses with a stony Wood!

67

But like an awful Crown to all the rest
The Prince's Palace mounted fair and high,
Proclaimèd by its double-gilded crest
Its own and its great Owner's majesty.
Yet was this outward Pomp a coarse poor skin
To those bright Rarities which shin'd within.

68

Here was the Jewel-house, where naked lay
Such throngs of Gems as might enrich the Sea:
There in the Wardrobe, in well-wrought array
Their sparkling Brethren trainèd were to be:
The clothing of those Clothes Embroyderers had
To pride, the back of scornfull Courtship made.

69

Here stood the Checquer, that great Temple where
The World's dear Idol lay in Sacred heaps:
The Optic Storehouse there, hung round with rare
Productions fish'd from Art's profoundest Deeps;
The School of Admiration, and the Shop
Of Miracles in Glasses treasur'd up.

70

Here Men, and Beasts, and Birds were all of kin,
Being extracted from one common womb,

The noble Proconnesian Marble Mine:
And where the Statuary wanted room,
The Painter's livelier Lines entic'd the sight
To sport in his less cumbersom delight.

71

But in the Presence-chamber's ocean met
All pompous Vanities' best Confluence:
A golden Throne on silver floor was set,
Which took new Lustre from the gorgeous Prince;
Who in his glittering Court inspherèd was
As Phœbus in the rays of his own face.

72

The Queen both of his Kingdom and his heart,
Beautie's best triumph, show'd at his right hand:
And Deign'd her sweet exuberance to impart
Upon that Maiden Circle which did stand
To wait and gaze on Her, whose goodly Look
Was Wonder's fairer heav'n, and Pleasure's book.

73

When Opsis by these spectacles had drew
Admiring smiles from her Spectators: I
With millions more, said she, could feast your view
Should I rip up my total Treasury,
Which reacheth from the Loftiest pinnacle
Of heav'n, down to the deepest sink of hell.

74

And these are those Oblations mine Eyes
In loyal piety did day by day
On Psyche's only Altar sacrifice:
Yet proudly-cruel She throws them away
In fierce disdain, and needs will force me to
Learn a Religion which must me undo.

75

To some sad blurrèd Prayerbook she ties
My cheerly Spotless sight; or forceth me
To stare so long on th'unregarding skies,
That with dull seeing I forget to see.
She some pretence or other still will find
In mere devotion to make me blind.

76

The other Sun, when he has look'd his day
Can go to bed and rest himself in night:
But I at Ev'n must still persist to pray,
And watch her candle till the morning light.
Some comfort 'twere if I might but obtain
By all those Pray'rs relief for my own pain.

77

But since nor She, nor Heav'n, will pity take;
What could oppressèd dying Opsis do,
But let her gasping sighs have leave to break
Into these just Complaints, great Sir, to you?
To which may you be deaf, if Equity
Pleads not as loud for me as mine own Cry.

78

She ending thus; impatient Acoe,
Who thought her Sister's Speech by all too long,
Step'd back into their common Treasury
Kept by Anamnesis, (where lay the throng
Of their ideal wealth,) and bad her make
Ready her Train, whilst she its Prologue spake.

79

Hear me, said she; and be this my reward
For hearing all things else: though many a sound
Upon mine Ears hath most unkindly jarr'd,
Yet courteous entertainment still it found:
The like I crave; nor must my Sisters grudge,
That next to Opsis' place, mine own I judge.

80

My House is secret; cautious winding ways
And privy galleries into it lead:
By which abstruse state I my glory raise
Higher than if my Palace star'd abroad.
Thus Jewels dwell close in the Cavity
Of Mother-Pearl, and thus dwells Acoe.

81

The outward room's oblique, that violent Sounds
May manners learn, and not rush in too fast;
And narrow, to protect my private bounds,
Which by no stealing Vermin must be past.
Yet if they venture, I have lime-twiggs there
To check their rashness, trusty Wax and Hair.

82

And at this Chamber's end is plac'd my Drum
Made of a Parchment soft and thin and dry,
And ready-corded. But the second Room
Is of my active Tools the treasury:
My Hammer's and my Anvil's dwelling's there,
By which I forge all Sounds I please to hear.

83

By them three small but wondrous busy Bones
Whene'r my Drum is beat, articulate
Th'imperfect features of all breeding Tones,
Just as the Teeth at pratling Lingua's gate.
Indeed she only would be thought to make
The shapes of Words; but Acoe too can speak.

84

For could I not, Dame Lingua's trade were vain;
And all her Dialects too weak to make
One Language, did not I produce again
All her Productions: I to purpose speak,
And I alone; Words are dead wind, till I
Enliven them with perfect energy.

85

Behind these two, a third is built, whose frame
So Tortuous is and dubious, and full
Of Labyrinths, that thence it takes its Name.
Six semi-circles there hook in and pull
The sound to every corner, that it may
Grow well acquainted e'r it pass away.

86

Next unto that, my most reservèd Cell
Wreaths up its pliant self in privacy;
Just as the wary Periwinkle Shell
Hugging his own involvèd sides doth lie.
From which dark closet, by a private slit
To thee, grave Censor, I my News transmit.

87

Should Psyche's pride observe no more than this,
Sure she might deign me some respect: yet I
Want not an ample Troop of Witnesses
To prove my Worth. With that she turn'd her eye,
When strait her Train in decent equipage
Answer'd her Look, and enter'd on the Stage.

88

Up sprung a suddain Grove, where every Tree
Impeopled was with Birds of softest throats:
With Boughs' Quires multiply'd, and Melody
As various was, as were the Singers' Notes;
Till Philomel's diviner Anthems sound
Them, in a deeper Sea of Music drown'd.

89

Beneath a silver River stole, and by
Its gentle murmur did all ears invite:
In whose fair streams a Swan, content to dy,
And at that dear price buy them fresh delight,
Tun'd her long Pipe to such an height that she
Sung out her soul in her own Elegy.

90

Then came two golden Orators, the one
From Greece, from Rome the other, to lament
Her dainty death: Demosthenes began,
And rap'd the Hearers with such full content,
That from the throat of the delicious Swan
His, which her praises tun'd, the honor wan.

91

Yet Cicero disdaining that the Fame
Of Roman Eloquence should buried be
In that Bird's grave: pour'd out so vast a stream
Of all encomiastic suavity,
That their deceasèd Swan in every strain
Of his Oration more than liv'd again.

92

But Jubal then rush'd in; and room, said he,
For my prerogative, who first could teach
Scholars both deaf and dumb such harmony,
As overtopp'd short-winded Nature's reach.
Rude things, the Hammer and the Anvil, I
Tutor'd to forge soul-charming Melody.

93

Behind him flowèd in all pleasant throngs
Of Music's Utensils; the Harp, the Lute,
The Organ (moderator of all Songs)
The Viol, Cymbal, Sackbut, Cornet, Flute,
The Harpsichord, Theorbo and Bandore,
The gallant Trumpet, and a thousand more.

94

Yet this great show was dumb, till in there prest
A goodly Man, fram'd with Symmetrious grace;
His Robe and Crown his royalty profest,
And his sweet Art betray'd what Prince he was;
For snatching up the Harp, he made it wake,
And all its silent Brethern's language speak.

95

As to the strings he whisper'd with his finger,
They all told tales, and by their matchless Noise
Acknowleg'd freely, This is Israel's singer.
Discover'd thus, He join'd with them his voice;
And as he sung, again the heav'nly Boul
Which Opsis thither brought, began to roll.

96

But He leap'd into it, and in the spheres
Withdrew himself: For lo a surley Sea
Comes foaming in, and proudly overbears
That dainty Magazine of Harmony:
The Senses griev'd to see the Tempest's Roar
Devour those gentle Airs they heard before.

97

Yet worying among the waves they spy'd
A wrackèd Mortal, who with greedy hand
Caught up the Harp which floated by his side,
And hop'd by that weak Bark to get to land;
As knowing well that Music's Powers might charm
Asleep the loudest wrath of any storm.

98

No sooner borrow'd He the string's soft Cry,
But at the gentle Call a Dolphin came,
Lending his willing back to bear him high
Above the pride of that deluded stream.
Arion strait with all his fingers strove
To pay his fare, and quit the Fishes' love.

99

The waves grew calm and smilèd in his face;
The chearly Nymphs look'd up and joy'd to hear
Such courteous Accents in that churlish place,
Where only Tempests us'd to beat their ear.
The Winds came stealing close about him, and
Catch'd every Note that droppèd from his hand.

100

The pious Fish, who all this merry while
Did deeper swim in Joy than in the Sea,
And by the charming Harp's discourse beguile
His journey's tedious length, was sad to see
The period of his Voyage now at hand,
And wish'd that he might with Arion land.

101

But on the shore a Singing Troop appear'd,
Where Pindar and his Lute their parts did play:
All ears were ravish'd which his Numbers heard;
And had not Flaccus thrown his fear away,
And fir'd by envious bravery, stretch'd his skill,
Lyric's sole Soveraign Pindar had been still.

102

(Yet neither of their Empires was so vast
But they left Herbert too, full room to reign;
Who Lyric's pure and precious Metal cast
In holier moulds, and nobly durst maintain
Devotion in Verse, whilst by the spheres
He tunes his Lute, and plays to heav'nly ears.)

103

High on's deservèd Mountain Homer sate,
And sham'd a Trumpet by his stouter Laies;
Which Fame, who thither flutter'd, having got,
Spread through the wondering World their only Praise:
Till princely Maro with an equal Strain
Embrac'd his voice, and echoed them again.

104

(These at the second bound reflected be
By Tasso's Muse, but in a purer tune:
The Muse which taught her sober Tuscany
The Greek and Roman Poetry to prune,
And rescu'd Godfrey from Oblivion's bands,
As He had Salem freed from Pagan hands.

105

Not far from whom, though in lower clime
Yet with a goodly Train doth Colin sweep:
Though manacled in thick and peevish Rhyme,
A decent pace his painful Verse doth keep:
Right fairly dress'd were his welfeatur'd Queen,
Did not her Mask too much her beauties screen.

106

But O how low all these bow down before
Nazianzum's and the World's immortal Glory;
Him, whose heav'n-firèd Soul did sweetly soar
Up to the top of every stage and story
Of Poetry, transforming in his way
Each Muse into a true Urania.

107

And by this heart-attracting Pattern Thou
My only worthy self, thy Songs didst frame:
Witness those polish'd Temple Steps, which now
Stand as the Ladder to thy mounting fame;
And, spight of all thy Travels, make 't appear
Th'art more in England than when Thou wert here.

108

More unto others, but not so to me
Privy of old to all thy secret Worth:
What half-lost I endure for want of Thee,
The World will read in this mishapen Birth.
Fair had my Psyche been, had she at first
By thy judicious hand been drest and nurst.)

109

Some distance thence, in flow'ry wanton groves
Luxurious Amorosos sate, who by
The thrilling Key of Sports and Smiles and Loves
Effeminated their quaint Melody.
Nimble Theocritus and Naso were
The leading Lords of all that revel'd there.

110

Whose Consort to complete, aforehand came
Marino's Genius, with a voice so high,
That all the World rang with Adonis' Name.
Unhappy Man, and Choise! O what would thy
Brave Muse have done in such a Theme as Mine,
Which makes Profanness almost seem Divine!

111

But though Thou stoutly scorn'dst to be in debt
To any Subject, and would'st only ow
Thy Works' magnificence to thy vast Wit;
Mean I, was glad my beauties' lines to draw
From well-stor'd Psyche's graceful Symmetry:
Thy subject Thou commend'st, my subject Me.

112

The close of all was an affected Throng
Which chirp'd, pip'd, crackled, squeak'd, and buzz'd about;
Mushrooms of Verse: who yet as boldly sung
As Homer's self, and desperately thought
Their Sonnet's crack a noise as gallant made
As did the Thunder of an Iliad.

113

These vain Byblows of Poetry, begot
Of Confidence and Sack, whose rhyming Itch
Was their sole Jury, Acoe had not
Presumèd here to venture to the touch.
Had she not been aware the Censure was
Not now by Reason but by Sense to pass.

114

Those various Apparitions marching by;
This vocal Honey, and much more than this
She cry'd, to court and solace Psyche, I
Would gladly drop: but she so sullen is
That what makes all Rocks move and Tempests rest,
In foul disdain she in my face doth cast.

115

She talks indeed of glorious Melody,
Seraphic and Cherubic Anthems: yet
What faith can flame with so much Charity
As to believe the holy Hypocrite;
Or dream that she for heav'nly Music cares
Who grates on me with none but hellish Jars?

116

In hideous sighs she smothers up my Ears,
And diets me with big but hollow Groans:
Liv'd I a Subject in the Realm of fears
And Shrieks and raving Desperations;
I would not murmur that the Monsters there
Did tender me with yelling Torments tear.

117

But must proud Psyche here a Fury be
In spight of all the sweetest sweets I spread
Thick in her way? must her fell Tyranny
Choose on no footstool but Desert to tread?
Forbid it, righteous Sir, and lend some aid,
Before to ruin we be all betray'd.

118

Here Osphresis the next place claim'd as due
To her right fairly eminent situation:
Yet stepping up into more open view,
She prefac'd by her Looks to her Oration;
Seeking for both, no other ornament
But wrinkles of disdainful Discontent.

119

My Wrongs, said she, although I third must speak,
Too well deserv'd to have been told the first.
My Court you fully know; which, though it make
No gaudy show indeed, yet at the worst,
Dame Acoe, its structure is as fair
As your however young yet wrinkled Ear.

120

For like an Alabaster Prop it bears
The forhead's load, yet ows that firmness to
No Basis but it self: Within appears
A double Gallery, on whose walls there grow
Quick watchful Hairs, which brush the entering Air
To send it to my Presence clean and fair.

121

In these an useful Backdoor lurks, whereby
I breath cool gales to fan and chear the Heart:
But by the Mammillar Processions, I
Embrace those pleasures which my Sweets impart;
And then through them the Soul of Odours strain,
And with pure vigorous Spirits befriend the Brain.

122

What kind of tribute I was wont to yield
Coy Psyche, let Anamnesis confess:
No sooner had she spoken, but a field
Sprung on the smiling stage, whose youthful Dress
Did all that Summer represent, and more,
Which Opsis had displayèd there before.

123

Thick beds of Marjoram, of Thyme, of Myrrh,
Of Violets, Primroses, Rosemary,
Of Saffron, Marigolds, and Lavender,
Of July-flowers, flower-gentle, Piony,
Of Hysop, Balm, Sage, Roses, Pinks, and Lilies,
Of Honysuckles and of Daffodillies.

124

These shelter'd were with many a spicy Tree
Sweetly embracèd by the Eglantine,
Who joying in their fragrant company
Among their odors did his own entwine.
And here the ravish'd Senses ask'd their eyes
Whether this were Araby or Paradise.

125

Their eyes in wonder looking up, espied
Upon a Cedar what more wondrous shew'd,
A Phœnix's Tomb and Cradle, dignify'd
With richer Odors than beneath were strew'd:
The flames rose up to kill and to revive
The Bird, which sweetly teacheth Death to live.

126

Straight th'aromatic Cloud which rollèd there
Breath'd them such sprightful powers of quickning joy,
That now they marvel not a Bird should dare
To die a death which could such life display.
And if the smoke alone, say they, can stream
With such Refreshment, O what may the flame!

127

No wonder that wise Deities desire
Their highest, holiest Altars should be fed
With life-begetting spice; or that such fire
Should cool the wrath with maketh Vengance red:
No wonder Incense should have power to move
To gentle Pity most incensèd Jove.

128

This ecstasy of theirs pleas'd Osphresis
More than the Sweets did them: And why, cry'd she,
Must I who pay such dainty Rent as this
By most ingrateful Psyche tortur'd be?
If she would slay me quite, there were an end;
But she delights my Murder to extend.

129

For on the rack she holds me nights and days;
Tying me pris'ner to a dead Man's skull!
On which whilst she her hands at prayers lays
Vilest Corruption's fumes my Nostrils fill.
Worse is my state than theirs who buried lie
In death, and smell not their grave's Misery.

130

If die we must, 'tis reason we by some
Sturdy Adventure first deserve our death.
Impartial Sir, what better can become
Your injur'd Senses, than by generous Wrath
To shew that they are Sensible no less
Of their deep Wrongs, than of their Happiness.

131

Geusis, whose hasty mouth stood ready ope,
Rejoyc'd to hear her sister end her speech.
And now said she, my Tongue enjoy thy scope,
And in thy own defence thy powers stretch.
Psyche regards not what I say: but you
Grave Judge will just Apoligies allow.

132

Then since 'tis prov'd the fashion to display
The native beauties of our habitation;
My words shall travel in this beaten way:
Although my House's ample commendation
By all th'admiring World asserted is,
In their ambition its door to kiss.

133

For never with more reverential fear
And strong devotion did the panting hearts
Of zealous Saints aspire unto the dear
Gate of Heavn's Bliss; than those who by the darts
Of Beauty on are prick'd and fir'd to win
Love's Paradise, approach to this of mine.

134

And this is of two leaves, two Roses' leaves,
Whose tenderness the inward Guard supplies;
A strong and double Guard, which there receives
With sharp examination, and tries
The burliest Guests; whom if it finds them rude,
It sends into my Mill to be subdu'd.

135

There are they press'd and ground and gentle made,
And so upon my ruby table set;
Where, with a Canopy of Purple spread
Over my head, Prince-like alone I eat;
And dining with the Cream of all the feast,
To my Attendants freely leave the rest.

136

They in the Kitchen meeting at the fire
Sit down and pick what pieces like them best:
Where each one stuffing full his own desire,
Grows fat and merry; then the scraps they cast
Into the sink, which by a private spout
Behind the House is duly emptied out.

137

To me all Sapors willing homage pay,
Knowing their credit on my Tongue depends:
What I distate the whole World spits away,
And what I justify, as much commends.
Admirèd Honey ne'r was known to be
Her sweet self, till she pleas'd and flatter'd me.

138

Nor has Anamnesis a thinner show
Of Rarities, which to my realm belong,
Than those my sister's pride display'd to you:
Consult your eyes on that delicious Throng
She ushers in: if any thing there want.
Say then the world's supplies, not mine are scant.

139

Straitway a golden Table glided in,
Pale as its burden, a far richer Feast;
A Feast whose Powers might Vitellius win
To loath his Empire's board, and here be guest.
A Feast whose strange variety and store
Dar'd call great Solomon's Provision poor.

140

The vanguard rankèd by a skilful hand
Was fruitful Summer fairly dish'd and drest;
For Plumbs, Pears, Apples, Figgs, Dates, Quinces, and
Choise Apricots advanc'd before the rest:
And then Grapes, Citrons, Oranges, and Cherries,
Pomgranats, Almonds, Straw, Rasp, Mirtle-berries.

141

Besides, smart Flowers, and daring Herbs, to trim
The wanton Board with Sallad's pageantry,
And send a challenge to the stomach from
Those stouter Troops which now were marching nigh:
This was the second rangèd Squadron, whither
All Nations of the Air seem'd flock'd together.

142

The Pheasant, Patridge, Plover, Bustard, Quail,
The Woodcock, Capon, Cygnet, Chicken, Dove,
The Snipe, Lark, Godwit, Turky, Peacock, Teal,
With thousand wingèd Dainties, which might move
The best-skill'd Luxury, the Deities
Now plain and course Ambrosia to despise.

143

Next these, a large Brigade was marshallèd,
For whose forlorn, first march'd the hardy Boar;
And then the Bull, the Veal, the Goat, the Kid,
The Sheep, Lamb, Cony, Hart, with reaking store
Of every fair and wholsome thing that feeds
Upon the hills, the vallies, or the meads.

144

But from the Sea and Rivers in the rear
Another stately Ocean flowing came;
The Smelt, the Perch, the Ruff, the Roch, the Dare,
The Carp, Pike, Tench, Lump, Guernet, Herring, Bream,
The Mullet, Trout, Dorce, Cod, Eel, Whiting, Mole,
Plaise, Salmon, Lamprey, Sturgeon, Pilchard, Sole,

145

The Turbet, Cuttle, Flounder, Mackerel,
Yea Lobsters, Oysters, and all kind of Fishes
Which Lust's soft fuel treasure in their shell;
Had left their troublèd Deeps to swim in dishes:
Of which no Land knew such variety
But when the Deluge made the Earth a Sea.

146

But all this while the sparkling Bouls were crown'd
With living Nectar round about the Table:
Amazement ne'r such precious Liquor found
Dropping from Poet's brain; a Liquor able
To make th'Egyptian Queen disdain her Cup,
Though courting with a liquid Gem her lip.

147

Then for Reserves, ten Ladies' dainty hands,
Th'ambitious Caters of their own delight,
Had curiously raisèd antic Bands
Of banquet Powers; in which the wanton might
Of Confectory Art endeavor'd how
To charm all Tasts to their sweet overthrow.

148

Thus having feasted her Spectator's eyes,
Geusis but nods, and all was ta'n away.
And is this homage to be scorn'd, she cries,
Which copious I alone to Psyche pay?
Must her dry Supper of the simple Lamb,
Of which she prates so much, these Dainties shame?

149

These Dainties, whose soft but victorious Bait
Hath many a sturdy Stoic captive led:
And with whose precious-relishing Deceit
The liquorish World aspireth to be fed;
Tho' crude Distempers, Surfeits, Sickness, Pain,
And immature Death make its dreadful Train.

150

These Dainties, which are fairer far, I trow,
Than that poor green raw Apple, which could win
A wiser She than Psyche is, to throw
All other Bliss away: yet cursèd Sin
Attended on that fatal Bit; but here
On all my Board is no Forbidden Chear.

151

No; bounteous Heav'n's free Patent seals to Me
Complete authority o'r all these Pleasures.
And must our holy Tyrant's Piety
Cancel her own God's Act; and square the measures
Of my Enjoyments by what her fond Sense
Is pleas'd to judge Religious Abstinence?

152

Must I be fed with Hope? or, what is more
Jejune than that, vile Roots and coarse dry Bread?
Must I be ravish'd from my sparkling store
Of virgin Wines, and forc'd to drink the dead
Deflowr'd cold water, or that Brine which she
Boils in her eyes to scald my Mouth and Me?

153

Must I neglect my woful Bellie's Cry,
And basely to self-murder yield; whilst She
Delights her peevish self to mortify
Without the least remorse of killing Me?
Still must I sit till my lank skin become
A mere white sheet to shroud me for my tomb?

154

Though Justice, righteous Sir, might you persuade
To aid our necessary mutiny;
Yet Pity too on Geusis's part doth plead
For present succour's alms before I dy.
O had these Teeth on Psyche's heart their will
Their wrongs how deeply would they make her feel?

155

She closing here, and champing her fell lips,
Ev'n in her silence still spake spight and rage:
Which Haphe echoing, forth right coily trips
And shews her sullen face upon the Stage.
With mute Disdain she her stern preface makes,
And having look'd Contempt, Contempt she speaks:

156

'Tis well you'll deign me leave to be the last;
Yet goodly Sisters, when, I pray, would you
Have felt those Wrongs of yours, had I not past
Through all your Lodgings, and inform'd you how?
'Tis by my Touch alone that you resent
What object yields Delight, what Discontent.

157

You to your proper Cells confinèd are,
Which also stand in my Dominions,
Whose limits are extended far and near
Through flesh and blood and skin: indeed some Bones
Are obstinate; but to thy teeth I tell
Thee Geusis, they sometimes my power feel.

158

What haste, Anamnesis? yet I'm contented,
Come bless their eyes: At this proud-yielding word
She on the scene her Tactile sweets presented:
With curious Ermin's stately mantles furr'd,
Illustrious robes of Satin and of silk,
And wanton Lawns, more soft and white than milk.

159

Delicious Beds of cygnet's purest Down,
Cushions of Roses, Lilies, Violets;
Bathes of perfumèd oiles, footpaths thick strown
With budding Summer's undeflowrèd sweets;
Stoves which could Autumn of cold Winter make,
Fountains in Autumn to bring Winter back.

160

Soft Ticklings, Courtings, Kisses, Dalliance,
Embraces which no modest Muse must tell;
For all the Company at their first glance
Started and turn'd from that bold spectacle.
Which Haphe marking, insolently cries,
Out, out on these demure Hypocrisies.

161

What mean you your vain heads to turn aside
When still your itching hearts are hankering here!
Fools! what your eyes pretend not to abide
Your hungry Thoughts esteem their choicest chear:
Talk not of shame; I to your selves appeal
Is't shame to see what all desire to feel?

162

Yet though this solemn and substantial joy
I offer Psyche, most ingrateful She
Starts more than you, and barbarously coy
Makes war upon my solid Courtesy:
Just as the clownish Rocks in pieces dash
The streams, which gently come their sides to wash.

163

Faint on the ground's cold bed she makes me lie,
There to corrupt my flesh and suck diseases,
And measure out my grave before I die:
Some cloth of hemp, or hair, or what she pleases,
Must those furrs' place usurp: poor Haphe, who
Ne'r peeps abroad, must like a Pilgrim go.

164

With churlish stroaks on this soft tender breast,
As of some Anvil, 'tis her trade to beat
With an unnat'ral Hammer, mine own fist.
She scorns, grave Sir, the service of my feet,
And dwelling always on my weary Knee
Relentless Tyrant lames her self and me.

165

Although my livid soreness be now spread
About me round, she still regardless goes,
And will go on, till force her spight forbid.
This has confederated me with those
My injur'd sisters, all resolv'd to try
The strength of Right against her Tyranny.

166

The Plaintiffs thus their several Cases spread
Open before their common Censor: He
Shaking with serious Look his thoughtful head,
Some pause allowèd to his Gravity;
At length he cry'd, The matter's foul, I see,
And doth include with yours, my Injury.

167

Your Resolution's just and noble too:
But still I must advise you to Agree,
Least you by factious jealousy undo
The joints which knit up your Conspiracy.
A mutinous Army only hastes to lose
The field, before it to the battle goes.

168

But more Confederates were not amiss
The easier to dispatch your great Design:
That discontented Troop which scatter'd is
About the Heart, will in your Plot combine:
And lo my faithful Sister Fancy there,
Whom you may trust your embassy to bear.

169

She all this while behind them sate, and as
Their several Pageants and Complaints came out,
Straight caught them pris'ners in her crystal glass,
And then their figures in her Sampler wrought.
She needed no Instructions what to say,
But being ask'd to go she flies away.

170

For launching on the nimble wings of Thought
Forthwith to her designèd port she sails;
Where, in the Lodgings scatter'd round about
The Court of Psyche, she her face unvails.
The Passions flock'd to kiss her, and to know
What welcome News she from abroad could show.

171

The News is this, said she; and instantly
Taught her, fine airy figures, to present
All that was spoke, or shew'd, or plotted by
The angry Senses; adding what intent
Had spurr'd her thither. They a while amaz'd,
Upon the guileful Apparition gaz'd.

172

Then taking fire, and being too stout their own
Wraths' flames to bridle, thus they belch'd them out:
Surely, said they our Queen flat foe is grown,
To her most trusty friends. 'Twas not for nought
That we our selves complain'd; 'tis certain she
Means now to rage and open Tyrant be.

173

If their great distance cannot Them remove
From her injustice, then no wonder we
Who live more in her reach, so often prove
The prey whereon she feasts her Cruelty.
We in their Plot against our common foe
Think it most just to join; and tell them so.

174

Though theirs the honor be to have begun
This righteous insurrection; yet they
Shall find that we will lead our forces on
With such resolvèd might, that our Delay
Shall more than be excusèd, when our Rage
Shall once appear upon the Battel's stage.

175

Let them be sure to watch their Ports without,
And leave the bus'ness here within for us;
Who are not now to learn how to be stout
And stomachful and rude and mutinous.
That Word rais'd Fancy's smile, right glad to see
Success so quickly crown her Embassy.

176

Whose Issue when she to the Senses told,
They all would in devotion needs blaspheme;
Thrusting loud thanks on God, as if their bold
Sedition had been patroniz'd by Him;
And now with traiterous expectation swell'd,
They wait to see the Passions take the field.

177

But Hope, Love, Hatred, Anger, and the rest
Of that impatient crew had forthwith been
In open arms, had cautious Fear not prest
For some demur, and to his party won
Deep-thinking Jealousy: 'Tis best, said he,
We of some valiant Leader first agree.

178

Psyche is strong and sober: if we fight
Without due Discipline, that Rashness will
But hurry our own Pow'rs to speedier flight:
But if we make some expert General's skill
Our own by following it, the Victory
Will grow ambitious on our side to be.

179

That Word a new Confusion broach'd, for all
Reach'd at the General's lofty Place, but Fear
And Jealousy; yet these abhorr'd to fall
Under the absolute power of any there,
And equally in doubt and dread did stand,
Both of subjection, and of Command.

180

Long their Ambitions justled one another,
(For who is best where all alike are bad
By common Treason?) and yet loth to smother
Their traiterous Wrath in their own Strife, they made
A Vote at last, to step abroad and see
Who skilléd best feats of Activity.

181

When lo (so well Hell's plots were lay'd) they met
A goodly Person, to whose cedar head
All theirs like shrubs appear'd: Disdain did sit
High on his brows, his awful limbs were spread
To such extent of gallantry, that there
Seem'd ample room for every thing but fear.

182

At his first glimpse their wishes all concenter
On portly Him: Love forthwith is design'd
To break to this brave Knight their bold Adventure,
And with her wiley sweetness sift his mind.
She hastens to her Task; and bowing low,
From her mouth's fount lets this inchantment flow.

183

Might's goodly Mirror, whosoe'r you be
Whom blesséd fortune shews us here alone;
Surely such fair commanding Majesty
Deserves by thousands to be waited on:
And, if such honor you this Troop will deign,
We shall have found a Lord, and you a Train.

184

An high Design hath fir'd us now, which may
Your Might and Soverain Command become:
Upon a War with Psyche we to day
Resolvèd have: but kind fate kept us from
Choosing our General; and we hope our stay
Was but for you, whom Heav'n puts in our way.

185

This League was knit by strong Necessity,
To break that Yoke which else our necks would break:
Would Psyche suffer us ourselves to be,
No mutiny of ours her throne should shake;
But we, though Passions, calm and tame must lie
Whilst she proves passionate ev'n to Tyranny.

186

We must not Hope, nor Fear, nor Love, nor Hate,
Nor do the things for which we all were born:
If fouler slavery e'r did violate
Free-Subjects' birthright; our sad sufferings scorn:
If not; O may the just Relief be ours,
Great Sir, by your stout hand; the Glory yours.

187

Agenor glad such punctual ready Bliss
Did on his own Design itself obtrude;
Swell'd his vast Looks to bigger stateliness:
Three turns he stalk'd, three times he proudly view'd
The Company, three times he snuff'd, and then
Opening his mouth at leisure thus began:

188

Now by my glorious Power, all you I know,
But silly Brats I see you know not me,
Whom to so vile a piece of Work you woo
As bridling wretchéd Psyche's Tyranny.
Must I, whom Lyons, Tigres, Dragons fear,
Debase my Strength, and stoop to conquer Her?

189

If of the great Kind she a Monster were,
Or e'r had made distresséd Countries fly
To Shrines and Oracles on wings of fear,
To summon to their help a Deity;

If she could prove a Thirteenth Task for Him
Who Twelve atchiev'd, the Work would me beseem,

190

But to unsheath my Valour at a fly,
And pitch the field against a simple Worm;
To mount my Sinews' great Artillery
A female despicable Fort to storm;
More honor on the Captive's head would heap
Than on my Hand which did that Conquest reap.

191

Yet since so deep I your Oppression see,
I'l win thus much on my high-practis'd Might
To make it bow to your delivery.
But never say Agenor came to fight:
I scorn the match; this finger will be strong
Enough to prove my Pity of your Wrong.

192

This said, He march'd in more than warlike state
Up to the House where thoughtful Psyche lay:
And thund'ring imperiously at the gate,
Unto the Rebel's rage burst ope the way.
Loud rung the Ruin, and with boistrous fear
Strait revel'd in the Queen's amazéd ear.

193

As when the Winds let loose upon the Sea,
Tear up the Deeps and fling them at the Stars;
Chasing away unarm'd Serenity
With bold alarms of unsuspected wars;
The startled Nymphs their fearful heads shrink in,
And down into the world's dark bottom run:

194

So Psyche, trembling at the furious Cry,
Retreated to her inmost Fort; a place
Profound and strong, from whence her jealous Eye
Might safely view the Rebels: Time it was
To call her Counsellor; whom to the Rout
With these Instructions she dispatcheth out:

195

Run Logos, run, and learn what mad mistake
Hurls those my Subjects into tumult: Try,
(For well thou skill'st that gentle Might) to break
Their furie's torrent by the lenity
Of wise Persuasion; Pardon, of all charms
The best, proclaim to all who lay down arms.

196

He at this odd News shakes his head; but yet
Right sagely-pleasant to the Traitors goes.
And Friends, said he, If you be in a fit
Of fighting, then in God's name seek your foes.
This is your peaceful Home; O be it far
From you to ruin your own Rest by War.

197

Did any Reason prompt you to rebel;
How could it 'scape from being known to Me?
Your Queen what would it boot you to expel,
Who needs must in her ruins buried be?
What gains the mad-man, who through jealous fears
Pulls his own house, and death, about his ears?

198

What means sweet Love to rob herself of all
Herself, in playing peevish Discord's part?
Must th'universal Glue, which binds the Ball
Of this fair world so close, in pieces start?
Shall thy dear Bands serve only now to ty
Destruction fast to your Conspiracy?

199

Stern Hatred, could the copious world afford
No other Prey whereon to feast thy spight;
But thou against thyself must draw thy sword
In venturing against thy Queen to fight?
O hate what hateful is, but hate not her,
Whose love gives thee thy life and dwelling here.

200

What strange Enchantments luréd Thee, fond Hope,
To this design of self-destruction? Who
Abus'd thy credulous soul, and puff'd thee up
With mad supposal that the Ladder to
Exhalt thee, must be Ruin? Thus art Thou
Of Hope become plain Desperation now.

201

Unhappy Fear, and what makes thee afraid
To dwell in thine own Happinesse's Port?
What monstrous Witchery hath now betray'd
To this bold Mutiny thy trembling Heart?
What hardneth thee, who quak'st at every frown
Of other Princes, to despise thine own?

202

Brave Anger, shall the scoffing world at last
Have cause to mock thy Valour, whilst it makes
Such earnest haste unto so wild a Jest
As waging war against its own mistakes?
What pity 'tis to see thou art so fair
And well appointed when no Danger's near?

203

And you my Fellow-subjects all, whom I
Have often heard our gracious Sovereign praise
For humble Duty and fidelity;
O why must groundless Rashness now erase
That noble Character, and in its stead
Print foul Rebellion's blot on your fair head?

204

By your Allegiance and ingenerate worth,
By your own Lives, and dearer Loyalty,

By Psyche's royal Head, by Heav'n and Earth,
By every thing, I you conjure to be
True to yourselves: The Queen desires but this,
Who by your Peace and weal counts her own bliss.

205

Suspect not that this Paroxysm, which hath
Your honesty abuséd; or the Art
Of that bold Stranger who applies your wrath
To his own Envy's end, can spur her heart
To such revenge, that she cannot forgive
Those in whose Happiness her life doth live.

206

No; she is readier to forget, than you
Can be your hasty Error to lay down:
She on your necks by me her arms doth throw,
And by my Tongue she calls you still her own:
Behold the Pledge of her Embraces here,
A General Pardon all your Doubts to clear.

207

As when soft Oil on raging fire you throw,
Forthwith the fretful flames incensèd by
Its gentleness, more fierce and rampant grow:
So here the unrelenting mutinous fry
Storm'd at persuasive Logos, and to new
Impatience at his sweet Oration grew.

208

He's an Enchanter, Anger cry'd, and by
These blandishments hath oft bewitchèd Us:
But our mature and just Conspiracy
Scorns to be foolèd and confutèd thus.
'Tis time to act our Resolutions now,
That Reason's may no longer us undo.

209

Then clapping her right paw full on his throat,
And stopping with her left his mouth, she drew
Him to Agenor, crying, Now w' have got
Our subtlest Foe, Sir, let him have his due.
We never shall our warlike bus'ness do,
If to the Tyrant back in peace he go.

210

The other Passions strait rebounded that
Rebellious word; whose General glad to see
Their madness compass what his pride could not,
Gave order Logos should close Pris'ner be.
They hollowing all for joy, made desperate haste
Two chains upon his neck and mouth to cast.

211

And here I challenge any heart to read
This storie's riddles, and forbear to sigh;
Seeing servile feet tread down the noble Head,
And common Slaves with tyrannous Licence fly
Upon their Lord: O who secure can be,
When Reason must be bound, and Passion free!

212

What woful Consequents must make the train
Of those false-naméd Subjects Insolence,
Who blush not with contempt to entertain
The Messages of their most yeilding Prince:
Who have no power because they strong are grown
Or Loyalty or Modesty to own.

213

Psyche, whom all this while suspicion had
Held watching at the window of her Tower,
When she descry'd from thence how fiercely mad
And confident of their outrageous Power
The Rebels were; and that in foul disdain
Her Messenger they did in Bonds detain:

214

She fetch'd a mighty sigh; and though with Him
Herself and all her Honor, Pris'ners were;
Between Despairs and Hopes she long did swim,
Yet could her course into no harbor steer.
For her own fancies to such tumults rose,
As copied out her loud tempestuous foes.

215

Thus by that Noise without, and this within,
She Summon'd was unto the top of fear.
Her trusty Phylax now would not be seen,
Nor can she any News of Charis hear.
No friend was left but Thelema; and she
Was thought but wavering in fidelity.

216

But as the shipwrack'd Man toss'd up and down
Between high deaths and low, amongst the Waves;
Claps fast on any glimpse of help, and grown
Bold by despair, nor hold nor comfort leaves
As long's his poor plank floats: So Psyche now
On Thelema her sinking arms did throw.

217

And O, she cry'd, my only Refuge, I
Conjure thee well to mark thy Hap and mine
The Tempest of my Woes is swoll'n so high,
That now all bridles it disdains but thine:
And 'tis thy Privilege, that I to thee
Must ow my life, for thy sake dear to me.

218

At any price would'st Thou some way have bought
Which might so deep engage thy Queen to thee:
Yet monstrous hadst thou been, if thou hadst sought
This sad unnatural opportunity.
But now their Disobedience ope's the way
For thy Desert if thou wilt me obey.

219

Logos had prov'd himself both wise and strong,
Had obstinate Spight not damméd up their ears:
But all his Powers fighting from his tongue,
Their deaf Rebellion his Assaults outdares.
His Arguments confuted are with Chains,
And I fear, in prison He remains.

220

But thy brave Valour reigneth in thy Hands,
O most incomparable Amazon;
Whose noble stroke no Adamant withstands,
No Subtilty eludes: Thy Nod alone
Points out thy Victories; fresh laurel groves
Court thy subduing foot where'r it moves.

221

By softness fain I would have conquer'd Them,
No blast of whose Rebellion could blow out
My royal Love, which towards them did flame:
But now their Madness challengeth a stout
And corsive Cure; thy Hand must do the Deed,
And through their Wounds not fear my blood to shed.

222

O how my Soul at that sad Word recoils,
And at the thought of Blood aforehand bleeds!
What gains a Prince but loss, by winning Spoils
From his fond Subjects! Yet since fate will needs
Thus cruel make my Safety; be it so:
Though tender I start back, Thou on shalt go.

223

Go then my faithful Champion, and may
Blessèd Success march in thy company.
I'l from this window wait upon thy way
By my observing and well-wishing Eye;
Which shall the witness of thy valor be,
And what Reward it shall deserve from me.

224

But fail not to revenge the proud intrusion
Of yon ignoble Stranger, who may be
Perhaps the firebrand of this wild Confusion
Which threatens to burn up both Thee and Me:
And if his blood will serve to quench this fire,
Spare all the rest; they will no more Conspire.

225

Stout Thelema with this Commission went,
And by imperious Looks built up her brow.
The Passions struck by that commanding Dint
Down all their eyes and arms and courage threw:
Only Agenor's stomach rose to see
Himself out-look'd in high-swol'n Majesty.

226

But knowing his own Weakness, and her Might,
And seeing all the Passions turn'd to fear;
He judg'd it safest now to change the fight
Of Arms to that of Wit: for in Love's ear
He whisper'd his device; and straitway she
At Thelema let fly this Fallacy.

227

Illustrious Lady, you to-day might spare
Those ireful Looks, with which Mistake hath plow'd
Your awful face: How can you think we dare
So far forget our nothing, as with proud
Madness to whet our Sword and bend our Bow
To make war with Omnipotence, and you?

228

But as your strength is great, so is your love,
Whom we our noble Friend have always found:
How often has your courteous Goodness strove
To ease that Yoke whose weight our Patience ground?
O had our Sovereign been as mild as you,
Despair had not been all our Comfort now.

229

But though our loyal service day by day
Strain'd all its strength Her favor to obtain;
Still her remorseless Cruelty doth lay
Upon our bruiséd necks a heavier chain;
And hating Love's and Pity's thoughts, she still
With lingering Death delighteth us to kill.

230

Arms, Arms, are our sole (forcéd) Refuge; for
Though your all-brawny Might knows how to bear
What wrongs soe'r her spight on you can pour,
Our shoulders of a feebler temper are:
Nor can you judge it guilt in us, if we
Shrink more than you from her broad Tyranny.

231

Hearing what constant slavery she heap'd
On our poor backs, who yet were all free-born,
This noble Stranger mercifully weep'd,
And thought it Honor's duty not to scorn
Our sad estate: Then far far be it you
Our ancient friend should more than Stranger grow.

232

Yet perish if we must, our Miseries
Beg but this woful Courtesy of you:
Return us not to Psyche, who denies
Us Brevity of torments: Lo we throw
Ourselves before your gentle feet, and pray
Our lives and griefs may see no other day.

233

Nay doubt not, Die we dare; but dare not think
Of living in our former Death again.
If from the fatal blow our necks but shrink,
Then say, We truly wish'd not to be slain.
Here take our willing swords; which in your hand
Though not in ours, our servitude may end.

234

As when the cunning Reeds relent and bow
In low submission to the boistrous Wind;
And with their whining pipe their sorrows blow
To every Blast, compassion's alms to find:
Way to their charm the generous Tempest gives,
And passing forward, them their Pardon leaves.

235

So portly Thelema allayéd by
Their fauning homage, bid them all arise.
They, strait unveiling ready Memory,
In fraudulent thanks presented to her eyes
The stately Pageant Fancy thither brought,
With their own Treasures amplier furnish'd out.

236

She look'd, and wonder'd, and let through her eye
The soft Deceit get stealing to her heart.
She never yet did at one view descry
So huge an Army of Delight, such Art
Of sweetness, such Magnificence of Pleasure,
Such equipage of Smiles and Joys and Leisure.

237

Election, who stood musing at her hand,
Was ne'r at such a dainty loss as here:
Her thoughts ten thousand sweets examin'd, and
Hover'd in gazing doubt which to prefer.
So in the flowry Mead fond Children loose
Their eyes, before they can resolve to choose.

238

The Rebels seeing now their crafty Bait
Went down without suspicion of the Hook;
Bid Love drive home the plot: She melting strait
Down on her bended knee, with flattering Look
And pliant words, endeavor'd thus to teach
Sturdy Rebellion meek Submission's speech:

239

Since this our full apparent Magazine,
Which thy just Eyes are pleas'd not to disdain,
No more respect can from fell Psyche's win,
Than froward glances of contempt; again
We beg, that we may never live to see
Such sweets betray'd to further slavery.

240

The bounteous heav'n, and Earth, and Air, and Sea
Have made our Treasury their own by this
Their royal Contribution: Yet must we
Our own possessions no more possess,
Nor reap the fruit of what the World's consent
In this rich Mass heaps up for our content.

241

O no! it is in vain that we are by
The generous universe thus favoréd,
Whilst Psyche's envious Barbarity,
And not our Mouths are by its bounty fed.
What patrons for this fierceness can she find,
When all the world besides to us are kind?

242

To us, and to our fellow-sufferers, who
Her faithful factors are in Senses trade.
A most unhappy faithfulness, which no
Acceptance finds! they all together plead
With woful us, desirous all our last
Anchor of hope on righteous Thee to cast.

243

Now by thy mighty Goodness we implore
Relief for our loud-crying Injuries.
So to thy service this exuberant store
We sacrifice; no despicable Price
Of thy Compassion, if the total gains
Of Nature's wealth be worth thy smallest pains.

244

So thy sole Beck shall be the Law whereby
Obligéd we our lives will regulate:
So great Agenor will unite in thy
Acquaintance, and this morning consecrate
To peaceful smiles, whose ominous Dawn was red
With flashes of fierce War and streaks of Blood.

245

As when the shepherd loitering by the side
Of some soft-murmuring Current, lets his ears
Drink that complaining story of the Tide;
The purling Dialect soon domineers
O'r his inchanted spirits, and down he lies
Both to the noise and sleep, an easy prize:

246

So Thelema, who linger'd all this while
In idle audience of Love's blandishments,
Was now subduéd by her glozing guile,
And to the Rebel's fair-tongu'd Plot consents.
Her hankering arms she with their treasures fills,
Her foolish heart with joy, her face with smiles.

247

And well I see, she cries, how righteous is
Your Cause and Quarrel: Heav'n forbid that I
To such deep undeservéd miseries
The justice of Compassion should deny.
Yet Pity is not all that I can show:
You know this Hand hath greater might than so.

248

Alas not Psyche's self, although she be
My granted Sovereign, can make me bend:
Oft do I rush and range abroad, when she
Would lock me up; and oft when she would send
Me forth, except my pleasure be to stir,
I stay in spight of all her strength and Her.

249

And, well aware of this, prudential she
Wav'd all her state, and su'd to me for aid
In meek pathetic flattery, when ye
Had bravely learn'd her how to be afraid.
I heard her fauning prayers: and I could
Have stayed; but I came, Because I would.

250

'Twas I first taught your Pris'ner Logos how
To bear a chain; else you had strove in vain.
Long, long have I accustom'd Him to bow
To my least finger his strong-reaching Brain:
And though sometimes I let him wrangle, yet
Reason has no more power than I permit.

251

The universal strength of all you see
Throughout the wide-spread world look big and high,
Ne'r yet made combination which could be
Valid enough to bind my Potency.
Hence 'tis that stoutest Champions from their knee
Fight by Petitions, when they deal with me.

252

They talk of Samson,—one, I must confess
Fame hath not quite bely'd; and yet we see
A Wenche's sheers clipt off his Mightiness,
And trimm'd him fit for his captivity.
Alas, poor Giant, all his strength hung loose
About his ears; mine in my heart lies close.

253

Nay Heav'n (without a brag I speak't) does know
My might so thoroughly, that it ne'r would try
By rightdown force of Arms my neck to bow,
But by allurements strives to mollify
My hardy Heart. And well it is that ye
Have took that gentle only course with me.

254

As for your choice of this illustrious Knight
To head your Party, I dispute it not.
His worth forestals exception: though in right
My vote should first have been expected, but
You by my pardon of that haste may know
What serious Pity I your Case allow.

255

This said, Agenor by the hand she takes,
And bids him welcome with a courtly Kiss.
He, soldier-like, right proud repaiment makes
In arrogant high-languag'd Promises;
And swears, by all his Conquests, she shall find
That with a Man indeed sh' had now combin'd.

256

Then to his fair Pavilion ushering Her,
His Soldiers he to Council summons: They
As proud's their haughty General, thither tear
With rampant Acclamations their way;
And there contrive by joint deliberation
The rest of their Adventure how to fashion.

CANTO V. The Pacification.

The ARGUMENT.

Love on the Rebel's part with Psyche treats,
Whose fair Tale Thelema and Agenor back:
And she deluded by their fauning cheats
Makes league with them, and huggs her own mistake.
Then muffling up Syneidesis at home,
In wanton pride she joys abroad to rome.

1

What boots it Man, that Nature's Courtesy
Lifting his awful Looks high towards Heav'n,
Hath built his Temples up with Majesty,
And into's Hand imperial Power given?
What royal Nonsence is a Diadem
Abroad, for One who's not at home supreme?

2

How do's this wide world mock him, when it lays
Its universal Homage at his feet;
Whom whilst the Air, the Earth, the Sea obeys,
A saucy pack of Passions dare to meet
With plain defiance; and presume to hope
His Empire shall go down, their Pleasure up.

3

How miserably fond's the Vaunt, that He
On every Monstrous Thing his Conquests builds;
That Tigres, Lions, Dragons, forcéd be
By Him to learn submission; That he wields
Art's moving Mountains, and through widest Seas
Commands his Ships to reach what World he please:

4

If his own Vessel's helm unruly grow,
And fling him into fatal Tempest's jaws;
If his domestic Slaves disdain to bow
Their worthless necks to his most equal Laws;
And fill his Court with more outrageous Beasts
Than are the Salvage Desert's wildest guests:

5

Alas poor Prince, whose feeble Royalty
Becomes the game and Scoff of vilest Things!
How much are Worms, who of themselves can be
Intire Commanders, more substantial Kings!
Intestine Rebels never trouble Worms,
But Psyche's toss'd and torn with civil Storms.

6

So toss'd, so torn; that sadly now at last
She finds the most unreasonable Dress,
Which can a reasonable Soul invest,
To be the light loose garb of Carelesness;
Whose gently-looking beauties only do
Inamour Ruin, and Destruction wo.

7

She from her Palace-window saw her Grief
Muster'd in terrible battalia:
In vain within she hunted for relief
Where only empty Desolation lay:
Logos and Thelema were absent, He
To violence Pris'ner, to Enchantment she.

8

At home indeed Syneidesis stay'd still,
But by her stay made Tortures do so too;
For she the guilt of this Rebellion full
In wounded Psyche's face fear'd not to throw.
Blame not the Passions, said she, if they
Revolt; You to their Treason op'd the way.

9

Had you been careful how your Might to wield,
And in due time approv'd your self a Queen;
Your royal Chariot's reins strait had you held,
And resolutely driv'n; your Beasts had been
Themselves, as loyal still to you and mild,
As now they traiterous are become and wild.

10

When in a stealing preface to the flood
The first Streams slily creep; with ease may we
Reduce the Straglers to their proper road:
But if we slight what seems so weak to be,
They grow upon us strait; disdaining more
Our strength, than we their weakness did before.

11

Your Greatness scorn'd those breeding Garboils; you
Forsooth on Safety's wings sate mounted high.
And what's that silly Rivulet come to now?
What wants it of a Sea's immensity?
A Sea it is; which though perhaps it may
Not cleanse your Crime, can wash your Life away.

12

How many a foul Repulse did I Digest,
And still with faithful constancy pursue
My Dutie's part! how often have I prest
For timely Justice on that mutinous Crew!
But in my Counsels I was too severe:
Yes, doubtless; witness all those Rebels there.

13

And where is Charis, where is Phylax now?
O you were too secure their aid to need;
And well could spare them for poor Heav'n, since you
In your own Realm a Sovereign are indeed.
The case is plain; See how your Subjects stand
With ready duty waiting your Command.

14

Unhappy Psyche stung by these reproaches,
Profoundly feels the wound dive in her heart;
Which with her blood her lamentations broaches,
And thus she streameth out her double smart:
Nay then I pardon them without, if Thou
Upon my heavy Griefs more load dost throw.

15

Cruel Syneidesis, why stayd'st thou here,
To grinde my dying Soul with nearer rage?
More mannerly's Their Crime who vex me there
At distance: Must my bosom be the stage
Of thy more dangerous undermining Wrath,
Which from my very heart digs out my Death?

16

Are these thy thanks to me; whose favour kept
Thee next myself, and hugg'd thee in my breast?
How little dream'd I that a Viper slept
In this my nearest and my dearest Nest!
Yet be assur'd, by knawing thy out way,
That thou thyself no less than me shalt slay.

17

The Privilege of other Vipers Thou,
More barbarous far, in vain expect'st; for they
To their fell Dames that decent Vengeance ow
Which by sage Nature's righteous Law they pay.
But surely Thou art of a kinder breed;
Thy Matricide all pardon must exceed.

18

Yet what gain I by seeing Thee undone,
Or those thy fellow-Elves who there rebel?
Unfortunate me, who cannot die alone,
But in my single Death all yours must feel!
Thus Miserie's prodigious Riddle, I
Am now betrayéd oft at once to die.

19

But this is all the pity Princes find
When Rebels once are grown as strong as bold:
All faults and all miscarriages are joyn'd
Into one cruel odious Mass, and roll'd
Upon their Sovereigns' Backs; although their sin
Hath nothing but their too much Goodness been.

20

Here stern Syneidesis, who knew full well
She on irrefragable Truth did lay
The ground of all her actions, 'gan to swell
With confident Scorn; and yet a while gave way,
Since she her sharp but loyal part had done
To see what Psyche meant: who thus went on:

21

O Charis! would'st not thou bid me adieu,
But by discourteous parting, leave my heart
Unarm'd, because unwarnéd? Grant it true
That thou no reason read'st in my desert
To stay thee here; my misery at least
Might woo thy Charity to be my Guest.

22

Wilt thou abandon me, o Phylax too,
Who hast so oft 'twixt me and danger spread
Thy Wing's impenetrable Shield? That Foe
On whom thy Conquest in the Grove did tread,
Was but a single fiend: why then shall thy
Brave Hand not reap this fairer victory?

23

How shall I grapple with this arméd crew
Confederate against my desolate head,
Whom one smug Cheater did so soon subdue?
What reason then soever wing'd thy speed
To my Relief, is multipliéd here:
What lames thy pity now, what deafs thine ear?

24

O Prince of this my consecrated breast,
O thou whose Majesty did not disdain
A suit to worthless me, but oft profest
By thy Ambassador thy amorous pain
And sweet-tormenting longings for my Love:
What makes thy tender Heart forgetful prove?

25

Hadst thou for ever not remembred me,
I had not mockéd been with Tasts of Bliss.
Why did not Aphrodisius's Treachery
Prevent the worse extremity of this?
That soft and single death why dy'd not I,
But am reserv'd a thousand times to die?

26

Some happiness of misery it were,
Might I be murder'd by my barbarous foes:
But must my homebred Powers the Standard rear
Against my Life? Must I be slain by those
Who by my influence live, and who must die
Unless I 'scape their mad Conspiracy.

27

What gain accrues to my Soul's Treasury
That I so long did Fast, so often Pray?
What brake that Bottle wont of old to be
The Store-house of Devotion's tears? what Pay
Have all my faithful amorous groans and sighs,
If I must prove mine own slave's sacrifice?

28

What meant this Token, which did gird my heart
So close to thee, who casts me now away!
Was this the farewel thou didst me impart
When thou some other Love hadst chose, which may
Monopolize thy constant favors, and
In banish'd Psyche's place for ever stand?

29

No wonder if my Passions mutinous prove,
Breaking that yoke which bound their Faith to me;
If blesséd Jesus can unty his Love
Knit in this spousal-knot of Chastity.
How can I longer be displeas'd with them,
Unless I could and dar'd fall out with Him?

30

Am I unworthy? so I was before:
Yet he vouchsaf'd my Nothing to accept.
Sure then, I now am sunk beneath the poor
Region of vilest nothing, and have kept
But what is worse than nullity, a mere
Capacity, Calamities to bear.

31

O all my Joys, take Psyche's long adieu,
And find some dwelling where you may have room:
My tumid Griefs have left no place for you,
But made my whole usurpéd heart their home;
And more than so; far must you get you hence
To 'scape my Sorrows' vast circumference.

32

And you, poor Hopes, your time no longer loose
In hankering here in my despairing breast:
Away, away unhappy things, and choose
In any place but this a fortunate Nest.
Be confident your choice can never err,
For all Misfortunes are collected here.

33

But rage, rage on, o my Disconsolations,
For I resign myself your total Prey:
Some ease 'tis to defy Woe's Insultations,
When still to look, and look in vain, for Joy,
Doubles self-torment: why should I alone,
When all things hate me else, my self bemoan?

34

Whilst thus she fries in desolate vexations,
The Rebels at their Council busy were:
Where tir'd with hard and knotty Consultations
Which way their traiterous design to steer;
Up rose Suspicion, and first looking over
Each shoulder, thus her judgment did discover:

35

Princely Agenor, in Truth's sober scale
Weighty and great's the work we have in hand;
Let not our caution then be light or small:
Haste may be good, when once we understand
The way is clear; if otherwise, to run,
Is only with more speed to be undone.

36

Hope's Arguments are plausible; but yet
She, flitting She, alone is their foundation:
I doubt our Enterprize's base will not
Stand sure on any thing but Demonstration.
I should be loth to fight, but where I may
Do something more than hope to win the day.

37

Anger's Advice is sound, if Psyche were
So weak a Prince as her opinion makes her:
But on what Rocks shall we our Vessel steer,
By this untried Card, if she mistakes her?
Fear, would she speak, could shew you such a List
Of Psyche's Powers, as soon would cool our haste.

38

Alas, how can we force her hold, if She
Deny to yield when we our Battery make?
Are not those Walls and Gates apparently
Of pure immortal Metal? We may break
Our Engins and our plots and fury too,
And sooner our own selves than her undo.

39

A lingering Leaguer, what can that effect,
Unless we dream at length to starve her out?
But she long since to throw secure neglect
On all the Dainties of the world was taught,
Her Prayers and her Heaven her diet were,
And now she's strait besieg'd, she best doth fare.

40

But as for us who at the siege must lie,
We, fed with hope of Victory, must starve
Before we get it: for with what supply,
Or whence shall we provided be to serve
So many mouths; which Psyche fill'd till now;
And if she up be shut, they must be too.

41

The Senses true and trusty are; but these
Can lend us no assistance here, so narrow
And difficult are all the passages
Which hither lead: Besides, could they march thorough,
They by our hands must fight, not by their own,
And do no more than we may act alone.

42

I could be confident, were but the Queen
Divorc'd from all her friends: but well I know
That she her Tell-truth keepeth still within,
And by her Oracle perhaps may grow
Too wise for us; for sage Syneidesis,
In all her Councils deep and sober is.

43

Nay who can tell but some of her Allies
Phylax or Charis, or some other friend
May rush upon our backs, and by surprize
Both our Design and us in pieces rend?
Fresh is the Lesson in the Grove we read;
Can you forget how Aphrodisius sped?

44

Besides, y' have heard of Heaven's immortal Son
Whose sovereign hand holds fate's and power's rein:
That hand which when great Lucifer begun
To let his eyes but glimmer with disdain;
Tumbled him headlong into Death and Hell:
I tell you friends, that Christ loves Psyche well.

45

Since then apparent hazards close attend
Our rightdown force; I cannot find how we
Shall answer Wisdom's scruples, if we bend
Against her castle our Artillery.
Should we at first be worsted, what Recruit
Can heal our Army, or our crack'd Repute?

46

Fear not that we should prove too wary; I
For my part judge the safest way the best:
And this is by a present Embassy
With humble Lies and Oaths and Glozings drest;
To cheat her from her strength, and wisely gain
Our ends, yet seem to 'scape Rebellion's stain.

47

But let a vow of Perseverance first
Seal us all sure to our Conspiracy;
That they aforehand may be self-accurst
Whoe'r shall faint or false Apostates be.
If one should basely fail, why may not two?
If two, why may the sum not higher grow?

48

This said: An eye of learing Doubt she cast
Upon Agenor, to observe how He
Relish'd her words: But soon she saw their taste
In's palate welcome found; for instantly,
I like her Council best he cries, and you
Shall strengthen your Adventure by a vow.

49

Thus shall my might avoid, what most I fear'd,
The vile encountre with a Woman; and
No less to you my Pity be declar'd,
Whilst in your front my Majesty doth stand;
And strike such terror, ev'n without a blow,
As to your Plot shall make your Empress bow.

50

Then calling for a Bason and a Pin,
He pricks his annular finger, and lets fall
Three drops of blood: strait, what he thus begun
As solemnly reacted was by all
The Company; which done, again he takes
The Bason, and three elevations makes.

51

And may the total streams of blood behind
Be forc'd to follow these three drops, he cry'd;
If ever I unbend my resolute Mind,
Or from this War's stout prosecution slide.
May this my present poison be (and here
He dipp'd his tongue) if I be not sincere.

52

Then sprinkling on the back of his right hand
Another drop: this martial mark, said he,
Shall for a badge and memorandum stand
Of our resolv'd and sacred Unity.
You see our Covenant's Rites: Now every One
Do what your willing General has done.

53

No jolly Health more chearly walk'd its round
When lusty Wine and Mirth the boul had fill'd;
Than did this bloody barbarous Bason, crown'd
With Rage and madness. Their Rebellion seal'd
Thus by this desperate Ceremony, they
To Psyche, speed the Messenger away.

54

And this was Love, on whose quaint tongue although
There dwelt perpetual fallacies and sleights;
Yet with industrious Deceptions now
And study'd flatteries her mouth she baits:
She knew the Queen was wise and strong and would
With common known Delusions not be fool'd.

55

Thus to the gate demurely come, she try'd
It with a modest knock, and paus'd a while:
Then dropping a more timorous stroke, she hid
In this soft Preface her meek-insolent guile.
The gentle Knocks bad Psyche courage take
To come and see what they would further speak.

56

No sooner had she op'd a wicket, and
Reach'd out her doubtful Eye the News to know;
But she beheld the Maiden trembling stand
With weeping eyes, and with dejected brow.
She lik'd the posture; yet demanded why
She thither came, a false and fauning Spy?

57

Love by that word alarm'd, to skrew her art,
Fell on her knees, and smote her bowéd breast;
And, Wo is me, she cry'd, whose loyal heart
By my most dear, though ireful Sovereign's thrust
Quite thro' and thro'! What strange mischance doth throw
This wrong on Me, and that mistake on You?

58

If thus to visit you in humblest guise
Who here immuréd dwell in Desolation;
If to discover where the Error lies
Whose secret Venom breeds this Perturbation
Of your whole Realm, deserve the name of Spy;
I well can bear this glorious Infamy.

59

But if Suspicion so deludes your eyes,
That, looking with a jealous glance on me,
They in my Count'nance read an Enemy's;
Just leave I crave to tell your Majesty
(For it concerns my essence,) you forget
Your Creature, and take Love itself for Hate.

60

Yet your mistake shall force no change in me;
Use your vast pow'r wherever else you please.
I still am Love, and so resolve to be,
Not fearing that false envious witnesses
Can swear me from myself: Heav'n cannot frame
What I had rather be than what I am.

61

Sure I with that right genuine Love which you
Hug next your soul, have some affinity;
Adulterate can that virgin Passion grow,
And stain its spotless self with Treachery?
Can Odours stinking, Honey bitter be,
Silk harsh, Down hard, that thus you judge of me?

62

Can hatred-hating Lambs imployéd be
The message of blood-thirsty wolves to bear;
And that, (with self-destroying villany)
To their own best-deserving Shepherd's ear?
Can mildest Doves upon an errand from
Rapacious Kites, and salvage Vultures come?

63

O no, misdeeming Sovereign; I am sent
The soft Ambassador of Peace to you:
Nor of my Office must it me repent
What wrath soe'r stands bent in your stern brow:
And though I know not what will hence ensue,
I to my native sweetness must be true.

64

I see you fear'd your Members there had bent
Some trait'rous force against their royal Head:
And is't not likely they would all consent
Their own heart-blood and life in yours to shed?
Madam, believe 't, Self's not a dearer Name
To noble You, than to the worst of Them.

65

Might I be bold to judge, (and may I speak
Under your favor's shelter,) I should swear
Your Highness now is only pleas'd to take
Suspicion's mask, and try how they will bear
A forg'd imaginary guilt; since in
Their faithful breasts, you find no real sin.

66

'Tis true, a piece of Discontent has put
Them in that posture of Defence: but by
Heav'n, and more heav'nly You, they brew no plot
But what becomes true Subjects' modesty.
Were mischief their Design, what Power's charms
Now dead their hands and damp their glittering arms?

67

If strong-embattel'd injur'd Patience be
A sign of Treason; they are Traytors all:
But surely this self-bridling Treachery
Doth more for thanks and praise, than anger call.
O never be it said, that you alone
Could in arm'd meekness read Rebellion.

68

Though Heav'n's Angelic Army rangéd stand
In fair array, their martial order does
Not tempt their Sovereign's wise thoughts to brand
Them with the odious character of Foes.
Let then, that Copy, justify their fact,
Who arméd are to Bear, and not to Act.

69

Else their full Torrent hither flowéd had,
And made a Deluge of what's now a Drop.
What shift could your craft's or strength's banks have made
So fierce a Tide of Violence to stop?
But now their Faith and Truth their Power aw,
And only Duty is their martial Law.

70

For they by me their Homage send, and pray
Your Highness would with it their Suit embrace;
Changing their tedious Nights into their Day,
Their only Day which riseth from your face;
And deigning to go forth and see how they
Their panting souls, before your feet will lay.

71

Here breaking off in deep deceitful sighs,
With cunning tears she all her face bedew'd.
But toss'd and rack'd in ambiguities,
Ten thousand several thoughts poor Psyche chew'd:
Weeping at length, O that those Tears of thine,
She cry'd, were as sincere and true as mine!

72

If those Dissemblers now would Suters be,
What mean proud Arms and warlike Preparation?
Petitions sure should from the bended knee,
Not from the Bow be shot: this sullen fashion
Stout Rogues brought up, who begging with one hand,
A stone bear in the other to command.

73

In front why is that burly Stranger set
As General against your Sovereign?
He whose heav'n-daring Looks proclaim him fit
Not to request and sue, but to disdain.
If I were longer to be trusted, why
Chose you his Banner for security?

74

Yet that the Progress of your Treason may
Want all pretence, as its Commencement did;
I'l condescend to hear you say your say,
Provided you yourselves in quiet spread
Before my window: I must parley there;
You know how you have us'd my messenger.

75

Love stung by that last Word, and with fresh tears
Dissembling their true cause, took humble leave.
Then to her Complices the News she bears,
Who it with doubtful countenance receive;
And boulting every Circumstance, conclude
That still the same Device must be pursu'd.

76

Agenor strait vouchaf'd himself to shew
In all his pomp, and more than was his own;
That Psyche might those vast Temptations view
Which only swell'd so high to throw Her down.
But none of all the Passions knew from whence
He beck'ned, in his strange Magnificence.

77

The glorious furniture's full flowing Stream
Follow'd his nod with like facility;
As in a dreaming brain light figures swim
Into a Sudden Masque of Bravery.
The Sight the Passions struck with joyful fear,
And made ev'n Thelema with reverence stare.

78

Yet crafty He, though glad and proud to read
Their admiration of his gorgeous Ly;
Told them they wrong'd his Honor, if they did
Count this poor flash, his total Majesty.
Which said, his Train he to the Castle drew,
And there preparéd for the Interview.

79

At length six golden Trumpets' mouths affirm'd
Their Master's Highness was at hand to treat.
To her balcony Psyche thus alarm'd,
Started; and found the Noise was not so great
As strange the Sight: She never, though a Queen,
Such prodigality of State had seen.

80

An half-ope Tent appear'd, whose Covering was
Sumptuously rugged with Embroidery
Of Pearls and Jewels; in which various Glass,
Titan, who needs would peep, had lost his Eye:
But yet ten thousand He receiv'd for one;
For every Gem return'd him back a Sun.

81

A fearful Texture of fierce Tapestry
Pavèd the awful Floor with costly pride;
Where slaughter'd Lyons, Boars, and Bears did lie;
Confessing by whose martial Hand they dy'd:
For every one had great Agenor's dart
Deep sticking in his head, or in his heart.

82

The Walls hung thick with War; the noblest stories
Whose valiant Actors e'r had honor'd Bays;
Were glistering there, not in unworthy glories:
What Gold, and richer Stones could do to raise
Them to their life again, being freely tried;
Whilst Art as liberally her wealth supplied.

83

Th'obedient Sun rein'd in his posting Hours
On heav'n's steep side, at Joshua's strict Command;
Where to attend and to admire his Powers,
This glorious Witness with fix'd Eye did stand.
The Moon pull'd in her horns, nor daréd they
Push forth the Night, till He had got the Day.

84

Close by, five Kings all prostrate gnaw'd the ground,
Feeling his Captain's feet upon their necks:
And in a stately-miserable Round
Were rangéd other Princes, twenty six;
Whose Crowns lay all before his Helmet broke;
Whose loppéd Sceptres ru'd his faulchion's stroke.

85

There boistrous Samson with his Asse's Jaw,
(A wretched weapon could his Sinews not
Mend his weak Tool by his most potent Blow,)
A thousand Enemies devouréd: But
With statelier Might, his brawny shoulders here
Did Gaza's gates up Hebron mountain wear.

86

And yet his last Exploit crown'd all the rest,
When to the Prince's fatal Sport he shew'd;
Turning their Banquet to their funeral Feast,
When with their Wine their blood and brains he brew'd.
As down he tears the mighty Theatre,
The Hangings full of their own ruins were.

87

Next him, a young and ruddy Champion flings
Into Goliah's brow a shameful Death.
There Terror's train vast Ishbibenob brings
Upon the Scene, shaking with monstrous wrath
His barbarous spear; till Abishai's brave Steel
Hew'd down this Mount,—whose fall forc'd Gath to reel.

88

There Sibbechai on Saph's enormous Pride
Stout vengeance takes. There mighty Elhanan
Drowns storming Lahmi in his own blood's tide.
And there th'undaunted Blade of Jonathan
Prunes the sixfinger'd Gyant; and requites
The bold defiance he on Israel spites.

89

An army to himself, Adino there
Musters his Powers against eight hundred foes:
Glad this great harvest he alone may share,
About his daring work the Champion goes;
Nor stops his conquest till he quite has mown
This total field of matchless Honor down.

90

There Dodo's Son; there Shammah keep their ground,
Nor yield one inch to all Philistia's host:
The more shame spurr'd them on, the more they found
They ventur'd only to their deadly cost;
For obstinate Victory attended here
On Shammah's Sword, on Eleazer's there.

91

Benaiah from th'Egyptian Heroe here
Tears both his Spear and Life: He there divides
Destruction twixt a Lyon-facéd Pair
Of Moabites: His faulchion here he guides
Into a real Lyon's heart, whose cave
Where him he found, he left to be his grave.

92

To Bethlehem there the danger-scorning Three
Through all Philistia's guards slash ope their way;
Fir'd with a stronger thirst of Victory,
Then was their King's of Water: Of their Prey
They scorn'd to fail, although they through a flood,
—Advancing and retreating,—wade of blood.

93

The other Work, the vaunting stories wore
Of what He pleas'd about himself to lie:
How many Gyants gasping in their gore
Yielded Agenor, strange-form'd Victory!
How many Palms and Bays about him threw
Themselves, ambitious of his Hand and Brow.

94

What throngs of meek Ambassadors were there
From every quarter of the awéd Earth,
Begging the favor of his royal ear
Upon their Sutes for Peace; and pouring forth
The richest Gifts their Countries could afford
In earnest of their homage to their Lord!

95

Above his Scutcheon hung, In Azure field
A Lyon Or, with lightning in his paw;
The crest was Fame, with cheeks and trumpet swell'd
And wings display'd. His throne of Pearl below
With sparkling earnestness strove to exceed
The beams of those six Steps which to it led.

96

The first was Plutus, of substantial price;
The next Eugenia, in fancy high;
Callos the third, the ravisher of eyes;
The fourth Andria, swell'd with majesty;
The fift Pædia, quainter than the rest;
Eusebia the sixt, of all the best.

97

There sate the Gallant: one whole Diamond made
His radiant Helmet; and in wanton pride
A gorgeous flood of Plumes about it play'd,
Yet scorn'd the kiss of any Wind; aside
They wav'd their heads and coyly seem'd to say,
To every Blast: Your breath offends; away.

98

A stately Mantle's large expansion reach'd
Down from his wide-spread shoulders to his feet;
And cloth'd him with all splendors that are fetch'd,
From eastern shores, the western Pearls to meet;
And by a rich conspiracy of beams
Epitomize the World's estate of Gems.

99

His Sword look'd lightning through its crystal sheath,
Whose round Hilt crownéd its victorious Blade:
His mighty Sceptre, circled with a Wreath
Of bloody Bays, right dreadfully he sway'd.
The Ball in's hand was swell'd to that degree
As if it meant indeed the World to be.

100

At's right hand stood Disdain: turn'd was her Head
Over her shoulder; with contemptuous Eye
Through gloomy frowns, her sullen mind she spread,
And seeing, scorn'd to see, the Company:
Nor did she mend or mollify her brow,
But when her Master's growing rough, she saw.

101

At's left stood spruce and gaudy Philauty,
Whose thoughts dwelt on a crystal book she held
Eternally, to her admiring Eye;
In which her foolish self she read, and smil'd
On her fair Lesson; though the brittle Glass
Admonish'd her how vain her Beauty was.

102

Before Him, on a golden pillar,—at
Whose massy foot a Palm and Laurel grew,—
Upon the back of Triumph, Glory sate;
From whose full robes more dazling Lustre flew
Than breaks from Phœbus' furniture, when he
Through Cancer rides, in June's high gallantry.

103

About him round his whole Retinue was
Dispos'd in royal equipage: His own
Attendants had the credit of the place
Which glitter'd nearest his illustrious throne;
Then with their cheated Leader Thelema
Stood all the Passions in battalia.

104

Crafty Agenor having paus'd a while
To give respect to his own state, and let
Psyche have time to swallow down the guile
Which with such winning baits he had beset;
By soft and proud degrees vouchaf'd to stir,
And being risen, thus accosted Her.

105

Did Pity's generous and Sovereign Law
All specious points of Honor not forbid;
Agenor must not have descended now
To stand at Psyche's gate; but I am led
Below myself by Virtue, that my Might
May help these wrongéd Passions to their Right.

106

'Tis Fortune's pleasure that thus casts me, on
These merciful Designs, and I'm content;
Fame, fame's my Trade: this noble Pay alone
My Pains expect: Indeed the common Rent
By which my most renownéd self I keep
Are those Revenues, I from Glory reap.

107

And since these silly Souls mistook my Worth,
And deem'd me but some single errant Knight;
I let this glimpse of what I am break forth,
To teach their Error my authentic might
Needs no supplies from them: This Part of my
Ne'r-conquer'd Train dares Heav'n and Earth defy.

108

How easily this Sword's devouring flame
Might Sacrifice you to my Wrath! but you
Being a Female Thing, I hold it shame
To make my Conquest's Honor stoop so low:
I'm loth the World should say, Agenor drew
His Sword, and, like a Man, a Woman slew.

109

In Woman's blood my Weapon never yet
Blush'd for its base Exploit; nor will it now
By sordid Victory discredit get
Unless inforc'd by fortune, fate, and you.
And then I hope the justice of the Fight
Will cover that dishonor of my Might.

110

But I through Courtesy myself forget
In lavishing thus far my royal breath:
Precious are Princes' Words; nor is it fit
Their Tongue should flow, whose nod or finger hath
More decent Eloquence. Thus having spoken,
He took his throne, and nodded Love her token.

111

She knew her cue, and stepping gently forth
Thus 'gan her Tale: Great Queen, since I must be
My suppliant Sister's mouth; o may this Earth
Ope her's to close up mine, if falsity
Break from my lips, or any fraud conceal
What they, and truth, and justice bid me tell.

112

What Heav'n has made us, 'tis our bliss to be,
And that's your Subjects: though cross Error now
A confident blot throws on our Loyalty;
The least of treacherous thoughts we disavow.
What should the fond boughs gain, should they combine
Their desperate arms their root to undermine?

113

Yet your wise Majesty full well doth know
That as yourself a free Prince are, so we
Are freeborn Subjects: Nature's Laws allow
In our sweet Commonwealth no Tyranny:
She knew this mutual Liberty would bless
Both Prince and People, with joint happiness.

114

When did a Realm of slaves unto their Prince
The trusty sweetness of Love's homage pay?
When did a Tyrant with safe confidence
Rely upon his Vassals? None but they
Can fairly Rule, and fairly Ruléd be,
Whom freedom's bonds ty up in Monarchy.

115

But what broad Innovations of late
Rush'd in, and justled out our Liberty,
O that we could not feel! Had it been fate
Which thrust on us this boistrous Misery,
We had been silent: but we know what Hands
Have stol'n our freedom, and by whose commands.

116

Nor I, nor any of my Sisters were
Suffer'd ourselves in quiet to possess:
We might not Love, nor Hate, nor Hope, nor Fear,
We might not taste Revenge or Joyfulness,
Or any thing which pleas'd not them who had
A Prey of all our Privileges made.

117

Surely we all had legal Title to
What ours by reverend Nature's bounty was;
Yet snatch'd from thence, poor we were press'd to go
And serve abroad we knew not where, alas!
Nor e'r shall know; for how should we comprise
Mysterious Things and Matters of the Skies!

118

Nor is this sad case only Ours, who are
Inlanders here: Your Subjects too abroad,
Who at your Cinque-ports with perpetual care
In-gathering your royal customs stood,
Are gall'd with like Oppressions: and they
Pray'd us, with ours, their Grievance to display.

119

They have not leave, (poor leave) to hear, or see,
Or smell, or taste, or feel, what is their own;
But chain'd in deep unnatural slavery
Of their starv'd lives and selves are weary grown:
Yet more than all this Grief their hearts doth break,
That Piety itself must prove their Rack.

120

They must a new Devotion learn, and be
Tortur'd with Watchings, Prayers and Prostrations;
With Ceremonies of pale sanctity,
With Fastings and severe Mortifications:
Or if this superstition they refuse
Some mulct, the poor Confessors' backs must bruise.

121

Had they been temper'd to the purity
Of brisk and active Angels, they might all
Manage spiritual Tasks, and weanéd be
From every gross Material Breast: but shall
Matter's own off-spring be Delinquents made,
Because in their own native sphere they trade?

122

And by what Law must honest They or We
Under this Arbitrary power lie?
Where is your freeborn Subjects' Liberty
Who have no freedom left, unless to die?
And surely Death a greater blessing were
Than such a Life as we all die in here.

123

Mistake not, gracious Sovereign, what I speak,
As if I charg'd the guilt of this our Wrong
On your just Soul: No; let my heartstrings crack
With their own torments' load, before my Tongue
Grow black with such a slander: you, alas!
Involved, a sufferer are in our sad case.

124

A sufferer in that which nearest lies
And dearest unto every Prince's heart:
Your royal Honor in our Miseries
Is rack'd and tortur'd, and torn part from part.
Ask not, by whom? 'tis too notorious what
Bold Charmers in your Court command had got.

125

Logos, that wiley fox, screw'd all his skill
Daily to make both you and us his prey:
Some handsome Tale or other he would tell
Which fairly might to your mistake betray
Your unheard Subjects: from your highness thus
He stole your ear, our Liberty from us.

126

His Majors, Minors, Maxims, Demonstrations,
With most profound deceit he gravely drest;
And by these sage and reverend Conjurations
Pour'd Cruelty into your clement breast.
His mischief-hatching Plots seem'd sober Reason,
Which in the Passions must have gone for Treason.

127

Hence issu'd those Commands which day by day
Illegal Burdens on our backs did throw;
And to this sad necessity betray
Our loth loth Souls, observing Gall to flow
From Honey's hive: for though all warrants came
From his fell hand, they wore your gentle Name.

128

Some woful comfort it had been if we
Had to that single Tyranny been damn'd:
But we at home in forein slavery
Were yoak'd; A Grievance we would not have nam'd
In reverence to your Credit, could the thing
Have easy grown by our long suffering.

129

For what's that Charis unto us, that She
In our Free State such arrogant sway must bear?
Or what, and why are royal you, if we
Must be commanded by a Foreigner?
We grant she's brave and princely; yet we know
We owe allegiance to no Queen but you.

130

She came from heav'n, if we her word may take;
But what should woo her from so fair a place
To dwell in this ignoble World, and make
Her high self stoop to such profound Disgrace?
I would be loth to wrong her; yet I fear
There's something in't, why Heav'n gat rid of Her.

131

And was't a heav'nly trade which here she drove
In plotting how to barbarize your breast
With strange Austerity; and to remove
Us from your love, with which we once were blest?
Your smiles she all monopoliz'd, and left
Us quite of all things but your Hate bereft.

132

Surely our Patience was our Crime, and she
Only because we were content to bear,
Increas'd the burden of our Misery:
And then, to seal our Torture with a Jear,
She prais'd our Woes' deep hell, as if by it
In heav'n's high-way we had been fairly set.

133

If this Devotion be, and heav'nly Zeal,
What, what is Savageness! Alas that we
None but destructive Piety must feel,
And by Religion consumed be!
Alas that Heav'n and Godliness must thus
Be mock'd and wrested and abus'd with us!

134

Nor has proud Phylax us'd less dangerous art
To cozen you into this Tyranny:
Soft are his Wings, but cruel is his heart;
Sweets in his Looks, stings in his bosom lie;
Fair do's he speak you, for that Bait's the cheapest;
His Streams run smoothest where the Chanel's deepest.

135

Were you a youngling, and devoid of Friends
Whose riper arms might help your tender hand
To sway the Sceptre's load; what he pretends,
With tolerable sense perhaps might stand:
But must your Nonage know no bounds, and He
For evermore the Lord Protector be?

136

Now by your Honor, mighty Queen, 'tis time
For you no more to think yourself a Child.
Know, know your own authentic Power, and Him
Who has your Love and it too long beguil'd:
'Tis no discredit for a Prince to throw
Away an Error, and with it a Foe.

137

Your Confidence in Him, which flames so high,
Was kindled by his service in the Grove.
Yet what if that were but a Mystery
Of envious fraud, and no Exploit of Love?
If Phylax, and not Aphrodisius were
In all that scene of Charms the Conjurer?

138

Who but the noble Aphrodisius there
His own dear life right generously forgot,
And from fierce Death wide-gaping in the Boar
Rescu'd your helpless soul? And O, from what
Did Phylax snatch you, but from his Embrace
Who your Deliverer and Lover was.

139

And then inrag'd with shameless spight to see
You to another your protection owe,
He on the courteous stranger's Piety
Blush'd not the dregs of magic Power to throw:
How much more Monster was your Phylax there,
Who made the goodly Knight so soul appear.

140

Long since we could have told you this; but we
Dar'd not ev'n necessary Truth profess
Till Arms had sheltred us; least cruel he
Should both our tongues and lives by force suppress:
For well he knows, he must no more be known
Where once he's into open knowledge grown.

141

Yet we could brook it, would he only try
His charms on Aphrodisius, and forbear
To exercise on us his Witchery:
But we alas so metamorphos'd are
With that rough-cast of shapes he on us cleaves,
That you in your own Subjects he deceives.

142

We too like Fiends (for Rebels sure are so)
Presented are to your abuséd eye:
Although ev'n Phylax in his heart doth know
Our Lives are not so dear as Loyalty
To honest-meaning us: And whose was this
Desp'rate Enchantment, if it were not His?

143

'Tis true, he talks of Love; and needs will be
The Paranymphus of the heavenly Spouse:
But surely I should ken as well as he
All Mysteries of Love: your Highness knows
That my Creation only aims at this:
And is my natural Art less mine than His?

144

That Love's own glorious Prince makes love to you,
As to the dearest she that treads his earth;
I dare not question, since so well I know
Your Majestie's incomparable worth.
But heav'n forbid that I should Him esteem
So strange a Spouse as Phylax makes of Him.

145

Sure he is King of Sweetness and Delight,
And with more zeal abhors all Tyranny
Than Phylax loves it: Sure His gentle Might
Desires a correspondent victory.
Not all the world shall make me think that He
Will ever woo his Spouse by Cruelty.

146

Lents, Embers, Vigils, Groans, Humicubations;
Tears, Pensiveness, disconsolate Privacy;
Sad silence, Sourness, and self-abnegations;
Are not conditions requiréd by
An earthly suiter; and can heav'nly He
Imbitter thus his suit's dear suavity?

147

Can he expect his tender Spouse should prove
Her loyalty to pant with pure affection,
By nothing but Self-hatred? Can his Love
Find no security but your destruction?
Pardon my fear, great Queen, you love not him
Whom such a spightful Lover you can deem.

148

But far be such black omens hence: Had I,
Or this wide world, one Glass, which could present
Your total Self to your considering eye;
The gallant sight would make your heart repent
This dangerous heresy, that Heav'n's gentle King
Would use so harshly such a lovely Thing.

149

What was there of Serene, of Bright, of Sweet,
Of Soft, of Beauteous, in this world below,
Or that above; which did escape the great
Creator's studious fingers, when on you
Himself he wrote, and bad your Person be
The Universe's rich Epitome?

150

But Phylax brews this cruel-flattering Plot,
Because it is his rack, and hell, to see
Fortune or Fate so rare a Bride allot
To any Spouse but him: Hence, hence is he
So subtly active in his secret Art
How he may you and your great Suiter part.

151

Part you he will, if he can thus intice
Your thoughts and judgment to be Traytors, and
Charm you your Lord's affections to despise
By scorning Us; who, had not his dear Hand
Bestow'd Us on you, had not now liv'd here
This Mass of cruel Injuries to bear.

152

O then, O, first for your own royal sake,
And next for ours, wrapp'd up in you, beware
Of his Designs in time: Just courage take,
In what deserves your speediest, stoutest care.
Nor you nor we can be secure, till he
Both from your Court and Favor banish'd be.

153

Nor can your Palace be a dwelling-place
For Safety, whilst pragmatic Logos, or
Sly Charis revel in your Princely Grace.
One Edict may dispatch them all, and far
From this their stage of holy treachery
Pack their incurable Hypocrisy.

154

So shall your Sovereign Self securely dwell,
And your impartial undeceivéd Hand
Sway its own Sceptre: So shall we dispel
By low obedience to your high Command
That groundless Error, which hath stampéd thus
Rebellion's ugly brand on faithful Us.

155

So shall our rescu'd Liberties appear
In their own looks, when We by love shall do
More of your Will than disingenuous fear
And lawless Tyranny e'r hal'd us to.
So you for Rigor shall not dreaded be,
But reign acknowledg'd Queen of Clemency.

156

So shall your sweetned Countenance proclaim
That Love's dear trade sincerely you profess:
So shall your eyes court with their answering flame
Your Spouse's beams; so shall His tenderness
Meet due capacity in your soft heart
Of his destroying, yet enlivening Dart.

157

Here, with a kiss upon the ground, her stop
The crafty Pleader made. But thousand Doubts
Hurry'd and toss'd uncertain Psyche up
From one side to another of her thoughts.
Three times she op'd her mouth; but jealous fears
Would suffer her to speak by nought but tears.

158

'Tis true, Syneidesis had prick'd her on
With faithful importunity; yet still
She found her feeble self too much alone;
For though she had Desires, she had no Will.
O no! her Will was with the Rebels, and
She now in arms against her self did stand.

159

Which when Agenor spy'd, he with his eye
Gave Thelema commission to succeed.
She, marching forth in portly policy,
Spun out the rest of Love's deceitful thread:
And, Well I know, great Queen, said she, that you
Much wonder I should come a Treater now.

160

I grant you sent me with express Command
To force your seeming Rebels back again,
And make them feel that your illustrious Hand
Is moderatrix of the regal Rein:
And I believéd them for Rebels too;
So much your Error on my faith could do.

161

But when I found their Loyalty as clear
As blurr'd it seem'd, in Misconstruction's glass;
I, who was but th'intrusted Officer
Of Right and Justice, had no power to pass
My strict Commission; and what need I prove
What was so solidly confirm'd by Love?

162

I must confess, when well I mark'd that store
Of honest bravery of which poor They
Were, with the Senses robb'd, I could no more
To their provok'd Impatience Treason lay,
Than to the Earth's, when her chink'd mouth she opes
At Sirius, who burns up her flowry hopes.

163

Yet wronged They were generous, and to Me
The choice of all their choicest Wealth did proffer,
That by my hand it might commended be
To wait on you; and here their Gift I offer.
If it and them you scorn, yet must not I
Be guilty of such proud Discourtesy.

164

Forthwith she op'd the Scene, whence streaméd out
The Confluence of that gorgeous fallacy.
Which on her heedless soul before had wrought.
Strait, as the sweetly-rolling Tide grew high,
The stream bore Psyche down; as sudden Light
Seizeth, by too much day, the eyes with night.

165

Agenor, glad to see her dazell'd by
The flash of those varieties, arose;
And, while she rubb'd and questionéd her eye,
Seald that Imposture with this specious Close:
Wonder not Madam, but repent, that you
Your Subject's goodly Homage scorn'd till now.

166

To gratify the Weakness of your sex,
Let that be your excuse; I am content
If now you ease your galléd Subjects' necks
And crown their just Demands with your Assent.
That Pity to their Wrongs you see me lend,
To your repented Error shall extend.

167

The love which to mine own Queen glues my heart,
Makes it to every other Lady kind.
For her dear sake I will to you impart
Rich Testimonies of my tender mind.
I know she'l thank me when I come at home,
That in my mercy I have made you room.

168

Behold my Mine of Wealth: from hence will I
This Peace with precious Tokens consecrate,
And your, howe'r unequal, Majesty
As my Confederate own: Though potent fate
Makes me a Martial Prince, I'd rather win
By sweetness, than by churlish Force, a Queen.

169

Though Heav'n above sometimes by Thunder frights
And breaks its foes; yet by mild Patience
And bounteous favors oftner it delights
The heart of Opposition to convince.
And, for this once, I hope 'twill not disgrace
My might, that I Heav'n's gentle Conquests trace.

170

Ope then your Gates: Or, if my Kindness be
A price too mean to buy your Acceptation,
Tell me but so: I can more easily
Force than Intreat: This warlike Preparation
With greater pains wins on it self to make
This pause, than it will cost your Fort to take.

171

What help for Psyche now, whom Power hurries,
And Charms allure into Destruction's pit!
With heart-misgiving Thoughts a while she worries
And struggles not to fear the one, nor yet
Imbrace the other: but away at last
Her Resolution and her self she cast.

172

Pull down thy foolish crest, vain Son of Dust,
And in this Glass thy feeble Wormship see.
What other pledge can to thy wavering trust
Committed be, when by self-treachery
Thou yieldest up thy wretched heart a prize
To them whose Pow'r in thy Concession lies.

173

I like the Terms, right noble Sir, she cries,
And in my high esteem for ever must
Inshrine and reverence these Courtesies
Of your Magnificence. Which said, in haste
Her Safety she unbars, and to begin
Her thanks, flings ope her Gate and calls Him in.

174

Agenor sheath'd his mighty Sword, and bid
The Passions put up theirs, and march before.
In modest order they thus enteréd:
He with his swelling Train approach'd the Door;
But seem'd to cast a surly look aside,
Because it was not more sublime and wide.

175

With princely slowness thus arrivéd; Her
He sternly wills her royal Seal to put
To those Conditions which agreéd were,
And in a gilded parchment ready writ.
She ran them over with a smiling eye,
And strait set Seal to her own Slavery.

176

Which done; To Thelema the Instrument
She gave, with full Commission close to shut
Her Ports, when Charis, or when Phylax bent
Their marches, or their projects thither. But
For Logos, she consented He should still
Remain a Pris'ner at the Passions' will.

177

With that, Agenor cries, this friendly Kiss
Shall be my Seal to this Pacification.
The Passions then, though venturing not to press
Her lips, salute her ears with Acclamation:
And she, fond she, rejoyc'd their Noise to hear,
Which did in pieces all her freedom tear.

178

By name she kindly welcom'd them; but on
Agenor dwelt her solemne Complement.
And sure, said she, what you to day have done
Proves you to be of that sublime Descent
From which my Spouse was said alone to spring;
For now I see you too are Peace's King.

179

Heav'n was too large and loose a Word, when you
Profest to trace its gentle Conquests; He
He only was your glorious Copy now,
Who is the Master of my heart and me:
He who deserveth to be follow'd by
Such royal Scholars as your Majesty.

180

His Hand's Power's highest throne; the Armory
Of heav'n, where thundering Ammunition lies
In dreadful store, is His; yet tender He
By sweetness loves to gain his victories.
And so do you, who for his sake, to me
The noblest Prince and dearest are, but He.

181

Agenor smil'd: and who I am, said He,
Virtue permits me not to let you know:
More than by this blest Peace, and, what you see,
That Token of my princely love to you:
For, somewhere else the World may need, and I
Must not by loitering here, my help deny.

182

Yet if my Aid you should hereafter want,
Send and enquire at any Prince's Court.
Those are the Hosts and Inns to which I grant
The favour of my always-begg'd Resort:
Where, from my Coming and Departing they
Reckon the Morn and Evening of their Joy.

183

This said, and tendring, in two Cabinets
His present, from her lips he took his leave;
Through which he breath'd and kiss'd in new Deceits,
Which her unwary heart did not perceive;
Sly Spirits of Self-love, and foolish Pride,
And many mystic swelling things beside.

184

With earnest Courtesy she woo'd his stay;
But now his deep Design was compass'd, He
With all his proud Retinue hastes away,
And leaves her more a Pris'ner, than when she
Was in her castle barréd up by fear
Of them, who now all play the Tyrants there.

185

Each Passion takes her swindge, and makes appeal
To Thelema when any Doubts arise;
Boldly provoking to the Scroll and Seal,
Which did this publick Freedom authorize.
Thus Noise and Tumult all the Palace fills,
Which now with lawful lawless Revels swells.

186

So when fond Phæbus, doting on his Son
Resign'd his Reins into his childish hand;
Quite cross the road th'impatient Coursers ran,
And neither kept their way, nor his Command,
But in unbridled madness with their wheels
Drew on the World's confusion at their heels.

187

The Senses too, first Sticklers in the Treason,
Reapéd of its licentious fruit their share;
Perceiving quickly, that imprison'd Reason
Must his stern Discipline malgre forbear:
And proudly smiling, what tame fools were we,
They cry'd, who did no sooner mutiny!

188

What strange and hideous monsters Kingdoms grow,
Where Law and Sovereignty, the life and health
Of every heav'n-descended State must bow
To vile plebeians' wills! What Commonwealth
Can justify its Name, where Subjects may
Command, and Princes dare not but obey!

189

Where Freedom's Name being thus deflowréd, must
Turn Licence's bold bawd, and make it free
Only to be outrageous and injust!
Where Desolation's Dame, foul Ataxy,
As beauteous Mother of establish'd Bliss
And public Happiness, admiréd is.

190

No Hydra's shape so shapeless is as this
Which throws the world back to its breeding Heap;
The hideous Chaos of Preposterousness
That tumbles all Things in one monstrous Deep,
And, envying the fairly-form'd Creation
Disjoints and scatters it quite out of fashion.

191

Yet retchless Psyche is content to see
This horrid Solæcism in her own breast;
And thinks her Sceptre and her self more free
Then when Obedience did her Subjects cast
Low at the feet of all her Mandates, and
Her Empire's helm knew none but her own hand.

192

The silly Rose delighteth thus to be
Drest in her fairest looks and best attire,
When round about a churlish company
Of Thorns against her tenderness conspire:
That dangerous siege of pikes with smiles she greets,
Ne'r dreaming they design to choke her sweets.

193

Psyche's as jolly, as the Passions wild,
And longs her joys with that rich Feast to feed
With which Agenor's Cabinets were filld:
Proud Expectation prompts her there to read
The lines of Fate against her self, for she
In opening them, broach'd her own Mysery.

194

(With such unfortunate Curiosity
The fair-fac'd Box rash Epimetheus op'd:
The trembling Lid forewarn'd his hand to be
Better advis'd; yet still the Fondling hop'd
For mighty Matters; but the Prize he found,
Himself, and all the world in sorrows drown'd.)

195

The first was stuff'd with Bracelets, Networks, Tires,
Rings, Ear-rings, Tablets, Wimples, Hoods, Vails, Laces,
Lawns, Crisping-pins, Chains, Bonnets, golden Wires,
Vermilion, Pencils, Smiles, Youth, blooming Faces,
Gloves, Sandals, Girdles, Busks, Gowns, Mantles, Clokes,
New-fashions, Powders, Coronets, High-looks.

196

Silks, Satins, Purples, Sables, Ermins: Gold
And Silver, by the Loom and Needle taught,
To wed and dwell with Silk, which feels no cold.
The bottom too was sumptuously fraught
With ready Coin, to pave and dress the floor
Fit for the feet of that ambitious Store.

197

A stately Mirror's all-enameld Case
The second was; No crystal ever yet
Smil'd with such pureness: Never Ladie's Glass
Its owner flatter'd with so smooth a cheat.
Nor could Narcissus' fount with such delight
Into his fair Destruction Him invite.

198

For He in that, and Self-love, being drown'd,
Agenor from him pluck'd his doting Eyes;
And shuffled in her fragments; having found
Old Jezabel's, he stole the Dog's due prize.
Goliah's staring Bacins too he got,
Which he with Pharaoh's all together put.

199

But not content with these; from Phaeton,
From Joab, Icarus, Nebuchadnezzer,
From Philip and his world-devouring Son,
From Scylla, Catiline, Tully, Pompey, Cesar,
From Herod, Cleopatra, and Sejanus,
From Agrippina and Domitianus,

200

And many surly Stoics, their's he pull'd;
Whose proudest Humors, having drainéd out,
He blended in a large and polish'd mould;
Which up he fill'd, with what from heav'n he brought
In Extract of those Looks of Lucifer
In which against his God he breathéd war.

201

Then to the North, that glassy Kingdom, where
Establish'd Frost and Ice for ever reign;
He sped his course, and meeting Boreas there,
Pray'd him this liquid mixture to restrain.
When lo, as Boreas op'd his mouth, and blew
For his Command, the Slime all solid grew.

202

Thus was the Mirror forgéd, and contain'd
The vigor of those self-admiring Eyes
Agenor's witchcraft into it had strain'd:
A dangerous juncture of proud fallacies;
Whose fair looks so inamored Him, that He
Thrice having kiss'd it, nam'd it Philauty.

203

Inchanted Psyche ravish'd was to see
The Glass her self upon her self reflect
With trebled Majesty. The Sun when He
Is by Aurora's roseal fingers deckt,
Views not his repercusséd self so fair
Upon the Eastern Main, as she did here.

204

New flames were kindled in her sprightful eye,
New Roses on her smiling lips were strow'd,
New Loves and Graces dainty Luxury
Down with her golden streaming Tresses flow'd,
New Lilies trim'd her hands' and fingers' feature,
New Goodliness aggrandizéd her stature.

205

Her cheated Soul sprung through her Eye, and dwelt
So long upon the Glass, that it grew new:
Such mighty thoughts till now she never felt
As all about his highswol'n fancy flew;
Which breaking from her mouth, at length, she cries,
How long have I been strange to mine own eyes!

206

Am I that Worm, whom Phylax put in mind
So oft of Dust and Vileness! Could this face,

These Eyes, these Looks, these Hands, this Person find
No better Parallels? I see the case
Is plain how Aphrodisius came to be
So hideous: Phylax made the like of Me.

207

Fool that I was to dream it could be true
Which proud He daily preach'd to my disgrace!
Who could believe I ne'r till now should view
The wonders of mine own accomplish'd face?
O most ingenuous Glass, which tells me more
Than Phylax, or than Charis did before!

208

I see what cause there was to guard each Port
Whose key doth hither any way unlock,
That such ingrateful envious Guests' resort
No more may Me, and all my favors mock:
'Tis just that they should hence exiléd be,
Whose spightful Fraud did banish Me from Me.

209

No marvel now if Heav'n's apparent Heir
Disdains all Beauties that he finds above,
And, doing right to what's supremely fair,
By stooping down to me exalts his Love.
I little thought I could so much have shown
Why this my Head should fit an heav'nly Crown.

210

O pardon me, bright Eyes, that ignorant I
With briny tears so oft have sully'd you:
Had not your Flames by their Divinity
Securéd been, they had been quench'd e'r now.
And pardon me, sweet Cheeks! I will no more
Blubber and scald your roses as before.

211

And you, all-lovely Lips, no more shall kiss
The Dust, which foolish I took for your Mother;
The tribe of oriental Rubies is
Your precious Kindred: nor must any other
Your soft and living Nectar hope to sip,
But my Dear Spouse's correspondent Lip.

212

Nor shall rude usage rob thee of thy due,
My glorious Body: all hair-clothes farewel,
My liberal Tresses yield me hair enough;
And by this Girdle, Heav'n did plainly tell
What other Furniture would sute me best,
When with this siege of Gems it girt my waste.

213

And since thy Casket's Wardrobe challenges
My proudest choice, I wish thy self wert here,
Royal Agenor, to admire how these
Fair Limbs of mine would quit themselves, and wear
In worthy triumph thy best Jewels, which
Shall by my purer beams their own enrich.

214

This said; Love, who stood fawning by her side,
Her delicate Quaintness sets on work to dress
Her high-conceited Queen in equal pride.
A purple Mantle, fring'd with Stateliness,
Embroideréd with Ambition, lacéd round
With Vanity, she in the Casket found.

215

About her this she plants: then for her neck
And wrists, three gaudy strings of Gems she chose;
A sparkling Coronet her head to deck;
To trim her feet a pair of silver shoes;
A crisping Pin to multiply her hair;
Spruce Lawn to make her breast, though clothéd, bare.

216

Whilst she with these, and other Rarities
Builds up her pomp; the swelling Queen delights
To see by what rich steps her Beauties rise:
For to the Glass, whose multiplying sleights
Flatter'd her Error to so proud a pitch,
Her joyous folly still her eyes did reach.

217

And, that Vermilion, you, said she, may spare,
Whose pretty Looks it pities me to see;
Which though they Beautie's pure complexion wear,
Can add no commendation to Me.
They may relieve your needy Cheeks: but mine
Already any help of Art outshine.

218

Then rising in slow state, as she before
Had mark'd Agenor moving from his throne;
She traverséd, but scorn'd to see, the floor,
Or any of the Passions who look'd on.
Only she turnéd her vain-glorious Head
Back to the Glass her walking self to read.

219

Which Lesson pleas'd her pride so well, that she
Gat it by heart, and yet must read again;
Insatiably coveting to see
The Pomp in which her Looks and Clothes did reign:
And, tickled with her self, she wish'd that now
Her Spouse a Visit would on her bestow.

220

The cunning Passions seeing her inhance
Her gate and aspect, thought it fit to bow,
And at the feet of her new Arrogance
Themselves and their insidious homage throw:
Which though she likéd, yet she sleighted too,
And taught Acceptance with Disdain to go.

221

But judging now her Home too narrow to
Contain her Greatness, she abroad must ride,

That unto hers all Eyes might reverence do
Who now could prove her self Heav'n's worthy Bride;
And justly might display her beams in this
Low world, as in the upper he did his.

222

An open Chariot she calls for; and
That with due state and speed her wheels might run,
Eight tall stout Passions, at her command
Bow'd down their necks, and put the harness on;
Being prickéd with as strong an itch to be
Abroad, and trot about the world, as she.

223

When lo Syneidesis, who all this while
Her Queen had in a silent corner watch'd,
Accosts her in an unexpected stile:
For, strict hold on her shoulder having catch'd,
What means this haste? here is another Glass,
Said she, for you to view before you pass.

224

Behold these Eyes of mine; a Mirror where
Lurks no Deceit, nor Charm, nor flattery:
True Psyche you are here, and only here
In this Reflection of Verity.
I never yet abuséd You: and why
Must that false Glass be trusted, and not I?

225

With indignation Psyche turn'd her head,
And left scorn for Syneidesis; but she
Who knew not to be daunted, followéd
Her eye with loyal importunity,
And made her see, in spight of her Disdain,
That Conscience never shews her face in vain.

226

The Passions wonder'd at her boldness: but
She is a Witch, impatient Psyche cries,
And all inchantment's powers and tricks are met
In those broad Mirrors of her monstrous eyes;
Which so environ mine, that there's no gap
Where from their conjuring Circles I may scape.

227

Behold how gross a Ly of Ugliness
They on my face have threapéd, to outface
The truth of all those beauteous lines which dress
My royal Looks with prince-becoming grace.
Surely myself I would upon myself
Revenge, were I indeed so foul an Elf.

228

Was eye e'r frighted with so dire an heap
Of angry blisters as those Starers make
O'r all my skin! I challenge any Deep
On whose wide face the Winds most freedom take,
To shew so many billows, as in me:
O no! as in this lying shape, you see.

229

Improvident Witch, why didst thou not as well
Enchant my Touch, as thou hast charm'd mine eyes?
Why didst thou leave these fingers power to feel
The horrid Author of these forgeries?
Their tumors are not yet so sore, but still
Thy witchery they can restrain, and will.

230

Upon her throat forthwith her left hand flew,
With furious vengeance having arm'd her right;
With which upon the Maiden's eyes she threw
The vehemence of her inflaméd spight.
Hoping to break her Glasses, that their crack
Might let those blisters out they seem'd to make.

231

But stout Syneidesis composéd was
Of Metal as secure and brave as she:
Her eyes, though clothéd in the looks of Glass,
Yet borrow'd nothing but its Purity:
Had they been brittle too, they had been broke,
But now they bore, and smiléd at the stroak.

232

This fetch'd a secret sigh from Psyche, who
Call'd for a vail as thick and black as night;
And this at least, said she, the deed shall do,
And bury those bold Monsters from my sight.
Then on the Virgin's face she cast it, and
Fast ty'd it on with an hard-hearted hand.

233

O miserable Privilege, that Man
Should able be to muffle up that light
Which shews him to himself, and only can
Through rocks and shelves point out his Course aright!
Unhappy strength! what Weakness is so weak,
As those mad Powers which their own ruin seek!

234

But thus the frantic crazy-brainéd Wight
Whom deep Distempers make his own Disease,
Preposterously tries his wretched might
Upon his Physic; and although he sees
The Potion mixéd for his health, alas
Throws that, and this both in his Doctor's face.

235

Proud of this self-confounding Conquest, to
Her chariot Psyche hasts; whose Coursers from
Her scornful eyes their own inflam'd, and through
The air with haughty fervor flung their foam.
With bended necks and sparkling looks they ran,
Disdaining all the ground they trode upon.

236

Thus swimming over hills, and dales, and plains,
She spy'd at length a simple Ermite's Cell;

And plucking in her fierce Teem's looser reins,
To see what Worm in that poor hole did dwell;
An hoary homespun Man she there descry'd
Deeply about his Roots and Herbs imploy'd.

237

To whom she cries, Ah fondly-wretched Thing,
Is this a time for thee to cultivate?
What makes thy Winter in the work of Spring,
Who art already bowing to thy fate?
Ev'n delve no more for Roots; that labor save;
And for thy other foot go dig thy grave.

238

The sober Ermite having wisely view'd
Her scornful Pity, thus replyéd: I
For your Commiseration would have su'd,
Had I these Pains accounted misery.
But I can spare you all your pomp and ease;
Whom poverty and labor better please.

239

A Coach (my moving House, my Home abroad)
Once waited on my Idleness; but now
I am content with Nature's comelier mode:
That stately Shift (which vainly tickles you)
Of borrowing legs of Beasts, to me is grown
Needless, who have far nobler of mine own.

240

These Vanities, and all the rest, which are
Superfluous Wealth's care-breeding Train, I threw
Away with it; and that in time, for fear
'Twould so have servéd me; for well I knew
That Riches were but glorious vexations;
Sin's catching fuel, Plunder's Invitations.

241

Then took I sanctuary in that Cell,
Which has more room to spare for Heav'n and God,
Than my vast Palace; which was throngéd full
With secular burly Things. In this abode
I find my Heav'n, where undisturbéd I
Far from the World's loud storms at anchor lie.

242

This spot of ground, the Scoff of your high eyes,
By pleasant Pains I make restore to me
What heedless Sloth had lost,—sweet Paradise.
No Bait smiles here on a forbidden Tree;
Nor in these Herbs doth any Serpent Sneak,
Them to invenom, or my Safety check.

243

My serious Labor, and my rigid fare,
Fright hence those tender Sons of Luxury
Distempers and Diseases; guests which are
Fed at the board of Superfluity.
In health and vigor I can night and day
Trade with my Maker, and both watch and pray.

244

He, though no wanton Bathes have softenéd
My careless skin (which tann'd and rough you see,)
Though all my weeds be of a rural thread
Spun by neglect, and by Simplicity;
Esteems not me nor my Condition poor,
Who build my Hopes upon His only store.

245

His royal store, which (since this World below
Could not contain't,) fills Heav'n's vast Treasury:
And till Dust's Sons by Humbleness can grow
As high as that, in vain they strive to be
True Riches' heirs. But there's a way by which
We Dwarfs, to that sublimity may reach.

246

A strange cross Way, which by Descension's wings
Learns us to soar: For Grace such strength as this
Into the field no less than Nature brings,
With opposite Cures encountring Maladies.
Pride threw us down when we were perch'd too high;
Our ladder to get up's Humility.

247

Humility, that Art ennobled by
His own profession whom the Heav'ns adore.
Himself he made the Lowest of Most High,
And of the Richest, most despis'dly Poor:
By his own Pattern teaching us that we
Shall surest by Rebound exalted be.

248

With Coach and Horses never any yet
But great Elias unto heav'n was born;
He, who on foot march'd through the lowest pit
Of Poverty, of Peril, and of Scorn;
And they who to this honor would aspire
Must be such Heroes as can ride in fire.

249

Psyche with great contention deign'd to hear
Him hitherto; but could endure no more.
What pity 'tis, said she, that though thy bear
Thus long hath waited for thee at thy door,
Th'art grown no wiser yet! this sign doth shew
Thy Dotage is past help: poor Wretch, adieu.

250

Then with relaxéd rein admonishing
Her smoking steeds; they snatch'd her coach away,
With sparkling foaming fervor, copying
Her hasty Indignation; till they
Drew near a goodly City: where their pace
They chang'd, and stalkéd in with princely grace.

251

The gazing People stopp'd, as on she past,
And fill'd the street with Wonder; every Eye
Full in her way its foolish homage cast;
And by admiring, higher rais'd her high
And tumid Looks; who had the more to scorn,
The more Spectators did her way adorn.

252

For whilst some prais'd the Coach, and some the steeds,
And all her Person who their worth inhanc'd;
With careless looks Contempt about she spreads:
For though she lov'd whate'r her pomp advanc'd,
Yet lov'd she too in public to despise
What in her private thoughts was her best prize.

253

So when a burly Tempest rolls his pride
About the world, though mighty Cedars bow,
Though Seas give way to his far vaster Tide,
Though Mountains lay their proudest heads full low
Before his feet; he counts that homage vain,
And rusheth on in blustring disdain,

254

On many Palaces her eye she cast,
Which yet could not vouchafe to view them long:
At last abhorring all she saw, she prest
With insolent fierceness through the staring Throng,
Crying: These Cottages can yield no room
For Psyche's entertainment; I must home.

CANTO VI. The Humiliation.

The Argument.

Her heav'nly Friends by Soul-subduing art
Recover Psyche from her shameful Glory:
And sure to seal upon her softned heart
Religious Meekness, Phylax tells the story
How Heav'n and Earth came Heav'n and Earth to be;
And what vile Stain blurr'd her Nativity.

1

But what is Home to most unhappy Her,
Whose only Castle is surrender'd to
A Pack of Rebels, who resolvéd are
To use the licence of their Conquest so,
That She shall in her own Dominion
Retain no power but to be Undone?

2

She might have safelier call'd all Tempests in,
And to the loudest Winds flung ope her Gate;
Or giv'n her key to Bears and Tigers, than
To those more dangerous Beasts, whose fair-tongu'd hate
Works by this strange Prerogative, that they
By Honey Poison, by Embraces slay.

3

Give me a Foe (if needs I one must have)
Who owns his Malice, and does fairly draw
In open field, not blushing to be brave
In his bold shame: One who's content to show
The worst he means, and dares Professor be
Of Wickednesse's Ingenuity.

4

Flat Enemies are honest courteous Things,
Because they tell us what we have to fear:
But double-hearted Friends, whose Blandishings
Tickle our ears, and sting our bosoms, are
Those dangerous Sirens whose smug maiden face
Is ugly mortal Treason's burnish'd Glass.

5

These are the Pits, whose mouths with flowers spread
Sweetly invite our feet into a fall;
The golden Cups, whose lips are sugaréd
To their dissembled Poison ours to call:
The crafty Hooks, which in a dainty Bait
To catch the liquorish Palate lie in wait.

6

The flattering Pipes, whose sweetly-thrilling Tune
Inchants the silly Birds into the Net:
The fairly-treacherous Beds of fragrant June
With smiling Roses and with Lilies set:
Where, th'unsuspecting Gardner to surprize
By fatal sleight, perdue the Serpent lies.

7

The dangerous Dalilahs, whose weeping eye,
Whose sighs, whose kisses, whose embraces be
The truer Withs, and Ropes, and Web, whereby
They bind the stoutest Samsons on their knee;
Where, while they dream of Rest, they polléd are
At once both of their Liberty and Hair.

8

The politicly-mild Hyænas, who
Make Savageness in human accents speak,
Whilst with such sweet hypocrisy they woo
The heedless Swain compassion to take;
That to his Foe his door he openeth,
And in fond pity letteth in his death.

9

The fair-tongu'd Judases, whose lips can drop
The honey of a friendly Salutation,
And with soft kisses seal the bargain up;
Though in their hearts a spightful conjuration
Rankles, and swells, and labors how it may
In looks and words of Love their God betray.

10

And surely Psyche by this Treason had
Been cheated of her Life and Self, if He
Who in his Judas, tryal of it made;
Had lent no Pity to her Misery:
Had Jesu's tender Goodness not outrode
Her whose proud Coach now roll'd her from her God.

11

Had He not found a way to make her see
The blindness of her own bewitchéd eyes;
To weigh how real was her Vanity;
To read the truth of all Agenor's Lys;
To learn in time, that War and Desolation
Lay breeding on her false Pacification.

12

Charis and Phylax He a while withdrew,
That being left to her sole self she might
Of her own weakness take convincing view,
When bold Temptations challeng'd her to fight.
But now he sends them back to help her down
From that high Ruin where he saw her thrown.

13

Make haste, said He, my Love and her Distress
Call for your speed: To you full power I give,
To ease her of her wretched Mightiness
Before it split her heart; to undeceive
Her blinded Soul, and shrink it till it be
Little enough to fit my Heav'n and Me.

14

(And well, O well it was, that gracious He
Gave them such full Commission; else had they
In vain unsheath'd their best Activity
Her ugly-tumid bulk to cut away.
Those who Pride's stubborn Castle down would bring,
Must be impowr'd by Lowlinesse's King.)

15

They having thrice his foot-stool kissèd, flew
On flaming Zeal's stout wings through every sphear:
No Lightning's flash e'r made more haste to view
The East and West at once, than this swift Pair,
To reach their Errands but; or with more light
Did all Spectators' startled eyes affright.

16

For when the Passions saw them darting near,
Immediate Terror on their Souls did seize:
Down fell their changéd looks and necks; tho' Fear
Was left at home, she present seem'd in these.
The sudden stroke on Psyche too did beat,
And damp'd her Chariots, and her stomack's heat.

17

But though the first assault of Lightning be
Pointed with Dread and Aure; the next are wont
To march in more abated Majesty,
And their bright Terror by degrees to blunt.
Custom, though young and breeding, yet can make,
The dint and edge of any strangeness slake.

18

Her daring Steeds adventur'd to recover
Some sense and spirits of their boiling Pride
As soon's that splendor's first Attempt was over:
But she her self by Confidence's tide
Stoutly presum'd to trust, that she might well
The torrent of those heav'nly Beams repel.

19

This made her to her radiant Friends dispense
Her frowns and lowring-loathing looks, and by
That silent language of Impatience
Her changéd mind and sullen thoughts descry:
But when she mark'd them still resolv'd, she cries,
I thought you would have understood mine eyes.

20

If I must them interpret; Know, you are
As much mistaken now in Psyche, as
She was in you; I must, and therefore dare,
Tell you your own: your treacherous Counsel has
Too long bewitch'd my tender credulous heart:
Henceforth you may for evermore depart.

21

The saucy Courser's ears all prick'd up high,
Caught that proud Answer as from Her it flew;
Which, neighing in tumultuous jollity
With broad defiance lustily they threw
Full in the faces of the heav'nly Pair;
And then they kick'd and flung and snuff'd the air.

22

But Phylax pitching in her coach's way
Lift up his hand and wing and forc'd her back;
Crying much louder than her steeds could neigh:
Yet e'r you go, vouchsafe to hear me speak;
What tho' I be your Foe? you need not fear
Now you have learnéd that, my words to hear.

23

Whate'r I say, I can no longer cheat you
Whose Jealousy against me keeps a guard:
But if with wholesom Counsel now I greet you,
My Salutation must not be debarr'd
Of civil entertainment: Foes may meet;
Nor always is't in vain that met they treat.

24

This netled Thelema, who Postillion was,
And had inflam'd the Coursers all the way:
For shooting scorn from her bent brows, Alas
She cry'd, thinks Phylax I'l his rub obey,
Who ride where e'r I list, and never meet
With Mount, or World, which stops my horses' feet?

25

Which said, she check'd her fiery Courser, (and
This Anger was, the most outragious steed;)
She with curvets strait answeréd her hand,
And aim'd to snatch her way o'r Phylax head.
Three times she leap'd, as often tumbling back,
Till with her bones she heard the Chariot crack.

26

For Phylax' thether having reach'd a Ray
Of mystic pow'r, attact the Axel-tree;
Which with a splitting shriek gave woful way,
And by the voice of its fragility
Admonish'd all the Coach, that Ruin now
Ment there to ride, and Psyche out would throw.

27

And true the warning was: the Wheels, the Team,
The Barrs, the Pillars, Seat, Sides, Back and Head
Shatter'd, and made Confusion's dismal game;
Strait felt how sure the Axel prefacéd
To their strange Tragedy, who now no more
Could own their several Names as heretofore.

28

'Twas all but one rude Heap: upon whose back
Lay Psyche bruiséd with the boistrous fall;
But wounded more to see who made that Crack,
And rais'd that Pile as for her Funeral.
She scorn'd to take Him for an equal Foe,
But swel'd and puff'd, and knew not what to do.

29

He in her sullen eye observing well
Those troubled motions of her smoking heart,
Which she could neither utter nor conceal;
Pitied the sadness of her wilful smart:
And, for compliance, her own course he took,
Speaking not by his mouth, but by his Look.

30

This is the Dialect of strongest Love,
Which, when the fruitless Tongue hath said her Say,
With soul-commanding pow'r doth plead, and prove;
That purest Rhetoric reigns in eyes; that they
Who to the bottom of the heart would speak,
In Looking Lines must their Orations make.

31

His serious Aspect upon Her was bent
Compos'd of gentle wrath and mild disdain.
Expressive were the Glances which he sent,
And every Word that darted forth was plain.
Some Rays grew hot, and stoutly chode, but others
With melting Pity mollify'd their brothers.

32

O what a long long story ran he over
In this short ocular Discourse! how fast
Did he her bosom and his own discover,
And what of old, and what of late had past;
And what was dawning, if she still rush'd on
With obstinate confidence to be undone.

33

But ireful She deign'd not to understand
This Language, since the Speaker she despis'd:
She proudly look'd, and coily wav'd her hand,
And told him by those signs she was advis'd
So well of what she did, that He might go
And somewhere else his scornéd pain bestow.

34

So when the faithful Tutor's tender eye
Reads his stern Lecture of Admonishment:
His stubborn Pupil ventures to defy
With disrespectful Looks the sweet intent
Of those smart Memorandums, and by mute
Disdain kicks back what Words could not confute.

35

Mean while as Thelema, tumbled from her Steed,
Lay biting both the ground and her own lip;
Charis her sweetest Pow'rs had musteréd
From her worse precipice to help her up:
And see, said she, when it was grown so tall
How suddenly your Pride has caught a fall.

36

Yet this is not the bottom, but a step
To that sad Ruin whether you did ride,
O had you known how black and vast a Deep
Gapes in your journy's end, all Deaths beside
You would have woo'd and huggéd, rather than
Have posted thus to plunge into that one.

37

Here with her potent Wand she stroke the Earth:
Which knock when Tellus heard, she op'd, her door;
When lo a Night of smoke came stinking forth,
And then a dusky day of fire: the Roar
Of that great Crack made surly Thelema start,
And terribly reach'd Psyche's vexéd heart.

38

Yet though Dread shook their Souls, they deeméd it
Shame to confess their fear and run away:
Their adamantine Stomachs would not let
Their lives be longer precious: still they stay,
Not out of curious Desire to see,
But to outface the hideous Prodigy.

39

The monstrous Jaws of that wide-gaping Pit
With baneful soot were linéd thick: from which
Incenséd Sulphure flashing rage did spit;
And Clouds of Grones array'd in horrid pitch
Breath'd sad confession who below did dwell:
These proofs authentic were to speak it Hell.

40

Plung'd in the gloomy Cavern's centre were
A wofull Rout chain'd up in fire and death;
Abiram, Corah, Dathan, friéd there,
With Peleth's venturous Son, whose traiterous Wrath
Kindled that old Combustion, which now
Concluded is in their own flames below.

100

41

Their howling Wives, and shrieking Children lay
Broiling about them; and desir'd in vain
One drop of water, after dying, they
Had burnt so long in their still-living pain.
Thick flow'd their tears, but mockéd them the more,
And only scalt their cheeks which flam'd before.

42

As Thelema's thoughts chew'd these Soul-piercing sights,
Behold this last Preferment,—Charis cry'd,—
To which Ambition desperate fools invites:
Say, is 't not pity that thou didst not ride
Thy Journey out; And am not I thy foe
Who down this fair Hill would not let thee go?

43

Behold how glorious a Realm of Bliss
It is, to which thou bend'st thy fierce carrier:
A Realm, wherein all bitterest Excess
Grief, Anguish, Howlings, Tortures reigning are:
Where every Ejulation, every Pain
Alas, is too too truly Soverain.

44

Seest thou that arrogant Brood of Rebels, who
Too lofty grown to stoop to heav'nly Law;
Basely abus'd their Pride, and blush'd not to
Their vile and earthly Passions to bow.
Moses and Aaron, whom they kick'd at there,
Are but your Phylax, and your Charis here.

45

Moses and Aaron there usurp'd too much,
And bare their tyrannizing heads too high:
And was not our Indictment only such
When Love impeach'd us? Though we were not by
Yet He was present then, whose Vengeance now
Feeds on your proud Agenor's heart below.

46

Observe that Feind who holds fell Corah's chain,
Himself bound in a greater: know'st thou why
He gathers up his Tail's ashaméd train,
And steals it round about his scaly thigh?
Ask but his Looks, and they will tell thee plain
What Spot it is whose guilt doth them ingrain.

47

This high-swoll'n Mountain of Deformity,
Once vy'd with Beautie's self by borrow'd grace:
But now uncaséd in his curséd sty,
His shape is correspondent to his place:
Here, here see what without a Ly is his;
This Monster your admir'd Agenor is.

48

Hearing this word the tumid Spirit split
His overchargéd mouth, and tumbled out
A stream of brimstone, belching after it
More horrid Cries; which bellowing about
His hallow Home, and finding it too narrow,
Into the Air let loose his thundering sorrow.

49

Earth's bones all shak'd as through her sides it broke;
And startled Psyche felt her fears beat high.
But Thelema disdain'd the Terrors' stroke,
Confuting it with her all-daring eye:
For well she knew her strength was Proof, and still
Resolv'd whate'r it cost to have her Will.

50

Thus when a wilful Heir to age is come,
And in his own hand feels the golden rain
Of his long-wish'd Revenues; if by some
Well-practis'd spend-thrift he be taught to drain
His over-flowing Bags; in vain his friends
Shew him what Ebb of want that Tide attends.

51

But trusty Charis still remembring what
Her Master's love commanded, ply'd her part
And since Fear's darts were thus repulséd, shot
The shafts of Love into the Virgin's heart;
Which in a diamond case from heav'n she brought,
With many other precious Powers fraught.

52

Strong were the Blows, and op'd themselves the way
Down to the bottom of their Mark, but yet
Both sweet and silent. Thus the noble Ray
Discharg'd from Titan's eye doth never hit
The solid Crystal, but with dainty force
Quite through and through it takes its harmless course.

53

On Thelema's Soul the gallant Arrows wrought
With blesséd wounds of heav'n-begotten joy:
Yet she with such perverse resistance fought,
That had kind Charis, known how to be coy,
Her scorn'd pains she had spar'd, and left the Maid
By her own stubborn Victory betray'd.

54

But she as obstinate was in Patience,
And many a dear time shot and shot again:
Until th'importunate strokes awak'd a sense
Of both delightful and convincing pain;
With which pierc'd through, now I must, I see,
Cry'd Thelema, by this Sweetness conquer'd be.

55

I know I need not yield, except I will;
But this Soul-plying violence which now
Severely sweet through all my wounds doth thrill,
Inforceth me to force myself to bow:
With that she louted low, and on her knee
Beg'd pardon for her pertinacity.

101

56

O noble Virtue of Immortal Grace!
How uncontrol'd is its mild mighty Art,
Which can a Bosom of itself uncase
And teach the Heart how to subdue the Heart;
Which gains unbloody Bays and triumphs thus
In delicately conquering Us by Us!

57

So when into the Swain's unwary foot
The venemous earnest of a Swelling Death
Is from the treacherous Tarantula shot;
Music's sweet Accents wisely temper'd, breath
A mystic Antidote, which by delight
Deceives the Poison, charming out its spight.

58

Here Psyche, seeing Thelema relent,
Knew her own stomach's power in vain would swell:
Necessity convinc'd her to recant
And find how lost a thing she was: Her fell
And useless Arrogance away she threw,
And after it, three sighs sad farewell blew.

59

That thus ejected; shame and Modesty
Of their ingenious Home took fresh possession,
And in her purple cheek and gloomy eye
Displaid a scene of penitent Confession:
Then, as her pride above her self had toss'd her,
No less beneath these on the ground did cast her.

60

'Twas easier now for her to weep than speak:
Yet striking stifly on her guilty breast
A passage to her stifeling grief she broke,
And wrought out this sad cry: O turn at least
From shameful Psyche, turn your spotless eye;
Leave me alone to perish where I lie.

61

Leave me alone, or kick me down into
That mouth of Torment gaping for me there;
That I may to my lov'd Agenor go
Whose lies against your truths block'd up mine ear.
Sure Corah and his damnéd Company
Take not up all the room; there's some for me.

62

There must be some; else justice is not just:
For what have they deservéd more than I!
I would not thither go; and yet I must,
Because till now I would. I would not die,
And yet I dare not live; such deadly pain
In this my life of shameful Guilt doth reign.

63

'Twas more then death to me to view the face
Of my too-late-believ'd Syneidesis,
When she presented in her trusty glass
The faithful Copy of my Hideousness.
What in your Lustre's dint then shall I do!
No vail has night enough to smother you.

64

Ay me! that most calcining Purity
Of your celestial Looks I cannot bear:
Pride has so tainted my unhappy eye,
That nothing more than purest sights I fear;
For they my Torments are, and burn me so
That to a cooler Hell I fain would go.

65

This woful out-cry grated Charis' heart
Wont not to break but heal the bruséd reed:
She knew what Lenitives would tame that smart,
Yet gave no more than for the present need:
Leaving the perfect cure a while; for she
Perceiv'd how wholsome longer Grief would be.

66

Mean time the rampant Passions were stray'd
And in wild madness rovéd all about:
But Thelema, before by them betray'd,
Reveng'd that treachery, and by a stout
Command unto their duties warn'd them back:
The whole field at the awful Voice did quake.

67

They started all, and strait of one another
Ask'd mutual counsel with a doubting eye:
But after that first Call out brake it's Brother,
And thundered with Imperious Majesty.
Forthwith they look'd, and spy'd their Mistress's hand
High lifted up, which spake a third Command.

68

They knew these Summons' did in earnest call,
And always had disdain'd to be deny'd:
This forc'd their stiff unwilling crests to fall,
And into slavish quaking turn'd their Pride;
When angry Thelema snatching up the reins,
Severely of their harness, made their chains.

69

So when the Master shakes his dreadful rod
High in the view of his licentious Boies,
Who rambling were and truanting abroad;
Their loth adieu they bid to all their toies.
And trembling into School expect when they
The price of their Extravagance should pay.

70

This done, she stoutly lash'd her shivering Teem
Close to the lip of that dread mouth of Hell;
Where their late General she shew'd to them;
Tearing his Feindship he could not conceal:
Which Sight them and their treacherous Itching parted,
And through their Souls immortal Terror darted.

102

71

Which Act perform'd; the Scene they all remove
To Psyche's house; who now profoundly drown'd
In her disconsolate self, no longer strove
Against her Friends. No matter 'tis what ground
Receives this wretched corps, said she, since I
Have pass'd the worst of Death's extremity.

72

As thus She through the solitary field
With doleful pace returnéd homeward, She
The lately-scornéd Ermitage beheld
With reverent blushing: but when pious He,
Who reign'd King of himself and it, espy'd
This blesséd Change, he sate him down and cry'd.

73

He cry'd for joy, and answer'd Psyche's tears
Which multiply'd with every step she took;
With noble Charis he had many years
Been well acquainted; and in's heavenly Look,
He read that Phylax was to him of kin,
Who his own Guardian from his birth had been.

74

What They had done, his wisdom well could guess
When he the stubborn Queen thus melted saw;
Her frowns, her taunts, her coach, her stateliness
Were vanish'd all, and she thrown down so low;
That by Agenor's and Heaven's help she seems
In one day to have reachéd both Extreams.

75

Full many a blessing did the good Man pour
On Charis and on Phylax as they went:
But panted out to his dear Master more
Who them to that Exploit of Mercy sent.
He threw good Wishes after Psyche too,
Tracing her steps as far's his eye could go.

76

And when the Air's vast Sea had drown'd his eye,
He launch'd fresh Prayers for her happy weal:
Profoundly importuning Heav'n to tie
The Booty fast it thus had snatch'd from Hell:
To tie her fast to holy Meekness, that
No swelling Pride might burst the blesséd knot.

77

Heroic Charity how soon dost thou
Subdue all wrongs, Contempt can shoot at thee:
And freely bless all Patrons which bestow
Successe's boon on thy proud Enemy!
Right noble is thy Valor, which alone
Can make thy Foes' good fortune be thine own.

78

But they now to their journey's period come,
Psyche with stiff sighs open blew the gate;
And sadly viewing her abuséd Home,
Thought every wall did chide for what of late
She trespass'd there; and that at every groan
The Echo cry'd, She had herself undone.

79

As loth she to her Chamber was to go
As Thief into the cell, where he has hid
His wicked goods: Yet they would have it so
Who from self-theft had her deliveréd.
But two deep Groans, as up the stairs they went
Summon'd their eyes to search whence they were sent.

80

A slie Trapdoor they lurking there discover'd
Keeping its counsel with bar, lock, and seal:
Where whilst their wise consideration hover'd,
Two other Groans did to their aid appeal:
When Thelema convinc'd by shame and fear,
Broke ope the door, to shew them who were there.

81

Deep was the Dungeon, and as dark as Night
When neither Moon nor Stars befriend the skies:
But Charis looking in, a morning light
Upon that gloominess rose from her eyes:
When lo, Syneidesis and Logos tied
Fast in the bottom of the mire they spied.

82

So fast, that nothing but their Lamentations
And sighs and tears had any room to stir:
Yea these, alas, through long ingeminations;
In languid weariness inchainéd were.
Yet now this Spectacle's free Looks could cry,
They strait found audience in Pity's eye.

83

Down Phylax flies, and hovering over them
(For no dirt may deflower his virgin wings,)
Unties their cords; and by their mantles' hem
Up to the dungeon's mouth the Pris'ners brings.
Full thick about them stuck the mire and clay,
Yet Psyche thought herself more foul than they.

84

And falling on them with a show'r of tears,
These soon may wash your filth away, said she;
But my deep-grain'd Pollution out-dares
The utmost purging power of Oceans: Ye
Besmearéd are with none but others' spots;
I blur'd all over am with mine own blots.

85

O add no stings to my deep Anguish, by
Denying pardon of my mad Offence!
Saw you but half the flames in which I fry,
The sight would thaw your breasts, and kindle sense
Of my sufficient woe—. But here between
Her and her further Cries step'd Charis in:

103

86

Who hastned her into her Chamber: where
No sooner entred, they the Mirror Spy,
Which strait grew pale, and quak'd for guilty fear
At that bright dawn of genuine Purity.
Away thus Night's false Fires and Phantoms sneak
When through the East the gallant Day doth break.

87

As Phylax to the Glass drew Psyche nigh,
She quakéd more than that, and started back:
When lo, said He, this Engine, fram'd to ly,
Now of itself shall true confession make;
Urge it but with the Touch of any Gem,
Whose place is meanest in thy Girdle's hem.

88

Abaséd she, afraid of further shame,
Waver'd a while in anxious suspense;
Her jealous fond demurs still went and came,
And fain she would have found Delay's pretence;
Yet judg'd it best at length, not to withstand
Her Guardian's however strange Command.

89

O glorious power of heav'nly Gifts! the Glass
Remembred quickly its original eyes,
And weep'd to see its stately-beautious face
Dissolv'd by one short Touch: Its fallacies
Melted amain, and on th'amazéd floor
In floods of loathsome slime themselves did pour.

90

A slime which smelt so rank of death, that had
Not Charis stood 'twixt Psyche and the Harm,
T'had chok'd her heart: but Heav'n's assistance made
Her spirits chear and kept her courage warm.
Securéd thus; take these drops more, she cry'd,
And on the slime thrice spitting, turn'd aside.

91

Then jealous of the other Cabinet,
Look here dear Friends, said she, I needs must fear
Some foul Enchantment hatcheth here its plot,
And that these Treasures in false shapes appear:
They are Agenor's gifts; how can his Pelf
Be made of truer Beauties than himself?

92

You know your Touchstone, Phylax cryéd; let
Your Girdle question't and it will confess.
That Item she obey'd no sooner; but
Forthwith her Touch was answer'd by an Hiss:
Their heads the starting Bracelets having reard
No Nest of Jewels but of Snakes appear'd,

93

Of younger Serpents an intangled fry
Thick in the sprucer Networks twisted were;
Who sham'd and vex'd by this discovery
Wheted their peevish teeth, and try'd to tear
Their textures' bands; but when they felt the bite
Their own backs dig, they angry poison spit.

94

The Tires and Hoods shrunk into Horns; the Rings
Dilated into Fetters; every Lace
Like scorchéd Thongs, or singéd shrivel'd strings,
Shew'd in what burning shop it woven was:
The gaudy Bonnets and the dainty Vails
Were nothing now but brass or iron scales.

95

The Crisping-pins return'd to Forks and Hooks,
And Tongs, and Prongs; the Lawns to Dragons Wings;
The golden Wires abjur'd their glorious looks,
And provéd red hot Nails, or Darts, or Stings;
The Busks, were Gaggs; the Gloves were fiery Claws;
The Tablets, Boiles; the Sandals, Tigers' Paws.

96

The Pearls, were Coals; the Coronets, wreaths of Fire;
The brisk Vermilion, was Gore or Ink;
The Pencils, Rods of ever-burning Wire;
The Powders, Brimstone; the Perfumes, a Stink;
The smiles, dark frowns; the youth and blooming Cheeks,
Dread-darting wrinkles, and stern Vulturs' Beaks.

97

The high-looks, deep dispairs and shames; the fashions,
Sundry Inventions of most learnéd Spight,
And never-dying Torture's Variations;
The Silks and Satins, Coats of Aspes; the bright
Purple, a Lion's or a Panther's Hide
In innocent blood of slaughter'd Infants dy'd.

98

The Ermins and the Sables, were the Skins
Which monstrous Cerberus casteth thrice a year;
The rich Embroideries, Ranks and Files of Pins
Pointed with steely Torment and Dispair;
The Silver and the Gold that lay below,
Old Rust and Cankers which themselves did knaw.

99

As when a fond Child wantonizing on
The flowry Pillows of the Garden, and
Feasting his heedless eyes and hands upon
Soft Maia's Delicates, espies a band
Of ireful Snakes rang'd in that field of Joy,
On horror's head-long wheels he posts away:

100

So all these dreadful sights stroke Psyche through
With full as many fears; and back she ran:
But Phylax stopping her, demanded how
She dar'd those Trappings trust, herself had on?

104

They too are of the same foul breed, said he;
And will you still with Hell arrayéd be?

101

With that, he snatchéd off that Tire which Pride
On her abuséd body planted had:
Which as his Indignation threw aside,
The gaudy Ornaments confession made
Of their hypocrisy; and laid their true
And native horrid shapes in open view.

102

Poor Psyche seeing with what Monsters she
Had trim'd without and pleaséd been within;
Cry'd out, O wilfully deluded Me
Who joyéd in my self-revenging sin!
Rise rise, O righteous Wrath; help thou my fist
(And here she stroke,) to pierce this treacherous breast.

103

A noble Stroke was this, and won its way,
Its happy way, quite through her broken heart.
Forthwith a cole-black stream, which swelling lay
And belking there, took warning to depart:
Out gush'd the Bane, and split the pois'ned floor,
Hasting into its Hell to find a door.

104

Deliver'd of this monstrous Guest, the Wound
Clos'd gently up, and further harm shut out.
But she her sides so lank and hollow found,
That for her self within her self she sought;
And stood awhile amaz'd, as if the Stroke
Had only some Dream's brittle Wonders broke.

105

Confounded then with pious shame, she to
Her former Weeds turn'd her most piteous eye;
Whose decent honest Looks rebuk'd her so
That back again she stagger'd, stricken by
Remembrance how she them disdain'd, which now
Outshinéd all Agenor's cheating Show.

106

At length, in Sorrow's penitential voice
Give leave, said she, my genuine Furniture
That once again I make my prudent choice,
Henceforth inalterably to indure.
Or, if again I scorn your poverty,
From Hell's foul Wardrobe may I clothéd be.

107

Come trusty Hairclothes, you did never yet
Undress me of myself by garish Pride:
Come hard, but honest Rope, thou ne'r would'st let
Ambition blister me, but gird'st my side
Close to my heart, and leftst no room between
For puffing strutting Thoughts to harbor in.

108

So, now I'm dress'd indeed: how shamelesly
Have I unclothéd wander'd up and down!
No Nakedness in Heav'n's all-searching eye
To that sin clothes us with; thus overgrown
With Leprosy the Man more naked is
Than when bare nothing but his skin was his.

109

No wonder that wise Ermite seeing me
Mounted in Vanitie's enchanted state,
So sadly pity'd my proud Bravery.
Good Man, he soberly perceivéd what
Neither my Eyes nor Glass would tell me; He
Ev'n by my Robes my want of clothes did see.

110

Yet can it be, that jealous Heav'n, and you
O my provokéd friends, should not be just!
What Privilege shields rebellious me, that now
Vengeance should sheath its daréd Lightning? must
Your Patience from my Crime its copy write,
That both may equally be Infinite!

111

It must, said Charis; and be sure to pay
Thy Spouse due thanks for this Necessity.
Yet if his favours still thou kickst away,
Know, that this Soul is not so seal'd to Thee,
But He can find out some more faithful Breast
Which will not Love's dear Violence resist.

112

She thus reform'd into her lowly Tire,
Their Convert, her celestial Friends embrace;
Kissing into her Soul fresh joies of fire,
And printing gracious Looks upon her face.
Then sitting down, to what I now prepare
To tell, said Phylax, lend thy heedful ear.

113

The story, Psyche, bends its aim at Thee;
And fetch't I will from its deep bottom, that
Thou may'st the long and total prospect see
Of thine Extraction and original State.
That sight wil teach thee that these simple Weeds
Are full as fine and gorgeous as needs.

114

Nay more than so; when I withal have shown
What peerless sovereign Powers flourish in
Thy Spouse's Hand and Word; how far thine own
Condition flags below his Worth; how mean
A Match thou art for Him, who nothing hast
In dowry, but vile Vanity and Dust.

115

ALL things at first was God, who dwelt alone
In his unbounded self: but bounteous He

105

Conceiv'd the form of this Creation
That other things by Him might Happy be.
A way to ease his streams his Goodness sought,
And at the last into a World burst out.

116

Which World at first was but one single step
From simple Nothing; yet that step was wide:
No Power but His, or could, or yet can leap
Over to Something's bank from Nothing's side.
If you those Distances compare with this,
The East and West are one, the Poles will Kiss.

117

This Something, Son of Nothing, in the gulf
Of its own monstrous Darkness wallowing lay.
And strangely lost in its confounded self
Knew neither where to go, nor where to stay,
Being hideously besieg'd on every side
With Tohu's and with Bohu's boundless Tide.

118

The foulest Portents never frighted Day
With such unshapen Shapes as strugled here;
Whilst all the Heap, as if resolv'd to slay
What scarce was born, broke into desperate War.
No Hydra's heads so snarl'd at one another,
As every Parcel rag'd against its brother.

119

The Deep climb'd up and tumbled down the Hight,
And then again rush'd headlong after it.
Brisk busy Lightness wroth with lazy Weight,
Him from his sleepy groveling quarters beat.
The rude tempestuous Windes blew all together,
And fill'd the World at once with every Weather.

120

Scuffling for place, the Cold projected how,
To frieze the Heat; the Heat the Cold to fry.
The Centre fouly scorn'd to sneak below,
And in Heav'n's face forc'd sluggish Earth to fly.
Winter took heat, and stoutly found a way,
To fling December through the heart of May.

121

All Qualities ran wildely up and down,
Ne'r thinking of Symbolic amity.
All Motions were transverse; as yet unknown
Were Rest and Quiet; hideous Ataxy
Was every thing: and neither Here nor There
Keep'd their own homes, but All were every where.

122

No shores the Ocean in this Tempest knew,
But swallow'd up the Sands; and rushing out,
Whilst all things else were plung'd in quarrels, threw
His billowy arms the Universe about;
Which in this civil Deluge drown'd had been,
Had not the kind Creator's help come in.

123

Forth flew th'Eternal Dove, and tenderly
Over the flood's blind tumult hovering:
The secret seeds of vital Energy
Wak'd by the virtue of his fostering Wing:
Much like the loving Hen, whose brooding care
Doth hatch her eggs and life's warm way prepare.

124

When lo a Voice (that all-producing Word
Whose Majesty both Heav'n and Earth adore)
Broke from the Father's mouth, with joint accord
Of th'Undivided Three; and deign'd to poure
Itself upon the Deep, commanding Light
To cheer that universal face of Night.

125

As when the gloomy Cloud in sunder parts,
The nimble Lightning flasheth through the sky:
So from this Mass of Darkness, thousand Darts
Of orient beams shot their brisk selves, and by
Obedient Splendor answer'd that great Call
Which summon'd them to gild this groping Ball.

126

The Shades affrighted at the looks of Light
To blind holes crept their shaméd heads to hide.
God pitied them, and hastning on their flight,
Safe lodging gave them in the World's back-side.
There slept dull Night: but Day was brave and bold,
And in the face of God display'd her gold.

127

Before the Sun was born, the Day was Day,
Least his fair count'nance should the World intice
Unlawful homage to his Beams to pay.
Day's parentage is clear to pious eyes;
Nor can she Daughter be to any other
But Him, who is of Lights the sovereign Father.

128

The next Command call'd for the firmament
To part the Waters which unruly grew.
Strait in the midst of them a Bow was bent
Of solid substance and of crystal hue.
The purer streams had leave on Heav'n to flow,
The gross sunk down and roaréd here below.

129

Which loud Impatience to restrain, their Lord
The third day thrust them into prison; and
To check their pride and fury, set a guard
Of most invincible though feeble Sand:
For in those bounds his Law ingravéd is,
Which not the proudest Billow dares transgress.

130

Thus from this flood of deep oppression fre'd
The joyful Earth made haste to wipe and dry

106

Her blubber'd face; and raising up her head
Admir'd to see her own Security.
Then smiling at the welcome sight, her smiles
Distinguishéd her face with Vales and Hills.

131

But being naked, and not knowing whence
To cloth her self, God her appearel made.
He spake; and lo a floury Confluence
Her Plains and Dales with fragrant robes array'd.
Trim'd were the heads of all her Hills with Tresses
Of goodly Trees, and shrubby crispéd Dresses.

132

The fourth Day's work was spent on Heav'n; which yet
Look'd like a virgin Scrol spread fair and wide;
But with no characters of beauty writ
Till God's great Word ingrav'd its radiant pride:
But Titan then came sweetly-flaming forth,
And all the World inamor'd at his birth.

133

Light, which till now had flitted here and there,
Born on the back of an ignoble Cloud;
No sooner spy'd his royal face appear,
But in his bosom she desir'd to shroud:
He courteous was, and to her wishéd throne
Receiv'd her glorious ambition.

134

But being bounteous too, and marking how
The bashful Sparks to beg ashaméd were;
His lustre's flames abroad he freely threw.
The Moon strait reach'd her horns, and caught her share;
So did the Stars: and now all Heav'n grew fine
Whilst He both in himself and them did shine.

135

The Hours flock'd to his foot, and louting low
Su'd for a room in his bright Family:
The like did cheerly Day, and made a vow
With him to wake and sleep, to live and die.
But conscious Night afray'd of his pure look,
To spotted Luna her black self betook.

136

Then gorgeous Summer came, and spred his way
With gales of gentle air and clouds of spice;
Whilst jolly Flora in her best array
Was prodigal of her Varieties.
But plainer Winter reverent distance kept,
And far behind his burning chariot crept.

137

The surly Sea the fift day awéd by
Her Lord's express Command, reply'd with speed,
And in most dutiful fertility
Opened her mighty womb, whence issuéd
The Wingéd Nations all Pair by Pair,
The musical Inhabitants of Air.

138

The other german Brood, whose moister wings
Abhor the drying Winds, she kept at home;
Where through the Deeps they fly: born-unborn Things
Which, though brought forth, live in their Mother's womb:
A womb of Wonders, whose dimensions can
Afford full flight to vast Leviathan.

139

Leviathan, whose smoking Nostrils blow
Those seas of fire which from his stomack break:
Whose dreadful sneesings by their flashes show
The brazen scales which seal his sturdy back:
Whose Beacon's flames out-face the Morning's eyes;
Whose Heart in hardness with the Milstone vies.

140

Leviathan, who laughs at him that shakes
The bugbear spear, and slings the idle stone:
Who steely darts for wretched stubble takes;
Firm Iron, for hollow feeble straw; who on
The boiling Ocean wreaks his hotter wrath;
Who where he goes, plows up his hoary path.

141

Who on his Neck no other collar wears
But never-daunted Strength; who fatned by
His diet of perpetual Triumphs, dares
The challenges of all Dismays defy;
And by his sprightful Looks commands the face
Of frowning Grief to turn Joy's smiling Glass.

142

He at whose dismal generation Fear
Fled far away, and nothing left behind
But Scorn and Boldness; which compounded were
Into the metal of the monster's Mind.
Who mounted in his thoughts, doubts not to ride
As Sovereign Prince of all the Sons of Pride.

143

But now the Sixt Day dawn'd: and Tellus is
Commanded to bring forth her People too:
She heard the Voice, and with strange activeness
Made Beasts and Reptiles with her answer go;
For startling up whilst yet their Mother's ear
Rung with the sound, they cry'd Lo we are here.

144

Hast thou not seen the Princely Horse; whose eye
With living Lightning's fed; whose portly neck
Is cloth'd with mighty Thunder's Majesty;
Whose glorious nostrils Terror's language speak;
Who never would believe the Trumpet's sound,
But with proud fierceness swallows up the ground;

145

Who with impatient heat the Vallies paws,
When he hath smelt the battel from afar;

107

Who mocks the sword, and brave defiance throws
Upon the Quiver and the glittering spear;
Who both the Trumpet's and the Soldier's shout
With his more martial Ha ha doth flout.

146

Hast not Behemoth seen, that moving Mount
Of flesh and bone, that Earth's Leviathan;
Whose monstrous thirst, though many a living fount
And River it hath slain, still trusts it can
Down through the deeper chanel of his throat
All Jordan (ev'n in time of harvest) shoot:

147

Whose Navel's Power's Knot; whose strong-built Loins
The garrison of Might; whose massy Bones,
Which grisselly steel fast to their sockets joins,
Are brass, the less, the greater, iron ones;
Who mounts his awful Tail so high, that he
Seems like the Hill, that, like the Cedar tree.

148

These goodly Sons, with many thousands more,
Were they which teeming Tellus then brought forth:
But who shall now reign Sovereign Monarch o'r
This and the Ocean's more numerous Birth?
So great and weighty was this Business, that
About it God himself in council sate.

149

A Place there is retiréd far and high
Amidst the Tower of eternal Rest;
Roof'd, pav'd, and walléd with Immensity
Through which no Creature's boldness ever prest:
In this, th'Almighty Three's joint Consultation
Determin'd of the Work and of the Fashion.

150

Then stepping down to earth, this Triple One
Moulds up the Dust which trembled at his feet;
And ends his work as soon as 'twas begun:
For now the quick shape rather seem'd to meet
His Hand, than follow it, and every Part
As wak'd by's touch, up from the Dust to start.

151

Forthwith about the Universe he reach'd
His potent Arm, and cull'd from every thing,
The choicest Excellence which had inrich'd
Their several Tribes, to trim their breeding King;
That they with willing hearts might Him obey
In whom their own selected Treasures lay.

152

Fair was the Image; for its lines were true
To that brave Form which Heav'n's eternal Son
Had for himself design'd; that Form which drew
His Hand to Frame this whole Creation.
All things attend on this grand Mystery;
The world was made that God a Man might be.

153

Yet still this hopful Model was no more
Than, Statue-like; well lim'd but cold and dead:
When lo th'Almighty's Breath vouchsaf'd to pour
Life's flood into his Nostrils; whence it spred
Through secret chanels into every Part,
But chose its Mannor-house amidst the heart.

154

That Breath immortal was, as flowing from
His bosom whom Eternity calls Sire:
And kindled by its Blast that noble flame,
Which shall out-live Heav'n's stoutest fairest Fire.
'Tis not the Crack and Ruin of the less
Or greater World, that can the Soul suppress.

155

Thus Adam op'd his eyes; through which such beams
Of Majesty look'd out, that gallant He
Now by a new resemblance truly seems,
The royal Image of his Lord to be:
Heav'n's Sovereignty shines in God, and who
But Man looks like the King of all below?

156

And yet those Looks of his had look'd in vain,
If he had on his feeble self alone
Founded his Title, and his Right to reign:
The lofty structure of Dominion
Requires a correspondent Base, nor must
Such massy Buildings founded be on Dust.

157

But by his Maker's into his own hand
Were put the Reins of Air, of Earth, of Sea:
That under his imperial Command,
All Fishes, Beasts and Birds might rangéd be:
Which, though so boistrous now they seem and wild,
Before their King at first were tame and mild.

158

This lower World's high Prince thus nobly made,
God seeks a Palace where he might reside:
And when the Earth his eye examin'd had,
A dainty Place which in the East he spy'd
His liking won; where he contriv'd the Seat
Of his new Viceroy, delicate and great.

159

It was a Garden, if that Name can speak
The worth of those illustrious Sweets, which there
Conspir'd to prove that fancy a mistake,
That Heaven dwells only in the starry sphere.
The Earth look'd poor in all her other soil,
Those Meanness serv'd but for this Jewel's foil.

160

No Weed presum'd to shew its roitish face
On this fair Stage; the Nettles, Thistles, Brakes,

108

Thorns, Bryars, Cockle, Hemlock, rampant Grass,
With those dire Herbs the meagre Wizzard rakes
Into his deadly boxes; either yet
Were not at all, or far from Eden set.

161

The Yew, the Box, the Cypress, and all other
Sad waiters on the Grave's solemnity
Had there no business; Death, or Death's black Mother
Not being yet conceiv'd: No crookback'd Tree,
Disgrac'd the place, no foolish scrambling shrub,
No wild and careless Bush, no clownish Stub.

162

Grim Winter and rude Boreas forbare
To walk this way; so did Distempers, Cares,
Perplexities, Sighs, Melancholy, Fear,
Doubts, Jealousies, Seditions, Treasons, Wars,
Storms, Thunders, Lightnings, Earthquakes, Ruptures, Streins,
Wounds, Boils, Diseases, inward, outward Pains.

163

For on the Garden's margin ran a wall
Built of Delight, and buttress'd with Content:
Beauty stood at the gate, and let in all
Who brought the Pass of fair Accomplishment;
But if she spy'd a Wrinkle, Scar, or Blot,
The inconsistent stranger out she shut.

164

Within rose Hills of Spice and Frankincence,
Which smil'd upon the flowry Vales below;
Where living Crystal found a sweet pretence
With musical impatience to flow,
And delicately chide the Gems beneath,
Because no smoother they had pav'd its path.

165

The Nymphs which sported on this Current's side
Were milky Thoughts, tralucid pure Desires,
Soft Turtles' Kisses, Looks of virgin Brides,
Sweet Coolness which nor needs nor feareth fires,
Snowy Imbraces, cheerly-sober Eyes,
Gentileness, Mildness, Ingenuities.

166

A goodly Army of peace-breathing Graces
Were rang'd by these in Love's serene array;
And in those multitudes of fragrant faces
Sweet Order with Variety did play.
Nor was it lawful One above the rest
To magnify, for every one was best.

167

Stretch'd at full length upon th'Embroidery
Of flowry beds lay Softness, Ease, and Pleasure:
Whilst in the carpet walks there dancéd by
Calmness, Longdays, Security, and Leisure;
Accomplish'd Growth, brisk Firmitude, and Health;
The only Jewel which makes wealthy Wealth.

168

Your Roses here would soon confess their Blush
Due to their own Defects, should they compare
With those brisk Eyes with which the Rosy Bush
Looks up and views its beauteous Neighbours there:
Nor are your Lilies white, if those were by
Whose leaves lay ope the books of Purity.

169

Liban and Carmel bow their goodly heads
To Paradise's foot: the Balm, Nard, Myrrh,
And all the Spices of Arabia's Meads
Freely acknowledge richer Sweetness here.
Adonis Garden paralleld with this,
No more a Garden but a Desert is.

170

The early Gales knockt gently at the door
Of every Flower to bid the Odours wake;
Which catching in their softest arms, they bore
From bed to bed, and so return'd them back
To their own Lodgings, doubled by the blisses
They sip'd from their delicious brethren's kisses.

171

Upon the wings of those inamoring Breasts,
Refreshment, Vigor, Nimbleness attended;
Which wheresoe'r they flew, cheer'd up their paths,
And with fresh Airs of life all things befriended:
For Heav'n's sweet Spirit deign'd his breath to join
And make the powers of these Blasts divine.

172

The goodly Trees' bent Arms, their nobler load
Of Fruit with blest oppression overbore:
That Orchard where the Dragon warder stood,
For all its golden boughs, to this was poor;
To this, in which the greater Serpent lay
Though not to guard the Trees, but to betray.

173

Of Fortitude there, rose a stately Row,
Here, of Munificence a thick set Grove;
There, of wise Industry a Quickset grew,
Here, flourishéd a dainty Cops of Love;
There, sprang up pleasant Twigs of ready Wit,
Here, larger Trees of Gravity were set.

174

Here, Temperance and widespred Justice there;
Under whose sheltering shadow Piety,
Devotion, Mildness, Friendship planted were;
Next stood Renown with head exalted high;
Then, twin'd together Plenty, Fatness, Peace.
O blesséd Place, where grew such things as these!

175

Yet what are these, if Death's malignant hand
May either them or their fruition blast?

109

This to prevent, at careful Heav'n's command
An hopeful Tree sprung up amidst the rest;
Which nobly prov'd itself a Branch to be
Pluck'd from the grand stock of Eternity.

176

Amidst them all it sprung; for well it knew
Its proper seat, and chose the Garden's heart:
No station but that to Life was due,
Whence Vigor's streams might reach to every Part.
Fresh Heat and Spirits hung about it thick,
The boughs all breathéd and the fruit was quick.

177

By this th'alluring Tree of Knowledge stood
(For where should Wisdom dwell but next the heart?)
Whose leaves were written fair, but writ with Blood,
And fill'd with Learning and capricious Art.
O fatal Tree! how wise had Adam grown
If he thy woful Knowledge had not known.

178

High in the shady Galleries sate a Quire
Suting their noble Chapel; Birds of praise
Whose lofty Pipes were tun'd by strong desire
To pay for their sweet Home in sweeter Laies:
With whom soft Echo, proud her skill to shew,
Though slower time she kept, yet sung she true.

179

This Map of Wonders, this Epitomy
Of Heav'n's best pride; this Court of Rarities,
This Confluence of blesséd Gallantry;
Was that so much renownéd Paradise:
Renownéd yet how much sublimer than
The loftiest praise it ever reap'd from Man!

180

For Man no sooner forfeited his Tenure
In this Possession, but withal he lost
All his Capacity to paint the honor
Of his escheated Home: and now the most
Which ev'n Poetic sprucest Pens can draw
Doth more their own weak Art, than Eden show.

181

The great Creator hither Adam brings
As to the Portal of celestial Bliss:
And, see, said He, of these illustrious Things
Free choise I give thee, bating only this
One Tree of Knowledge: all the rest are thine;
Eat what thou wilt; but still let that be mine.

182

If thy presumptious hand invades that Tree
Thy licorish crime must cost thy life; and thou
By Death's immediate tallons seizéd be:
Death, Adam, Death hangs thick on every bough.
What will that knowledge boot thy soul, whereby
Thou nothing shalt be taught but Misery?

183

O noble Lord! who to his Creature gave
A World at once, and yet requir'd of him
No more but that he would have care to live,
And long injoy the World's fair diadem;
Who ties him to no homage, but to shun
Being by his own fond needless fault undone.

184

Did he some hardy knotty Task propound
Which must have daily swum in tedious sweat;
His Vassal sure could no pretence have found
To disobey, when hiréd by so great
A price as All this All: yet bounteous He
Will, like his Gift, have ev'n his servant free.

185

After this easy Charge; upon a Throne
Built all of Power he his Lieutenant set,
And at his high Inauguration
His noblest Subjects orderéd to meet;
Who now before his footstool marshall'd were
In modest equipage all Pair by Pair.

186

Strait, as his awful Look their duty try'd;
The Lyon couch'd, the Horse let fall his crest;
Behemoth's tail forgot its mounting pride,
And melted to the ground; the Bull deprest
His horns; the Boar suck'd in his foam; the Bear,
The Wolf, the Tigre, louted low for fear.

187

Like reverence humbled down the other Crew,
Whilst from their Sovereign's fairly-dreadful face
Such beams of full imperial Brightness flew
As spake it plainly their Creator's Glass:
Strong that Reflection was, which could command
The rudest Beasts this Truth to understand.

188

As these admiring lay; the Eagle drew
Up every rank and file of wingéd things:
Thither the Estrich, Vulture, Falcon flew,
Thither a flock of every Bird that sings;
Thither the Peacock, but eclipséd so,
That down fell all his Stars and trail'd below.

189

On came the most magnanimous strutting Cock
Disdaining heav'n and earth, till drawing nigh
His nobler Sovereign, his surly neck
He felt arrested by Humility;
His wings flag'd low, his fiery gullet grew
Languid and pale, his comb and forehead blew.

190

Wise Adam mark'd them all, and sent his eye
To search their bosoms' closets; where he read

110

Th'essential lines profoundly gravéd by
Judicious Nature, when she fashionéd
Their Difference, their Kindred and Relations,
Their Powers, their Properties and Inclinations.

191

Thus privy to their inmost selves, he sought
What Titles would most clearly signify
Their bosoms' hidden sence; and up he wrought
In single Words each Nature's mystery.
Acquaintance then he took of them by Name;
And with a princely Nod dismisséd them.

192

But when their march in loving Pairs he view'd,
A gentle sigh he fetch'd, to think that He
Should spend his nobler life in solitude,
Whilst all Things else injoy'd society.
What boots it him to reign as sovereign Lord,
If all his World can him no Queen afford.

193

If whilst each Bird and Beast hath leave to read
His iterated self in his dear Mate,
And by strait Love's prerogative can lead
A double life in one: His sullen fate
Imprisons him in his own breast alone:
Alas! this thought heav'd up another Groan.

194

And heav'd it up so high, that to the ear
Of God it reach'd; who calling Pity forth,
Gave her an errand to the Deep to bear:
Which nimble Nymph strait started through the earth
Down to the silent mouth of that dark Cave
Where Sorrows find their sink, and Cares their grave.

195

A lazy Moat the Grot incompasséd
With waters which were never known to stir;
Upon whose bank secure Oblivion's bed
Was made of sluggish Moss and cakéd fur
The Remoras and Crampfish groping lay
About the bottom of the Mud and Clay.

196

Up from the Water crept an heavy Cloud
Of dusky Vapours, on whose shoulders rid
Fat Drowsines; who rub'd her eyes and bow'd
Down to her bosom her unweildy head.
Bats, Owles, and other purblind birds of night
Stole through the swarthy shades their doubtful flight.

197

Mandrakes within the Moat, and Poppy grew,
Which nodded to their neighbour clump of Trees:
Those were the Willow, Cypress, Box, and Yew;
Close at whose feet lay Quietness and Ease;
And nestling by their side, an half-dead crow'd
Of Dormise and of Bears, all snorting loud.

198

Through these pass'd Pity to a door of Jet,
Whose wary ringle round was cloth'd in wool:
The porter Silence, with his finger at
His mouth; when by her looks he guess'd her full
Of more than common business with his Queen,
Softly stole ope the lock, and let her in.

199

There found she on a bed of ebony
Sleep lay'd at length; her pillow, badgers' hair;
Thick Night, full Peace, and soft Security
Her rug, her counterpane, and blankets were.
Close by her couch's side drop'd pipes of lead;
A swarm of Bees were humming at the head.

200

But greater was the swarm of Dreams which walk'd
In shapeless shapes about the throngéd room;
Who though they laugh'd, and sung, and cry'd, and talk'd,
No noise was heard in that confusion: some
Wanted an head, a cheek, an eye, a nose,
Some arms, some legs, some feet, and some their toes.

201

Some wanton seem'd, some chast, some spruce, some course;
Some tame, some terrible, some black, some white;
Some Men before, and yet behind a Horse;
Some Swan on one side, on the other Kite;
Some Love, some Hate, some Half-hope and Half-fear;
Some heav'n, some hell, some both; most monsters were.

202

Indeed a few, who sleighted all the rest,
Were lim'd and form'd by due Proportion's art;
With sober gravity their looks were drest;
Deep wonderous thoughts were hatching in their heart;
Sharp was their sight, and further could descry
Than any Eagle's Sun-affronting eye.

203

But now the Nymph aloud deliveréd
Her earnest Message, jogging heavy Sleep.
She shrug'd and yawn'd, and thrice lift up her head,
And with one eye half ope began to peep:
Then Pity to a Box she nodded, (for
'Twas death to speak) and so return'd to snore.

204

Black was the Box, and though its bulk was little,
It seem'd the massy mansion-house of Weight.
But Heav'n's stout Messenger was made of Metal
So valiant, that she snatch'd it up, and strait
On noble Fervor's wings devour'd the road
To Eden, with her slender-mighty load.

111

205

Where she no sooner dawn'd in Adam's view,
But he began to streak, and nod, and yawn;
Forthwith the Nymph a sable powder threw
Full in his eyes; by which quite overthrown,
He lay supinely on a spicy bed
Proud of the grace to kiss his sweeter head.

206

His sences thus seal'd up in dainty night,
His Soul walk'd to his brain, to take a view
Of that prophetick but obscure Delight
Which in his fancies' fertile garden grew.
When lo, a goodly Tree salutes his eye
Tall, wide, and full of florid Majesty.

207

The Woods look'd all that way, and bow'd ther head;
Low crept the shrubs and due obeysance made;
The Plants and Flowers their fragrant duties did,
Ambitious to be gilded by his shade.
Thus happy he in glorie's zenith reigns
King of the Hills, the Vales, the Woods, the Plains.

208

But from his own brave stock, out at his side
A Twig sprung up, which grew as fair as he:
As high it reach'd its head, its arms as wide,
And flourishéd with equal gallantry.
Their leaves all kiss'd, their arms embrac'd each other,
They liv'd and lov'd and joy'd and reign'd together.

209

Yet soon their throne was undermin'd; for at
Their heedless Root a desperate Canker grew;
Which knaw'd with restless venom, till it got
The day, and down their stately bodies threw.
Amaz'd stood Nature at the sight, and all
The World deep groanéd at their mighty fall.

210

As thus the royal Trunks in public view
Exposéd lay, abandon'd and forlorn;
From courteous Tellus they compassion drew,
And sanctuary found from further scorn:
For in her bosom's safe and silent bed
Them and her Ruins up she coveréd.

211

The deepset Root still held its sturdy hold
And kept its place: so did the Canker his.
New Sprouts took heart, and followéd the old
With answerable bulk and haughtiness:
Whose fretful foe persisted still to knaw,
And soon or late lay'd all their glory low.

212

Long held these Conflicts, till at length a Sprout
Sprung from a new and unsuspected place;
For on that side the indisposéd Root
In all the World's opinion arid was.
This only Branch scap'd being tainted by
The inbred Canker's foul affinity.

213

Yet scap'd he not its restles envie's stroke,
By which the Monster stoutly him assaild;
Whom, when it shrinking saw and giving back,
It impudently hop'd to have prevail'd:
But he recoil'd, and was content to die,
Only to gain the surer Victory.

214

For, wisely ordering his brave Ruin, He
With his dead Weight full on his Enemy fell;
Who crushéd under this calamity,
Pay'd for his boldness and sunk down to hell.
When lo, the conquer'd yet victorious Tree
Started up into new life's bravery.

215

And after Him those other Trees arose
Which dead had lain and rotten long before;
For 'twas his pleasure to impart to those
His own vivacious overflowing store.
They every where leap'd up to life, and stood
So thick, that all the plain became a Wood:

216

A royal wood of everlasting Trees
Whose Arms all reach'd out vegetable gold;
Whose dangling Gems sham'd India's Rarities;
Whose towring Heads saw heav'n beneath them roll'd.
Yet these were shrubs to that brave Cedar which
Had rais'd them up to this triumphant pitch.

217

Whilst Adam fetter'd lay in senseless chains
Viewing this wonderous Sight with musing thought;
God op'd his side, but strictly charg'd the veins
To seal their mouths, and let no drop peep out.
From thence he chose a single Rib, and then
The wicket clos'd, and all was whole again.

218

That Bone he handled with such breeding art
That it dissolvéd into many more;
And due materials for every part
Most perfectly supply'd: what was before
A single Rib, is now flesh, sinews, grissels,
Blood, bones, skin, entrails, arteries and muscles.

219

And that the work might suit its beauteous shop
In which no Creature forméd was but this;
The willing Garden's Pride he pleas'd to crop,
This Paradise of Paradise to dress.
All Sweets and Delicacies flowéd hither,
And in one Eve were moulded up together.

112

220

Eve, blesséd Eden's only native Queen;
Eve, whose own Husband was her wond'rous Mother;
Whose privilegéd Birth hath neither been
Nor shall be copiéd by any other:
Eve that fair Pipe through which Humanity
Must into God himself conveyéd be.

221

Eve, Topstone of the goodly-fram'd Creation,
The Bliss of Adam and the Crown of Nature;
Eve, who enjoys the most removéd station
From ugly Chaos; Eve that final Creature,
In whom th'Almighty Lord set up his rest,
And only spar'd to say He'd done his best.

222

Her spatious polish'd forehead was the fair
And lovely Plain, where gentle Majesty
Walk'd in delicious state: her temples clear
Pomgranate fragments, which rejoyc'd to lie
In dainty ambush, and peep through their cover
Of amber-locks, whose volumes curléd over.

223

The fuller stream of her luxuriant Hair
Pour'd down itself upon her ivory back:
In which soft flood ten thousand Graces were
Sporting and dallying with every Lock;
The rival Winds for kisses fell to fight,
And rais'd a ruffling tempest of Delight.

224

Two princely Arches of most equal measures
Held up the Canopy above her eyes;
And open'd to the heav'ns far richer Treasures,
Than with their Stars or Sun e'r learn'd to rise:
Those beams can ravish but the Bodie's sight,
These dazel stoutest Souls with mystic light.

225

Two Garrisons were these of conquering Love,
Two founts of Life, of Spirit, of Joy, of Grace;
Two Easts in one fair Heav'ns no more above,
But in the hemisphere of her own face;
Two Thrones of Gallantry; two shops of miracles;
Two shrines of Deities; two silent Oracles.

226

For silence here could eloquently plead;
Here might the unseen Soul be clearly read;
Though gentle Humours their mild mixture made,
They prov'd a double Burning-glass; which shed
Those living flames which with enlivening Darts
Shoot deaths of love into Spectators' hearts.

227

'Twixt these an alabaster Promontory
Slop'd gently down to part each Cheek from other;
Where White and Red strove for the fairer glory,
Blending in sweet confusion together.
The Rose and Lily never joinéd were
In so Divine a marriage as there.

228

Couchant upon these precious Cushonets
Were thousand Beauties and as many Smiles;
Chaste Blandishments, and modest cooling Heats,
Harmless Temptations, and honest Guiles.
For heav'n, though up betimes the Maid to deck,
Ne'r made Aurora's cheeks so fair and sleek.

229

Inamoring Neatness, Softness, Pleasure, at
Her gracious Mouth in full retinue stood:
For, next the Eyes' bright Glass, the Soul at that
Takes most delight to look and walk abroad.
But at her lips two threds of scarlat lay,
Or two warm Corrals, to adorn the way;

230

The precious Way, where by her breath and tongue
Her Odours and her Honey travelléd;
Which nicest Criticks would have judg'd among
Arabian or Hyblæan mountains bred.
Indeed the richer Araby in her
Dear mouth, and sweeter Hybla dwelling were.

231

More gracefully its golden Chapiter
No Column of white Marble e'r sustain'd;
Than her round polish'd Neck supported her
Illustrious head, which there in triumph reign'd.
Yet neither would this Pillar hardness know,
Nor suffer Cold to dwell amongst its Snow.

232

Her blesséd Bosom moderately rose
With two soft Mounts of Lilies; whose fair top
A pair of pritty sister Cherrys chose,
And there their living Crimson lifted up.
The milky count'nance of the Hills confest
What kind of Springs within had made their nest.

233

So leggiadrous were her snowy Hands,
That Pleasure mov'd as any finger stirr'd:
Her virgin waxen Arms were precious Bands
And chains of Love: Her waste itself did gird
With its own graceful Slenderness, and ty
Up Delicacy's best Epitomy.

234

Fair Politure walk'd all her body over,
And Symmetry rejoyc'd in every Part;
Soft and white Sweetness was her native Cover;
From every Member Beauty shot a dart:
From heav'n to earth, from head to foot I mean,
No blemish could by Envy's self be seen.

113

235

This was the first-born Queen of Gallentry:
All Gems compounded into one rich Stone,
All sweets knit into one conspiracy,
A constellation of all Stars in one;
Who when she was presented to their view
Both Paradise and Nature dazel'd grew.

236

Phœbus who rode in glorious Scorn's carreer
About the world, no sooner spy'd her face,
But fain he would have linger'd, from his sphere
On this, though less yet sweeter, Heav'n, to gaze:
Till shame inforc'd him to lash on again,
And clearer wash him in the western Main.

237

The smiling Air was tickled with his high
Prerogative of uncontrolléd Bliss;
Imbracing with intirest liberty
A Body soft and sweet and chaste as his.
All odorous Gales that had but strength to stir
Came flocking in to beg Perfumes of Her.

238

The Marygold her garish Love forgot,
And turn'd her homage to these fairer Eyes;
All flowers look'd up, and dutifully shot
Their wonder hither, whence they saw arise
Unparching courteous Lustre, which instead
Of fire, soft joy's irradiations spred.

239

The sturdiest Trees affected by her dear
Delightful presence could not choose but melt
At their hard pith: whilst all the Birds whose clear
Pipes tosséd Mirth about the branches, felt
The influence of her looks; for having let,
Their Song fell down, their Eyes on her they set.

240

And willingly their proudest plumes and wings
Follow'd their Song: for in her Person they
With fix'd intention read more glorious things
Than all their gorgeous feathers could display,
And were content no more the Name to wear
Of Birds of Paradise, now she was there.

241

But when she mov'd her feet, the joyful Earth
Greatfully rous'd her best fertility,
And by a brisk extemporary birth
Of Flowers and Spices, strove to testify
What carpet's pomp was requisite to make
The passage fit where Beauty was to walk.

242

She walk'd; by that mild importunity
To break her sleep-inthralléd Spouse's chains:
But he wak'd more by powerful Sympathy
Which on the sudden glowéd in his veins,
Drowsy no longer; thus the Steel, when near
The Loadstone draws, leaps up to kiss his Dear.

243

And yet a while, (for spectacles which rush
With unexpected glories on the sense,
Forestall their own reception, and crush
Beholders' faith by too much evidence)
He thought his wond'rous Dream had still possest him,
And with a gentler Apparition blest him.

244

But when his Eyes' discerning Test had try'd
The graceful Object, and judiciously
Pry'd into all the truth; he smiling cry'd,
This nothing but my other self can be;
The sweet Result of my own flesh and bone,
And only Adam in reflection.

245

From me she sprung, and like a genuine sprout
Answers the semblance of her native stock:
Her breed proclaims her name, and issuing out
Of Man she Woman is. Which said, he took
Possession of her milky hand, and strait
Sealéd upon her ruby lip his right.

246

What mighty Tides of flaming Loves and joys
In their first marriage-greeting met together!
And yet as pure and chaste, as when one Voice
In musick's rites is wedded to another;
Where with concentrick Delicacies they
Hug and conspire in one soul-playing Lay.

247

He views himself more soft and sweet in Eve,
Eve reads in Him her self more fixt and grave:
Either from other's look themselves receive,
As fast returning what they taking gave.
Two streams thus meeting, find and loose each other
I'th' kind pellucid bosom of his brother.

248

Nor did their amorous hands and lips alone
In most unspotted Pleasure's juncture wed,
But in a nearer dearer union
Their Thoughts all kiss'd, their Hearts were marriéd;
Their Souls so perfectly imbrac'd, that now
This happy Couple was but One in Two.

249

A blessed Copy this, for those whoe'r
To Wedlocke's bands themselves will captives yield:
So shall their sweet Captivity appear
No scene of slavery, but freedom's field;
Where though they chainéd are, the whole World's gains
Can never hire them not to love their chains.

114

250

They naked were, if flax, beasts' skins and hairs,
And excrements, the sole Apparel be:
But who will tax the Sun, the Moon, the Stars,
The Diamond, Crystal, Coral, Ivory
Of nakedness, because the cloths they wear
None but their native beams and beauties are?

251

A Robe of Innocence and Purity
From head to foot embrac'd them round about;
Transmitting their pure features to the eye,
But letting no unseemly shame peep out.
They naked were of every borrow'd dress,
And naked of what you count nakedness.

252

In this condition did they live and love,
And by perpetual interchange of hearts
Fairly transcribe our blesséd life above;
Where through his eye his Soul each Angel darts
Into his fellow's breast, that all may be
In common blest by one felicity.

253

How great a Feast, and earnest invitation
Was this for Envy; whose ambitious Taste
Disdains all Fair but in the noblest fashion;
Whose Jaws of greedy Iron stand agast
At no encounter, but with restless spight
Against the most confirméd Champions fight!

254

Her Palace seated in the heart of hell,
Is built of Cankers, Rust, and Vipers' tongues;
Her curséd Throne is mounted on the fell
And boiling breast of Satan; which she stings
With ever-fretful rage, and makes him run
About the wild work of Damnation.

255

To Paradise he rush'd, and brought his Hell
Into that earthly Heav'n, whose dwellers he
With anxious eye survey'd and mark'd, until
A Creature brisk and spruce he chanc'd to see
Upon a bank of floury pleasures spred,
But far more sweet and beauteous than its bed.

256

It was the Serpent, whose illustrious skin
Play'd with the Sun and sent him back his beams
With glorious use: that Wealth, which glisters in
The proudest strand of oriental Streams,
Salutes Aurora's cheek with fewer raies
Than this bright robe did all heav'n's highnoon face.

257

His sharpset Eyes sparkled with nimble flames,
The light by which his active Soul was read:
Wisdom and Art, with all their plots and frames
Chose their chief shop in his judicious head.
Above his fellows on Craft's wings he flew;
All Beasts but he to that dull Name were true.

258

This Agent Belzebub approv'd; and as
He fed upon his couch, mix'd with his meat;
Which ambush help'd him his Lips' guard to pass,
Where (having taught his bane to relish sweet)
He eas'ly won the Entry of his Throat,
And down into his bosom's centre shot.

259

When subtile fire hath through the Cauldron's side
Into its unsuspecting bowels stol'n;
The liquar frets and fumes, and to a tide
Of working Wrath and hot Impatience swol'n,
With boiling surges beats the Brass, and leaves
No way untry'd to vent its tortur'd Waves.

260

So now the Serpent felt his bosom swell
With peevish rage and desperate disdain:
A thousand Plots and Cheats throng'd every cell
And busy corner of his belking brain:
Sometimes he beats on that, sometimes on this,
Sometimes thinks neither, sometimes both amiss.

261

He knew the vastnes of his fell Design;
Which was, to slay a World at one dead stroke,
And reach Destruction in a pois'ned line
Down to the latest Twig of humane stock:
And therefore muster'd up the boldest Might
All Hell could send to back him in the fight.

262

But pondering then, how Adam's sober heart
Was amply stor'd with Wisdom's ammunition,
And strongly fortify'd in every part
With sin-defying Grace; in deep suspition
He shak'd his head, and thought the match not ev'n
To venture on a fight with Him and Heav'n.

263

For if he hapned to be foild at first,
His following onsets all would sweat in vain;
And his own pois'nous spight his breast would burst
To see both Adam and his Off-spring reign
Victorious Kings of earthly Paradise,
And flourish thence, to that above the skies.

264

Yet wholly to decline the Conflict, were
To yield those Realms to Man without a blow;
And in that foolish and ignoble fear
Of, what's but Chance's frown, an Overthrow.
To Resolution's brink this spur'd him on,
Who could loose Nothing though he nothing won.

115

265

But in again his Cunning pressing here,
Advis'd his Wrath to look before it leapt,
And not neglect the Helps which offer'd were
By fair Advantage: wherefore back he stept
And marking Eve's soft Temper, thought that she
Might less impregnable than Adam be.

266

Yet still he much suspected that the brave
Refinéd Metal of her virtuous breast
Would prove so generous, that to Deceive
Would be an easier Task than to Contest:
But could she any ways be overthrown,
He hop'd her fall would justle Adam down.

267

The wary foe thus plants his Battery
Against the Castle's female, weakest side;
Judiciously hoping that if he
Can there but make a breach, the fortify'd
And well-mann'd Posts will soon appalléd be,
And yield up all their strength for company.

268

Remembring then what Engine did subdue
A wiser Head and stronger far than her,
And how impatient Ambition threw
From heavn's chief pinnacle grand Lucifer:
He trusts that now the like successful End
Might on this tryéd way of fight attend.

269

Incourag'd thus; the dangerous Quintessence
Of venturous everswelling Philauty,
Of Discontent, of Scorn, of Insolence,
Of towring fancies, and self-flattery,
And of the stoutest heav'n-aspiring Pride
Together in one desperate Plot he ty'd.

270

And if this will not do the feat, yet I
Excuséd am, said he, and upon Hell
Be all the shame, whose King and Nobles by
The shock of this Temptation headlong fell.
This said, near Eve he gently 'gan to glide,
Whom straying from her Husband he espy'd.

271

Unhappy Error that, which could invite
The jealous Tempter to be bold, since she
Had robb'd herself of all her Spouse's Might
By starting from his holy company.
But all the way the spightful Serpent went,
He put on looks of contrary Intent.

272

For Love and Friendship smiléd in his eyes,
Fair on his face sate Tenderness and Care:
His flattering Neck he bowéd thrice, and thrice
His silent homage he presented her:
And then, fair Queen of Paradise, said he,
Why must the Prince be bound, and Subjects free?

273

We crop our various Joys where'r we please
From any floury, any spicy bed;
Our dangling diner grows on any Trees;
Our Table's over all the Garden spred.
But royal you seem stinted in your meat:
Have your own Wills, or God's, this order set?

274

Admiring Eve, who had presum'd till now
That Speech had been Man's privilege alone;
Thought fair respect to this new Talker due,
And freely join'd communication:
Right glad withal to meet another here,
Who with Discourse could entertain her ear.

275

Nay courteous Serpent, she replyéd, we
Have large Commission, and our God is kind:
He gives us leave to feast on every Tree,
And pick and choose and freely please our minde;
Bate but that one of Knowledge, on whose boughs
Death, certain Death (for so he tells us) grows.

276

O credulous Queen the Serpent answer'd, who
Make your own Danger by believing it!
Whate'r it be, 'tis not Death's Tree, I trow,
Just at whose elbow that of Life is set.
I to your self appeal; judge you but whether
These two can grow like such good friends together.

277

Death in a Tree! flat contradiction lies
Ev'n in the Terms: can Death e'r be alive?
Sure Vegetation very ill complies
With sapless stupor! O do not deceive
Your thoughts, nor teach the Tree of Knowledge how
To turn a Tree of Ignorance to you.

278

Observe its goodly Apples: can you spy
In those fair cheeks the gastly looks of Death?
What fruit in all this choise Variety
So much of heav'n's inamoring count'nance hath?
Yet grant the worst; suppose it deadly be:
For antidote lo there Life's ready Tree.

279

Ask me not whether Truth itself can ly:
Since He is God, he cannot but be true:
And therfore only by a Fallacy
Of enigmatick Truth he cheateth you.
Indeed the Tree bears Death; but Death which will
Nothing but wants and Imperfections kill.

116

280

Life-kindling Death, which will destroy you so
That you no longer Creatures shall remain;
But by this metamorphosis shall grow
Above your selves, and into Gods be slain;
With eyes divine, discerning Good from Evil,
Fair Heav'n from Hell, an Angel from a Devil.

281

Of which since God is well aware, what wonder
If he desires a God alone to reign;
And so he may, if he can keep you under
By this one politic Injunction's chain:
If by an Apple thus he terrifies
The native Princes of all Paradise.

282

O how it stings my soul to think that you
My sovereign Queen should thus fainthearted be!
For my part, did ten thousand Mandates grow
Cross in my way to bar me from this Tree,
Through all I'd break; and so would you, if once
Your heart were fir'd by my experience.

283

For yesterday, when first I 'gan to taste
The sprightful Fruit, flames kindled in mine eyes;
My Soul awak'd, and from my bosom chas'd
Those Mists of Ignorance whose thick disguise
Muffled my thoughts, and kept me down a beast
As dark and dull as any of the rest.

284

But now Serenity unclouds my heart
And yields me uncontrolléd prospect to
The Orbs of Knowlege, where from part to part
My nimbly-piercing eyes securely go.
This is the Death I found; a Death which I
Mean every day as long's I live to die.

285

How bright a Morn of Science then will rise
In your large Soul by this enlightning Tree!
My breast is shallow, narrow are mine eyes,
But wide and brave is your Capacity;
So wide, that Wisdom's deepest Seas may find
Sufficient chanels in your mighty mind.

286

And if this Knowledge, if Divinity
It self, may merit, but the easy pains
Of your Acceptance; O persuaded be
To suffer these inestimable Gains:
Shall royal You, when I your slave may eat,
Be barréd from this deifying Meat?

287

And yet you are not barr'd: what Ramparts here
Have barracado'd up the noble Prize?
What Squadrons of the heav'nly Host appear
To guard these precious Boughs, and awe your eyes?
Against your Bliss, O why shall your own Fear
Build bulwarks, and raise armies in the air!

288

You are not barr'd; O no; behold but how
Y' are bidden welcom by the courteous Tree,
Whose laden Arms their glorious offerings bow
To meet your mouth, and justify my Plea.
What more can hospitable Kindness do!
Their very posture's language saies, Fall to.

289

This said; the sweetly-spightful Tempter clos'd
His fauning mouth, and proudly joy'd to see
Relenting Eve's facility dispos'd
To swallow his bewitching Fallacy:
Since with her licorish eyes she 'gan to taste,
He hop'd her teeth would venture on the Feast.

290

Indeed his Charms had open stole her heart
And delicately thrill'd their poison in:
The smiling Apples also plaid their part,
And with her eyes her fond affections won.
Besides, capricious Pride did her invite,
What'er it cost, to trie that new Delight.

291

But having thrice step'd to th'inchanting Tree,
As oft her Conscience pluck'd her back again:
Yet still, with fatal importunity
She strugled till she broke her Freedom's chain:
With uncheck'd Madness then she rush'd at length
To shew her Weakness by her willful strength.

292

Up went her desperate hand, and reach'd away
The whole world's Bliss whilst she the Apple took.
When lo, with paroxisms of strange dismay
Th'amazéd Heav'ns stood still, Earth's basis shook,
The troubléd Ocean roard, the startled Air
In hollow grones profoundly breath'd its fear.

293

The frighted Trees through all their bodies shiver'd,
Their daunted faces down the Flowers held;
Th'afflicted Beasts with secret horror quiver'd;
With sudden shrieks the Birds the Wolkin fill'd:
And deep-pain'd Nature, though but fresh and new,
In this sad moment crack'd and crazy grew.

294

But absent Adam's sympathetic heart
The sharpest fury of this dint assaild;
Who feeling by this ænigmatic smart
Himself half-slain, still knew not what he ail'd
Only he found his yerning bowels drive
His anxious fear to run and see his Eve.

117

295

O baleful sight! his precious Queen he saw
Enslavéd by her soothing Vassal's craft;
Her, who was Beautie's Treasury till now,
Of bravest wealth's prerogative bereft:
Bereft so wholly, that with wondering doubt
For his late lovely Eve in Eve he sought.

296

Apparent Misery sate on her Face,
The goodly throne till now of Pleasantness:
Her Cheeks which us'd to bloom with heav'nly grace,
Blasted with Sin, wore now Guilt's hellish dress;
And at her Eyes, of late Life's windows, Death
Look'd out; and Rottenness flow'd with her breath.

297

But sadder was the Change within; for there
Her bold Transgression spred an hideous Night
Of Blindness on her intellectual sphere;
Her Will, which grew before so fair and streight,
Turn'd crookéd and perverse: her Passions broke
As she had done her Lord's, her Reason's yoak.

298

Her Heart, till now soft as the Turtle's sighs,
Forgets its heav'n-inamoring Tenderness,
And with the stubborn Parian Marble vies:
Her Thoughts, before all Sons of Love, profess
No trade but Mischief, deeply plotting how
To propagate that Death she liv'd in now.

299

Nor fears her Rage to play the Serpent too,
Mad at her innocent Husband's blesséd state,
And him with sweet-invenom'd kindness woo
To taste of Hell, and swallow down his fate:
Wherefore the goodliest Apples having cull'd,
Her treacherous hands with those fair baits she fill'd.

300

Thus with a loving Glance, and modest smile,
(Those mighty Arms by which all females fight)
She charg'd his eye; and seconded that Guile
By trying at his ear this vocal sleight:
O wellcom wellcom, since I now have here
A banquet fit to entertain my Dear.

301

Soul-fatning Cates, seeds of Divinity,
Edible Wisdom, and a mystic feast
Of high Illuminations. Ask not why
Our jealous God injoin'd us not to taste
Of that whose most refining energy
Would raise us to be Gods as well as He.

302

As for the bugbear Threat of Death, behold
Its confutation in still-florid Me
Since I have been thus fortunately bold,
Shall needless Dread a Coward make of Thee!
Fall to, my joy; I have thy Taster been.
Think not the seeking thine own Bliss, a sin.

303

So spake insidious Eve. But he agast,
Deeply agast, reply'd with groans and sighs:
Sadly he shak'd his head, and smote his breast,
And roll'd to heav'n his lamentable eyes.
Alas no need, no need there was of arms
Him to secure against his Consort's charms.

304

Convincéd He too well the Danger knew
Whose miserable Proof now wounds his eyes:
Nor could the plainly-pois'nous Apple shew
Him reason Heav'n and Virtue to dispise.
Fast in his bosom written was the Law,
And reverent Terror kept his soul in aw.

305

In aw a while it kept it: but at last
Commiseration of his Spouse's case
Grew to such strength in his too tender breast
As, to himself all pity to displace.
Eve sate so near to his uxorious heart
That rather he with heav'n than Her will part.

306

For part we must; unless he reconcile
That mighty breach which she between them made.
O potent Sympathy! which canst beguile
An heart so pure and clear-ey'd, and degrade
Earth's Monarch from his native pinnacle
Of Innocence, as low as Sin and Hell.

307

(Dull and cold-hearted Men stand wondering how
The Loyal Lover dares throw generous Hate
On his own Wealth and Health and Fame, and grow
Ambitious to venture through the gate
Of any Death which unto Her may lead,
In whom his dearer Life is treasuréd.

308

They little think that here in Paradise
His flames were kindled; or that He doth tread
In tender Adam's genuine steps, and is
Whilst thus effeminate, a Man indeed.
A Man; but one who most unhappy is,
If his dear She be such an Eve as this.)

309

Thus Adam yields; and eats and tears his great
Creator's Law: in rending which he tore
His health, his life, his happiness, and that
Fair robe of pureness which till now he wore:
And thus Eve's woful consort grew no less
In nature, than in shameful Nakedness.

118

310

Their Eyes are miserable op'd; and they
Ashaméd of their Maker's work, repine
That He who other Creatures did array
In Plumes, or Hairs, left them so bare a Skin.
Fond Criticks, who the out-side only blame;
Alas, 'twas that within deserv'd the shame.

311

Yet sadly now indeed they judge between
Evil and Good, whilst their own selves they eye:
They who before no Evil Thing had seen,
Now staring stand on their own Misery:
Which they with wretched Aprons strive to heal;
As if the Leaves the Apples would conceal.

312

But O! nor they, nor all the Trees that grow
In shady Paradise so thick and high,
Could any shelter to their shame allow
When He came down to search who is all Eye.
Yet finds He them by slow degrees, that so
They still a friend might count him, not a foe.

313

He saw at first; but would not seem to see
A sight which wounded his Compassion's eye.
He saw; but sent a gentle Call to be
Their Moniter, and give them space to fly
To Mercy's help, before Revenge should draw
Her sword to vindicate his injur'd Law.

314

Decent and just the Dialect had been,
Had he in formidable Thunder spake:
But, having found the Rebels, of their Sin
A soft enquiry He was pleas'd to make:
Thus begging their Confession, and that they
Would with their Crime their Penitence display.

315

Yet they with Shifts and bold Pretences try'd,
What should have been bewailéd, to defend:
And by that wretched impudence defy'd
Mercy, who all this while did them attend.
This forcéd justice who came rushing in,
And did her office upon saucy Sin.

316

She first pronounc'd that Curse; which deep was writ,
In adamantine Tables, ne'r to be
Revers'd by Clemency: Then out she shut
The proud Delinquents, setting Eden free
From its unworthy Guests, and ordering fate
To range a double Guard before the Gate.

317

A Troop of Cherubs strait marshalléd
At th'Eastern Avenue in dreadful state:
And then a flaming faulchion brandishéd
Terror about the way, that none might at
That door of Happiness pass in, but who
By try'd Purity through fire could go.

318

The woful Exiles were no sooner come
Into the wide wild world, but Adam sees
The heavy loss of his incloséd Home:
Finding, in stead of blessed Flowers and Trees,
Thistles and Thorns all arm'd with pikes and pricks,
Amongst whose crow'd he vext and tatter'd sticks.

319

Long was his Toil and Strife; e'r he could make
The Ground give fertile Answer to his sweat.
Nor sought the righteous Earth alone to take
This vengeance on his Crime: but all the great
Cognations of Beasts, Birds and Reptiles broke
Off from their sullen necks his regal yoke.

320

Those who were able, mustered up their might
Him in their Maker's quarrel to persue:
The weaker from his presence sped their flight
Professing now they knew no homage due.
Thus by their fury those, these by their fear
Equally frightful and vexatious were.

321

No friend he had but Her who did betray
Him to that need of friends, unhappy Eve:
Yet must the reaping of his sweetest Joy
Of what was sweeter Him and Her deprive:
Their gains unable were to quit the cost,
For now their dear Virginity was lost.

322

Through many nauseous months poor Eve must pass
E'r she can to her hardest Travel come.
O who can tell the Pangs by which she was
Tortur'd and torn, when her impatient womb
It self unloaded! for the Curse was sure,
Nor could those Torments ever find a cure.

323

In sin conceiving she brought forth in pain,
And with Pollution dy'd her Progeny:
Through all Successions her anneiled Stain
Still propagates its own Deformity,
And all her Heirs binds in an obligation
Of Death, and what is deadlier, Damnation.

324

Besides, the peevish and importunate Itch
Of restless kicking at Heaven's gentle Law,
Proudly triumph'd its fretful Taint to stretch
Through all the Current of her Blood; which now
In humane veins so madly boileth, as
Proves that it kindled at Hell's furnace was.

119

325

Thus when infuséd Death lives in the Spring,
All those invenom'd streams which from it run,
How far or wide soe'r they travel, bring
Along with them that first contagion:
The furthest Drop not knowing how to scape
The reach of that original Mishap.

326

Yet call not God unjust, who suffers thus
Poor harmless Babes e'r they be born, to die:
Unsinning Sinners; strangely vicious,
Not by their Faults but their Affinity:
He's righteous still and kind; and knows a way
Through Wrath and Judgment, Mercy to display.

327

No Plot of Satan's spight must undermine,
Or make a breach in His Creation's frame.
Nature shall still proceed, and Heaven's Design
Of Man's Felicity persist the same.
Godlike it is indeed Fate's scales to turn,
And make them Blest who to a Curse were born.

328

Blest with more generous and victorious Bliss
Than if the Curse's brand had never seal'd
Them up in slavery to Death; thus his
Renown more glorious is who wins the field
After his Overthrow; than theirs who ne'r
Disaster's game, and Conquest's booty were.

329

The black Inheritance of Adam's Crime
As God permits to fall upon his Heirs:
So He provides to re-imbellish them
With fairer nobler portions, and repairs
The Damages which from their Parents' veins
They drew, by most invaluable gains.

330

In JESU's Blood such purging Power flows,
That from it's smallest Drop's alconquering face
Away fly both the Stains which blur the Boughs
And that which banes the Root of Humane Race.
And this dear Fountain in Decree was broach'd
Long e'r the Soul by any Taint was touch'd.

331

They who desire't, may here refinéd be
Into a Claritude becoming that
High Paradise, of whose Felicity
Fair Eden only was the Shaddow: but
Such Blisses Scorners would themselves have thrown
To Hell, though Eve had never help'd them down.

332

And tell me Psyche, what thou thinkest now
Of thy Extraction, which from wretched Dust,
The scum of Earth, and game of winds, doth flow:
What of thy Kindred's rottenness, who must
Corruption for thy Mother own, and all
The Worms, which crawl in mire, thy Sisters call.

333

Yet Worms but to one only death are heirs,
A Death which quickly will it self destroy:
But thy Composure in its bosom bears
A living Poison, that may find a way
To kill thee with surviving Death, by which
Thy Torture to Eternity shall reach.

334

Think well on this, and if thou canst, be proud,
Who by the Pride of thy prime Parents art
With this destructive Portion endow'd,
And from thy Birth betroth'd to endless smart.
Think what vast gulfs of Distance fixéd be
Twixt Majesty's great King, and worthless Thee.

120

CANTO VII. The Great Little One.

The ARGUMENT.

The Angel convoys Psyche to the Scene
Of Mercy's grand Exploits, to shew her what
Dear care it cost her Lord to wash her clean
From every sinful Soul-deflouring Blot.
Betimes he 'gins, and from the morning Glory
Of Love's bright Birth lights in the blesséd Story.

1

Illustrious Spirits of Fire, whoe'r you be
This Lesson will with no discredit cool
Your towring Flames; nor must heroic Ye
To Pysche's Legend scorn to go to School.
Such Sparks as you for all your glittering, be
In your original as dim as she.

2

All mounting Fires at length to Ashes bow;
So must brave ye: yet they were lighted from
Some generously-flaming Fount; but you
And your Extraction from dead Ashes come.
Whither forward you or backward turn your eye,
Your Bounds are Vileness, Shame, and Misery.

3

No aromatic Baths which wantonize
In costly dalliance with the pamper'd skin:
No proudly-sumptuous Robe which fortifies
Your flesh with gold and pearls and gems; can win
Upon your Principles to make them bend
Life's race to any but an odious End.

4

Examin Alexander's Monument,
And cast on Helen's Tomb your searching eye:
Or if your nostrils dread the baneful scent
Of their in vain embalméd Majesty;
Trust that strong Proof, which bids you sadly think
That you, though great and fair, must end in stink.

5

But trust not Pride, whose tumid treachery
Could all the World to Rottenness betray.
No Poison's fury ever swell'd so high
Or to such certain Death prepar'd the way.
Steep headlong Danger on the mountains reigns:
Who would with Safety walk, must trace the plains.

6

Plain are the Paths of mild Humility,
And hatch no Precipice, but planted are
With sweet Content and pious Privacy,
With cheerful Hope, and with securing Fear.
Ruine's prevented and disarm'd by those
Who in the lowest orb their motion choose.

7

The Tempest's aim fights with those lofty things
Which rise against it, and its strength defy;
This to the high-look'd Pines destruction brings,
Suffring the modest shrubs in peace to lie.
Thus come proud Rocks to rue the angry Wind,
Which to the humble Vales is always kind.

8

Right provident's this Virtue, and acquaints
Aforehand with her Dust and Ashes; she
Dissembleth not by any flattering Paints
The wrinkled Warnings of Mortality.
She dies betimes, how long soe'r she lives,
And Death but as a long known friend receives.

9

Her hearse she hugs and dares imbrace her tomb,
And pant and long her final Ev'n to see;
When in that cool and undisturbéd Home
Her weary head to rest may setléd be:
Assuréd of a Friend whose care hath found
For her to heav'n a passage under ground.

10

She strongly woos the Worms to craul apace;
She prays, not slow Corruption, to make haste:
Toward Death for life she runs, and thinks her race
Was ev'n in youth an age: On, on as fast
She speeds, as sighs of love can blow her, or
Fire of unquenchable desire can spur.

121

11

O meek Ambition, which canst Pride convert
Into a Virtue, and make Venom grow
Plain Antidote! by thee th'imbraved Heart
Aspires and reaches still to be more low;
And prides itself in nothing but to be
From Pride's dominion intirely free.

12

So free, that when all contumelious Scorn
Marches against her in complete array,
She meets her Shame, and joys to be forlorn.
And by despiséd yielding wins the day:
She wins; and like the Ball, the more profound
Is her depression, doth the higher bound.

13

The seeds of this fair Grace deep planted were
In Psyche's tender breast by Charis's art,
Which, as they sprouted up, with heav'nly care
To weed and dress them Phylax play'd his part.
And now to make them flourish higher, she
Will with her liberal tears their Waterer be.

14

Her Guardian his discourse no sooner ends,
But she begins, first with her showring eyes;
Then with her tongue, which with those torrents blends
Its lamentations: Wo is me, she crys,
What now shall Psyche do, who needs would be
Proud of her shame and pois'nous misery!

15

Your scorn, so deeply earn'd by wilful Sin,
My wrongéd friends, as due to me I claim.
My guilty Soul's calcin'd, O Charis, in
Those heav'nly beams which in thine aspect flame.
How can such Nightbirds as vile I indure
The holy lightning of a Look so pure?

16

Strange me! who must for your neglect petition,
And sue to want the influence of Bliss:
Whose sickness makes me dread my best Physition:
Whose hopes of ease, are only more Distress:
How sadly cross is my Calamity,
That now your Anger must your Pity be!

17

And you dear Phylax loose your pains no more
On an incorrigibly-hideous Thing.
Why should proud Psyche dwell as heretofore
Under the shelter of thy slighted wing?
O let it free itself, and take its flight:
Let not black I defile an House so white.

18

The odious Bat with more decorum will
Flutter about what is as dark as she:
Her sooty wings will make a seemlyer vail
For correspondent ugliness in me.
The ominous Raven more sutably will spread
Her swarthy plumes o'r my polluted head.

19

Let me enjoy the just inheritance
Of my deep-stainéd birth: was I not born
Apparent heir to an entail'd Offence:
And in my wretchéd Being's lowry morn
Dawn'd not eternal Night? what alas,
In my life's spring but death infuséd was?

20

And to those shameful Principles have I
Not been too truly true? have I not trod
The ways of darkness ever since mine eye
Beheld the light; and kicking at my God
Approv'd myself Her genuine brat, who chose
Her Eden rather than her Lust to loose?

21

Why must my breath deflower the virgin Air?
Why must I load the harmless Earth with guilt?
Why must I blot the world, which would be fair
Were I away? my tomb is ready built
In any place where filth and dunghils lie:
Let justice have her course, and let me die.

22

There's my due home, where Arrogance and boid
Rebellion dwell; O let me thither go!
May worthy Eyes behold the Sun's fair gold,
And view their way to heav'n: I have to do
With nought but Pitch and Blackness, which may hide
The equal horror of my stubborn Pride.

23

My injur'd Spouse, (O why do I blaspheme!)
That Spouse who long desiréd to be mine;
Methinks from heav'n doth with a searching beam
Full on my face and faithless bosom shine,
And by that light read all the treason I
Have wrought against his loving Majesty.

24

O, it will scorch me up! my sinnews crack,
My bones are burnt, and all my marrow fries;
My bosom melts, the flame devours my back,
My heart flows down, and wretchéd Psyche dies.
I die, yet breathe; my Death surviving is:
O what what slaughter ever slew like this!

25

Surely the flames which burn all Hell so black,
Are cool and gentle if compar'd with these;
Why go I not to hug my kinder Rack,
And from th'infernal Torments borrow Ease?
Forbear fond fruitless Tears; your flood's too weak
The greater Torrent of this fire to slake.

122

26

Here Phylax here; lo I myself ungird!
This Token can no treacherous heart befit.
Return it back, that my abuséd Lord
Some loyal constant Soul may grace with it.
What, will it not unbuckle? must I be
Still pris'ner to this wrongéd Courtesy?

27

And must this Girdle now besiege me round
With an indissoluble Check of my
Ingrateful madness? must I thus be bound
Up in myself, and not have room to fly
From what I more abhor than Death and Hell;
The sinful Blots which this vile bosom swell?

28

So strait about my gripéd soul the chains
Of deep Damnation can no torments ty,
As this sweet Cincture binds me to the pains
Of selfconfusion: O me!—Here her cry
And wounded Spirits fainting, down she fell
Griefs total pray, and Pity's spectacle.

29

At hand was Pity, Charis being by,
Whose yearning soul all Pscyhe's sighs did move;
But rous'd more by her fall, she instantly
Awoke the nimble violence of Love:
Love fir'd her heart, her hand her heart obey'd,
And quick relief reach'd to the swoning maid.

30

Whom up she snatch'd, and with a sweet embrace
Instilléd gentle warmth into her breast;
Whose entheous energy knew how to chase
Grief's vast Plethora from its deepest nest;
And by delicious degrees restore
Her shipwrack'd thoughts to their composéd shore.

31

Thus a new stock of spirits have I seen
Health's Factor to his fainting Patient give;
Who though his heart were sunk and gone, doth in
The precious Potion it again receive;
Whilst from the cheerly Salutiferous cup
A draught of liquid Life he drinketh up.

32

Awakened Psyche with amazéd eyes
Beheld her Friends; but wonder'd more to see
Her stout Disease so tame a Sacrifice
To that celestial Cordial which she
Felt in her glowing breast so strangely seize
Her heart, both with Astonishment and Ease.

33

For up and down ambiguous fancies tost her,
Uncertain whither some dream's flattery
Into a vain Elysium had cast her;
Or by some courteous Gale's compassion she
Were truly snatch'd from Sorrow's raging billows,
And on the bank lay'd safe on Peace's pillows.

34

Which Charis marking; you may trust, said she,
Your sudden Happiness, which wears no Cheat.
But see that you misplace no thanks on Me,
Which all are due to none but to your great
And constant Spouse, who though by you forgot,
Could not so soon his Love's remembrance blot.

35

Those life-renewing sweets I brought you down,
Were none of mine; He sent both them and me:
Your wants He knew, and counted them his own,
Who long has long'd you One with him would be.
Then by these Comforts which have cur'd its smart,
Learn who it is that most deserves your heart.

36

And O take heed you dally not too long,
Nor fancy that to you Necessity
Has chain'd his love: for though full many a wrong
He can digest, yet there's a time when He
Mock'd and neglected, justly will disdain
To wooe his peevish worms, and love in vain.

37

O'rpow'rd with most unweildy thanks and praise
At this vast tide of her obtruding Bliss,
Here Psyche strove her labouring breast to ease:
She strove, yet could nor thanks nor praise express;
For what she had conceivéd, was so great
She neither could contain nor utter it.

38

But Phylax pitying her sweet agony,
Cry'd, 'Tis enough; Heav'n hears ev'n mute desires.
Come Psyche, you shall travel now with me,
To find full fuel for your amorous Fires.
It will be worth your voyage, when you see
What balm there grows to heal your misery.

39

The God of Goodness by his powerful eye
Reaching those Things which yet were short of Being,
Read in the volumes of Eternity
The fortunes of the future World; where seeing
What mischief would be done by foolish Pride,
A potent Remedy He did provide.

40

Indeed had no Redemption's Need invited
Thy Spouse's Blood to wash the stains of sin;
To Man's poor Nature he had still united
His own; that all this All might thus have been
Ty'd to its loving Maker, and by this
Dear Knot become near sharer in His Bliss.

123

41

(Else must the world acknowledge Adam's Crime
To be its Patron, and confest that all
Its exaltation unto this sublime
Felicity ariseth from the Fall:
Else must his bold Rebellion by that God
Have been ordain'd, who strictly it forbod.

42

Ordain'd it must, it must, have been, unless
The glorious Theanthropick Mystery,
Which all Immensities' Exploits profess
The greatest, noblest of their rank to be,
Hung on vile Chance's wheel, and so became
No certain Project, but an After-game.)

43

But seeing by hereditary stains
The stream of Human blood runs foul and black;
Meet work it found the Virtue of His Veins
The poison of the tainted Flood to check:
Which how He nobly manag'd, thou shalt see,
When I have led thee through his History.

44

As now She cheer'd her heart and count'nance up,
A radiant Chariot caught her wondering eye:
The fervent Steeds foam'd at that little stop,
And though their wings were down their thoughts did fly
Speed was the Chariot's metal, and each wheel
Fram'd of the heart of nevertiring Zeal.

45

Come Psyche come, the Coach for haste doth call,
Cry'd Phylax; fear not, 'tis no Cheat, nor will
This, like thy other, whirle thee to thy Fall.
In, in; the Reins in my sure hand shall dwell.
If you, sweet Sir, will have it so, content
Said she, and meekly blushing in she went.

46

For now she durst no more distrust his Care;
Which though she understood not, yet she loved:
Three times she op'd her lips, but reverent Fear
Her Curiosity as oft reproved:
His Company so precious was, that rather
Than ask, she yields to go she knows not whether.

47

Up flew Devotion and Chastity,
The gallant Steeds, and snatch'd the wheels away.
Her native Albian strait forsook her eye,
Lost in a Sea of Air: and now the gay
Wealth of the Fields of Gallia back as fast
Behind her fled as she did forward post.

48

Then climbing higher in her yielding Road
Eternal banks of obstinate Frost and Snow,
By which stern Winter th'Alpes' proud back would load,
Spight of the nearer Sun, she leaves below;
And malgre all the sullen justling Clouds,
Down through th'Italian Heav'n directly crowds.

49

Into that Region thence she launch'd, which by
The Adriatick storms is wont to frown;
And far beneath her saw that Ocean lie
Whose mid-land Arms about the Isles are thrown:
So well did Phylax stere, that to a Port
So distant, ne'r was made a Cut so short.

50

For having reach'd blest Palestine, and flown
O'r several groveling towns of Galilee,
Her steeds in gentle circles flutter'd down,
And made their stand at Nazareth: where she
Viewing the simple Village, wonder'd why
Her Convoy thither took such pains to fly.

51

But Phylax leading her into the most
Unlikely house; Consider well, said He,
This precious Monument, whose want of cost
Upbraids their arrogance who needs will be
Immur'd in Cedar, and roof'd o'r with Gold:
O that poor Dust should be so proudly bold!

52

This silly Mansion, though it scarce could win
Ev'n Poverty herself to be its guest,
Was once the House and Home in which the Queen
Of Glories kept her court: in this mean Nest
Dwelt She, in whose illustrious Family
Heav'n long'd and joy'd a sojourner to be.

53

She, th'Excellence and Crown of Females; She
Great Jacob's Ladder; Aaron's budding Rod;
The crystal Princess of Virginity;
David's fair Tower; the Mother of her God;
Mary herself: O may that lovely Name
Be Blessings but, and Fame's eternal Theme?

54

Her plain cates there she eat; or rather kept
Her healthful rules of sober Abstinence:
Her prayers there she ply'd; and there she slept
When midnight zeal had tir'd her mortal sense.
No Corner in this house but heavenly she
Knew how to dedicate to Piety.

55

How many Temples in this narrow Cell
Were by her brave Devotion rearéd up;
Who gave each Virtue licence here to dwell;
But at Sin's knock the Door refus'd to ope,
Since she appointed had Humility
For Porter, and made holy Fear the Key.

124

56

Here on her pious knees she wept, one day,
In wondering meditation of that She
Whom God would choose to make the noble way
Unto his own foretold Humanity;
That She, who to all Females would restore
Much more than Eve had forfeited before.

57

And musing what strange-temper'd soul it was
Which could be capable of such divine
Prerogatives and holy Glories, as
Would make the goodliest Seraph fairer shine:
Unto that sweetest heavenliest Riddle's praise
Her delicate Astonishment she pays.

58

Not for a thousand worlds would she have thought
Her self the longdesignéd She: but rather
Would at a thousand thousand's price have bought
A Handmaid's place, to wait on that great Mother;
To wash her blesséd feet, or bear her train,
In whom all Excellence rejoyc'd to reign.

59

But whilst her meek admiring fancy towred
Through this high Contemplation, and her eyes
Their joyous and applauding crystal poured;
A bright and gallant Stranger hither flies:
One who from heav'n her sweet Reflection brings;
And was her Copy, bating but his wings.

60

Youth blooméd in his face, the blesséd throne
Where purest Beauties in fair triumph sate:
A brisk and sparkling Combination
Of ravishing Joys in either Eye was met:
His Looks commanded Love, but ugly Lust
By potent Purity they still represt.

61

His head was crown'd with its own golden hair,
Which down his back its dainty riches shed:
The Alabaster of his neck was bare;
Sweetly betraying what below was hid
In his green ambush of that robe of silk,
Which gently hover'd o'r his fleshy milk.

62

This robe was garded with the orient lace
Which trims Aurora's virgin coat: Neglect
Seem'd to have put it on, yet comely Grace
Its incompos'dness curiously deckt.
And thick in every careless fold and plait
To catch spectators' wonder lay in wait.

63

A silver Girdle with the ready mode
Of nimble Travellers his loins imbraced:
Like Love's bright Bow his left arm bended stood
On his fair side; his right hand bore, and graced,
A Lily, which by proofs soft, white, and sweet,
Near kindred claiméd with its dainty seat.

64

The Candor of his Wings was no such kind
Of glaring thing as stares in Alpine snow,
Or in the Cignet's bosom is inshrin'd,
Or in Milk's supple streames delights to flow:
But of a starry tincture, pure and bright,
Made not by scorching but by whitening light.

65

An heav'nly Citizen was He, and one
Whose place is in a higher form than mine:
In near attendance on his Maker's throne
His archangelick beams have leave to shine:
And thence, when Heav'n has greatest bus'ness here
He is dispatch'd the choice Ambassader.

66

But though his eyes their education had
Amongst those Claritudes which gild the skies,
He found that he at home had never read
So much of heav'n at large, as here he spies
Epitomizéd in the lovely Glass
Of Mary's modestly-illustrious face.

67

And Hail said he, thou dearest Favorite
Of Glorie's King, in whose selected breast
His Majesty with singular delight
Designs his private and mysterious Rest.
Hail Thou the Crown of Females, on whose head
Their best exuberance all Blessings shed.

68

The meek Maid started at his stately look,
And Salutation's strange sublimity:
The complemental Youth she could not brook,
Who us'd all charming company to fly:
Until his wings admonish'd her, that He
One of her wonted heav'nly Guests might be.

69

Yet still her lowly Soul could not digest
The tumor of his odd Hyperbole;
Which long she boulted in her thoughtful breast,
Deeply suspicious least some flattery
Had borrow'd an Angelick shape, by which
A Woman it more eas'ly might bewitch.

70

O strange, O meekly-noble Jealousy
Which only in such holy bosoms rests:
The all-securing Bar which warily
Th'approach of heart-disturbing foes resists:
Sin's usher Pride, finds no access to thee,
So low ly'st thou, so high struts burly He.

125

71

When Gabriel observ'd her doubtful Look,
Where Palédness and Blushes mutually
Their timorous and graceful stations took;
Mary, thy anxious Lowliness, said he,
May spare these pains: no Danger dares draw near
Her whom the Prince of Power holds so dear.

72

The Sovereign Lord of Love hath seal'd on thee
His amorous heart: his most selected Graces;
The Flower of all his sweets; th'Immensity
Of his best favors, signally he places
On thee alone, whom he exalts as high
As thou art sunk in thy Humility.

73

Witness this Message I have now to tell,
Too glorious I grant, for me to bring;
The only Message which could parallel
The boundless Love of heav'n's inamor'd King:
A Message which the World hath long expected,
But fit to Thee alone to be directed.

74

Behold thy privileg'd womb shall fertile be,
And breed all Ages' Hopes, that blesséd Child
Who at the season of Maturity,
Shall this dim World with Grace's lustre gild:
Nor need'st thou study to contrive the frame
Of his due Title; JESUS is the Name.

75

A Name more fit for thy all-conquering Son
Than e'r it was for Nun's triumphant Heir:
More noble shall be that Salvation
By which his Israel He will repair,
Than that which from Beersheba unto Dan
Gave them no more but earthly Canaan.

76

Great shall He be; as great as Might and Worth
Can swell an Hero's; or as stoutest Fame
Can at her widest Trumpet's mouth bring forth,
Which shall be stretch'd with his magnific Name:
A Name of Wonders; for his Stile must run
Of him who is most High the equal Son.

77

The Sovereign Lord of Crowns and only King
Of Scepters, shall establish him upon
His Seat from whose high Linage he shall spring,
His most renownéd Father David's throne:
Where he a Prince of nobler Peace shall sit
Than Solomon with all his Wealth and Wit.

78

All Jacob's Seed to him shall homage do,
And wear the yoke of his more Gentle Law:
Yea Time itself shall be his Subject too,
And make his Sithe before his Scepter bow;
For Earth shall sink, and Heav'n shall melt, but He
Shall reach his Kingdom to Eternity.

79

And here the Angel paus'd: But trembling She
Vail'd in the scarlat of her modest cheek,
Reply'd, Bright Sir, it seems you know not Me,
A worthless Maid, who for your high mistake
Wear no pretence: nor may so great a King
From such a wretchéd worm's vile bowels spring.

80

It is enough, and how much more than I
Could e'r deserve from his unwearied love,
That all this while he hath sustainéd my
Rebellious life, and mercifully strove
With my Demerits! O bid me not aspire
To what transcends my reach and my desire.

81

Yet though my vileness be sufficient to
Excuse me from such glorious Exaltation;
Be pleas'd to know I am that Mary who
Stand yet unmovéd in my Virgin station;
Nor ever yet has this my body's bed
Been till'd, or sown by any human seed.

82

Perhaps my Looks, in thy unspotted eyes
So little breathe of true Virginity,
As to encourage thee to this surmise:
But whatsoever my deportment be,
Forgive my outside unintended sin,
For I am still untouch'd and pure within.

83

'Tis true to Joseph I betrothéd am,
Since, he disdainéd not unworthy me:
Yet Joseph weareth but a Spouse's name,
In preface to what may hereafter be:
And be assur'd, this is my present case,
I know my Husband yet but by his face.

84

How then, O how shall thy great Promise, which
Seems too resolv'd to wait upon Delay,
Break thus through Nature's sturdy Laws, and hatch
Its Project's Introduction to day!
I know no Man, and therefore know not how
I can both Virgin be, and pregnant grow.

85

Miraculous Meekness! how would meanest Hearts
Have leap'd to catch this matchless Dignity
From which this most deserving Virgin starts!
O how would'st Thou have triumph'd at so high
An Offer, had Agenor's cunning thought
Of such a Message as this Angel brought!

126

86

Her answer higher forc'd his Admiration,
And op'd the door to this sublime Reply:
Fairest of sweets, there needs no disputation
About the question; for the Mystery
Determin'd is above, by Him who can
Without all human help produce a Man.

87

Nor must thy mighty Meekness hope to shrowd
Thee from the reach of Glory: for thy worth
By being vailéd in that modest cloud,
More ameable lustre streameth forth;
And 'cause thou fliest Honor, therefore she
From Heav'n to Earth is come to hunt out Thee.

88

Nor is there any scaping by thy flight
Into thy virgin Incapacity:
For that's the only Scene which suits aright
With what thy God now means to act in thee.
He acts; and therefore now his Creature can
No longer plead, She knoweth not a Man.

89

Through mounts of Miracles he breaks a way
To keep thee still as pure as thy Desire;
When all things in their first Confusion lay,
And grovell'd in a shapeless Mass of Mire,
Who would have thought the womb of that Abyss
Could have produc'd so fair a World as this?

90

But then th'Almighty Spirit spred his wing
Upon those hopeless tumults of the Deep:
Whose generative Warmth knew how to bring
Those seeds to light which in that Night did sleep.
Thus came this populous Universe to be
Bred in the bowels of Virginity.

91

This Holy Spirit over thee shall hover,
And with prolific virtue thee endow:
His Shade's substantial vigor thee shall cover;
A vigor which disdaineth to allow
Weak Nature leave, or possibility
To contradict a Virgin-pregnancy.

92

And for this noble Cause (though not alone
For this) He who shall thy great Off-spring be,
Must wear the Sovereign Title of The Son
Of God; for genuine Divinity
Shall be engag'd, but in a mistick fashion,
In all the bus'ness of his Generation.

93

Doubt not his Power, whose granted limits spred
Wide as his boundless Will: all Israel knows
How Sarah's dead womb liveth now in Seed
Which past the shores of Numeration flows:
How Aaron's Rod its sudden Almonds ought
Neither to Soil, nor Seed, nor Sap, nor Root.

94

And for more near assurance, know that She
With snowy head confest her Spring was past,
Thy Cousen both in blood and piety,
Cold dry Elisabeth, hath now at last
Conceiv'd a Son; an argument to thee
How Nature can by Heav'n corrected be.

95

The World had stamp'd the name of Barren on
Her sealéd Womb, whose way was dam'd to Hope
Of any Seed; yet five full months are gone,
And now the sixt succeeds, since Heav'n brake ope
That frozen seal: good cause have I to know
The time, who was employéd then, as now.

96

I bare the wonderous News to Zachary;
And when his trembling jealous Soul would not
Credit my supernatural Embassy,
I on his tongue a lock of silence put,
That he might know God could as easily ope
His Spouse's womb, as I his mouth could stop.

97

His silence bids thee trust these Words of mine:
And since both Heav'n and Earth's best Hopes attend
With panting expectation for thine
Assenting word; for their sakes condescend
To be advanc'd, and for thy Maker's who
By me his best-belovéd Spouse doth wooe.

98

He waited e'r since Time's first birth for thee,
And has endur'd a world of sin below,
Stretching his strongly-patient Constancy
Through every Age of Wickedness till now,
That Time at length might bring forth blesséd Thee
The sweet Reward of all his Lenity.

99

And now thy mighty Hour is come; O why
Mak'st thou the gentlest Virtue prove so hard?
Why by thy rigorous Humility
Must entring Joy and Happiness be barr'd
Back from the longing World! O why wilt thou
Not let the Golden Age have leave to grow!

100

Why must the gloomy Shadows which have now
Weighed their heavy Wings, in hopes to fly,
Return their Night upon Religion's brow,
Which 'gan to clear up at the dawn of thy
Fate-ripning Birth: and wouldst thou now give way
Would strait break open into Grace's Day.

127

101

Speak, most Incomparable, speak; and let
The gravid Universe deliver'd be
From pangs, by hearing Thee accept thy great
Prerogative of Virgin-pregnancy.
This said the Angel clos'd his lips; but by
His pleading Looks still press'd his Embassy.

102

As when the Moisture, which was well content
To dwell below and nestle in the earth,
Is wooed by the Sun's strong blandishment
To take an higher home; it issues forth
With gentle resignation, and complies
In mere submission to possess the skies:

103

So now the lowly Virgin conquer'd by
The potent pleasures of her heav'nly Spouse,
Exceeds her old by new Humility,
And with herself her former meekness throws
Before his feet, thenceforth to be whate'r
His most victorious Love would make of her.

104

Behold, said she, the Handmaid of the Lord;
(For he hath giv'n me leave to use that stile;)
Since Heav'n will have it so, may thy great Word
My worthless bowels with Performance fill.
To my deer Maker I myself resign;
'Tis fit his Pleasure, and not mine, be mine.

105

This noble word no sooner breathéd she,
But to the top of joyful heav'n it flew;
Where in the wingéd Quire's high melody
It found its echo, and was made a new
And precious Anthem; for the spheres that day
Measur'd their dances by this only lay.

106

All Nature heard the sound, which in her ear
Spake life and joy and restauration.
O blesséd Musick, which so chearéd her
That into Smiles her agéd wrinkles ran:
Fresh fire she glowing felt in every vein,
And briskly thought of growing young again.

107

For now that Spirit which first quickned her
Return'd, and took his seat in Mary's breast.
O what Excess of sweets and pleasures bare
Him company into his virgin nest!
O what pure streams of light, what glorious showers
Of most prolific and enlivening Powers?

108

With these flew down Eternity's great Son
To be a Son of Time; and parting from
His Father's bosom, Glory's sweetest throne,
Chose Ashes for his house, Dust for his home:
Teaching Sublimity's own Crest to bow,
And making of Most High himself Most Low.

109

In vain should I, or all heav'n's Cherubs reach
To compass that impossible Eloquence
Which might a parallel description stretch
For that immense mysterious Confluence
Of purest joys with which in this embrace
The most enobled Virgin ravish'd was.

110

Only her spacious Soul, the blesséd Sea
Where all those floods of precious Secrets met,
Knew what it comprehended: Glorious She
Relish'd the life of every sacred Sweet,
And did in one miraculous instant try
The various Dainties of Divinity.

111

For though his Generation's work had been
The deepest project of Eternity,
Yet were its wonders all transacted in
Duration's most concise Epitomy:
One single Moment's head was crown'd with this
Exploit of most unbounded Power and Bliss.

112

O mighty Moment! at whose feet all Days
All Months, all years, all Ages homage tender:
To whom all-conquering Time yields up his bays,
And vast Eternity would fain surrender
His widest Glories, conscious that he
Is deep in debt to most renownéd thee.

113

To thee, who this huge universe do'st ty
Close to his greater Maker: Thee who join'st
These mortal things to immortality,
And in one knot both Heav'n and Earth combin'st:
Who giv'st fertility a new found Home,
And bid'st it flourish in a Virgin's-womb.

114

For Mary now the mansion-house became
Of her conceivéd God, who deign'd to take
His pattern from her reverent body's frame,
And borrow part of holy Her to make
A Garment for himself, that he might be
As true and genuine Flesh and Blood as She.

115

O Paradise how poor a soil art thou,
To this rare Richness of the Virgin's-bed!
Life Tree, which in thy heart so stately grew
Itself but as the shade of this was spred:
Here is the Garden where the noble Tree
Of everlasting Life would planted be.

128

116

Blush all ye Heav'ns above; the Virgin's womb
Hath left no looks but those of shame, for you:
All Glories here have chose their dearer Home,
And fairer shine because they make no show:
Here dwells a Sun, whose count'nance is the book
In which your dazel'd Phebus dares not look.

117

The most resplendent equal Character,
The flaming Brightness of the Father's face,
Hath condescended to exchange his sphere
And to this lesser Heav'n transplant his Rays:
Which yet he hath so sweetned and allay'd
That he consumeth not the tender Maid.

118

Thus when to Moses he came down of old
Arrayéd all in fire and took his seat
Upon a simple Bush; his flaming Gold
In mercy to the shrub, rain'd in it's heat,
And all the leaves with harmless brightness fill'd,
Which he was pleaséd not to Burn but Gild.

119

When this blest Sight had feasted Gabriel's eye;
In prostate loyalty he first ador'd
The secretly inshrinéd Majesty
Of his eternal-new-conceivéd Lord:
Whose leave could he obtain, in that mean Cell
He would preferment count it still to dwell.

120

Then in the guise of courteous reverence,
(Where plain confession glimmered, how he
Was loth to part, yea though to Heav'n from hence,)
He farewel bids the Queen of Modesty:
Yet bears her still in's breast, though not in's eyes,
And so to his etherial Home he flies.

121

Whether as he mounts, his News in every sphere
He to th'inquisitive Spirits poureth forth,
And delicately feasts their hungry ear
With those rare wonders he had seen on earth:
Till with applause from every Angel's tongue
The precious Name of humble Mary rung.

122

Thus Phylax spake: when Psyche swell'd with joy
And admiration, cry'd, why may not I
My wandering vessel fix in this dear Bay?
Where can I safelier live, or sweetlier die?
Humilitie's own Palace best will fit
Me who through Pride stand most in need of it.

123

Nay then thou by my conduct strait shall see,
Phylax reply'd, a fairer House than this;
Fairer in more transcendent Poverty,
And nobler far in higher Lowlyness.
With that into the Chariot again
He takes her up, and gently moves the rein.

124

The ready steeds no more monition needed,
For through the air they snatch'd their greedy way,
And o'r the Galilean regions speeded;
No hills were high enough to bid them stay;
No winds so fleet as to outrun their place
Until the Coach to Bethlehem whirled was.

125

There lighting down; Behold this Town my dear
The Guardian cry'd, where fame once lov'd to grow;
Jesse's illustrious Son was nurtur'd here;
Here reverend Samuel prepar'd his brow
For royal Honor, when upon his head
The Crown's rich earnest, holy Oile, he shed.

126

This chosen Root in Kings was fertile, whose
Successive hands through many ages bore
The Jewish scepter; till, with other foes
Sin, stronger than the rest, combining tore
The Diademe at first to Babel from
Its guilty owner's head, and next to Rome.

127

Rome wears it still, and makes this wretchéd land
Pay that sad debt its wickedness contracted:
How oft has an imperious Command
Heavy blood-squeesing imposts here exacted!
And drownéd these inslavéd fields, which all
With Milk and Honey flow'd before, in Gall!

128

(Such miserable gains fond wilful Men
Condemnéd are to reap, who needs will be
Driving the self-destroying Trade of Sin:
To such heart-galling bonds of tyranny
All frantic Nations made desperate haste
When from their necks Heav'n's gentle yoke they cast.)

129

This golden Trick Augustus learnéd, and
Summon'd the People to a general Tax:
The Warrants strait awakening all the Land,
Each one to pay in his assessment packs
Amain to his paternal City, where
Of Tribes and Kindreds lay the Register.

130

Obedience therefore hither Joseph drew:
And pious She who by Prophetick Writ
Full well the world's Redeemer's birth place knew,
Hugg'd this occasion to arrive at it;
Rejoycing that great Cesar's act should be
Inservient to Heav'n's greater Mystery.

129

131

Yet prov'd it both to Husband and to Spouse
A tedious journy; for the way was long,
But short the days: in Winter's inmost House
(Cold churlish Capricorn) the Sun had clung
The Morning and the Ev'n so close together
That there was left no room for cheerly Weather.

132

The holy Travellers through Cold and Frost
And northern Blasts, took their unworthy way;
(What pious Heart would not have been at cost
Of sighs' kind Warmth that sharp breath to allay!)
And slow they went; for Mary's time was come,
And God lay heavy in her tender womb.

133

Alas, she to her Travel travelléd,
And brought at length her weariness to town:
In which the court'sy of an hiréd bed
To lay her weather-beaten body down
She hop'd to find; but barbarous Winter's blast
Had Men, as well as Earth, seal'd up in Frost.

134

The Men were Ice; so were their doors; for both
Hard frozen stood against poor-looking Guests:
Where'r they knock'd the surly Host was wroth,
Crying, My house is full. Indeed those nests
Were only courteous Traps, which barréd out
All Birds but such as store of feathers brought.

135

All Inns by Silken and by Purple Things
Were taken up: each Gallant, room must have
For his swell'd self, and room for those he brings
To swell him higher; room for all his brave
And burly nothing, his fond state and port
Which in a chamber must alone keep court.

136

Thus was the Universe's King shut out
Of his own World as He was entring in:
Long had the Pilgrim's noble Patience sought
And yet could at no door admission win:
And now night crowded on apace, and drew
Their curtains who as yet no Lodging knew.

137

Amongst less beastly Beasts, this made them call
For pity, seeing none was left with Men:
Observe that Rock, which all along the wall
Lifts up its head to meet the rising Sun;
See'st thou the craggy mouth it opens? that
Was then the hospitable Stable's gate.

138

Come near and mark it well, this Cavern was
The homely lodging of an honest Ox,
Whose chamberfellow was a simple Asse:
Nor house nor dwellers needed any locks
Or bar, or Host, against th'approach of poor
Unlikely Wights to fortify the door.

139

For whom did Fortune's hate e'r plunge so low
As not to be above desiring free
Quarter with beasts? but since these Saints are now
Much lower sunk than lowest Poverty;
In noble love of this strange state, with meek
Content a correspondent Inn they seek.

140

Calamity besiegeth those in vain
With straits and wants, who always ready are
With conquering submission, to sustain
The brunt of heaviest Misfortune's war.
Necessity, is no such thing to those
Who what they cannot help know how to choose.

141

The blesséd Travellers soon saw that this
Hard Rock less stony was than all the Town;
And that plain Brutes were ready to express
Far more humanity than they whose own
Nature ingag'd them to be Men, and kind
To those at least in whom themselves they find.

142

In therefore here with freedom entring, from
The Beasts, whose hearts no avarice had fear'd,
They borrow'd both a portion of their room,
And of their Straw; and there their bed prepar'd:
Where to a Temple having turn'd the Cave,
Themselves to rest they after vespers gave.

143

But though sleep sealéd up the Virgin's eye,
Yet watchful was her heart, and travel'd still;
It travel'd through a Vision's Mystery,
A way where she no lassitude could feel.
Her Womb seem'd all on fire, whence streaméd out
A Flash of Lightning, and whirld round about.

144

Round Earth's vast Ball it whirld, and in its way
Devour'd all things compos'd of useless Dross,
Of idle Stubble, or of fainting Hay:
The silver Creatures bare some little loss;
But those of genuine gold grew only more
Illustrious and youthful than before.

145

The World refinéd by this searching Flame,
In every part right radiant grew and brave;
No Blemish, or capacity of Blame
Peep'd out from east to west: all Creatures gave
A fair account of their own selves, and by
Their perfect beauty satisfy'd Heav'n's eye.

130

146

Whilst on this splendid Reformation She
Her wonder pours; dame Nature's vigilant Clock
Discovering Midnight, rous'd her Piety
To its accustom'd Task: the earliest Cock
Had rarely crow'd e'r she began to pray;
But here you know She faint and tiréd lay.

147

Yet rose she to bring forth her Vows: but now
A greater Birth was ripe, the wide-spread Night
And Powers of Darkness freely rangéd through
The sleeping World, and laugh'd at buried Light;
Little suspecting that an Highnoon-Day
From Midnight's bosom could erect its ray.

148

When lo the Virgin bare her wonderous Son,
Who by the glories of his own sweet face,
Commands the dusky Shaddows to be gone
And to his conquering Splendor yield their place.
Her friends about her, sovereign Pleasures were;
And Joy the Midwife which assisted her.

149

No faintings chill'd her heart, no Pangs durst tear
Her privileg'd bowels, nor no Cry her throat:
Those sad Revenues all entailéd were
Upon polluted Beds: She whom no Blot
Of sinful Pleasure could pretend to stain,
Advancéd was beyond the shot of Pain.

150

No Circumstance of shame or filth could blur
The noble Birth: the shame was theirs alone
Whose shameless thoughts deflour'd most spotless Her
Th'accomplish'd Queen of Purity; and none
But theirs the filth, whose slovenish forging brains
Rais'd here a Fount to wash the Infant's stains.

151

Her dear Virginity persever'd the same
Unbroken Jewel that it was before.
As God into her reverend bowels came,
Yet ask'd no lock's leave, nor op'd any door;
So he returnéd thence, resolv'd that she
Should still a Virgin, though a Mother, be.

152

The pregnant Soul thus travelling with Thought,
No pangs, or strains, or ruptures feels, but by
Ease's own hand deliver'd is; and out
Her Off-spring comes all clad in Purity.
Her glorious Flame the Fire thus bringing forth,
As clear continues as before that birth.

153

Thus when heav'n's Beams through spotless windows pass,
The Colours painted there, they borrow; yet
They neither rob, nor break, nor blur the Glass,
But with more precious Luster garnish it.
Their Mother Flowers thus are Virgins still,
Though they the air with broods of Odours fill.

154

Thus though great Phebus every morning springs
From fair Aurora's lap, yet she as true
A Maid remaineth, as those smiling Things,
Those rosal Blushes which her portal strew:
Heav'n being pleaséd to contrive this way
To make her Virgin-mother of the Day.

155

But O Aurora's Day is Night to this
Which in the Night from Mary took its rise,
To this, the Day of Life, of Love, of Bliss;
The Day of Jewels and of Rarities;
The conquering Day whose mighty Glories ne'r
Shall any Ev'n's obscuring powers fear.

156

The Day which made Immensity become
A Little one; which printed goodly May
On pale December's face; which drew the Sum
Of Paradise into a Bud; the Day
Which shrunk Eternity into a Span
Of Time, Heav'n into Earth, God into Man.

157

Heaven's twinckling Lights shut up their dazel'd eyes,
And paid their blind devotion to the Dawn
Of Jacob's Star: the Moon in sacrifice
Her loyal Silver to the Golden Crown
Of Lusters offer'd, which about their new
Though ancient Prince, their royal Circle drew.

158

His softest feathers Winter thither sent
To be a pillow for the Infant's head;
For sure no harm the honest Season ment
When in the Cave his fluttering Snow he spread:
But at his presence into tears it fell,
Check'd by a whiter chaster Spectacle.

159

Tam'd Boreas, who saucy was before,
With gentle manners learnéd to relent;
And whispering demurely at the door,
Profest himself not only penitent,
But studiously ambitious now to make,
His Breath the praise of his young Master speak.

160

And fain would all th'illustrious Host of Heav'n,
Whose wings were up, whose thoughts already flew,
Have hither march'd, and to their Sovereign giv'n
A volley of applause and thanks: but due
To his dear Mother's brave Devotion
This Privilege was, first to salute her Son.

131

161

She therefore (having with exuberant joy
Beheld the Wonder which her self had bred,
And opening through exultant tears the way
To her inflaméd Spirit, tenderéd
Her self a prostrate Holocaust before
His feet; and taught the World what to adore;)

162

Cry'd, O my precious Son, and more than mine,
How shall thy worthless Mother and thy Maid,
With due attendance wait on thy divine
Cradle, without thine own almighty aid!
How shall my Clod of earth Great Thee embrace
For whom the widest heav'n too narrow was!

163

What shall I do, who most distresséd am,
And straitned by the vastness of my Bliss!
Thou who wert not ashaméd of my Shame,
Who thy most abject vassal hast to this
Sublimity advanc'd: O teach her heart
And hands to act their ravishing Duties' part.

164

These words wak'd pious Joseph: who when he
The newborn Wonder spy'd, stay'd not to ask
Whose was that brightly-blooming Majesty,
But bows down to his necessary task.
Those Beams of such convincing sweetness were
As left no question but his Lord was there.

165

With reverent adoration on the floor,
The pious pattern of his heav'nly Spouse
He hastes to copy, and his soul to pour
Forth in ecstatick thanks, and praise, and vows:
Since at the radiant casement of those eyes
God looking out, call'd for that sacrifice.

166

Those Eyes, the Easts of gentle living Light;
The diamond quivers of divinest Love;
The wells of ever-springing Joys; the bright
Mirrors of purer Claritudes than move
About the silver heav'ns, when Night is fine,
Or when in Cancer's height Day's glories shine.

167

And as Dove's eyes thrice wash'd in milk, upon
The neighbouring Rivers answering crystal play;
So on the Mother this immaculate Son
Divinely dally'd with his Aspect's ray:
Thus deigning by his Turtle Eye to prove
Himself conceiv'd by heav'n's eternal Dove.

168

His Skin, the throne of softest White and Red,
Joy'd that delicious union to shew
By which his Mother's Blush was married
To that most lovely Dove's all-snowy hue.
Ten thousand Ladies' pencils ne'r could teach
A cheek so rich perfection to reach.

169

His goodly Head was of refinéd gold,
Being it, self to its fair self a Crown.
O that the fond bewitchéd Worldlings would,
Changing their avarice, prudently fall down
And worship this diviner Metal which
With surer wealth their coffers would inrich.

170

The Scene his Cheeks round gentle hillocks were,
Where ranks of Spices plaid their precious part,
And such perfuméd floridness as ne'r
Had marshall'd been by Nature or by Art.
His Lips like Lilies, whensoe'r they op'd,
Of odoriferous Myrrh thick blessings drop'd.

171

As Beryls fairly rang'd in golden rings,
So in his richer hands were Graces set.
As Ivory, which prides the thrones of Kings,
When streaks of Saphir's luster garnish it,
Such was his lovely Belly; only this
Thrill'd through its beauty warmth and tenderness.

172

As slender Pillars of white Marble which
On Sockets of fine gold erected are;
So his pure Legs were builded on his rich
And graceful feet: His Aspect mounted far
Above the Excellence of Cedars, when
They look from their majestick Lebanon.

173

His Mouth the Gate of sweetness was; and He
Arrayéd round with nothing else but Love.
In this miraculous Epitomy
All choise Extremities of Glory strove
Which should be most extreme, and in that fair
Contention every one grew conquerer.

174

For never yet was Beauty known to hold
So full an empire as she here possest;
Not when in Absalom's accomplish'd mould
Her self and her ambition she drest;
Not when she reign'd with Fate-inamoring grace
In infant Moses his commanding face.

175

As Joseph with these wonders feasts his eye;
The reverent Mother of her Son's dear feet
Tender'd a consecrated kiss; and by
That blesséd taste encourag'd to a sweet
Audacity, adventur'd on to sip
The roseal dainties of his heav'nly Lip.

132

176

O noble Kiss! which might a Seraph hire
His highest orb to leave, his mouth to wipe,
In hopes to drink in more delicious Fire
From this young Altar, than from all the ripe
Flames of the Empyreum; fire which by
No fuel's fed but supple Bliss and Joy.

177

O Kiss, which fetch'd the Mother's springing heart
Into her lip, and seal'd it on her Son!
Who was his own as ready to impart
In answer to her sweet Impression.
O Kiss, the sacred Compliment between
Heav'n's highest King and Earth's most lowly Queen!

178

This done; her zealous and yet timorous hands
Began their duty to the noble Child:
Whom having gently lapp'd in swaddling bands,
She to her Breast apply'd: whose bottles fill'd
With milk, but more with genial Delight,
To his first breakfast did their God invite.

179

Which lovely Invitation gracious He
Accepting, borrow'd what himself did give.
Mean while deliciously-transported She
Seemd in that breast he suck'd alone to live:
For thither leap'd her soul, and scarce could stop
It self from sturting out with every drop.

180

Then in the Cratch (since with no better bed
This sorry house could gratify its guest,)
Where careless Hay was for the coverings spread,
She lay'd him down to take his hardy rest.
Thus came the Ox to know his Owner, and
The Asse his Master's crib to understand.

181

For both due distance kept, adoring Him
Whose generous Goodness saves both Man and Beast;
Him who till now alone had nourish'd them
And spread in every field their copious Feast.
Their Manger and their Hay they well can spare
For his dear service whose own Gifts they were.

182

As there He lay, the holy Mother's breast
Grew big again with noble Contemplation:
Which as her tongue brought forth and sweetly drest
In vocal graces, with neat imitation
The Cave returns the accents of her voice,
And in soft Echos duplicates the noise.

183

Almighty Babe, on whom till now, said she,
Heav'n's Wardrobe waited with its purest flames,
Whose Mantle was all-dazeling Majesty,
Whose Crown was wov'n of Glory's boundless beams;
What condescent of mighty Love is this
Which of that matchless Pomp can thee undress!

184

Could Clouts and Rags have ever hop'd to be
Exalted to this strange Prerogative
That wretchéd they should thus to nakéd Thee
The piteous alms of their poor shelter give!
Surely all simple Weeds shall precious seem
Henceforth to me which are of kin to them.

185

Let Silks and Gold go puff up Princes' pride
Whose stains require the aid of beauteous vails:
A homespun rayment will a body hide
When friezing cold, or melting heat assails.
Since Thou art thus content, O let not me
E'r covet finer than my God to be.

186

Thou art my God; this vesture's dusky cloud
No such eclipse can on thy Glory throw,
But through its gloominess my faith can crow'd,
And see to whom I adoration owe.
Lo I adore thee, who art still Most High
Though in this bottom of Humility.

187

Fair was thy Throne when thou did'st mounted sit
At his right hand whom Celsitude calls Father;
When all the heav'ns were bow'd to be thy great
Chair of majestick State; when Earth did gather
It self up close, and fix'd up stood to be
A faithful footstool to thy Sire and Thee.

188

When all the volumes of Immensity
Their utmost vastness gladly stretchéd out
To spread a correspondent canopy
Over thy glorious head: When round about
Omnipotence attended on thy port,
And fill'd the circuit of thy mighty Court.

189

But now the Scene is chang'd; this sorry Cell,
This Mannorhouse of shame and scorn, must be
Thy native palace; now thy throne must swell
No wider than this Cratch; now poverty
Lays for thy pillow Hay, poor faded Hay,
Which speaks what Weakness Thou assum'st to-day.

190

Now all those flaming Hierarchies, whose tongue
With Hallelujahs fill'd thy royal ear,
Are far withdrawn; and thou art left among
None but these dull and silent Waiters here,
This Ox and Ass; the only servant thou
The world's great King could'st ready find below.

133

191

(Go great Retinues, gaudy Palaces;
Go Beds of down, of gold, of ivory;
Go wait upon your dainty Prince's Ease,
And help to countenance poor Majesty:
Yet there lament your Pride's dishonor, since
You are not own'd by Glory's only Prince.

192

But though, O nobly-privileg'd Poverty
Enriched by this Morn's bright Miracle,
Shalt my Delight, my Pomp, my Kingdom be:
Thy Rags shall all Embroideries excel,
Thy Cottages all marble Towers outshine,
Thy Hardship pleasant be, thy shame divine.

193

Thy proper Region's this; and may'st thou be
My sole estate and dowry here below:
O 'tis sufficient if hereafter We
By heav'n's fair store, above may wealthy grow.
That, that's the only Realm of Wealth, and there
Alone would I be rich where riches are.)

194

And yet, dread Infant, give my Wonder leave
To gaze upon a greater Change than this:
From thy Almighty Sire didst thou receive
Thy equal Self, and sweetly rest in His
Bright bosom where unbounded Pleasures swim,
Injoying his Eternity with Him.

195

But now art Thou a Son of Time become,
And of poor Me, a shorter thing than Time:
That Bosom thou exchang'dst for my vile womb,
Light's largest heav'n for this dark narrow clime;
Of loose Mortality to catch fast hold,
And up in Dust thy gallant Godhead mould.

196

All my astonish'd thoughts are swallow'd quite
In this Abyss of thy Humility.
O vast Abyss! as deep as ever Height
It self was high: I yield, I yield to be
In this miraculous Sea of Goodness drown'd,
Which only Thou the God of it, canst sound.

197

But O how far thine Handmaid is beneath
That noble Accusation Gabriel laid
Deep to my charge! thy Condescension hath
Monopoliz'd Meekness, and the world array'd
In Pride's now helpless shame; since though it seek
More low than Dust to stoop, yet 'tis not meek.

198

Though ev'n the Thought of Pride's my soul's chief hate,
I am not humble; no, nor can be so.
This very sight of thy unworthy state
Confutes and checks my very Essence, who
By being but my self am too too high,
Now Thou my Sovereign Lord thus low dost lie.

199

Whilst her most pious soul dissolvéd ran
Out at her lips by this ecstatick Heat;
A flock of Shepherds with an heavenly Tone
Fresh on their echoing tongues in triumph at
The Cave arriv'd, which to their wonder yields
A fairer Sight then their late glorious fields.

200

In Joseph they beheld the best of Men;
The flower of Females they in Mary saw;
The sweetness of all Infants in her Son,
And how much more than so! their sacred Vow
This spectacle determinéd, and they
Before the Cratch their duty haste to pay.

201

For with a prostrate soul and bended knee
Each one upon that simple Altar laies
His tender Lamb: which Offrings smil'd to see
So fair a proof of their own gentle praise,
Beholding in the royal Babe how nigh
They were of kin to his meek Majesty.

202

And then, O mighty Little One, said they,
Deign thy acceptance of these rural things,
The cream of our poor Flocks: which whilst they stray
About the plains, may thy Protection's wings
Shield them and us; who for our Deity
No other Pan will own but gracious Thee.

203

Whene'r the hasty Wolf, the hideous Bear
Or raging Lion challengeth his prey,
Let thy Defence's sheltring might appear
Th'injustice of their Challenge to gainsay.
Alas our Crooks are feeble things, and We
As weak as they, build all our trust on Thee.

204

When Heat or Cold, when Wet or Drought, transgress
Their proper seasons, O do thou correct
Their dangerous encroachments; and repress
Those envious Stars which would on us inflict
Malignant influence: so shall heav'n and earth
See thy bright Power, for all thy clouded Birth.

205

The deep-observing Mother joy'd to hear
Their humble Orison: And what, said she,
My honest Friends, has call'd you from your Care
Thus to attend on this new Piety?
To Night and Dangers what has made you leave
Your other Lambs; and these what bids you give?

134

206

Fair Queen of Grace and Bliss, the Men reply'd,
Thrice bowing down before her reverend feet,
No Fears nor Dangers can our Flocks betide
Whilst we are come our newborn King to greet.
Heav'n sent us hither; and we need not fear
But Heav'n is able to supply our Care.

207

Whilst we our watch amidst the champain kep'd,
Befriended by the Moon and Stars, that no
Peril might awake our tender Flock, which slep'd
In helpless careless innocency: lo
There rush'd from heav'n a sudden mighty Light
Which from the wide Field chas'd abaséd Night.

208

The frighted Moon and Stars fled all away;
With unexpected Gold the sky was drest:
We never yet beheld the entring Day
With such commanding beams break from the East.
'Twas Glory's Morning this; and in our eyes
No Sun, but Majesty now seem'd to rise.

209

With that, and with Amazement blinded, we
Fell down, supposing Heav'n had done so too;
And that the Beauties of Sublimity
Came post on some grand business hear below.
And now we see what drew them down: thy Son
May well allure Heav'n after him to run.

210

But as dark Bats, and wretched Birds of night,
Surpriséd by a stoutly-flashing Flame,
Are damp'd with horror at the glorious sight
Which seals their eyes and open throws their shame.
So we by this strange Apparition lay
Besiegéd both with Luster and dismay.

211

We thus the prize of Dread: a radiant friend
Who gently hover'd in the neighbour air
Upon our fainting hearts fresh comfort fan'd
With his kind wings; and cry'd, No night of fear
Is this, look up and view this Scene of Joy,
Adorn'd in Heav'n's most festival array.

212

We op'd our eyes, and wondringly beheld
How Smiles and Pleasures had bedeckt the place;
Which seem'd no more a country common field
But Paradise's own delicious face:
And such we should have thought it still, had we
Not hither come, and seen thy Son, and Thee.

213

But yet a Beauty next to yours we read,
Well near as heav'nly and as mildly grave;
That Angel's who bestowéd on our Dread
That courteous Item: his attire was brave;
His Looks, Delight's pure glass; most sweet his tongue,
From which these blesséd words of solace rung:

214

Behold I bring you news of greater Joy
Than kindest Heav'n to earth did ever send;
Joy which through every heart shall melt its way,
And with the Sun its equal course extend:
Joy which must know no limits, but through all
The world display its gallant Festival.

215

For to unwitting blesséd you, this morn
In royal David's City, Christ, the Lord
Of him, and you, and all this world is born:
A mighty King, and able to afford
The often-promis'd long-desir'd Salvation
To his decrepit languishing Creation.

216

Stagger not at the News; but let this sign
Stablish your Faith and banish needless doubts:
You shall at Bethlehem find this most divine
Infant inwrap'd in simple swadling clouts;
And in a plain and answerable bed
The Asse's Manger, laid, to rest his head.

217

As we for joy at these strange Tidings started,
Behold, a sudden Globe of pliant Light
Into a stranger Apparition parted,
And with new Merveils entertain'd our sight:
For at a diamond Table fair and wide
A numerous Quire of Angels we descry'd.

218

Soul-charming Melody amidst them sat;
At her left hand Applause; Bliss at her right;
Before her face triumphant Honor; at
Her foot luxuriant but pure Delight.
The Spectacle alone was ravishing;
But O what Raptures when they 'gan to sing!

219

Glory to God in all sublimity,
Peace upon Earth, and to Mankind good will:
This was their Ditty; but their lofty Key
Not only pass'd our mortal reaches' skill,
But surely poss'd the Spheres, tho' these (they say)
In sovereign Musick spend both Night and Day.

220

How gladly fell our charméd Lambs to dance!
What troops of merry Wolves came tripping thither!
Lions and Bears seiz'd with a gentle trance,
Met in a friendly galliard together.
All salvageness was quickly charm'd asleep,
And every Beast became a gentle Sheep.

135

221

The jolly Birds flock'd in; and though they saw
A fairer-wing'd and sweeter-throated Quire,
Yet felt they in their breasts such pleasure glow
That they could not suppress their cheerly fire;
But muster'd up their sweetest powers, to pay
Their best applause to that Angelick lay.

222

The Stones look'd up and seem'd to wish for feet;
The Trees were angry that they stuck so fast;
All things desir'd the Harmony to meet,
And their sweet Passion prettily exprest:
Our silly oaten pipes this made us break,
And our exultant parts with Nature take.

223

And though our feet more nimbly never flew
Than in their answer to this Music's Pleasure,
Doing their best endeavour to trip true
To every turn, and point, and air, and measure;
Yet leaping in our joious bosoms we
Felt our brisk hearts with more Activity.

224

The Anthem finish'd thus; that glorious Fire
About the Company its volumes spread,
And homeward convoy'd th'illustrious Quire.
We saw how wide a gate heav'n openéd
To let them in; we saw it shut, and yield
Back to the Stars their free etherial field.

225

Thence came we hither, and the Promise found
As true and noble as our expectation:
Which from this Cave must by our tongues rebound
To every ear we meet; that this Narration
May ease our hearts, least by the mighty wonder
Of this heav'n-crownéd Morn they split in sunder.

226

But when the Year's fresh youth returns to deck
The bed of April in her vernal hue;
Its earliest sweets and beauties we will pick,
And wreath a chaplet for the fairer brow
Of this our blooming Lord: till when we place
Our hopes of safety in his only Grace.

227

Which said, three adorations to her Son
They made, and then of blesséd Mary took
Their humble leave: who having printed in
Her mindful bosom's ready trusty book
The News, the Quire, the Song, the glorious Light,
She duly read the lesson morn and night.

228

And deep she div'd into the reason why
That glistering Host kept distance from the Cave,
And to these Creatures of Humility,
These simple honest Swains, the honor gave
Of Visiting meek Him the first, who came
To be at once a Shepherd and a Lamb.

229

But when the Sun seven times himself had shown
To all the World, and bid it idolize
His face no more; but fall before its own
Almighty rising Phebus, at whose eyes
His flames were kindled; Janus op'd the door,
And in her arms Aurora New-year bore.

230

And Circumcision's sacred Day was this;
Nor would the royal Infant sparéd be,
But took this hard and bloody yoke on his
Most tender neck; that exemplary He
Who was through all Obedience to run,
His Race of Patience might betimes begin.

231

There lay He on his yearning Mother's knee
On that sweet Altar his first Blood to offer:
And tell me Psyche, whither He or She
By this Incision more pain did suffer;
For that strange wound was deeply gravéd in
Her soul, which only raz'd his body's skin.

232

Yet wise and pious as she was, she knew
The wound would deeper prove should she forbear
In love's mild disobedience to imbrue
Her hand in what her heart esteem'd so dear
Her Son's pure blood: since no way could be found
To keep his Law whole, but himself to wound.

233

Down fell the purple precious Dew, and gave
The World sure earnest of what stay'd behind:
For 'twas resolv'd the World at length should have
The utmost drop his deepest vein could find.
Mean while these few suffic'd to write the bonds
By which He for the rest ingagéd stands.

234

O liquid jewels! happily have you
Besprinkled all the forehead of the year;
The year, which now on his bedeckéd brow
Hath leave more beauties than heav'n's face to wear:
The year, which sealéd is by you, to be
From mischief's heavy Impositions free.

235

Thus when the paschal Lamb's less worthy Blood
Th'Egyptian doors of Israel's Son bedew'd,
Peace and Security for Porters stood,
That no Distruction thither might intrude.
Had but this blush on Pharoh's gates been seen,
Safety and health, and grace had dwelt within.

136

236

Now January's Calends washéd be
By these dear Drops from all that guilty gore
Which Heath'nish most unholy Sanctity
Us'd on their face in lavish floods to pour.
Fair shines the Day, thus rescu'd and releast
From Pagan Stains to Piety's pure feast.

237

And now was printed on the Child that Name
Which tip'd and glorify'd bright Gabriel's tongue:
That Name whence Blisse's clearest torrents stream,
That Name which sweetens every Cherub's song;
That Name of bowels, of almighty Love,
Of all the joys which make heav'n be above.

238

JESUS! O what vast Treasures couchéd lie
Within the bosom of this little Word!
A Word which spreads its potent Majesty
Through heav'n and earth and hell; all which are stirr'd
With reverent awe whene'r it sounds, and on
Their bended knees adore the Virgin's Son.

239

JESUS! O Name which shall for ever be
The cordial of humble fainting hearts;
The triumph of exultant Piety;
Religion's richest Sum; Nor shall the arts
Of rude and peevish Heresy suppress
That Worship which the due Revenue is.

240

JESUS! O Name of glorious Dainties, how,
Loth are my ravish'd lips with thee to part!
Yet shall thy musick never cease to flow
In precious Echos all about my heart.
JESUS! O sweeter Name of Life! O Name
Which makest famous ev'n eternal fame.

241

These wonders Psyche were atchievéd here,
This poor plain Cave with royal worth to crown:
And yet not these alone; has not thine ear
Been fill'd with Balaam's infamous renown,
Whose simple Ass, his fury to confute,
Held with her sillier Lord a wise Dispute.

242

This Son of Avarice, and Heir of Hell,
By frighted Balak hiréd to enchant
And heap his curses upon Israel,
Was by thy Spouse inforcéd to recant
His dire intent, and like his Ass to make
His changéd tongue against his nature speak.

243

Thy spouse's power wrung that bright Prophesy
From his black mouth, of Jacob's rising Star:
Which he bequeathéd as a Legacy
To all his Heirs; and charg'd them to beware
That no forgetfulness did Blind their eyes
From watching when that promis'd Light should rise.

244

Amongst their mystic Notes these words they laid
From age to age, and often read them o'r
With dread devotion; being still afraid
The Star might at some unexpected door
Peep out from heav'n, and spy their souls asleep,
Whom Balaam had forewarn'd their watch to keep.

245

No broad-ey'd Comet on the world could look
But strait into their studies them it sent;
Where, after counsel had with many a book,
Through all its flaming lineaments they went;
Examining the length of every hair
By its own light, which head or beard did wear.

246

But when Eternity's sweet Day began
To dawn from this, O how unlikely Cave!
A gallant Star into Arabia ran
And notice of the glorious business gave
To every eye, which was instructed how
To read the characters of heav'n's bright bow.

247

Three venerable Men were dwelling there
As well within all hoary, as without;
Kings of the neighboring fields and boroughs, where
They reign'd by secret Wisdom's high repute.
No Star, but well they knew; for from the East
They long had been acquainted to the West.

248

These looking out that night their friends to view,
Espy'd a stranger drest in bright attire,
To which their greedy Contemplations flew
And busy were about the radiant fire.
The more they look'd, the fairer room they found
Whereon high expectations to ground.

249

Fond Eyes, which gaz'd long since the Star was set,
Dream'd that a flaming Child in it they saw,
Whose golden shoulders wore a cross; the wit,
Of Superstition thus deviseth how
To fool it self, and credit whatsoe'r
Deceits in its blind fancies' book appear.

250

A Book which cunning Hell improves so high
That it has often cost poor Truth full dear:
For Lyes embroider'd upon Verity,
The Poison of the wholsome groundwork are.
Thus foolish Tares once mix'd with solid Wheat,
The credit of the hopeful crop defeat.

137

251

These sage Observers no such thing descry'd
In this unusual Star, but only read
A beauteous Miracle, whose beams outvy'd
All glories that bright Venus's face could plead:
And when the Day drew on, displayéd far
More cause why this should be the Morning Star.

252

For when from roseal Aurora's door
Fair Titan shak'd his locks and marchéd out;
Nor any of the other Spangles, nor
Brisk Venus could approve her self so stout
To stand the dint of his approaching Light,
But slip'd aside and waited for the night.

253

But this brave Star stay'd still, and to his face
Boldly told Phebus, he had more to do
In heav'n, than he; and that he kindled was,
A fairer nobler Day than his to show;
A Day which sprung not from his vulgar East,
But chose its own Morn where it pleaséd best.

254

The Star's so daring Resolution much
Amaz'd the Magi; who in all their old
Records of Wonders, could not meet with such
A venturous Apparation inroll'd:
Nor (did their eyes not urge them to confess)
Would grant there could be such a one as this.

255

But since it plainly thus outfac'd the Plea
Of any Doubt: their thoughts' Result defined
That some incomparable Mystery
In its prognosticating count'nance shined:
And why, said they at length, may not this be
The Star great Balaam's quick-ey'd soul did see?

256

Then throwing all their useless books aside,
To Him they su'd who kindled that divine
Foresight in Balaam, to be satisfy'd
About the meaning of that Flaming sign;
God kindly answer'd them and taught them why
He check'd the Sun by that fair Prodigy.

257

Heav'n's mighty Love thus universal is,
Whilst through the School of Magick Darkness it
Disdaineth not with gracious beams to press;
That in their black Profession it may meet
The Sons of Night with radiant Mercy, and
Them to the Day of Bliss and glory send.

258

Their sumptures now they hastily provide,
Though yet uncertain which way they should tend:
When lo the Star vouchsaf'd to be their guide,
And with a moderate pace its journy bend
To Palestine; that it might not outrun
Their Dromedaries' mortal motion.

259

Sweet was their March: O courteous Star, said they,
Who would not follow thy direction! what
Sly Error now can cheat us of our way
Who under heav'n's bright conduct travel! that
Fair fiery Pillar which led Israel, we
Now envy not, who convoy'd are by thee.

260

Advancing thus, till Salem's towry head
Had met their eyes, they thither turn'd their way
Presuming there to find the princely bed
Whereon the newborn King of Salem lay.
But now the Star grew wroth and hid his face
To chide their dotage on that gaudy place.

261

That chode in earnest; but mistaken They
Conceiv'd its office was expiréd here,
Now to their journy's period his ray
Had brought them safe: though old and wise they were,
They had not learnéd that the Sovereign
Of Lowliness doth worldly Pomp disdain.

262

In joyous haste they through the City's gate
Their passage snatch, and bless the happy place
Which crown'd and privilegéd was by fate
Heav'n's glory to outvy: for there alas
With fond hopes swollen they expect to see
Thy mighty Spouse's infant-Majesty.

263

With their great question every street they fill,
Demanding where his native Palace stood
Who now was born the King of Israel;
Whose Star has brought us from our own abode,
The East, said they, to represent our meet
And bounden homage at this royal feet.

264

Much was the boldness of the Men admir'd
Who now within the reach of Herod's spight,
So stoutly for another King enquir'd,
Plainly confuting his usurpéd Right.
But Piety is valiant, and can
In fearing God, defy the fear of Man.

265

This News with jealous terror having rung
Through thousand ears, at length to Herod's came.
The guilty Tyrant startled was and stung,
Hearing that strangely-broach'd and dangerous fame:
His heart throbb'd high, his sceptre seem'd to quake,
His Throne to totter, and his Crown to crack.

138

266

Yet to elude all threatning Omens, He
Muster'd his cruel wit, and vow'd to lay
Some holy-looking Plot, whose subtilty
Both his young Rival and his fears might slay.
His rage he clok'd, and in a Synod sought
How to resolve the noble Stranger's Doubt.

267

The Priests and Scribes from reverent Records there
Produc'd inspiréd Micha's Prophesy
Before the King the mighty Point to clear.
But to the Pilgrims in his Closet He
Wisely imparts the News; and sifts from them
Each circumstance of their conducting flame.

268

Which having heard at large: Go then, said He,
And may Success your brave Devotion crown;
Yet grant your friend this easy courtesy,
Not to ingross Religion as your own;
But when y' have found the Infant, let me know,
That I may Him adore as well as you.

269

No solemn Entertainment now shall stay
Your pious zeal, although my Honor be
Ingag'd this ceremonie's debt to pay:
But when your greater Work's dispatchéd, we
Shall take such royal course, that you shall find
Our court to strangers cannot be unkind.

270

So spake the wiley King. But honest they,
Who had no Star to shew them Herod's heart,
Believ'd his tongue, and with well-meaning joy
Return'd their thanks; then greedy to depart,
Their leave they took; and by devotion driv'n
Thought Bethlehem road the only way to heav'n.

271

And now behold, their reconciléd Star,
Which justly had disdain'd its beams to shew
To curséd Herod, represented their
Illustrious Convoy to their eyes; which new
And joyful hopes strait kindled in their breast,
To see themselves from desolate Night releast.

272

For Day to them had worn no other face
But that of black uncomfortable Night:
And Phebus posting to another place,
Did with his useless beams but mock their sight:
Till this most faithful Star again appear'd;
Which to their wishes' Port them safely steer'd.

273

But then it stop'd, (for all its work was done,)
And pointing with a perpendicular ray
Down to the Cave, bid them behold that Sun
Of which it self was but the shaddow: They,
To whom a moment's stay now seeméd long,
In glad obedience from their sadles sprung.

274

Their several Grooms the foaming Coursers took;
The Pages their Oblations prepar'd:
When musing at the Stable's simple Look
Which much below their lofty hopes appear'd,
The Princes turn'd their jealous eyes to know
Of their bright Guide, if they were right, or no.

275

But when they mark'd what firm assurance shed
Itself down from the peremptory Star;
They march'd in cheerly; and no sooner had
Observ'd the humble Majesty which there
Kept open court, but their Devotion grew
To such brave height, that them it prostrate threw.

276

The Mother's eyes in theirs rais'd admiration;
The radiant Infant's, sacred ecstasy:
For in her bosom's balmy habitation
His sweeter Head they saw inshrinéd lie;
As in the precious and glistering breast
Of Mother-pearl the Jewel makes its nest.

277

Though in the glorious volumes of the skies
They oft had many a flaming Lecture read;
They here perceiv'd these brighter Rarities
Strongly confute those twinckling books, and bid
Them seek no more for Stars above; nor be
So vain as to look upwards Heaven to see.

278

Thrice therefore having kiss'd the ground; Behold,
Cry'd they, great King of all the World, poor We
Whom by Thy Star thou sendedst for, are bold
To creep thus near thy gracious Majesty.
The Name of King has flattered us a while,
But we resign to Thee that fitter Stile.

279

The foolish World surnames us Wise; but We
No more will that ambitious Title own;
Which truly due, and suting none but Thee,
Before thy footstool here we throw it down:
Accounting this our highest Wisdom, that
We by thy Grace this Lowliness have got:

280

That King art Thou; the hopes of whose dear Birth
Have many fainting Generations cheer'd:
That Jacob's Star whose Rising here on earth
The shades and types of Prophesies hath clear'd;
Displaying to this groveling World, which lay
Till now in Darkness, a meridian Day.

139

281

That sovereign Wisdom, which contriv'dst at first
The fabrick of this universal Ball;
By thy direction it from Nothing burst;
And in thy Counsel's boundless Circle all
Motions of heaven and earth still acted be:
Both Change and Chance are Certainties to Thee.

282

Here drawing near, and having his Oblation
Laid fairly in his Crown; the First, before
His infant Lord with triple adoration
Thus tender'd his devotion; of the store
To me thy bounty has been pleas'd to give,
Vouchsafe this humble tribute to receive.

283

It is the purest Gold my care could get,
Yet begs now to be gilded by thine Eye:
Unless true Richness thou wilt glance on it,
Thy hand's acceptance 'tis too poor to buy.
If thus this suppliant Gold may be beholden
To thy beam's charity, it will be golden.

284

Then came the Second with like reverence, and
His Offring in his Royal Censer brought;
Accept, sweet Babe, from my unworthy hand,
Said he, this Incense, since 't has now found out
The next way to its God, and needs not rise
In labouring clouds to reach the lofty skies.

285

The noblest 'tis my diligence could meet
Amongst the spicy beds of Araby,
Which in her first-fruits hither comes, to let
Thee know the rest at home is due to Thee,
And craves thy leave to kiss thy lovely feet:
No way but so, to make her odours sweet.

286

These two fair Copies were transcribéd by
The Third, whose Present was delicious Myrrh;
And, this to wait on thy Humanity
O my incarnate God, I here prefer:
That Nature which till now, said he, was poor
Ashes and Dust, in Thee we must adore.

287

The Babe look'd up, and with a gentle eye
Approv'd their orthodoxal sacrifice;
But as the Mother's gracious courtesy
Held forth his willing hand to meet their kiss;
O no, our lips are too too foul, they cry'd;
By his Clout's kiss may they be purify'd.

288

They kiss'd it, and arose: But on the floor
Ambitiously still left their Crowns, that they
Might gain the honor to be foot-stools for
Glory's own Prince; whose court most justly may
Be strew'd and pav'd with Diadems, since He
Reigns King of kings and Lord of Majesty.

289

And now as much of Night as dar'd draw nigh
The native palace of fair Grace's Day
Was hither crept; the Pilgrims' modesty
Beg'd leave to lodge before the door: for they
In loyal reverence durst not think the same
Roof fit to cover both their Lord and them.

290

Thus having pitch'd their tents without, and said
Their prayers to the God they left within,
With sweet content themselves to rest they laid;
Where when soft Sleep his gentle stealth began
Upon their brows; a Dream came close behind,
Which op'd a Vision to their waking mind.

291

God in a mystick Voice, which well they knew
By its dear rellish in their hearts, descended,
Timely discovering to their wondering view
What Herod's bloody Jealousy intended;
What ambushes of desperate traps, if they
Return'd by Salem, had beset their way.

292

This Warning they, when Morning out had sent
The flaming Giant to his daily race,
With hasty joy obey'd: yet forward went
Their feet amain, but with as swift a pace
Their hearts recoil'd, so did their eyes, and in
The glorious Stable would again have been.

293

Thus strugling homeward by a private way,
Unreach'd by harm they to Arabia came:
Where, through th'astonish'd Towns, a full Display
They brandish'd of the noble Infant's Fame;
Returning richer Gold, and purer store
Of Sweets, than they from thence to Bethlehem bore.

294

The precious Name of JESUS, would alone
Discharge that debt, and purchase all the rest:
The Gold, Myrrh, Incense, which that Region
In all its richest hills and vales possest;
And authorize each Part of Araby
To take its surname from Felicity.

295

Say Psyche now was not this simple Place
Most gloriously worth thy journy hither?
But Time's at hand which will erect Disgrace
On this Foundation of Honor, whither
One King shall send as studied Scorn, as three
Brought reverent and costly Piety.

140

296

This Temple of Virginity will He
Deform to blackest Lust's unworthy Sty;
Rear'd in the blesséd Manger's place must be
The curséd Altar of Impurity;
And Venus and Adonis' titles swell,
JESU's and Mary's mention to expell.

297

O then cry'd Psyche (for the Angel now
Clos'd up his lips,) may I that time prevent.
At Purity's unravish'd shrine my Vow
Burns to be paid. Alas, what though I want
Gold, Incense, Myrrh? I have a Heart which fain
Upon this Manger's Altar would be slain.

298

It would be slain, thereby a Life to find
Which will not give its noble Name the lye:
For whilst I linger groveling in this blind
Valley of Sin, by Living I but Die.
A mortal Life is but an handsom fiction
Nothing well-drest, a flattering Contradiction.

299

Here kneeling down, she dews with liberal tears
The holy Relique, and with pious sighs
Quite blows th'unworthy Dust away; nor cares
She though the empty Manger mock her eyes,
Since her sharp-sighted Faith could Him descry
Who in that Cradle once vouchsaf'd to lie.

300

A thousand hearts she wish'd she had been worth,
And full as many times that Wish renew'd;
That generously she might have pouréd forth
Her single Self to Him in multitude.
Over and over she would fain be His,
And tries Love's sweet Impossibilities.

301

O what Contentions of Grief and Joyes,
And pious Languishments now throng'd her breast!
How many amorously-violent ways
Her venturous Soul try'd to be dispossest
Of Fleshe's tedious clogs, that she might to
Her Spouse's pure imbraces naked go!

302

But tir'd by this mysterious agony,
Her spirits to the powers of sleep submitted:
Oft had they quickned up themselves, and by
Stout zeal repuls'd th'inchroaching mists that flitted
About her eyes; which yet prevail'd at last,
And on the Manger laid her head to rest.

303

Her eyes were clos'd, but wide awake her heart,
Which clearly run by Recollection through
The noble Story; reading every part
And circumstance, she knew not where nor how:
Whilst Phylax for her canopy had spread
His tender guardian Wing above her head.

141

CANTO VIII. The Pilgrimage.

The ARGUMENT.

Love's Presentation solemnizéd; He
To Egypt through the dismal Desert flies;
Where, by the dint of true Divinity,
He dasheth down the forgéd Deities:
And thence, when Herod had the Infants slain,
And Justice Him, returneth home again.

1

Sage Nature, how profound is thy discretion,
Inamelling thy sober Courtesies
By seasonable useful Intermission!
Thou lett'st us feel the Want, to learn the Price;
Thou checkerest every thing with such wise Art,
That Ease proves constant successor to Smart.

2

When Night's blind foot hath smear'd Heav'n's face, the Day
With lovely beauty all the welkin gilds;
When Winter's churlish Months are thawn away,
The lively Spring with youth chears up the fields;
When Clouds have wep't their bottles out, 'tis fair;
When Winds are out of breath, Thou still'st the air:

3

When æstuating in her mighty toil
The Sea has wrought up to her highest shore,
Her weary Floods Thou teachest to recoil
Back to that Rest wherein they swum before.
And to all great and swelling Labours Thou
As sure an Eb dost constantly allow.

4

Yet Sleep the Gentlest of thy Blessings is,
With which Thou sweaty Pains dost gratify:
When Phebus through all heav'n has speeded his
Long smoaking course, Thou giv'st him leave to lie
Down on the pillows of the watery Main,
Till brisk Aurora wakens him again.

5

When Trees all Summer have been labouring hard
Their blossoms, leaves, and fruit in bringing forth;
The Night of Winter Thou dost them afford,
And bidst their Vigor go to bed in earth;
Down to the Root strait sinks the tiréd Sap,
And sleeps close and secure in Tellus's lap.

6

When Rivers many tedious months have run
Through craggéd rocks, and crooked peevish waies;
Thou mak'st stern Boreas pitiful, who on
Their necks a friendly-rigid bridle lays:
This locks them up in glass, and makes them rest
Till they are wak'd by Summer's southern Blast.

7

When Man has travell'd with his hand, or mind,
(For this both toils and sweats, as well as that,)
Thou in a tender misty Vail dost bind
His heavy head, and teach his eyes to shut
Out grief and pain, that so reposéd He
May hug'd in Sleep's all-downy bosom be.

8

Yet other Creatures little find in Sleep
But that dull pleasure of a gloomy Rest,
Which they themselves perceive not when they reap:
Man by this fuller privilege is blest,
That Sleep it self can be awake to him,
And entertain him with some courteous Dream.

9

He, when his Touch, his Tongue, his Eye, his Ear,
His Nose, in Sleep's thick night are muffled up;
Can feel, can taste, can smell, can see, can hear,
And in his quick Dispatches meet less stop
Than when he wakes; for now his Soul alone
Can through his mystick business freely run.

10

O sweet Prerogative! by which we may
Upon our pillows travel round about
The Universe, and turn our work to play;
Whilst every journy is no more but thought,
And every thought flies with as quick a pace
Quite through its longest, as its shortest race.

142

11

No outward Objects' importuning Rout
Intrudes on sprightful fancie's operations;
Who, Queen in her own orb, atchieves with stout
Freedom her strange extemporal Creations;
And scorning Contradiction's laws, at ease
Of nothing, makes what Worlds her self doth please.

12

Nor is the Body more befriended than
The Soul, in sound Digestion's work, by Sleep:
This is the undisturbéd Season when
The Mind has leasure to concoct that heap
Of crude unsetled Notions, which fill
The troubled brain's surchargéd ventricle.

13

In this soft Calm, when all alone the Heart
Walks through the shades of its own silent breast,
Heav'n takes delight to meet it, and impart
Those blesséd Visions which pose the best
Of waking eyes; whose day is quench'd with night
At all spiritual Appiration's sight.

14

By this time Psyche having sailéd through
The Infant-story, whilst her Dream did steer
Her Soul's trim nimble bark; She felt her brow
Eas'd of its cloudy weight, and growing clear.
Strait Phylax spy'd her looking up, and cry'd,
'Tis well thou hast thy Spouse's lodging try'd.

15

Marvel not how this Manger could agree
With that most tender Infant's dainty head:
For by this copy He commends to thee
The scorn of Wantonesse's plumy bed.
Thou seest sweet Sleep is possible upon
A cold and churlish couch of board or stone.

16

'Tis not the flatt'ry of fine things without,
Which can with genuine softness cloth thy Rest.
Down proves but precious thorns, and silk doth flout
His hopes of quiet sleep; whose treacherous breast,
Though with external unguents sleek, within
Is harsh and rugged, being lin'd with Sin.

17

The honest Plowman in the simple straw,
Which furnish'd his first board, and now his bed;
Reaps solid savory Rest, and steeps his brow
In deepest Ease: whilst though the Tyrant's head
Be laid in Delicacy's softest lap,
By knawing fears and cares 'tis plowéd up.

18

If Vice and Vengeance had not us prevented,
We to the Temple now our way should take:
But they have revell'd there; and those lamented
Ruins, too late a sad confession make.
Fire, and the Roman rage on it have prey'd,
And all its Glories' flames in ashes laid.

19

Whilst yet it stood, the Virgin-Mother, when
The Law's time cited to Purification;
Hastes thither with her early-pious Son
To pay obedience to that needless fashion:
Needless to Her, who of no human seed
Had ever been the spotted sinful Bed.

20

Dare Ceremonies think themselves so clean
As to presume to wash the Morning's face
When she hath brought forth Glory's Sun, and been
New-gilded by that birth with brighter grace!
How shall the virgin Crystal purer grow!
What legal Rites can purge and whiten Snow!

21

Yet was the gallant Morn content to go;
So was the spotless Crystal, and the Snow;
And own Pollution, rather than not do
Their ready homage to the reverend Law.
Which yet was by a stronger back'd, for She
Went summon'd by her own Humility.

22

And there arriv'd, the Substance to the Shade
She join'd, and clear Truth to the misty Type;
Broad Day She of a glimmering Twylight made;
Long-breeding and crude Hopes she turn'd to ripe
Fruition; and to conquer all example,
A fairer Temple brought into the Temple.

23

A Temple, where not one, but every Gate
Was Beautiful; a Temple where each part
Most holy was; a Temple where, though State
Shin'd not without, Heav'n's Monarch kept his court;
A Temple which its strange foundation had
Above; a Temple which was Man and God.

24

When he drew near, the Walls and pavement smil'd,
The Roof would fain have bow'd to kiss his feet;
The pious incense smelt the sweeter Child
And chang'd its usual path, with Him to meet:
It soard not up, but to the door inclin'd,
To heav'n the shortest passage so to find.

25

The Cherubs which dwelt close behind the Vail
Had much ado to keep themselves within;
Knowing that from their secret Oracle
The outward Temple now the Glory won;
In which a higher Priest appear'd than He
For whom alone their Privacy was free.

143

26

O how the second Temple's strange Renown
Dazell'd the First! That fabrick rearéd by
David's wise Son, bow'd long aforehand down
To this young Temple's following Majesty;
And kiss'd the dust, surrendring thus its place,
Since Jesu's Presence was this House to grace.

27

And now the Mother on her bended knee
Presents to Heav'n her Son before the Priest;
Whose Priesthood O how far transcendeth She
Who offers God! into her bosom's Nest
Th'Eternal Father having sent him down,
Right noble she thus yields Him back his own.

28

When reverend Johazar received the Child,
Through all his breast a secret gladness ran:
Much he admiréd how his heart came fill'd
With more than usual devotion;
Not yet aware that in his arms far more
Than Paradise, or Heav'n it self, he bore.

29

For wise, and most severely humble She
Her tongue would never licence to unfold,
What might an argument of honour be
To her all-glory-shunning Self: nor could
Or durst she think, but her great Infant knew
Himself, when best it was himself to shew.

30

But then (admonish'd by the courteous Law)
She with five shekels buyeth back her Son.
Were thousand Worlds her own, She would bestow
Them, and her self, for his Redemption:
But this poor Price serv'd her to ransom Him
Who Her, and all the world, was to Redeem.

31

Two milky Pidgeons (her own Emblems) She
Then pays as duties of Purification:
The gentle Birds a mourning fell to see
How they had lost their dearer habitation:
Less sweet they thought the Altar, and would fain
Be nestling in her breast or lap, again.

32

But holy Simeon, whose stout Expectation
Grounded on Heav'n's high Credit, did sustain
His agéd life; by potent inspiration
Forgot his leaden pace, and flew amain
Into the Temple: for the nimble Blast
Of God's own Spirit lent him youthful haste.

33

O how his greedy Soul did work and beat,
And think the time an age, till he was come
To his dear Blisse's shore! where, in the heat
Of hasty zeal, he snatch'd his Saviour home
Into his longing arms, and heart, which broke
Out at his lips, and thus its passion spoke:

34

O Life, thou now art out of debt to my
Long-stretch'd Attendance, and canst nothing show
Of further worth to gratify mine eye,
And charm it still to hanker here below.
No; I have seen, what I did live to see,
The World's Hopes, and mine own, and here they be.

35

Dear Lord of Truth, here, here's that hop'd-for He
In whom lie treasur'd Power and Salvation,
Which now thy Love exposéd has to be
The blessed Theme of humane Contemplation.
All Eyes may see this Face, as well as I,
And clearly read their own felicity.

36

This noble Face; by whose soul-piercing raies
The Gentiles, quite dam'd up till now in night,
Admonish'd are to understand their waies,
And tread the open paths of highnoon Light;
This Face, whose more than golden beauties be
The glorious Crown of Jacob's Progeny.

37

Death, if thou dar'st draw near Life's blooming King,
O take possession of my willing heart!
That I, a swarthy and unworthy thing,
From his too-radiant presence may depart.
Too blest am I to live, and cannot bear
The burden of this heav'nly Lustre here.

38

The good old Man thus eas'd his pious Zeal;
And having sacrific'd a Kiss upon
The Infant's royal foot, began to feel
His Prayers were heard, and Death now drawing on:
Which He to meet, went home, and order gave
With sweet and hasty Joy, about his grave.

39

As his Devotion's faithful Echo, lo
The venerable Matron Anna came;
She whose prophetick heart advis'd her to
Attend upon and magnify the same
Young Son of Wonders; that her Sex in Her
As his in Him, its duty might prefer.

40

And soon she met a full reward of all
Those nights and days her fervor here had spent:
Her Fasts were crown'd with Blisse's festival;
Her longing Prayers which hence to heav'n she sent
To pull it down, now found it ready here;
For in the Infant's face it shinéd clear.

144

41

So clear, that truth admiring she could not
Restrain her tongue from being Trumpet to
The Dawn of such convincing Brightness, but
Through Salem's longest streets resolv'd to go,
Spreading her Proclamation to each ear
And heart, which long'd that heav'nly News to hear.

42

This call'd so many wondring eyes to gaze
On that pure Mother and her fairer Son,
That from the glory of that populous Place
To poor and private Nazareth she ran;
Where, in her lowly house she hop'd to hide
Her humbler self from Honor's growing tide.

43

But Honor scorns the zealous cunning chase
Of most ambitious eager Hunters; and
Persues those modest Souls from place to place
By whom she sees her orient Presence shun'd:
Nor is she e'r out run, or fails to raise
Their Names with Trophies, and their brows with Bays.

44

But when in Salem this great News grew hot
And flam'd to Herod's court; the Tyrant's Breast
Boil'd high with rage, and vext suspicion that
This fire might reach his Throne: which made him cast
Deep, desperate counsels in his restless mind,
For this bold Danger some stout Curb to find.

45

Mean while the Virgin, and her Husband, who
In holy Innocence immuréd were,
Attended their great Charge, and fearéd no
Troublous assaults, or ambushes of fear.
No Peril's so presumptious as to come
Into their house, who had their God at home.

46

In this weak-wall'd but mighty Garrison
They mean to rest, till sent by Heav'n away;
On Heav'n's ingagéd Providence alone
Dependeth both their Journy and their Stay:
This Sentinel his watch exactly keep'd,
And wak'd for them both when they wak'd and sleep'd.

47

Now therefore as in Slumber's arms they lay
(For 'twas high midnight) Joseph's wingéd friend
Rouzing his soul up by a mistic ray
Bids him his speedy flight to Egypt rend;
For Herod's spight contrives to slay, said he,
The Infant, and in him thy Wife and Thee.

48

O that my wings might be his Chariot! but
This noble Favour Heav'n reserves for thee,
Fly then; but see thy self thou trouble not
With thy Return; for when the Storm shall be
Blown clearly over, I 'l not fail to come,
And from thy God's own mouth recal thee home.

49

This said; his nearest way the Angel took
Homewards, loud fluttering as he mounted up:
The noise made Joseph start; who strait awoke;
But his wing'd Monitor had gain'd the top
Of heav'n, and in the spheres incloséd was
E'r Joseph's following eye could thither press.

50

Yet by his blesséd influence left behind
Th'instructed Saint the Spring intirely knew;
The privileg'd eyes of his religious mind
Had long acquainted been with Him, and now
He doubts not but 'twas his dear Guardian, who
Had taught him oft in straits what he should do.

51

Whilst by her sable curtains Night as yet
Muffled up Heav'n, and kept the World in bed;
Into his cloths he leap'd, and made all fit
For his long journy: On the Ass he spread
His Coverlet, and his best Pillow (sweet
And cleanly hay) afforded him to eat.

52

The Beast thus baited; He his Axe, and Saws,
His Planes, Rules, Mallets, and his other store
Of busy honest Implements bestows
Close in his Bag, the treasury of his poor
Industrious subsistance; which he ties
Fast to his staff, and on his shoulder tries.

53

Which done; two bottles (all the good man had)
Fresh filléd at a neighbour fountain, he
Hangs on his girdle, with his pouch of bread:
With all things thus accouter'd, reverently
He steppéd to the bed where Mary lay,
Crying, Arise; Heav'n calleth us away.

54

When She the business heard, and saw how He
Had all his honest sumpture ready made;
Far be it, she reply'd, that I should be
At any hour to follow Heaven afraid:
Or loitering for the morning's light should tarry,
Who in my arms my fairer Day shall carry.

55

I can be no where lost, dear Babe, while I
Travel with Thee, who never canst depart
From thine own home: so far thou canst not flie,
But thine own Land will meet thee still, who art
By thine eternal Right, the Prince as well
Of Ham, and Egypt, as of Israel.

145

56

This untouch'd sacred bank for thy expence
Th'Arabian Devotion meant not; but
Thy Purveyor was thine own Providence:
Thou knew'st what Charge this Journy would beget,
And hast laid in Provision e'r we
Could dream of any such Necessity.

57

And yet Necessity is no such thing
To mighty Thee, whose all-commanding hand
Governs the reins of Fate: the bloody King
Musters his wrath in vain, would'st Thou withstand
His spight in open field: but thou know'st why
It will be now more glorious to Fly.

58

This Journy's but a step to Thee, who from
The pinnacle of all Sublimity
In my first Pilgrimage wert pleas'd to come
And take up thy abode in worthless Me:
Me, who from heav'n much further distant am
Then Memphis is from fair Jerusalem.

59

This said; her nimble self she quickly drest,
And by no Glasses, but her Son's pure eyes:
Whose furniture strait in a bundle truss't
Whilst to the Ass her careful Husband ties,
She her own little All (and what was that,
But one spare vail?) into her pocket put.

60

Then having wrap'd the Infant close, she took
Her dull steed's back: whom leading by the rein
Joseph, before the drowsy Town awoke
Conducted out into the quiet Plain:
Darkness and Silence clingéd round about,
Barring Discovery and Suspicion out.

61

This early Master thus the noble Art
Of Patience 'gan to teach his world below;
To sanctify all Persecution's Smart,
And make it by his owning glorious grow:
Who but new-born, designéd is to die,
And long e'r he can go, is fain to fly.

62

Aurora now the Porter of the day,
Gat up and op'd her portal to the Sun;
Who peeping out with an abaséd ray
Beheld how far these Travellers had gone
E'r he awoke, and doubted whither he
Should in that day's horizon needed be.

63

For when he spy'd the Babe abroad, the sight
Cost him a deeper blush than that which dyes
His morning cheeks: yet up he cheer'd his light,
And venturing on, resolv'd to try his eyes
Upon that Infant-face of Splendidness,
As Eaglets us'd to do their own at his.

64

Now loyal Love forbid that coily thou
My Psyche shouldst disdain to trace their way,
Since I so fair a Convoy thee allow
Which neither dangers feareth nor delay:
Thy God was glad of that poor Asse's back,
But gives thee leave this Chariot to take.

65

That leave's too noble, she reply'd, for me,
A meaner thing than what he rode upon;
Might I on foot, or rather on my knee
Crawle in his royal path, no Prince's Throne,
Could tempt me from my greater honor:—'tis
Enough said Phylax, now no more of this.

66

And here he snatch'd her up and shook the Reins:
Which item strait the greedy coursers caught,
And scouring through her soft aerial plains
The fields of Nazareth to their prospect brought:
Whose sudden face when Psyche view'd, she cry'd,
How much thy steeds my swiftest thoughts outride!

67

O pity then thy Lord, said he, who though
Spurr'd on by fear, was forc'd to use a pace
Below the name of speed; whilst Joseph, who
Himself was laden, leads the heavy Ass.
He led him, and although he made no stay,
Alas his very going was Delay.

68

For on his breast a thousand massy Cares
More sadly sate, than on his back the load
Of all his Tools: what thoughts of Herod's fears!
What studies how to scape the ful-ey'd Road!
What tenderness to keep the Mother warm!
What dainty dread that God should take no harm!

69

For though he knew that Safety was ambitious
In all their way to bear them company;
Yet still he could not banish those delicious
Assaults of tender loyal jealousy:
And Love, when it has nothing else to fear,
Suspects defect in its most careful care.

70

See'st thou that private Path, which ever since
With Lilies and with Violets hath smil'd,
Sweetly acknowledging the influence
Both of the passant Mother and the Child?
The Country wonder'd at the beauteous list,
But from whose feet it sprung, they little wist.

146

71

As to the Sea the Silver River through
A thousand bypathes steals its secret way;
So doth this floury Tract to Egypt flow
Declining all things that its course might stay.
Doubt not the windings, but securely ride,
For now the Way it self's thy fragrant guide.

72

Look how the Galilean Villages
Their distance keep, and give the Path free leave
To reach it self through these blind Privacies:
Look how the friendly Trees all interweave
Their arms, and offer close protection to
Whoever here in secresy would go.

73

There did the careful Mother light, to give
Her Son his diner from her lovely breast;
Whom with right seemly welcome to receive
Kind Earth those sweetly-swelling Cushions drest.
Where'r you see th'officious flowers meet
In such a junto, know it was her seat.

74

Mark yon neglected stable which is shut
Quite out of town, and stand alone; with plain
Yet courteous hospitable Litter, that
Did these benighted Pilgrims entertain.
They with such Lodging old acquaintance had;
Remember what thy Lord his cradle made.

75

Joseph such wary Inns did duly chuse,
And scap'd observance all the way he went:
No eye of Galileans, or of Jews
Discovering his provident intent.
His way he stole with painful holy theft,
And on his back at length Judea left.

76

He left Judea; but first left by it,
Since to surprize his Charge, the bloody Prince
His cunning tenter'd. Thus thy Spouse thought fit
To teach his future Exiles, that the sense
Of their sad suffrings sate full near his heart
Who bore in Banishment so deep a part.

77

For this his Part he freely deign'd to bear,
Not for his own, but for their dearer sake.
Why then should they whose feeble Natures are
Unable to resist, think much to make
Necessity their Virtue, and be by
Their Exile banish'd into Piety?

78

The freedom of the Reins here Phylax threw
Upon his coursers' backs: who chearéd by
That liberty, with sprightful fervor flew
And scorn'd the Towns they saw beneath them lie.
Their gallant foam they flung about the air,
And with brave neighings heartned their carrier.

79

The Clouds took notice of their resolute haste
And stepp'd aside to make their passage clear;
Through which their smoking wheels whirl'd on as fast
As Titan's down his glibbest steepest sphere:
Which instantly so tir'd the Northern Wind,
That puffing he and lagging came behind.

80

Thus having lost Judea in a mist
Of far-removéd air, they rush'd into
The famous Desert's unperceivéd List;
Where their impatient fire still spurr'd them so,
That thrice was Phylax forc'd to check them, e'r
Their vehemence would yield his hand to hear.

81

And then; Consider Psyche well, said he,
This squallid scene of churlish Desolation,
This proper Region of Perplexity,
This horrid Nursery of Desperation,
This Storehouse of a thousand famins, this
Fountain of Droughts, this Realm of Wretchedness:

82

This Country, whose ill-looking Neighborhood
To Canaan (that widespred chanel where
Honey and Milk conspir'd into a flood
Of costless but incomparable cheer,)
Doubles the value of that blesséd soil,
And its own Vileness aggravates the while.

83

Thus sticks black Night as foil to beauteous Day,
And by its blackness lends it fairer beams:
Thus sorrow's stings inhance the sweets of Joy;
Thus floods of Gall commend the Honey streams;
Thus Darkness cleavéd close on Mirrours' backs,
The most perspicuous Glass more lightsome makes.

84

Well knew wise Heav'n Men would not understand
Its royal bounty, in affording them
The gentle Riches of a fertile Land,
Were they not tutor'd by some dreadful Clime
Of bordering woes, and forced to confess
A Garden's blessing by a Wilderness.

85

The prudent Lover to confirm the price
Of her Affection thus sometimes is fain
To run to cruel Art, and barbarize
Her gentle Count'nance with severe Disdain;
For she her wooer wooeth by this scorn,
And only whipps him thus to make him learn.

147

86

Behold these needless Banks of sand, which have
No Sea to limit but this Ocean
Of Barrenness; where when the Winds conceive
Highswoll'n displeasure, and to battle run
Bandying their mutual Blasts a thousand ways,
A storm of dry and parching rain they raise.

87

For this wild soil, impatient to be plow'd
At Æolous' beck, in's face most madly flies,
And climbing up into a tawny cloud
With smoaking rage torments the stifeled skies.
Whilst blinded Passengers amazéd stand,
And all the Air is nothing else but sand.

88

This frighted gentler Nature far from hence,
Who with her snatch'd her blessings all away;
Her teeming Spring's delicious influence,
Her Summer's beauties, and her Autumn's joy;
And all the best of Winter too; for here
This sandy Mischief scorcheth all the year.

89

The Trees, you see, are all dispers'd and fled
For fear of proving only fuel here,
And that before the Axe had summonéd
Them to the hearth. The cheerly Birds which were
Their boughs' Inhabitants, with doleful cry
After their exil'd home were fain to fly.

90

These churlish Plains no entertainment keep
Wherewith to welcome tame and honest Beasts;
Goats, Asses, Camels, Horses, Oxen, Sheep
Can at their wretchéd Table be no Guests.
No; this is only Mischief's curséd Stage,
Where Beasts of prey, and Monsters act their rage.

91

Observe that pair of couchant Tigres, who
In cruel ambush lie to watch their prey;
What boots the Traveller's one Life, when two
Such wild and hungry Deaths beset his way!
There runs a Lyon with his hideous note
Tearing for want of meat his greedy throat.

92

At which dread business there's a female Bear
In meat and drink two days and nights behind,
Whose pinéd Whelps all yelling in her ear
Chode her abroad some bootie's help to find.
A headlong foaming Boar there makes his path
White with the scum of his intemperate wrath.

93

But mark that Cave, before whose nasty door
A heap of Excremental Poisons lies;
Next which a Quakemire of congealéd Gore
Rail'd round with naked staring Bones, descries
What part fell Fury there hath plaid, and who
Dwells in that House whose Porch is trim'd with woe.

94

That gloomy Cloud which dams the Den's black throat,
Is but the Tenant's breath which dwells within.
Our talk has wak'd his Rage, and made it hot
With hopes of prey: hearst thou not him begin
To rouse himself? the fire he spits before,
Is but the Porter to unlock his door.

95

Here Psyche though she now had cheer'd her heart
Beyond the pitch of female courage, yet
Could not her trembling curb, but 'gan to start
At that dire flame the belching Monster spit:
When Phylax, smiling on her horror, cry'd,
Fear not, for Heav'n and I am at thy side.

96

He of his coming, by his hideous Hiss
Fierce warning gives; that stream of cole-black blood
He spews so thick, his wonted Usher is:
Thus when choice Furies break from hell, a flood
Of stinking Sulphure paves their dismal way,
Abashing all the Air, and pois'ning Day.

97

Lo how his Eyes, like two bright firebrands placed
In cakes of blood, their fatal beams display;
For thus, with flakes of glaring Rays enchased,
To Heav'n's high Anger Comets light the way;
Pointing with every beam, to Cities, or
To Realms and Countries, Famine, Plague, and War.

98

His Mouth, which foams with venome, is the Gate
Of helpless Misery; his Jaws, the Mill
Of deplorable and untimely Fate;
His Tongue, an Engine on whose forks there dwell
A thousand Deaths; his Throat, so black and broad,
To his unhappy Prey's the beaten Road.

99

His leathern Wings are those which lend its speed
To dire Destruction: his iron Paws
Are Spight's and Rage's hands; his curséd Head
The Oracle whence Tyrants fetch their Laws;
His scaly skin, the thick Embroidery
Of proud and most remorsless cruelty.

100

His knotty Tail pointed with stinging fire,
Which on his back in sullen scorn he throws,
Is Death's dread Chain; that unrelenting ire
Which sits so high on his large craggy brows,
Is an aforehand bloody doom to all
Beasts, Birds, or Men that in his clutches fall.

148

101

Hark how the bruséd Air complains, now he
Threshes her with the Flails of his huge wings:
For that soft Nymph elsewhere was us'd to be
Beaten with Feathers, or melodious strings:
Look in what horrid port he cuts the Clouds;
The flame before, the smoke behind him crowds.

102

As when the martial Griffen hovers near,
The greedy Kite forgets his chaséd prey,
And turning partner in the Sparrow's fear
Is glad as fast as she to sneak away:
So here all other Monsters grant that this
Their Sovereign in Rage and Terror is.

103

Thou now seest neither Lyon, Boar, nor Bear,
This Dragon's presence frights them all away
Into their closest Dens and Caverns, where
They trembling lie, and durst not peep on Day.
So do all other strange portentous things
Hence storméd by the thunder of his wings.

104

For else thou here hadst troops of Centaurs seen,
A mad composure of Horse-infantry:
Else Sphinx and his ambiguous Brood, had been
Abroad in all their forefront bravery,
Indeavoring to excuse with Maiden-faces
Their Beastly bodies' horrible disgraces.

105

Else had insatiable Harpies, their
Near Cosen Portents in the wingéd crew,
Boldly about this correspondent sphere
With Virgin's looks, and Vulture's tallons flew:
Frolick falacious Fauns had else been skipping,
And Satyrs dallying here, and Silvans tripping.

106

Else had that Riddle of foul Ataxies
Whose every part is placéd out of place,
Who by a Goat's intruded belly ties
A Dragon's vast tail to a Lyon's face;
Rangéd about these Sands, and sought what Prey
It's equal monstrous hunger might allay.

107

Hast thou not heard, when Abraham's Off-spring through
The wholesome Tryals of this Wilderness
Went to the well-deserving Promise, how
They fondly murmuréd because Success
Posted not on as fast as their desire,
And though the way were short yet needs would tire?

108

They tir'd: though to encourage to the best
Of patient strength their privilegéd hearts,
Such Miracles combin'd as never blest
The World till then: Heav'n's kindest stoutest Arts
They by more obstinate shameless scorn neglected,
And their obtruding Happiness rejected.

109

This forc'd the just Creator's strict Commission
To Vengeance, his most trusty Factress; She
Straight mounting on the back of Expedition,
The World's black bottom plumm'd; where terribly
The choisest Dens of Horror having ey'd,
Into Erinnys grot she turn'd aside.

110

The Fury started; on her quaking head
Right up stood every Snake: She ne'r till now
Had seen a sight so full of fatal Dread,
Though oft she view'd the deepest Deeps, and though
She daily used for her looking-glasses
Her correspondent Sisters' monstrous faces.

111

For in the Stranger's furrow'd brows were sown
The seeds of everlasting Indignation;
Her eyes were constant Lightning, flashing down
Her fiery Cheeks, and with their sprightful motion
Glancing a more than highnoon Day upon
The frighted Night of that black Region.

112

Her sturdy breast was fram'd of burning brass;
Her massy arms of sparkling steel; her more
Than adamantine hands brandish'd a Mace
Of red-hot iron; at her back she wore
A quiver stuff'd with forkéd bolts of thunder
Well-skill'd in tearing clouds and rocks in sunder.

113

Pain, Anguish, Groans, Astonishment, Despair,
Dissention, Tumult, War, Plague, famin, Drought,
Confusion, Poisnous and Tempestuous Air,
Eversion, Desolation, Crying out,
Gnashing of teeth, eternal-dying fear,
Soule-knawing Worms, her dismal followers were.

114

And so was Schism, and flinty Obduration,
With Pride, and Impudence in villany;
And she who through her fairer garb and fashion
Seem'd more to sute with lovely company,
Was yet as rank a curse as they, for she
Was blind and false though zealous Sanctity.

115

But Vengeance spying her Eyrinnys quake,
Constrain'd her dreadful Aspect to remit
Its awfulnesse's dint; and try'd to speak
As mild as feirce she look'd: yet when she set
Her Mouth's hot furnace ope, to all the Cave
Loud Thunder notice of her speaking gave.

149

116

Fear not, said she, I on an errand come
Which well will suit with thy revengeful thought:
The Sons of Israel thou know'st with whom
My Sovereign's Patience long, ah long, hath fought.
'Tis true he leads them through a barren Earth,
Yet makes heav'n bring them bread of Angels forth.

117

But peevish they force Him by murmuring, to
Repent his Kindness: wherefore thou must spare
Some of thy Locks, which I am sent to throw
About that Desert's now devoted Air;
Where they shall lash the Rebels, till they see
What 'tis to kick at God, and waken Me.

118

Me, whom soft Mercy long had stretchéd kept
Upon a bed which she of Patience made:
Me, who for ever might in peace have slept,
Did Mortals not take pleasure in this trade
Of sending up their shameless Sins, to tear
By daring Crys my most unwilling ear.

119

Me, who ne'r mov'd this challeng'd Hand in vain,
Nor knew what 'twas or stroke or aim to loose;
Me, whom no Tune can charm asleep again,
But dying Groans of those my head-strong Foes;
Me, whose sure Power it self could deeply seal
On Lucifer, and ram him down to hell.

120

Erinnys glad to hear this Message, tore
Her hissing Hair by handfuls from her head:
Which hasty Vengeance to this Desert bore
And through the trembling air their volumes spread;
First having breathéd on them warlike fire,
Which kindled in their breasts mischievous Ire.

121

Th'amazed Element would fain have fled
From all its Regions, to avoid this fight:
The boldest Winds that ever bluster'd Dread
About the World, were now a prey to fright;
And to their furthest dens blowing themselves,
Gave way to these far more tempestuous Elves.

122

Which were no sooner tosséd up, but they
Their scantness felt increaséd round about;
Their Tails reach'd back their stings an hideous way,
And from their sides wide-threshing Wings burst out,
Whose boistrous stroak provok'd the vexéd flames,
Which from their eyes and mouths pour'd out their streams.

123

Their own instinct taught them the readiest way
To find the causeless-rebel Multitude:
Where seizing strait upon their helpless Prey
Their fiery Poison's shot so thick they spew'd,
That all the Camp had their Burntoffring been,
Had seasonable Mercy not step'd in.

124

In Mercy step'd, and by a Contreplot
A brasen Serpent rearéd up to heal
Their burning Wounds whose faith had strength to put
Trust in that typick Med'cin's Spectacle.
They gaz'd, and saw their help, but could not pry
Into the bottom of that Mystery.

125

That crucifyed Serpent represented
Thy Spouse, when on his Cross he reign'd, and by
His potent Dying gallantly prevented
The Plot of Death which more than He did die.
Who crush'd the old red Dragon which had hurl'd
His deadly venome all about the World.

126

And now thou know'st the pedigree of this
Feirce Portent which inflames and taints the air,
Whose fiery looks and smoaking flight confess
Of what Progenitors he is the Heir.
Think now how sad a Pilgrimage it was
When thy young Lord did through such Monsters pass.

127

Yet shall this hideous Region appear
So precious unto future Saints, that they
Will seek their harbour no where else but here,
And make these Sands the shore where they will lay
Their Vessels safe from all those Storms, whose rage
Revels on secular Life's unfaithful stage.

128

His Pilgrimage they'l judge a Dedication
Of all this Tract to holy Privacy;
Where in serene and heav'nly Contemplation
They shall both sweetly live, and sweetlyer die:
Dreading no longer other Monsters, when
They once have rescued themselves from Men.

129

Men, Men, those Portents are, whom wiser fear
More dangerously pois'nous will esteem
Than that fire-breathing Brood who in the sphere
Of this vast desert move like Mars his flame.
Men are those Dragons whose profounder art
Stings not the body, yet can bane the heart.

130

Here they their Cels will build so strongly mean
That they shall Tempest scorn, and laugh at Plunder;
Here they as fresh and strong, as pale and lean,
Will raise their souls and keep their bodies under.
Here they will importunéd Earth intreat
With Herbs or Roots to gratify their Sweat.

150

131

For neither stubborn flint nor sapless Sand
Their Barrennesses' privilege will dare
Strictly to urge against the painful Hand
Of pious Poverty: such Charters are
Of Nature's granting, and must needs give place
Unto the grand Prerogative of Grace.

132

Here will their Eyes not interrupted be
With fond Allurements of the newest fashions;
Whose Commendation speaks their Vanity,
Their Worth being only built upon Mutations.
Their simple Sackcloth in one cut and guise
To hide their Dust and Ashes will suffice.

133

Here shall no Noise of chincking Money be
Rebounded by their Heart's inchanted strings;
That Noise which with melodious Witchery
Through all the World's unhappy Quarters rings,
And gains more Altars for vile Mammon than
To glorious Heav'n will be allow'd by Men.

134

Here shall no glancing Eye, no mincing Pace,
No sporting Locks, no smiling Red and White,
No wanton Dress, no Tongue's Sirenian Grace,
No bidding Coyness, no inviting flight;
Prevail upon their manly hearts to brook
The tickling Slavery of a Woman's yoke.

135

Here no Ambition's Puff shall swell their breast
And in their soul a foolish Dropsy raise;
Who by themselves are freely dispossest
Of all those gardens which can bring forth bays;
And live upon a Soil which nothing bears
But Poverty, and Roots, and Sighs, and Tears.

136

No terrible Alarm of War shall here
Ravish the sweetness of their virgin Quiet:
Heer none of Mars his boistrous Crew shall swear
Themselves into authority to riot;
Nor make the Lords of these poor houses be
The subjects of free-quarter's Slavery.

137

Here shall no specious Care of Wife and Child
Call them away in conscience from their Prayers:
By Virtue's daily Progress they shall build
Up to the gate of Bliss their mystick stayers;
And thus a second time the World shall leave,
Nobly to Heav'n rebounding from their grave.

138

But now this long Discourse devouréd had
The longer Way, and Egypt's face drew near;
Thebai's Meads and Woods and Towns were glad
That to the Desert they next neighbours were;
And privileg'd these Strangers first to meet
And with kind seasonable Welcome greet.

139

When, Lo said Phylax, now the World grows tame,
And mild and hospitable Prospects yields:
These are the outmost skirts of populous Ham
Lufted with Woods, and lac'd with floury fields:
A dear-earn'd harbour to those Pilgrims who
Have labour'd through this Desert's Sea of Woe.

140

Thus at the headland's close wish'd Rest attends
And home the weary Plowman gently leads.
Thus hang the Garlands at the Race's ends
Ready to crown the Runners' sweaty heads.
Thus Summer cheers the pinéd Earth, when she
Has pass'd through Winter's total Tyranny.

141

The second Joseph hither came, and brought
Far more Salvation than the First; although
From Famin's Jaws He snatchéd Egypt out,
And fatnéd up seav'n starvéd years; for now
To famish'd Memphis this convey'd the bread
By which the World eternally is fed.

142

O how he triumph'd that his Charge was here
Arrived safe through all those perillous ways!
Upon the Child he look'd, but through a Tear
Of passionate Joy, and pay'd their Safetie's praise
To Him, whose Providence had in that wide
Kingdom of Dangers to his Guides been Guide.

143

And thus advancing to that City there,
Surnam'd Hermopolis in compliment
To ancient Herme's Lasting honor; near
That fairly-tall religious Tree he went:
The Natives call it Persea, and with high
Esteem its Leaves and Apples magnify.

144

Observe them well: each leaf presents the true
Shape of a Tongue; whose secret whispers treat
With every Wind: the dangling Apples shew
The feature of a panting Heart. O that
The World would learn this lesson of the Tree,
That with the Tongue the Heart should joynéd be!

145

Blind Superstition's Rites had hallow'd it
To Isi's honor; but the honest Tree
Made bold that fond Relation to forget
When thy great Spouse approach'd: for instantly
With orthodox devotion pliant grown
Low on the earth her head she bowéd down.

151

146

Where she with all her hearts the Babe ador'd,
And did her best with all her tongues to sound
His praise, who is of hearts and tongues the Lord:
Then having with her boughs clean swept the ground,
She rose and gave him way; yet out she stretch'd
Her neck, and after him her arms she reach'd.

147

When lo, as near the City gate he drew,
Isis, (of stupid marble made, and there
Fix'd wisely on a Base which was as true
And as divine a Stone as she;) with fear
And awe surpriséd, 'gan at first to quake
And then to bend, and then right down to break.

148

Poor Idol! who had never Sense till now,
And now feels only her own ruin: down
Tumbles the long-adoréd Goddess Cow;
Resigning that high worship to her own
True Lord, which she had long usurpéd by
The help of Egypt's mad Idolatry.

149

Her fair-spred Horns are shatter'd, bruis'd her brow,
Her broken neck mix'd with her crumbled feet:
The Deity advanc'd to Rubbish now
Has power to help the Country, if in thick
And mirey ways dispos'd: which sure is more
Assistance than it e'r could lend before.

150

Thus when the reverend Ark of God was set
In Dagon's temple, down the Idol fell,
And at the door too hasty out to get,
Quite broke his Godship on the stronger Sell;
Where his amaz'd Devotos entring, found
The wretchéd fish in its own ruins drown'd.

151

But in the City's (and the People's) heart
Upon a golden column mounted high
And deck'd with all the wit and pride of Art
Serapis stood; the Ox of Majesty;
Whose consecrated Crown about his wide
And mighty Horns wreath'd its triumphant pride.

152

Through that Piazza as these Pilgrims went
Seeking their Inn, the guilty trembling Beast
His steely knees and brazen body bent,
And by his massy weight so strongly cast
Himself down headlong, that into an heap
Of fragments from his Godhead he did leap.

153

The dismal Crack of this strange ruin's thunder
Alarm'd all Ears and Bosoms of the town;
Quite shattering their brittle souls in sunder,
Who thought the next fall needs must be their own.
For now alas it was their deepest dread
That they themselves should like their God be made.

154

But though blind They could not the truth descry,
Wise Joseph and his virgin Consort knew
To what more powerful Divinity
The Idol his obeisance prostrate threw:
What pointed out by Essay's Pen had been
To entertain Faith's prospect, they had seen.

155

There had they seen, how into Egypt, on
A speedy Cloud thy spouse should ride; and how
Th'ashaméd Idols into dust should run
From his dread Presence: and they plainly now
Found that his Mother's bosom was the Cloud
Where in his flight he pleas'd himself to shroud.

156

Good Joseph therefore posted up and down
The ruin of Idolatry to spread
Through every populous superstitious Town
Which deify'd the hornéd Statues: Sad
And troubled was his righteous Soul to see
That men should more than marble stupid be.

157

And wheresoe'r on Zeal's stout wings he flew
Equal Success still bore him company:
Th'infernal Spirits still their Lodgings threw
In pieces, as thy mighty Lord drew nigh.
Thou shalt no further go; but I will tell
Thee here, what Wonders afterward befell.

158

The heart of Egypt melting down her breast,
As from their Pillars her vain Gods had done;
The Priests and sage Magicians broke their rest
To find this Prodigy's occasion:
And all at common Council met one night,
Resolv'd to try their Spell's profoundest might.

159

Jannes, a wretch both of his race and name
Who vainly tugg'd with Moses' strength, began:
'Twas in a vault where Day's looks never came;
A vault untroad by any mortal Man
Who was not full as black as they, and made
Solemnly free of their accurséd Trade.

160

The Door of Iron once, but now of Rust,
With nine huge barrs he fortifies; yet still
Unwilling nine Securities to trust,
Each barr he fastens with a charméd Seal.
Fond Wizzard! who by every one of them
Either his fear lays open, or his shame.

152

161

In this deep Temple of Infernal Arts
Lighting a Taper temper'd with the fat
Which grew about his Predecessors' hearts,
It in a dead Man's Mossy skull he set.
The Mists and Stincks long wrestléd with the flame
Before the vault laid ope its naked shame.

162

Then gaping wide both with his mouth and eyes,
He spew'd seav'n solemn Curses on Day-light;
Which though it saw the broken Deities,
Would not detect what sacrilegious Might
That ruin wrought: and then those Gods he blest
Whose luck it was in gloomy holes to rest.

163

For on a shrine still-standing there appear'd
Serapis, Isis, and a smoaky rout
Of lesser Gods: the altar was besmear'd
With bloody gore; and scatter'd round about
In reaking fragments lay Cheeks, Noses, Eyes,
Hearts, Shoulders, Livers, Legs, Arms, Bowels, Thighs.

164

These hideous dainties was the breakfast for
A Crocodile, whose sacred den was there;
But tam'd by strong enchantments, durst not stir
When in their Magick bus'nesse's carreer
The Priests were hot: no Monster but compar'd
With raving Them, serene and mild appear'd.

165

The Walls with Leeks and Onyons garnish'd were;
For courteous Egypt Gods had made of these,
And from her well-dung'd soil reap'd every year
A worthy Crop of young fresh Deities.
Nile on the roof by Paint was taught to flow,
That God whose bounty makes those other grow.

166

But Jannes having now thrice wash'd his Hand
And stain'd with it that Stygian Ink which stunk
In his black Laver; up he takes his Wand,
That Wand which once liv'd on a cypress Trunk
Planted on Acheron's bank, but now was made
The deadly Scepter of their conjuring Trade.

167

A Scepter unto which the Moon, the Sun,
The Stars, had often stoop'd, and Nature bow'd:
Oft had it turn'd the course of Phlegeton,
Oft had it troubled Hell, and forc'd the proud
Tyrant, for all his Iron Mace, to be
Obedient to its wooden Witchery.

168

With that a Circle on the floor he draws
(Spred thick with ashes stoll'n from funeral piles)
Which with strange Lines, and Hooks, and Forks, and Claws,
And scrambling frantick shapeless shapes he fills:
Wild Hieroglyphicks, stark-mad Characters,
A jumbled Rout of snarl'd illfavor'd Jars.

169

Into this hell of scratches in step'd He
(A seemly Actor for that scene,) and there
Three groans he gave; three times he bow'd his knee;
He thrice with blood besprinkled his left ear;
Three times he mumbled over those profound
Monsters his Wand had written on the ground.

170

As oft he spit, as oft his lips he bit;
And every time chew'd sullen detestation
And silent blasphemy against the great
Monarch of heav'n; whose jealous indignation
Of Rival Powers made him suspect that He
Was guilty of the Gods' Calamity.

171

Then lifting up his hollow voice, he cry'd,
By Jannes, Jambres, (our renownéd Sires,)
And Pharoh's adamantine Soul, which try'd
A fall with Israel's God; by all those Fires
We on your Altars kindled have, and them
Which with black Styx or Erebus mingled swim.

172

By these profound mysterious Notes which I
Have figur'd here; by dread Tisiphone;
By stern Alecto, and Megera; by
Huge Cerberus his head's triplicity;
By Hell's wide Gates; and by the most divine
Scepters of Pluto and of Proserpine:

173

By your own Heads, who here alone have your
Safe sanctuary found: I you conjure
Serapis, Isis, and each lesser Power,
No longer your Dishonour to indure.
What boots it here to be a standing God,
And in Scorn's publick eye fall down abroad?

174

For from Hermopolis's unfortunate gate
Ruin advanc'd, and boldly made her prey
On every Deity whose curséd fate
It was to stand in her devouring way.
Whence comes this Downfal of Religion? what
Has spread amongst the Gods this deadly Rot?

175

Let me but know, and Heav'n I'l force to bow
And kiss the feet of Hell: the Center I
Will in the face of scornful Phebus throw
And at high-noon with Midnight choak the sky:
But I your Quarrel will revenge, and make
Your secret theevish foe in public quake.

153

176

His mouth the coal-black foam here stoping, He
With grezly ghastly face, with staring eyes,
With breast tormented by anxiety,
With languid arms and hands, with quivering thighs;
Expects his mighty Charm's Result to see,
And what his Oracle's Reply would be.

177

When lo (for then thy Spouse was drawing nigh,
That very place,) a groaning horror shak'd
The mourning Vault, which was rebounded by
So strong an earthquake, that the Idols crack'd,
And by their prostrate fragments in the Cave
Turn'd their own Temple to their fitter Grave.

178

Scarcely had Jannes and his frighted Crew
Time to escape the Ruin of their Gods:
But being out, their Indignation threw
Their Books away, and brake their fruitless Rods;
And having nothing else whereon to pour
Their spight, their flesh they rent, their hair they tore.

179

His secret Vengeance thus thy little Lord
Sheath'd in the bowels of Idolatry;
Whilst puzled Egypt felt the conquering Sword,
But could not its mysterious Victor see.
The Angel thus of old their First-born slew,
When undiscernéd through that Land he flew.

180

Mean while fell Herod rack'd his busy brain
About his Master-piece of Tyranny:
The dull-ey'd Vulgar never could attain
To read its Hatching and Nativity,
For it was bread as low as hell: but I
To thee will ope this blackest Mystery.

181

Mischievous were that Prince's Counsels: but
Proud Lucifer had deeper plots than He,
More jealous of his Crown than Herod, at
The new-born King's high-fam'd Discovery:
For in his ears the Shepherd's Story rung,
And that stronge musick of the Christmas Song.

182

The angry mouth of thunder never spoke
Such terror to his Soul as those soft Notes;
Which tun'd to Joy's mild key, divinely broke
Out from the nests of those sweet Angels' throats.
Nor was this Omen all: for he had spy'd
That eastern Star, the Wisemen's wiser Guide.

183

No light did ever fright him so, but that
Whose Darts down headlong shot him from the top
Of heav'n's sublimest pinnacle, and shut
Him up in deepest Night; that damnéd shop,
Where 'twas his trade Sin's cheating Wares to sell
To those who with thir Souls would purchase hell.

184

But now he fear'd this trade would never thrive,
And that few Chapmen would delight to buy,
So long as that great Infant was alive;
With whose more profitable Deity
Shepherds and Kings to traffick had begun,
And taught the World which way for Gains to run.

185

Especially since his dear Egypt now
Was likely to revolt, and pay no longer
Homage to any gilded Ox or Cow:
Since valiant Jannes yielding to a stronger
Charm than his own, had forfeited the fame
Of Hell, and quite betrayéd Magick's name.

186

Ten thousand spawns of his perplexéd brain
He tumbles o'r, yet none could please his eye;
Again he chooses and dislikes again;
But vows at last howe'r, thy Spouse shall die.
He vows by his own head, and seeks some Fiend
To whom the desperate work he might commend.

187

A Rock there stands on dire Cocytus's bank
Which to the River opes its monstrous Jaws,
Content to suck no breath but what the rank
And sulphury Vapour of that water throws
Into its Mouth; which far more venomous makes
The steaming Poisons that from thence it takes.

188

In winding holes and ragged corners there
Whole Families of Adders, Vipers, Snakes,
Asps, Basilisks, and Dragons dwelling are;
Whose constant and confounding Hissing makes
The language of that Mouth dreadfully tell
What Prodigies in Hell redouble Hell.

189

The Throat sticks thick with bones of legs and arms,
Which ravenous Haste left stinking by the way.
The Stomack (Murder's Sink and Dungeon) swarms
With heaps on which Digestion could not prey:
At whose unfadomable Bottom reaks
Young guiltless Blood in Vengeance-daring Lakes.

190

But at the Cavern where the Heart should lie
Was hung a sevenfold Gate of massy brass,
Plated with Adamant, and conjur'd by
A thousand bolts and locks, to let no cross
Mischance peep in; besides, as many Seals
Treading on one another's crowded heels.

154

191

High in the Tower above, at windows close
Lattis'd with Steel, stood Lynxes night and day:
An hundred Dogs lay at the threshold, whose
Quick ears no Sleep could ever steal away.
Next them as many Cocks; and next to these
A vigilant Company of trusty Geese.

192

Within lurk'd dark Meanders, damméd up
By frequent doors, and Porters too, whose chief
Office it was to keep them lock'd, and stop
Ev'n Thought it self from playing there the thief.
Their lights they oft put out, for fear some sly
And cunning Beam a cranny might espy.

193

The Walls were circled by a mighty Moat,
The Palace far from Danger to divide:
No bridge it knew, and but one single Boat
In which no more than one at once could ride;
And this the timorous Shores close Pris'ner was,
Under a chain of steel and lock of brass.

194

On all which Shore in due array were set
With weapons ready drawn, three careful Watches,
That no Disturbance might presume to put
Its finger forth, or touch the jealous Latches:
For with a loud alarm they rouséd were
If but the Image of a Noise came there.

195

But in that House, so dark and so profound,
That fair and high it made the rest of Hell;
A Thing O how much more than Monster, drown'd
Yet deeper in self-torturings, chose to dwell.
One who espous'd Disquiet for her Rest,
One who all furies is to her own breast.

196

Suspicion's her just name; thick set's her head
With thoughtful Eyes, which always learing seem,
And always ghastly; for they trust no Lid
To interpose twixt Lassitude and them.
On Sleep they look as on some treacherous thing
Hatching blind Dangers under his black wing.

197

But principally they at one another
Their anxious and misgiving glances throw;
And if no grounds of fear they thence can gather,
Of deeper Dangers therefore fearful grow.
Yet whilst they all thus mutually stare,
Each bids his brother of himself beware.

198

Her sharp thin ears stand always prick'd upright
To catch all Sounds and Whispers that come near.
Sometimes as her own Fancy took its flight
But through her head, she thought some Noise was there.
Her hollow Cheeks had gapéd long for meat,
But doubts and fears forbad her still to eat.

199

She dream'd in every Dish and Cup she saw
Some slie and deadly Poison's Ambushment.
Alas, and how could any venome grow
So venomous as she, who might have lent
New power to Dragons' stings, and taught each field
Of Thessaly crops of surer bane to yield.

200

Impenetrable Steel her Garments were,
All of the temper of great Satan's shield:
Her hands allarméd by perpetual fear
A mighty Sword and brazen Buckler held:
Weapons with which she never durst intend
To fight, but only her own head defend.

201

Fast stood her Chair on forty iron feet,
And to the ground all double nail'd; yet she
Could not believe but underneath her seat
Some treasonable Mine might lurking be.
This made her seldom sit; and when she did,
Over her shoulder still she turn'd her head.

202

No morning pass'd but some on work she set
New Keys to make her; being jealous still
Her foes might patterns of her old ones get;
And twenty times as much she chang'd her Seal:
As her own self she would have done, had she
Known how to alter her Deformity.

203

With contradicting thoughts her brain was beat,
Which were no sooner liked but rejected:
She weigh'd and boulted every Counsel, yet
What surest seem'd to be she most suspected.
Oft would she skip, and fling about, and start,
And meerly at the motion of her heart.

204

Ten times an hour her Pulse she duly try'd,
Doubting as often what its working ment:
Sometimes she thought she felt too high a Tide,
Sometimes too low an Ebb of blood: Content
She never was, yet sought no Physick's aid,
Of Sickness and of Cure alike afraid.

205

An Oath of strict Allegiance thrice a day
She forcéd on her numerous Family;
And weekly chang'd their Offices, that they
Might have no time to ripen Treachery.
Strange Officers, yet fitting to attend
So sovereignly-odious a Fiend.

155

206

The first was tall and big-bon'd Cowardize
Whose lazy Neck on her fat shoulders lay;
Her gross head screen'd by both her hands; her eyes
Horribly winking, at the dint of Day;
Her ears as flat as dread could lay its prize;
Her sneaking tail hid 'twixt her shivering thighs.

207

The next, stern Cruelty supported by
Advantage and Revenge; prime Enginere
To all the Generals of Tyranny.
What Whips, what Racks, her fell Inventions were,
What broad Perfidiousness, what groundless Wars,
What Insultations, and what Massacres!

208

Close in the corner stood pale Thoughtfulness,
Seald on whose lips regardless Silence sate:
Her business was a thousand things to guess;
She stamp'd, her head she scratch'd, her breast she beat,
Her wearied eyes she nailéd to the ground,
And in her endless self her self she drown'd.

209

About the room ran furious Discontent,
And when all other scap'd her causeless war,
She wag'd it with her self; her cloaths she rent,
Her cheeks she gash'd, and madly tore her hair.
But Malice slyly crept, and dealt her spight
To friends and foes in a concealéd fight.

210

Yet slippery Guile was nimbler then the rest,
Whose quaint attire was of Chamelions' skins;
Who in two minutes could become at least
An hundred Virtues, and as many Sins:
She Polypus in feet outvy'd, and was
Fortune's true Echo, Proteus' Looking-glass.

211

Her mate was complemental flattery,
Whose mouth's rich mine bred more than golden words;
Her hand she always kiss'd, and bent her knee,
Whilst in her mantle lurk'd two pois'ned swords.
These were the courtiers, and of their condition
A thousand more who waited on Suspicion.

212

When Lucifer had rakéd many Dens
And found no fury who so furious was
As his new-bru'd Design; at last he runs
To this foul sink: where when his sulphury face
The flashing Tokens of his presence threw,
The rouzéd Grot its awful Sultan knew.

213

The Boat flew from its chain to meet his feet,
And wast him over to the privy Watch;
Whose swords fell down, whose hands went up, to greet
Their Sovereign's coming and to draw the latch.
Suspicion started as they op'd the door,
Wondring her Mastiffs barkéd not before.

214

But dread and awe had stopp'd their mouths; as now
They sealéd Hers, to see grim Lucifer:
She fear'd the worst, and thought that in his brow
She read some deep-writ lines of spight to her.
But from his face he wip'd the fire and smoke,
And with a Kiss's preface, thus he spoke.

215

Madam, be not afraid, for well I know
My friends, and thee as best of them esteem;
Witness that precious trust my love will now
Treasure in thee; it is my Diadem:
My Diadem is lost if thou dost not
Procure Destruction to Mary's Brat.

216

Herod will do his best, I ken him well,
If aided by thy desperate Inspiration:
There's not a heart that lives, where more of Hell
Hath taken up its earthly habitation.
O had I store of such Viceroys as He
To rule my Earth, how Heav'n would baffled be!

217

Yet Herod's but a Man; and should he stand
On foolish points of nice Humanity,
That Brat, by being such, might scape his hand.
But if his strength with thine thou backest, He
Will quickly grow most salvagely complete,
And bravely venture on the barbarous feat.

218

Nor need'st thou any Maid but Cruelty
To dress thy Project; take her then and go:
Fetch but that Baby-God's heartblood for me,
And with a Crown I'l raise thy worthy brow,
Mounting thee on an everburning throne
Where thou shalt reign Queen of Perdition.

219

Glad was the Hagg to hear the business, and
Promis'd her Lord all develish faith and care:
Who clapping on her head his sooty hand,
Cry'd, take Hell's blessing with thee; O my Dear
Success attend thy Loyalty, and may
Heav'n's envious Tyrant not disturb thy way.

220

Forthwith her path through Asphaltite's Lake
She tore, and in the middle boyléd up:
The sulphure trembled, and the banks did shake,
Down to the bottom fled the frighted top;
That most victorious Stink which till to day
Dwelt there, her stronger Breath blew quite away.

156

221

Deep Horror all the Elements did seize,
And taught the rest, as well as Earth, to quake.
Blasting deflour'd the Meadows and the Trees;
Her noise made Ghosts of thousand Witches wake,
Ill-boding Nightrav'ns croke, shrill Scritchowls squeak,
Hogs whine, dogs houl, Snakes hiss, and mandrakes shriek.

222

Men, Beasts, and Birds fled from her frightful face;
And Heav'n it self would fain have run away
Had it but known to what retiring place
Its now too vast Expansions to convey.
Yet Phebus made a shift to lurk and croud
His eyes behind the curtain of a cloud.

223

But when she mark'd how Nature fear'd her look,
So to be seen she was as much afraid;
For in Invisibilitie's sly cloke
Stealing to Herod's Court (where Care had laid
The Tyrant fast asleep) into his breast
Her Consort and her damnéd self she thrust.

224

As when a viper squeas'd into his wine
By Treason's hand deceives an heedless King,
About his Soul the poison's powers twine,
And with a war of Pangs his entrails wring:
So did these Monsters with tempestuous smart
Rage in the bowels of fell Herod's heart.

225

Dark dreadful fancies, and self-thwarting Cares
Worry'd his breast, and chas'd sleep from his eyes:
For up he starts, his grezly beard he tears,
And round about his chamber cursing flies:
He curs'd himself, and Heav'n, and all its Stars,
But chiefly that which pointed out his fears.

226

Squander'd have I, said he, my time till now
On petty bus'ness, whilst my Crown and Head
Lie at the stake! have I let treason grow
And gather strength, upon my Life to tread!
Fy Herod, fy! wert thou that wary He
Whom fame extoll'd for sharp-ey'd Policy.

227

What stupor made thee suffer those bold Kings
Who blaz'd the Birth of that Jessean Prince,
To prate in Salem of such dangerous things?
Hadst thou not fire and sword to chase them thence?
Could not that flaming Steel have shinéd far
More potently than their enchanting Star.

228

And could thy Kingdom, and thy larger wit
With other Messengers not furnish thee,
Whose loyal Cruelty might have been fit
To bear a death-designing Embassy;
But on thy errand thou thy foes must send
And whilst thou hat'st thy Rival, him befriend?

229

But due to thee is every fury's sting
For trusting their bare word for their Return.
Ar't Herod still, both Crafts' and Jewries' King,
Who by thy Brain didst for thy Temples earn
The Crown they ware! and canst thou cosen'd be
By three old doting Men's poor subtility!

230

See now how well thy credulous Courtesy
Repayéd is: Those Kings the News have spread
Through all the Regions of wide Araby;
Which joyn'd in Zeal's bold League, have made an head
To tear fool'd Herod from his throne, and set
That Infant, as a wiser Prince, on it.

231

Me thinks I smell the Battel drawing near,
And Vengeance aiming at my careless Brain;
Me thinks the thunder of their Arms I hear,
And see the Lightning flashing on the plain;
Loud in mine ears, me thinks, the name doth ring,
The shouted Name, of Israel's newborn King.

232

The Priests' falsehearted pack will strait comply
With those new Powers against despiséd Me;
And triumph that their reverend Prophesy
In my dethroning they fulfilléd see.
My Idumean Stock too well they know,
And much ado I had to make them bow.

233

As for the giddy Multitude, whom I
Have squeas'd with my oppressing Taxes' load;
All change to them will seem felicity,
But most, if baited with the Name of God.
And when Religion calls to Innovation,
What banks can curb a popular Inundation!

234

The Cause, the Cause, however causeless, will
Fire them to such a prodigality
Ev'n of their blood, that they their lives will spill
In hopes that Dying, yet they shall not die;
And turning Superstition's maddest slaves,
Trust They shall prove immortal in their Graves.

235

My Nobles all will this advantage take
Longing to serve some gentler Prince than I;
Good Lands have They to loose, for whose dear sake
Bidding farewel to costly Loyalty,
They'l to the stronger Eastern Armies run,
And idolize with them the Rising Sun.

157

236

'Tis true, Heav'n's over all; but I confess
'T has often vex'd me that it should be so;
And since my stomach thus against it rise,
What hopes from thence of friendly succours to
Distresséd Herod! No the case is plain:
Write him for foe, on whom y'have thrown Disdain.

237

Much Gold, I grant, I on the Temple spent;
But in devotion solely to my own
Adoréd Ends; (the only true Intent
Of Politicians' zeal:) And well 'tis known,
For all my mask of Jewish Piety,
My aim was always mine own God to be.

238

None have I left to trust, but only Thee,
O thou my high, and once heroick Heart!
Why may not some Exploit of Cruelty
Above example rais'd, force fate to start?
Why may not Herod's Sword cut out that leaf
Of Destiny which has enroll'd his Grief.

239

It must, and shall be so: I will not own
A Tyrant's Name for nothing. Let the Head
Of Cesar wear the World's Imperial Crown
With love and gentleness embellishéd:
It shall my manly Glory be, to write
Sovereign of Rage, and Emperour of spight.

240

And let Heav'n's Monarch thank himself, if I
Torment him with a stronger Sin than yet
Earth in his scornéd face e'r taught to fly.
Who bid Him wake my fears? who bid him set
An ominous Comet to outstare my Rest,
And light War's journy hither from the East?

241

From two years old, and under, every Brat
That sucks in Bethlehem, and its confines, breath,
Upon the altar of my royal Hate
Shall sacrificéd be: and if no Death
Amongst all those can find my Rival's heart,
Then let him scape; I shall have done my part.

242

But sure it cannot miss: and then I wonder,
What can the vain Arabian forces do!
If their foundation once be split in sunder,
Their Building needs must stoop to ruin too.
If I their Infant in his bud can crop,
Surely the dangerous Weed will ne'r grow up.

243

'Twill never grow to taint the Paradise
Of my Content; which cheer'd and fatnéd by
This hostile blood, may venture to despise
Earth's strongest cunningest Conspiracy;
And laugh at frustrate Heav'n; no Star from whence
Shall dazel any more my Confidence.

244

This said; he nods his special Secretary;
(An Engine rarely qualify'd to stand
At fiercest Satan's elbow,) who right merry
To hear his barbarous Sovereign's sad Command,
The black Commission writ, which was to be
In blood transcribéd by the Soldiery.

245

For Herod kept an arméd Crew, which He
With cruel care and cost had pick'd and chose
From Idumea, Scythia, Barbary;
Men ruder than their Homes; professéd foes
To all humanity; their looks of Brass,
Their hands of steel, their heart of marble was.

246

As practis'd Tigres in the Theatre
Let loose to their own keen and hungry spight,
With dreadful joy haste to their wishéd War;
Where with their murderous looks the slaves they fright
Out of their lives, then with their teeth they tear
And slay again what first they kill'd by fear.

247

These bloodier Caytiffs so to Bethlehem ran
With swords and faulchions arm'd, and with their more
Inhumane weapon, their Commission,
Counting Delay their torture: with a Roar
The Town they enter'd, which alarming Thunder
With Dread smote all the People's hearts in sunder.

248

Strait in the Name of awful Herod they
Proclaim'd their office was, a List to take
Of all the Infants which from such a Day
In Bethlehem and its coasts were born; for lack
Of punctual appearance, threatning wrath
To every Mother, to each Infant death.

249

These Summons through the Town and Country flew;
And when the next Day's Sun had reach'd his height
Into the Market every Mother drew,
Who in her bosom lagg'd her sucking weight:
A sight which might all Beasts unbarbarize,
Yet mov'd no pity in these Soldiers' eyes:

250

Who guards at every corner having set,
With all extremities of salvage rage
Their monstrous Charge in execution put.
Great Titan's eye ne'r yet beheld a stage
So red with Tragedies, nor Hell set forth
In Pageants so portentuous on earth.

158

251

In vain the lamentable Mothers' Cries,
And Tears, and Prayers, and shrill Expostulations,
Mix'd with their Infants' shrieks; in vain the skies
And stones they rent with ruful Exclamations.
For still the unrelenting Soldiers' ear
Nothing but Herod's fell Command would hear.

252

Their preys they by the arm, or leg, or head,
From their soft native Sanctuaries tore;
Whose blood as in that barbarous strife they shed,
They daub'd the Mothers with the Children's gore;
And in their face their bowels threw, and sware,
And curs'd, and hollow'd, and amaz'd the air.

253

The Townsmen, who this Massacre beheld
Could lend no aid to Babes' or Mothers' Cry;
By stiff astonishment some being kill'd,
Others by cruel fear inforc'd to fly;
Not knowing but the Soldiers' dire Commission
Might add the Fathers to the Child's perdition.

254

Here Sarah kiss'd an arm, Rebecca there
A leg; all that was left of either's Son:
Rachel's impatient lamentation here
Defy'd all powers of Consolation,
She having but two mangled hands to show
Of those sweet Twins which suck'd her breast but now.

255

Thus this most harmless flock of tender Lambs
An heap of fragments suddenly became;
Their milky fleeces, and their whiter Names
Being dyed deep in ruby Martyrdom.
Thus fruitful Rama now made childless, mourn'd;
Thus all the Market was to shambles turn'd.

256

One Nurse was there, who when the Soldier caught
Her precious Charge's throat, cry'd out, Beware,
'Tis Herod's, Herod's Son; and if you doubt,
An hundred Witnesses are ready here.
She cry'd; but e'r sh' had pronounc'd that word,
The Infant's heart was bleeding on the sword.

257

Talk not of Herod's Son, but Herod's Will,
Reply'd the Ruffian: though your tale were true,
And no fond tender-hearted Lye; yet still
This wound to that babe's heart I'm sure was due.
The King shall answer't: 'tis sufficient that
He knows why He his Son excepted not.

258

Thus provident Vengeance met the Tyrant in
The forefront of his Crime, whilst blinded by
His hasty fears, his fury he began
At his own bowels: Herod's Son must die,
And Heav'n's escape, although for Him the Net
Of that wide-spred Destruction was set.

259

And this, when fame at Rome the Slaughter toll'd
And Cesar's ear with just amazement fill'd;
Made him cry out, O how much rather would
I be the Hog of Herod than the Child.
But Cesar dream'd not what that Infant gain'd,
Nor that more than himself thenceforth he reign'd.

260

These roseal Buds of early Martyrdom
Transplanted were to Paradise; and there
Beyond the reach of Herod's rage, became
Flowers of Eternal bliss, whose Temples are
Imbrac'd with crowns of joy, whose hands with palms,
Whose eyes with beams, whose tongues are fill'd with Psalms.

261

Nor do they only live and flourish there,
But gloriously verdant are below:
For in the Church's sacred Garden, where
In Festival's fair bed's Renown doth grow,
Their annual Memory revives, and in
December's whitest frost is fresh and green.

262

But when the Bloodhounds back to Herod went,
And brandish'd on their stainéd Swords the sign
Of their own guilt: the sight with high content
Tickled their Sovereign's hopes that his divine
Rival was now dispatch'd, and that his Crown
In spight of all Arabia was his own.

263

Yet sure to make 't (for in damn'd Tytius' breast
More restlessly his Vulture ne'r could knaw
Than torturing Doubts in Tyrants' bosoms feast:)
The Jews he summons by a rigid Law
Without the least exception to swear
Allegiance both to Him and to his Heir.

264

Alas he little thought his slaughter'd Son
Was now a stronger foe than all the Bands
Of Araby, his own Suspition
Had arm'd against himself; or that his hands
And brains were both too weak to stand a fight
With Bethlehem's massacred Infants' Might.

265

For now their Blood to righteous Heav'n sent up
A louder Cry than their sad Mothers' Moan:
Nor doth the great Creator's Justice ope
A readyer ear to any Plaintiff's Groan,
Than unto this; Though sure Mortality
On Man attends, Man's Blood can never die.

159

266

Next neighbour to the Dead Sea's pois'nous shore
Frowneth a gloomy Grove, where cheerly Day
Could ne'r find room to shew her face, such store
Of Cypress, Box, and Yew, damm'd up her way;
Whose fatal boughs impeopled were with fowles
Of nature sutable, Batts, Ravens, and Owles.

267

Besides, a Mist of Stincks makes bold to stick
Close on the wretchéd Air, and her defloure;
Unwholsome Vapours gathering black and thick
Drop morn and even into a venomous show'r;
Which by the womb of that adulterous Earth
Drunk up, brings bastard Weeds and Poisons forth.

268

Amidst these dismal shades, is sunk a Grot
Through whose black door pass endless Cries and Groans;
In mourning curtains all the Windows shut
Their joyless eyes; the Walls lament; the Stones
Hang thick with tears, and their compassion to
Their Habitation's doleful Genius show.

269

The Mistress of the house her weary bed
Perpetually loads; which hedg'd about
With melancholick screens, aforehand led
Her thoughts in to her grave, and nearer brought
Her Coffin's blackness to her mind, though it
Already by her couche's side was set.

270

Her Pillows were of softest Down, but yet
On churlish thorns and stones she seem'd to lie:
Oft did she toss, and turn, and tumble, but
Could never shift her sturdy Grief; which by
That Motion only wakened was the more,
And made her Weakness stronger than before.

271

Wild Hemicranies ragéd in her head;
A desperate Quinsey choked up her throat;
The tawny Jaundise in her eyes was spread;
Strange arrows through her jaws the Toothach shot;
Stark raving Madness sate upon her tongue;
Ten thousand Cramps her shrivell'd body wrung.

272

The Fever, Pleurisy, Collick, Strangury
Gout, Apoplexy, Scurvy, Pestilence,
Stone, Rupture, Phthisick, Dropsy, Tympany,
Flux, Surfeit, Asthma, and the confluence
Of all divided Deaths, united were
In one sad Mass, and learn'd to live in her.

273

The odious Scab, the everknawing Itch,
The stinging Bile, the wasting Leprosy,
The baneful Pocks, the Wolf and Canker (which
Fatnéd on her their dreadful Luxury)
Conspir'd with every sort of boiling Sore
To cloth her round with most infectious Gore.

274

Pots, Papers, Glasses, sweet and stinking Things,
Were marshall'd on a Cupboard standing by;
Which Artists brought to mitigate her pangs,
Or work some cure on their own Poverty.
Costly Additions unto pain were these,
And only eas'd her Purse's Pleurisies.

275

For though full many a dear Doctor there
Talk'd words as strange as her Diseases, yet
Her pertinacious Torments would not hear
Either their Drugs of Nature or of Wit,
Or mind their stories, or regard at all
Their Oracles out of the Urinal.

276

Her whining Kindred round besieg'd her bed,
And though alas her case were too too plain,
With tedious love still ask'd her How she did,
Heaping that Crambe on her other pain:
Their fond Remembrances would never let
Her any one of all her Woes forget.

277

Down to this loathsome She, stern Justice came;
Tall was her Person and her Looks as high;
Strength in her martial sinews made its home;
Darts of keen fire stream'd out from either eye;
For Men at length that She has eyes will find:
Alas Earth's Justice and not Heavn's is blind.

278

Her right hand rul'd a sword of two-edg'd flame,
Her left a Ballance; in one scale was thrown
A mighty Mass inscrib'd with Herod's Name,
A Mass of Pride and Blood, which press'd it down
To gaping Hell; the other hover'd high
Bubbling with light and vain Vacuity.

279

When Sickness spy'd (so naméd was the Elf)
Her sovereign Queen, she rais'd her heavy head,
And to obeysance forc'd her crazy self:
Forthwith black streams of vexéd Poison fled
Out from her sores, and with outrageous stink
Ran down into her bed's contagious sink.

280

But as her boiling lips she op'd (from whence
A cloud of steaming Plagues broke with her breath,)
To ask what cause brought her immortal Prince
Down to this baneful Porch of cruel death:
Talk not said Justice, but get up and dress;
My bus'ness now for speedyest speed doth press.

160

281

Though weak thou art, yet thou canst potent prove
Whene'r on Mischief's errand thou art sent:
Time was when thou a tedious way didst rove
Invidious Hell and Satan to content;
Though bold Usurpers they: and sure 't will thee
Befit to do as much for Heav'n and Me.

282

Into the land of Uzz They made thee trudge,
And poure the bottom of thy worst despight
Upon the best of Men, if Heav'n can judge
Of pure celestial Sanctity aright.
More beautiful was Job in Heav'n's esteem
Than thou to Earth didst make him horrid seem.

283

He heap'd this Scale as full of Virtue, as
Fell Herod has replenish'd it with Vice:
That other, which mounts up so lightly, was
His score of Slips, his empty Vanities,
Thin as the Air; which though sometimes it be
Dusky with clouds, regains its purity.

284

See, see thou recompence that Injury
By righteous Vengeance upon Herod; here
My leave unbridles thy Extremity
To run in full and uncontroll'd carreer.
Run then, and make the Tyrant feel that now
The Mistress of his health and life art Thou.

285

So spake the Queen of everlasting Dread,
And in her black Cloud mounted home again.
When Sickness leaping from her nasty bed,
And in fierce haste forgetting her own pain,
Furnish'd her self with every choisest sting
To execute the now condemnéd King.

286

Then to her gloomy Chariot she went,
A Chariot framéd of a pois'nous Steam:
Her Speed was headlong, so was her Intent,
And soon to Herod's royal Den she came:
By no slowpacéd Coursers thether drawn,
But by a pestilential Tempest blown.

287

Unseen she came, and with such cunning guided
Her stealing Chariot's silent wheels, that she
Quite down the Tyrant's throat as slyly glided
As do's his unsuspected Breath, which he
Lets in to fan his heart: and thus, alas,
He swallow'd what his own Devourer was.

288

For now the Fury's work it was to fry
His black soul in the furnace of his breast;
Forthwith his entrails sing'd and scalded by
An hidden fire, frighted away his Rest:
He'd fain have risen, but he felt his Pains
Had mix'd with their light firebrand's heavy Chains.

289

His strength deceives him, and his bed remains
His only Throne, where he the worthy King
Of mighty Torments miserably reigns;
For flaming Pangs his ulcer'd bowels wring,
And Water swelling underneath his skin
Adds scoffing torture to the fire within.

290

His shameful Parts become more odious by
Right down Corruption, which proves fertile there
With monstrous Vermin; whose impatient fry
In righteous rage their Prey aforehand tear;
The leisure of his grave they scorn to stay,
But undermine his heart, and eat their way.

291

And yet a deadlyer Worm than those was got
Thither before, his Conscience deeply knawing;
To stifle which he long had struggled, but
The trusty Torment more resolvéd growing
Woun'd round about his guilty soul so close
That no Invention's power could get it loose.

292

His Sinews shrunk and all his Joints forgot
The ready service of their wonted motions.
The Air, which he had long defil'd, would not
Wait on his Lungs; but frequent Suffocations
Forc'd him to pay those Deaths for which his great
Riot in Blood had ran him deep in debt.

293

His Friends he often call'd; but neither they
Nor his Physitians durst come near his bed:
For his hell-breathing stink damm'd up the way
To Physick and to friendship. Never did
Damn'd Dives more for Pitie's influence cry,
Nor find less drop down on his Misery.

294

The dismal Scene of Bethlehem-slaughter now
Displayéd was before his burning soul;
The Mother's Fright with greater Dread he saw,
And felt the Blood of all the Infants rowl
Into his bosom in a violent stream;
Yet not to quench, but higher raise the flame.

295

An hundred Furies at hot contestation
He spies, which first should seize his bloody heart;
And Hell's wide mouth, and mighty Preparation
To entertain him with most sumptuous Smart;
He hears all Ages poure whole seas of shame
And cursing detestations on his Name.

161

296

And what shall now tormented Herod do?
To Heav'n he will not, and he cannot sue,
Since he had giv'n such proud Defiance to
That God, whose Son in his desires he slew:
And since the World below abhors him too,
He 'gins to hate himself, and love his Woe.

297

Ingulféd deep in this dire Agony,
He wildly gives the reins to Desperation:
And now resolv'd in spight of life to die,
Contrives how he may his own murder fashion,
And once at least be righteously cruel,
Making himself his Tyrannie's last fuel.

298

He thought of Poison; but could move no friend
To lend him that destroying Courtesy.
Besides; he fear'd no Venome durst contend
With his all-bane-transcending Malady.
At length, by woful fortune, he espy'd
His faulchion hanging by his couche's side.

299

Which as he snatch'd, a venturous Page ran in
And stopp'd the stroak; but could not stop his throat,
Which strait he opened to a broader Sin,
And in the face of Heav'n spew'd out his hot
Impatient blasphemies: with which, he threw
His curses upon all the World he knew.

300

Mean while to prison, where his Son in chains
The Tyrant kept, his Death's false news was spread;
Which whilst Antipater gladly entertains,
His smiles became the forfeit of his head.
'Twas basely told to Herod; who in mad
Spight shows that Worms his bowels eaten had.

301

Yet shall that Villain know that I, said He,
Have life and rage enough him to destroy:
Now by these dying spirits, which pant in me,
I swear his life shall answer for his joy.
Fetch me his head, that with these Vermin here
Their Fellow-Traytor I all torn may tear,

302

Their Fellow-Traytor, and their Fellow-Son,
For from my body sprung both He and They;
Nor breeds their knawing more vexation
To generous Herod, than his Smiles: away,
Fetch me his head, that having bless'd mine eye
With that Revenge, I may the chearlyer die.

303

Yet not content with this sole Sacrifice
To his vast fury; he a way contrives
How all his Nobles to his Obsequies
By sudden massacre might pay their lives:
That so his Hearse might follow'd be with tears
If not for his own sake, at least for theirs.

304

But Heav'n prevented this fell Plot; and He
Now having five days liv'd, and felt his death,
In stead of Prayers, his wonted Blasphemy
Repeated, and blew out his final breath.
So agéd Dragons, when their Spirits flit,
Breathe their last poison, and their Life with it.

305

When at his Coming, lo, th'infernal Pit
Was mov'd; where every damnéd Prince arose
From his sulphureous throne of pangs, and met
This more deserving Tyrant, unto whose
Incomparable Salvageness they knew
Damnation's Prerogative was due.

306

Hell had his Soul no sooner swallowéd,
But pious Joseph's Guardian hither came;
To whom, reposéd on his sober bed,
The mighty News he painted in a Dream;
Bidding him now return to Jewry, where
The storm was over, and the coast grown clear.

307

The Angel thus at once both justify'd
His own word, and the Prophet's Vision;
For great Hosea had of old descry'd
That out of Egypt God would call his Son.
Joseph awakes, and strait to Mary shews
The long-expected, and now welcome News.

308

Then packing up his thrifty household-Stuff,
And tenderly Providing for his dear
And double Charge; he shakes Doubt's counsells off,
And scorning all objections of fear,
In humble Faith's assuréd valor sets
Onward his way before the Day permits.

309

For now the Morn lay long before she rose,
And dull Aquarius made it late e'r he
Would wake the Sun: thus did thy hardy Spouse
Take his long journy when the Day we see
Is short and sad; to teach Thee what to do
At any time when Heav'n shall bid thee go.

310

This Winter was the ninth which seal'd the Earth
With Ice, and coveréd his seal with Snow,
Since by his own, to wonders He gave Birth
Who in a soil no less congealéd grew:
Bate but the cold and churlish qualities,
And what's a Virgin's Womb, but Snow and Ice?

162

311

This age had ripened Him with strength to bear
A speedy journy, and did much allay
The former scruples of his Parents' Care,
Who now with greater haste devour'd their way,
Then when they into Egypt pick'd their path;
And thus in peace they reach'd their Nazareth.

312

Their Nazareth; for sacred Prophesies
By adamantine chains are surely ty'd
To their Effects: the fire shall sooner frieze,
The truth of Gold in banks of Snow be try'd,
The Sun because of Night, of Drought the Rain,
Than falsehood any Prophet's tongue can stain.

313

Those Heav'n-Blown Trumpets, (though mysteriously
That Blast resounded) long ago foretold
His humble Title Nazareen should be:
A Name of holy Dignity of old,
And sitting fair on pious heads until
It was outshinéd by the Christian stile.

314

And Psyche, what should we do longer here?
Love bids thee follow their dear steps, to see
Some further Marvels of thy Spouse, and where
He prosecuted Love's sweet Mystery.
This said; he gave his Steeds the reins; and they
Together with the wind snuff'd up their way.

163

CANTO IX. The Temptation.

The ARGUMENT.

LOVE by the Desert's love-abhorring Beasts
Meekly acknowledg'd and adoréd is.
Bold Famin forty days upon Him Feasts;
To whose sharp teeth sly Satan joyneth his
Soft Tongue's deceit; yet nothing by their great
Attempts effected, but their own Defeat.

1

What reach of Reason e'r could fathom why
Slight Dust and Ashes; vile Corruption's Son,
The Heir apparent to the Misery
Which lives in Death, and blends Destruction
With all its Life; the poor Worm's uterine Brother;
His Grave's first Cosen; his own Ruin's Mother;

2

The odious Riddle of unhappy Shame
Whom foulest Beasts abhor; that Rebel who
In monstrous madness fear'd not to proclaim
A War with his own Bliss, but strove to wooe
Immortal Vengeance; and himself to fell
Whither Damnation would or no, to Hell:

3

Should so inamour Heav'n, as to obtain
The dignity of highest Favorite;
And in his Maker's grace so freely reign
As by those Spirits to be serv'd, whose bright
Extraction no acquaintance knows with Earth,
Nor did Pollution e'r defloure their birth;

4

Had not Almighty Love vouchsaf'd to take
This Lump of Clay and mould himself in it;
Which precious Union hath power to make
The total Mass of worthless vileness fit
To dwell in Honor's throne, and there receive
The Service Angels blush not now to give.

5

Hence comes high Heav'n content to stoop, and spare
Part of its Quire to wait on Us below;
Knowing its Master's Brethren sojourn here,
Who by their very Dust that Kindred show:
This is our Badge of shame advanc'd to be
The stamp of our sublime Nobility.

6

In love to their incarnate Sovereign, who
Upon the loftiest crest of all Creation
Hath fix'd for ever our poor Nature, so
That under her high feet full Adoration
Has room to kneel, their ready service they
Ev'n to the meanest of his Kinsfolks pay.

7

Whilst pompous Princes build their royal Pride
On th'arm'd Protection of their numerous Guard;
Their simplest vilest Slaves are dignifi'd
With Heav'n's illustrious Host, to watch and ward
Their several Charges; who though scornéd Things
Below, are yet above design'd for Kings.

8

With Arms displayéd, and with open breast
They stand to catch us when we falling are
Into this hard and dangerous life; and least
That fall should hurt us, they with tender care
Their Wings' soft feathers spread, that in those beds
Of Sweetness we may rest our infant heads.

9

Those heads from which no breeding hairs can peep,
But in their catalogue they note them, and
A strict account of their just number keep,
By Heav'n committed to their trusty hand.
And O, about our hearts how busy are
Their Pains, who thus attend our idle hair!

10

Alas our other Nurses' cares were vain,
So were our yearning Mothers' arms; did these
Dear Fosterers not help them to maintain
Their proper parts: and though their Fervor cease,
These still persue Love's Task; hard Mothers may
Forget their Babes, but that will never They.

164

11

O no: These faithful Guardians are Things
Of try'd and never-failing Tenderness;
Such as their everlasting snowy wings,
Such as the living smiles and Joys which dress
The court of heav'n, such as the dainty Air
Which makes sweet Paradise both soft and fair.

12

Yet when just cause awakes their noble Might,
No Scythian Rock stands half so stiff as they;
No Lybian Lyon marcheth to the fight
With higher courage, nor afflicts his Prey
With deeper fright: for in their battel's rear
Brave Triumph's self triumpheth to appear.

13

Nor needless is this Aid: for feeble We
Have foes whose metal is all Spirit, and
The Powers of Darkness, and Artillery
Of Hell in pitchéd field against Us stand;
Whom Belzebub their General, with Spight
And ever-flaming Rage fires to the fight.

14

How shall poor Lambs outface the Tigre's Wrath;
Or Partridges abide the Griffen's Might;
How shall a Cockboat guide its even path
When rising Tempests make Seas stand upright;
How, how shall Dust block up the Serpent's road
When ravenous He hasts to his sentenc'd food?

15

But with his Blackness these bright Champions fought
Of old, and so complete a conquest got,
That ever since that heav'n-renownéd Rout
Wild Lucifer, in sad remembrance put
Of his vain Spight, is in their presence tame,
And like the burnt Child trembles at their Flame.

16

He trembles; if the Boldness of our Sin
Wakes not fresh courage in his failing heart;
For then on Us He by our selves doth win;
Nor can our Guardians exercize their Art
With due success, when by self-treason We
Our forces join with Hell's Conspiracy.

17

When to mad Fancy sleep yields Reason's rein,
Against polluted Dreams These stop the way,
That no highfed and tickling Thoughts may stain
The clouded Soul: for who, alas, can say,
I always am my self, and though asleep
The constant watch of Chastity can keep!

18

These rescue lend us when sly Danger near
Our strait-besiegéd Soul or Body draws;
These intercept bold Chance; these by the clear
Lustre which flows about their blesséd brows
Light us the way to Peace, and by their own
Kind wings relieve our feet when weary grown.

19

These, active in the bosom's secret forge,
Blow up Devotion's holy fire, to mint
Refin'd pellucid Thoughts, and purely purge
That Rust and Dross which might pollute the Print
Of Jesu's Image, that bright Image which
Will none but finest richest Ore inrich.

20

These teach th'embravéd Soul to tower above
Those gross, yet empty things which flag below:
These steer us through the Miracles of Love,
And teach us in heav'n's Ocean how to row.
These all are Brethren unto Phylax, who
What He for Psyche did, for us will do.

21

Their aim his Steeds had now recoveréd
And Palestine regain'd: when He aside
Slopéd his bridle, and his journy sped
Into another Desert, wild and wide
By whose dire Drought affrighted Jordan, though
Well stor'd with streams made haste away to flow.

22

As Psyche muséd at the rueful Place,
Amongst whose desolate Nothings soon she lost
Her questioning eye; with his divine embrace
Phylax encourag'd her: and, though thou dost
Not yet behold, said he, the Price of thy
Long voyage, thou shalt find it by and by.

23

Here stopping his fleet Coach, He thus drove on
His sweet Discourse: O my thrice dearest Dear
(Because His precious Darling on whose throne
My Adoration waits,) this Desert here
Is but another Scene wherein thy Lord
More fuel for thy wonder did afford.

24

It was repriev'd from bearing other fruit,
That it in Miracles might fertile be;
In Miracles whose far-resounding bruit
Shall match the race of Time as long as He
Has legs to run; and when He drops into
His grave, in triumph o'r his tomb shall go.

25

When thirty times thy Spouse has seen the Sun
Change all his Inns, whose golden Signs are hung
Upon the Zodiack's girdle; reverend John
Gave Penance's Alarm so shrill and strong
As rous'd the dullest Souls, and mustered store
Of wondering People upon Jordan's shore.

165

26

But they their reverential wonder on
The glorious Baptist fix'd; not knowing they
Had muffled in their own throng's clou'd a Sun
Fairer than that which gilds the World with day;
A Sun before whose Rise illustrious John
Did only like the trembling twilight run.

27

For, first hid in his own Humility,
Jesus himself had mixéd with the Crow'd;
In which blind Tumult's open Torrent He
Unto that River undiscover'd flow'd:
So purest Airs in a confuséd Cry
Though most melodious, breathe no Melody.

28

How He baptizéd Baptism; how a Crown
Of heav'n's best beams perch'd on his fairer Head;
How his coequal Spirit flutter'd down,
And what Applause his Father thunderéd;
I would repeat, but that it hugs thy heart,
For with this Story now thou Girded art.

29

But by that nimble Dove's eternal Wings
Being hither wafted from that River's shore,
He Purity unto the dry Land brings
As to the Water he had done before.
Yet nothing else he brought; nor drink nor meat;
He hither came to fight, and not to eat.

30

He came to fight; and bravely to revenge
The World's old Quarrel, which subduéd lay
E'r since through Man's unwarey heart the strange
Bullet burst ope its death-deriving way;
Which, as it smiling hung upon the Tree,
Fond He an harmless Apple took to be.

31

He came to fight: and sturdy foes he found
Arm'd round with Power but much more with Rage:
Less than the Greatest had He been, this Ground
Had prov'd his Tragedie's unhappy Stage:
But so He fought, that here He forc'd at last
A Feast of Triumphs to attend his Fast.

32

For any Combat never chosen were
More dreadful Lists: observe that parchéd Hill,
That Throne of Barrenness and Squallor, where
Against the hungry North thou see'st a Cell;
Which long hath gapéd but could never find
Any Relief but sapless bitter wind.

33

That Den's the Dwelling of that Champion who
First ventur'd on a Conflict face to face
With God incarnate; one as like to do
The feat of Spight, as any of the race
Of Hell-begotten Fiends; yet prov'd as feeble
As all the fearful world esteem'd her able.

34

Our noise had rous'd her now: see Psyche, see
Her goodly Ushers; those seav'n-hornéd Things
Though like to nothing but themselves they be;
Must go for Kine: spermatick Nile; which brings
Choise Monsters forth, in their strange birth alone
Hath all his other Prodigies out-gone.

35

These lowing to the King in silent night,
(Whom clear-ey'd Dreams through Fate's dark closets led,)
He starts and wakes; but of the frightful sight
He knew not how the Characters to read;
Nor why those sharpset Portents leaner shewed
When seav'n fat Kine their stomachs had subdued:

36

Till Joseph clear'd the Mist, and taught him what
By those new Hieroglyphicks' Destiny
Deign'd to unfold. But when the Beasts had got
Their full and starv'd septennial Victory;
They to this Cave for entertainment came,
Resolv'd to serve a correspondent Dame.

37

Behold their Hair is shrivell'd up and dry;
Their ugly Hides aforehand tann'd and tough;
Their sharp-affrighted Bones stand staring high;
Their wretched flesh's Reliques sink as low;
Their Bellies to their Backs close tyéd are;
And sear and knotted sticks for Legs they wear.

38

All Shape is shrunk to such Deformity
That did their Horns not point them out, nor Thou
Nor Pharaoh could have dreaméd they should be
Descended from a Bull and honest Cow.
And yet wellfavor'd Beasts are these to Her
Their dismal Sovereign, who comes raging there.

39

Just at the word the Hag appear'd, with Look
More keen than January's breath; or than
Revenge's visage; or the piercing stroke
Of barbarous North-begotten Boreas, when
He his most massy chains of Ice hath hurl'd
O'r Sea and Land, and stupify'd the World.

40

The sudden Dint shot into Psyche's heart
Such terrible Amazement, that it slew
Her heat and courage: but a counter Dart
Of ready succour Phylax thither threw,
And suppling her cold breast with soft and warm
Comforts, proceeded thus her Soul to arm.

166

41

Thy Weakness much applauds thy Spouse's might
Who stoutly grapled with this dreadful foe;
The only glimpse of whose portentuous sight
Could all thy trembling Spirits overthrow.
But yet thy fear this Terror strengthned, and
Assaulted thee by none but thine own hand.

42

If well thou mark'st what clogs the furies' train,
Fair may'st thou read thine own security;
For heavy at her heels she drags a chain
Of Adamant, whose other end is by
Heav'n's arm, in which all powers in triumph ride,
Fast to thy mighty Savior's footstool ty'd.

43

Fiercely indeed at first she darted out;
But now her curbéd pace is tame and slow:
She knows her Compass, having often fought
In vain against her chain's eternal Law.
True to its duty is her trusty Tether,
Nor can her strength persuade it to reach hither.

44

Thus when the greedy Mastiff leapeth from
His nasty kennel, spurr'd by hungry wrath;
The sullen Chain, which will not go from home,
Checks his adventure and cuts of his path;
At which the wretchéd Cur lets fall his ears,
And tail, and spirit, and whines, and grins and lears.

45

For upon every wild and restless fiend
Sure sits this Curse, that they cannot forbear
To whet their Hunger and their Thirst to grind,
And in keen fury for the fight prepare
So soon as they have any prey descry'd;
Although, mad fools, they know their feet are ty'd.

46

Mark how her Eyes are fled into her head,
Afraid upon her curséd self to look;
For in that leaf alas what could she read
But what the Transcript is of Terror's book?
Her skin's the paper (O how ghastly white!)
Where Pain and Horror their black Legends write.

47

All upright staring stand her startled Hairs
Of one another's touch in jealous dread;
Two close shrunk Knots of Gristles are her Ears,
Severely tying up her starvéd head:
Her keeness is epitomizéd in
Her pinchéd Nose, and her sharp-pointed Chin.

48

Like chalky Pits her hollow cheeks appear;
Her sapless lips are parch'd and shrivell'd up;
Her ivory Teeth's too-cleanly ranges glare
With cruel whiteness, and stand always ope
That her dire Tongue may ever dangle out
To catch the rain and quench its burning drought.

49

Her trembling clung-up Neck has much ado
Under her head's light burden not to crack:
By its slight nodding flow'r oppresséd, so
Shivers the famishéd and withered Stalk.
For Arms, she shows two yards of skin and bone
O'rpowr'd and tir'd with their own weight alone.

50

Her fleshless Hands are more than Vulture's Claws
Tallon'd with never-prunéd Nails; and they,
The barbarous Sergeants of her greedy jaws
By their first touch for ever damn their prey.
Her legs are two faint crinckling Props; her feet
Already mouldring, haste their grave to meet.

51

The fatal Bunch of Corn which fills her hand,
(O no! which makes Vacuity be there:)
Are those Seav'n Ears which once on Nilus' strand
To mock those hungry Oxen rangéd were;
And now becomes her Rod, on which there grows
No Grain, nor any other fruit, but Blows.

52

Was ever such Contraction seen, as there,
About a waste, whose girdle Thinness is!
The strait-lac'd Insect's slender Brood could ne'r
Shrink up themselves into a scanter dress.
Her Belly's sunk and gone; and spare she may
Her storehouse, who no store has there to lay.

53

See'st thou her ruful Thighs and shouldiers knawn!
Imagin not that any Beast but she
Her self was guilty of the fact: her own
Keen Tusks have grav'd those lines of Cruelty;
For since she wanted other Cates to eat,
She desperately made her self her Meat.

54

Little it was she from her self could tear;
And yet where nothing else was to be had,
That little seeméd full and dainty Cheer.
But there alas, before she long had fed,
Her banquet fail'd between her teeth, and she
Instead of flesh, chew'd meer Vacuity.

55

This in her bosom ras'd that tempest's waves,
Which, could thou hear it, would amaze thine ear:
Her stomach gripes, and pricks, and roars, and raves,
And all its misery objects to Her:
So do her Bowels, bound in their own chains,
And ty'd, and twisted up in knots of Pains.

167

56

Three fiends of choisest Power and Spight there are
Whom daréd Vengeance sends to lash the Earth;
The hidden Pestilence, wide open War;
And famin this fell Hag, whose Drought and Dearth
Burn with more Poison than the Plague, and kill
With sharper wounds than War's relentless steel.

57

This is that Engine which breaks ope its way
Through flesh and bone, and riots in the heart;
Yet leaves all whole, that so her fury may
Mock whom it tortures, and by cruel art
Seem to forbear all Violence, whilst she
Wakes Ruin by her silent Battery.

58

That living Death by which unhappy Man
Is forc'd himself his funeral to begin;
Whilst past hope's sphere he wanders faint and wan
Wrapp'd in the winding sheet of his pale skin,
And seeks his grave through whose cool door he may
Into a milder Death himself convey.

59

That peerless Tyrant, whose impatience hath
No possibility her Prize to spare;
The dire Dispenser of the Dregs of Wrath;
Of Torments Queen; the Empress of Despair;
That ænigmatick foe, whose Ammunition
Is nothing else but want of all Provision.

60

Expect not to behold her family,
Or what Retinue on her court attends:
No Servant ever strong enough could be
To bear her presence, much less her Commands;
Being assur'd they never should her will
Unless her Belly too they could fulfill.

61

Indeed dry Languishment, pale Ghastlyness,
Cold Desolation, her Handmaids be:
But of an essence so jejune are these,
That in her company deserted She
Nothing but nothing meets, or, what is worse,
The wretched fulness of an empty Curse.

62

But yonder Table which is hung so high
Above her Cavern's door will tell thee what
Were her exploits. When Mercy passéd by,
This monitory sign she fixéd, that
Mortals might learn what fiend was kennell'd here,
And of this Den of greedy Death beware.

63

Lo what a smoaking Hurlyburly's there
Of gallant Ruins tumbling on the ground.
These once high-built and goodly Cities were,
Which when War's mighty Ram could not confound,
This Hag with no Pikaxes but her own
Fierce Teeth, min'd all the walls and tore them down.

64

See there she chaseth frogs, and rats and mice,
And hunts the dogs themselves; ambitious by
These strangely-precious Dainties to suffice
The loud Demands of her stern Boulimy.
Discretely there the prudent Painter has
The Earth of Iron made, and Heav'n of Brass.

65

But there her Girdle and her shoes she eats
For that acquaintance which they had of old
With Beef and Mutton and such classick Meats:
There out she turns the silly useless Gold,
And clapping on its poverty a curse,
A savory Meal she maketh of her Purse.

66

She rouses there the sleeping mire, and by
A strict examination makes it tell
What hidden treasures in its bosom lie;
Nor is she daunted by the unlikely shell,
But ransacks still, and finds the gem within;
For she the Oyster first fish'd out for Men.

67

The Dunghil there she rakes, and pries for fresh
Strong-scented Excrements; right glad when she
By lucky search achieves so rare a Dish
Which needs, being reeking hot, no cookery.
That Glass in which she drinks, and drinks up all,
No other is but her own Urinal.

68

Her Jaws against that Fort of stone she try'd,
When once she was immur'd in streights: and see
How she compell'd and tore Success; those wide
And ragged holes, her Tusks stout breaches be:
Her hasty boistrous Stomach would not stay,
And wanting other food, she eat her way.

69

That heap of Bones is all her Rage has left
Of her own Parents, whose dear flesh she made
Her barbarous feast, and them of life bereft
By whom she liv'd; such is the salvage trade
Of desperate Vipers, who their fury fatten
Ev'n on the Womb in which they were begotten.

70

And yet no Vipers venture to devour
Their proper Brood; 'tis Nature's strictest Law,
That with Traduction Love should join her power,
And like the Rivers, down hill strongest flow:
Only this Fiend all Vipers dares excuse,
And in her Children's blood her teeth imbrues.

168

71

For those bemangled Limbs which scatter'd be
About the Picture's verge, the ruins are
Of seav'n unlovèd lovely Babes, which she
Fear'd not with her remorseless claws to tear,
And back into her bowels force; if yet
She any bowels had, who thus could eat.

72

This Comprehension of all Portents, this
Most despicable, starv'd, but potent Hag,
Was that bold Combatant whom Desperateness
Clapp'd on the back, embraving to a brag
And jolly confidence that mortal Might
Could never with her Teeth maintain a fight.

73

Resolvéd thus, she rushéd from her grot
To seize thy Spouse: but started when she saw
Her strange Antagonist, and ventur'd not
To try on mighty Him her awéd Claw:
Yet mad with hunger, she contrives to make
Her Craft the office of her fury take.

74

For though her Looks deep-dy'd in Horror's grain
Such strong Affrightment round about had shed,
That not the boldest Beast of all the Plain
But from those direful Emanations fled,
Leaving the Desert more than doubled, where
Was nothing now but earth and stones, and air:

75

Yet here discovering one who seem'd prepar'd
To meet and scorn the worst of Dangers, she
Grew jealous of the Champion, and fear'd
Some wiley stratagem might plotted be
Against her rightdown force; which made her choose
By Countremines his Project to oppose.

76

For waiting warey opportunity,
And being thin and subtile, with the wind
She mix'd her self, and then resolv'd to try
How she might steal upon him by a blind
And unperceivéd Charge. So Cowards fight
By base Advantage, not by generous Might.

77

But He, who all her cruel counsel saw,
From her abstruse carreer disdain'd to start;
And wellcom'd with stout constancy the Blow
Fiercely directed full against his heart;
Giving her leave her spightful self to shoot
Into his stomach through his yielding throat.

78

So when the Waves march in a raging tide
Against his Cavern's mouth, the fearless Rock
Makes good his ground, and never shrinks aside
To shun the peril of the violent shock;
But lets the Storm come in, and roar its fill
In all the bowels of his resolute Cell.

79

Thus entred, up and down she rends her way,
And seizeth with immediate greediness
All those Reserves of Nutriment which lay
Stor'd up in every close and dark Recess;
And these she conquer'd without any stop,
For as she met them strait she eat them up.

80

No Drop she left nor Crumb, to make reply
To that most earnest Call of thousand Veins,
Whose pritty craving mouths incessantly
Su'd for their due relief: her dearest gains
She counts by their Undoing, and makes all
Their Cries, the Musick of her Festival.

81

The robbéd stomach thus too cleanly free
Of all things but the Thief: she broacheth there
The flood of all that corsive Cruelty
With which her pinéd self she us'd to tear:
A flood, to which most fretful Vinaigre
Is gentle Oile, smart Gall is dropping Myrrh.

82

As when incenséd by the furious flame
The Furnace 'gins to rage; if you deny
The Cauldron some fresh Liquor's help to tame
The insolent Heat's excess, and mollify
Its rampant Thirst; how soon, alas, the poor
Copper it self will boil, and burn, and roar!

83

So fares it with the Entrails, where the fire
Which Nature kindled, if it wants its fuel,
On what comes next to hand will wreak its ire,
And grow against the Stomach's substance cruel:
For all its Life consists in constant Meat;
And when it dies, it do's but cease to Eat.

84

And yet with adamantine Bravery
Thy Spouse in this Conspiracy of Pains
His Patience arms; and though his bowels frie
In mutinous flames, he valiantly refrains
From all Complaints and sighs and signs that he
Felt what he felt, stern Hunger's tyranny.

85

He by this Fast's sharp Med'cine pleaséd was
To cure the Eating of the fatal Tree
Where grew that Death which was entail'd to pass
On Eve's and Adam's wretched Progeny:
He freely what he might receive, refused,
Because, what they forbidden were, they used.

169

86

(Thus must chaste Water curb the lusty flame;
Thus Cold's strict bands must chain licentious Heat;
Thus sober Weight must idle Lightness tame;
Thus wholsom Sour must prune luxurious Sweet;
Thus honest Day must chase out thievish Night;
Thus Contraries with Contraries must fight.)

87

And by his venerable Practise he
Has consecrated and advancéd this
Despiséd thing, to that sublime degree
Of glorious delight, that Fasting is
The Dainties of the Saints, to which they can
Invite their hearts, and feast the Inner Man.

88

For whilst they at this mistick banquet sit,
The saucy Flesh learns to be meek and mild;
The boiling Blood grows cool, and every fit
Of wilful Lust forgetteth to be wild;
The Passions to Reason crouching stand;
The Brain grows clear, and all its clouds disband.

89

Their free unhamper'd Contemplations towre
Up to the crest of their divine desires,
And through those everlasting Wonders scoure,
Which shine as far beyond the starry fires
As they above this Mass of Earth are whirld,
Which grovels in the bottom of the World.

90

Thus from that Slavery they redeeméd are
Whose knots their teeth had tied; thus they throw
Their clogs away, and on free pinions rear
Themselves into themselves: being quickned now
By brisk Devotion's Flame, and not by that
Gross kitchen-Heat which warms their spit and pot.

91

Nor is the Body forc'd to bear the pain,
Whilst all the pleasure to the Soul accrues,
But in its kind reaps full as sweet again:
For its intirest vigor this renews,
And by fresh lively feathers quits the cost
Of all those rotten moulting plumes it lost.

92

For when high-fed Distempers sneak away;
And that dark Seed of crude Infirmities
Which in the bodie's furrows nestling lay,
Before its birth most seasonably dies;
Fasting the physick gives: yet generous She
(O cheap Physician!) never takes a fee.

93

She Nothing takes; and would have Man do so;
For all her Recipes are only This:
She turns the deep Complaint of bitterest wo
Into an high-strain'd Dialect of Bliss,
And for this reason dares the Sick assure
Of Health's return, that Nothing them can cure.

94

O Sovereign Nothing! which so deeply could
Thy Spouse inamour, that on it He fed
Twice twenty days and nights: though Sleep so bold
Might grow to venture on his Eyes, it did
Not once presume to touch, much less to fight
The noble Paradox of his Appetite.

95

That generous Appetite, which strictly kept
This long long Watch without one wink of rest;
Yet since it suted with his pleasure, reapt
From this severest Restlessness, the best
Of Ease's sweets: though fasting, He could fill
Himself; for now his Stomach was his Will.

96

Unknown were those exuberant Dainties He
Ev'n in the midst of Emptiness enjoy'd:
'Twas always Meat and Drink to him to be
About his Father's glorious work employ'd.
O precious Piety, which furnishest
Without the Kitchen's help so rich a Feast!

97

The Fury spent her own his Strength to tire,
But fretted, gnaw'd, and vex'd her self in vain.
Hast thou not heard how Moses, all on fire
With stout Devotion, did of old sustain
As many days and nights on Sina's head,
A stranger all the while to drink and bread?

98

If by approach to God faint Man could grow
So much above the temper of a Creature;
If by attendance on the Moral Law
He could forget the urgent Law of Nature;
What might He do, to whose great Moses's Face
In all its splendors still, but dusky was!

99

What might He do who did not only draw
So near to God, but who Himself was He;
No Instrument, but Author of the Law,
By Virtue of his proper Deity.
No Proxy He, nor stated in his Might
Barely by Patent, but by Native Right.

100

He who their pow'r to Salamanders gave
Safely to scorn the siege of any flame,
And in the furnace's red bosom live,
Making the hostile fire become their tame
And friendly food; might well Thirst's drought subdue,
And turn its burning wrath to cooling Dew.

170

101

He, to whose Bounty's Hand Chamelions ow
Their Virgin Privilege, by which they may
Contemn all gross unweildy Meats, and grow
Fat upon sapless Air; can find a way
As pure a diet for himself to get,
And force the Winds to blow him in his Meat.

102

Nay, since the soul of Bread is dull and dead,
And no assistance can to Life afford,
Unless it self be fortify'd and fed
By God's all-forming all-supporting Word;
He well can spare its aid, yet want no food,
Who is himself th'Essential Word of God.

103

Witness his most authentick Might; for now
An intimation of his Royal Will
With terror struck the gnawing Fury thro',
Commanding her not to disturb him, till
He gave her leave; Who busy ment to be
With other Beasts of better worth than she.

104

Soon saw the Hag how rashly she had thrown
Her wariest strength into a conquering Net,
Where her fell Teeth and Nails were not her own,
But His whom she design'd to make her meat.
Against her self she therefore madly bent
Her spight, and both her hair and heart-strings rent.

105

But safe and unmolested He went on
To seek those Beasts which from the dreadful Grot
Of this intolerable Fiend had run
To shroud their trembling Lives; and thought it not
Beneath himself, since He the Saviour is
Of Man and Beast, to care for what is His.

106

When Oxen he and Asses had descry'd
Lowing and braying their desires of grass,
He kindly thought of what did him betide,
When in their house he entertainéd was;
How Bethlehem stable with the hay and manger
Welcom'd the New-born-men-rejected Stranger.

107

A herd of Goats then met his Eye; which in
His gentle Bosom rais'd a pitying sigh,
To think of those whom bold and odious sin
Had made of stinking kin to these: yet by
His gracious look his love to them he spake:
He hates no Goats but those he did not make.

108

A flock of Sheep went bleating after them,
Whose sucking Sons made him reflect again
Upon himself God's everlasting Lamb,
Born in proud Salem's shambles to be slain.
He blest them all; and for their sustenance,
Ingag'd his Magazine of Providence.

109

Then friendly to a Pool with them he came,
The only Water which that Desert knows;
(If yet that Pool defile not Water's name,
Which only with deep muddy poyson flows.)
The banks were throng'd with savage Beasts, which lay
Panting and gasping, and forgot their prey.

110

For parching thirst had now drunk up their ire;
And hungry hunting would but more increase
That too-prevailing fury of their fire,
Which only Water's mildness might appease;
Yet though their Tongues lay frying on the brink,
They durst not quench them in that dangerous Drink.

111

For yet the long-expected Unicorn
Delay'd his coming; He who always by
The piercing Antidote of his fair Horn
First broach'd the wholesom Liquor which did lie
Imprison'd in the poyson's power, and then
A health to all his fellow-beasts begin.

112

Nor was his tardiness that day by chance,
The only day in which he could be spared;
For now Salvation's Horn, who could dispense
That sovereign vertue which was deeplyer feared
By every Poison, than what breaketh from
The potent Unicorn's, was thither come.

113

Great was the Congregation; for there
The princely Lyon lay, the angry Dog,
The mountainous Elephant, the shaggy Bear,
The hasty Wolf, the foaming Boar, the Hog
His grumbling Wife, the roaring frowning Bull,
The Porcupine of ammunition full.

114

The spotted Panther, stiff Rhinocerot,
Swift-footed Tigre; and a thousand more:
Whom wilder thirst had thither forc'd, in hot
And panting throngs beleagueréd the shore,
Crowding as stoutly Water now to get
As Noah's frighted Troops to 'scape from it.

115

But when thine unexpected Spouse appeared,
With reverent amazement every Beast
The sacred spectacle both lov'd and feared,
And by ingenuous bashfulness confest
Whom they beheld, and how unworthy they
Esteem'd themselves to drink his Aspect's ray.

171

116

Yet that first Glance did such refreshment dart
That all the forces of their Thirst it slew.
So when unto a long-afflicted Heart
Joys their unlook'd-for sudden count'nance shew,
The blessed Glimpse frights gloomy Grief away,
Buries black Night, and wakes up beauteous Day.

117

These Beasts were heirs to them who when as yet
Time and the World were young, in Paradise
At God's own summoning together met,
To pay their homages in humble guise
To princely Adam; who sate mounting high
On his fair Throne of native Monarchy.

118

Well then they mark'd their Sovereign's Eyes and Face,
And all his Person's lovely Majesty,
Which streaméd on them with such potent Grace,
That they durst not Allegiance deny
To so sweet Violence, but to his beck
And gentle Yoke bow'd down their loyal Neck.

119

But when unwary Adam's fall had spred
Guilt's vail upon his brused Face; with wonder
The Creatures gaz'd, and fain would there have read
Their former Lesson of Majestick splendor:
But seeing all was blurr'd, Abhorrence sworn
And open Foes of Subjects made them turn.

120

Their Sons and Generations after them
Succeeded in their hate to human Sin:
And all these barbarous Beasts which hither came
Had in that Quarrel born and nurtured been;
Who whensoe'r Chance shewéd them a Man,
To him as their condemnéd prey they ran.

121

For never spy'd they any one, but in
His self-betraying countenance they saw
The odious characters of deep-writ Sin;
Which their commission was their powers to draw
Against the foul Apostate, and withal
Their fury answer Vengeance's loud Call.

122

But when on JESU's face they try'd their Eyes,
No blur or sign of guilt they could descry:
His looks were purer than the virgin skies,
Polish'd with Beauty's best serenity,
Array'd with princely Stateliness, and dight
With Love, with Life, with Grace, and Royal light.

123

This wak'd those ancient seeds of Memory,
Which prudent Nature in their hearts had set;
And which by wise Instinct did signify
That their unspotted Monarch they had met.
They had indeed; for this was Adam too:
Alas that Beasts much more than Men should know!

124

Men knew him not; but Beasts distinctly read
In him the Protoplast's all-graceful feature:
Such were the gallant Glories of his Head;
Such was the goodly measure of his Stature;
Such were the reverend Innocencie's beams
Which from his flaming Eyes pour'd pleasure's streams.

125

Such radiant awfulness Men fancy in
Th'apparent heirs of earthly Kingdoms, that
They think the King of Beasts by royal Kin
To their condition groweth courteous at
Their sight, and quite forgets his cruel sense
Of being Salvageness's dreadful Prince.

126

What wonder than if thus it happen'd now
The mighty only Heir of Heav'n was here;
He, for whose high and best-deserving Brow
Eternity was busy'd to prepare
That Sun-outshining Crown, which flaming is
Upon his Incarnation's lowliness!

127

No longer durst the princely Lyon in
His wonted State, but in submission, rise;
His never-daunted Tail till now, between
His Legs he humbled, and let fall his Eyes:
Confessing to the Beasts that made his train,
That he was not their only Sovereign.

128

Approaching thus, he couchéd on the ground,
And with ingenuous devotion
Kiss'd JESU's Feet; rejoycing he had found
Juda's Majestick Lyon, who alone
Wore in his noble Looks fair-writ the Name
Of Emperor of this created Frame.

129

By his devout example all the rest
Their now engagéd Duty learn'd, and did:
In decent modest order every Beast
His service by a meek kiss offeréd:
And then they all before him prostrate lay,
Humbly expecting what their Lord would say.

130

He in a Mystick Dialect, which soon
They understood, his Royal pleasure spoke:
For in that energetick Language on
All their First-fathers' necks he laid his yoke;
A yoke without regret drawn ever since
By their most tractable Obedience.

172

131

Nay, not those Animals alone; but Trees,
Shrubs, Plants, Pomona's Fruits, and Maia's Flowers,
The Earth, the Air, the Fire, the boistrous Seas,
The Winds, the Hails, the Frosts, the Snows, the Showers,
The Dews, the Lightning and the Thunder, Hell
And Heaven, and all things ken his Language well.

132

For being that Eternal Word, from whom
What ever Is, receives it self; He knows
In what intelligible way to come
To all his Creatures, and pronounce his Laws.
A Word of boundless bounds and potency
To every thing significant may be.

133

To every thing; and more than so: for He
On empty Nothing his Commands can lay;
And long before, ev'n in their Seeds they be,
Summon what Worlds he pleases; nor dare they
Plead ignorance of what he says, but by
Instant Existence to his Call reply.

134

(O how portentous is that Deafness then
Which dammeth up the most rebellious ear
Of those unhappy Heav'n-defying Men,
Whom their own welfare cannot wooe to hear
Almighty Mercie's sweetest-tunéd Charms,
Nor Vengeance's long-thundering Alarms!)

135

What 'twas He spake, tho' they best understood,
Yet if my guessing may presume of leave,
He charg'd them to confine their thirst of Blood,
And for his Incarnation's sake reprieve
Those who were linkéd by that Mystery
To Heav'n and him in near affinity.

136

For now he came to ope a gentler Age
To all his World than heretofore had run,
To banish Spight, and Salvageness, and Rage,
And to establish endless Peace's Throne;
He came degraded Man to re-ordain,
And make him Prince of all below again.

137

To re-ordain him, that he would but yield
Not to be vassal unto Sin and Hell;
If he would be content his strength to build
On's Maker's Power, if he whose treacherous Will
Enslaves himself, would by Heaven's Pleasure rein
His Passions' freedom which is Reason's chain.

138

And to encourage their Obedience, He
Told all their Beasts, their expectation and
Long-panting Groans should shortly answer'd be,
For he himself would haste to break the Bond
In which Corruption kept them slaves, and them
With Heaven's dear Heirs to Liberty redeem.

139

This done; his sacred Hand he lifted up
And round about on his devotos dealt
His bounteous Blessing; strait they 'gan to hop
Their thankful dance, when in their hearts they felt
The joyful influence which, they knew not how,
From his dry Hand's widestreaming fount did flow.

140

Then with the fairest manners plain Beasts had,
Shaking their tails, and louting low their heads,
They took their reverent leave; not only glad
Their hardest breasts were sown with gentle seeds,
But that they in their Sovereign's lovely dread
A Lyon and a Lamb together read.

141

Thus left alone he hasts to make due use
Of privacy's rich opportunity.
What fitter place could wise Devotion chuse
Where she with freedom through all heav'n might fly?
What is the Desert, but an Harbour, which
No storms of this tumultuous world can reach?

142

Besides; his active Soul now lightned by
His fast, and fairly poiz'd on sprightful wings,
Was well appointed up to tower, and try
The altitude of Heav'n's sublimest things.
Not that he needed this advantage, but
To Man this useful Copy deign'd to set.

143

As when more fuel's heap'd upon the hearth
Than well the Chimny's stomach can digest;
The flames their wonted bounds despising, forth
With fury rush, till all the Room opprest
With bright and dark billows of fire and smoak
In that dry Sea's unruly storm they choak.

144

So when intemperate Man ingorgeth more
Than corresponds with his Capacity;
With burning Vapors that superfluous store
Riots about his heart and head. But he
Who trades in fasting, keeps his Spirit's sphere
Calm and unclouded: as did JESUS here.

145

Through that unfathomable Treasury
Of sacred Thoughts and Counsels and Decrees,
Built in the Palace of Eternity
And safely lockéd with three massy keys
Whereof himself by proper right keeps one,
With intellectual lightness now he ran.

173

146

And there he to his humane Soul unvail'd
The flaming Wonders of Divinity;
A Sea through which no Seraph's eye e'r sail'd,
So vast, so high, so deep those secrets be
(God's nearest Friend, the Soul of JESUS is
Whom he admits to all his Privacies.)

147

There, in an adamantine Table, by
The glorious hand of Goodness fairly writ
He saw his Incarnation's Mystery,
The Reasons, Wonders, and the ways of it.
There freely rang'd his Contemplation from
His scornéd Cradle to his guarded Tomb.

148

His Soul rejoicéd all the way it ran,
And taught his Fast to turn a sumptuous Feast:
Each Grief, each Pain he took delight to scan,
And what the bitterest was he rellish'd best.
Not for a World would he have wanted one;
But could have wish'd a crueler Passion.

149

Thus having exercis'd the day; when night
On heav'n's wide face her sable mantle spread,
He other Work began: no leaden weight
Of Drowsiness lagg'd down his watchful head:
So strong his Fast was grown, that no dull cloud
Durst to his brain out of his stomach croud.

150

Those silent hours he spent in ardent Prayers,
His evening and burnt sacrifice; and by
The quick ascent of those mysterious stayers
Climb'd back again to heav'n's sublimity;
Where his Ejaculations busy grew,
And thicker than th'Angelick Legions flew.

151

There pray'd he that the world might not disdain
The gentle yoak he meant on it to lay;
Nor force Heav'n to come down to Earth in vain,
But to its now obtruding Bliss give way;
That since God to Humanity did stoop,
Man would into Divinity get up.

152

That generously-ingenuous Souls would dare
To trace his hardy steps, though flesh and blood,
With all the Pleas of Tenderness and Fear
Full in the way of their adventure stood:
That Piety might Rest in Watching find,
And learn by Fasts to fatten up the Mind.

153

But now no less than forty times the Sun,
The Giant of the day, had from the east
Prick'd forth his Golden-trappéd Steeds, and run
His never-wearied race into the west;
And watchful Vesper dress'd as oft with light
The silver tapers, and trim'd up the night.

154

When thy wise Spouse, who all the seasons knew
Of Heav'n's abstrusest Dispensations, gave
Th'unbridled Monster's Raving leave to shew
Her teeth's full power. And how profound and brave
This Counsel was, thou by and by shalt see;
For he on yielding built his Victory.

155

As when the greedy Dog, who long had lain
Muzzel'd and chain'd in presence of his meat,
The freedom of his feet and chaps doth gain;
For all the time he lost, he strives to eat,
Flying like lightning on his breakfast, which
His hasty paws and jaws together catch:

156

So Famin now releas'd to her own will,
Reveng'd her long restraint with rampant spight;
And had it but been possible to kill
Life's unconsenting Lord, her furies' Might
Had from the far less raging villanies
Of People, Priests, and Pilat, snatch'd their prize.

157

For with such fell remorslessness she ne'r
Had heartned up her Tallons and her Teeth,
To wage her monstrous hunger's war, as here;
Nor with more confidence e'r promis'd Death
To save his Sithe the labour: and some ground
The Hag in JESUS saw her hopes to found.

158

His tortur'd Stomach roar'd, his bowels clung,
The heav'nly Graces of his count'nance fell;
Thirst parch'd his beauteous lips and burnt his tongue;
But by his own permission all: for well
He knew that if he grew not faint and wan,
Hell would suspect him to be more than Man.

159

Hell's jealous Prince had conn'd all Prophesies
Which pointed out a greater King than He;
A King decreed from Jesse's Root to rise,
And quite extirpate his long Tyranny;
Upon his guard he stood, and watch'd to see
The dangerous time, and who the Man should be.

160

At first, thou know'st, that Quire which sung to Earth
Good Will and Peace, through Him did Terror dart;
The glorious rumor of the Infant's Birth
No sooner stroke his ear, but broke his heart;
He Simeon's Jubilation echoed by
A Groan, and Anna's Preaching by a sigh.

174

161

With curs'd misgiving thoughts he chew'd upon
The Benedictus of old Zachary;
The East's sweet Star's irradiation
Blinded with horror his amazéd eye;
His guilty Soul was rack'd in sad suspense
To hear the Magy's pious Confidence.

162

But when those fatal Items rous'd his pride
To take some course this danger to repress,
And he had Herod's desperate Sword employ'd;
He hop'd, and bragg'd, he had not stroke amiss:
Besides, now thirty years could not discover
Any great fear, he dream'd the worst was over.

163

And much it chear'd him to remember that
Messias was to be a Virgin's Son:
Thy Lord, his insolence term'd Joseph's Brat,
The silly Carpenter's poor Urcheon;
Who liklier was some simple house to build
Than raise a Kingdom and a scepter weild.

164

Yea to that fond excess of boldness he
Hardned his thoughts, as to imagin that
Great Daniel's most punctual Prophesy
Had plainly miss'd its mark: nor car'd he what
The other Prophets talk'd, now He who set
Messias' time, so foully fail'd in it.

165

But when on Jordan's bank he heard and saw
Heav'n's glorious Testimonials of its Son;
His sturdy Impudence began to thaw,
New Terror through his curséd bones did run.
Long 'twas e'r he could recollect a thought
His drift of Mischief how to bring about.

166

So when the flood-gates which have long stood ope,
Their mouths with sudden resolution shut;
The checkéd streams, which flow'd with more than hope
Of being Masters of that Pass, are put
Unto their deepest plunge, and swell and roar
In doubt which way their fury they shall pour.

167

At last he hither tracéd him and set
That fury Famin to begin the fight:
Deep desperate anguish made him vex and fret,
To see the vain contention of her spight
For forty days together: but at length
When she prevail'd, his pride renew'd its strength.

168

On Chance's vain account he scor'd it up
That JESUS had sustain'd the fight till now:
As he had done, when from their pillars' top
To dust he saw his Egypt's Idols bow;
Because since then he found some new ones able
To stand, and Memphis once more Isi's stable.

169

And now his cue was come, to Hell he stepp'd
And op'd a Box, which by his couch's side,
He as the dearest of his Treasures kep'd:
Ten thousand quaint Delusions there were ty'd
In one another's gentle snarles so strait
That Craft her self from hence might learn deceit.

170

There lay smooth-burnish'd words, and quick mutations,
Sleight-handed Tricks, importunate Courtesies,
Sweet looks, delicious shapes, and dainty fashions,
False loves, invenom'd fawnings, holy lies;
Those gorgeous frauds by which he luréd Eve
For one poor Apple Heav'n and God to leave.

171

And those by which he holy Aaron made
More silly than the Calf his fear erected;
Those which unconquer'd Samson's strength betray'd;
Those which the Fort of Chastity dejected
In David's heart; and those whose witchery
Charm'd his wise Son to fond Idolatry.

172

This also was the curséd nest of those
More wily wiles he forgéd to entice
The brave Inhabitants of Heav'n to close
With his Conspiracy, when in the skies
He drew his army up and ventur'd on
Against the Thunder's mouth, and God's own Son.

173

All which he takes, and squeezes into one
Conflux of more than quintessential Guiles:
With which insidious Extraction
His thirst he quenches, and his bosom fills;
And so returns into this Desert, well
Stuff'd with the best, because the worst, of Hell.

174

Imperial was his Retinue, for
A thousand burly Peers of Phlegeton
Had robb'd earth, air, and sea of all their store
Of braveries, and proudly put them on:
All which were answer'd by the rich attires
Both of their haughty Horses and their Squires.

175

But as the Cedar on tall Liban's head
Dishonors dwarfy shrubs that creep below;
And as th'illustrious Peacok's glories spread
Disgrace upon the sparrow, or the Crow;
So now majestick Satan's Port transcended
Whatever in his Lord's might be commended.

175

176

Twelve sable steeds, smug as the old Rav'n's wing,
Of even stature, and of equal pride;
Sons of the wind, or some more speedy thing,
To his fair Chariot all abreast were ty'd;
That in this royal Range each first might be,
And jointly shew their several gallantry.

177

Perpetual sparks of Vigorousness they shot
From their two fountains of prospective fire;
Their mighty Neighings easy conquest got
Of every noise, and made god Mars his quire;
And thus through Clouds both black and big as they
Thunder and Lightning use to rend their way.

178

As ebon-shining Bows, so bended were
Their sinewy Necks; their stomachs boiled over
In restless foaming scum, which far and near
Flung their disdain; their Pawing did discover
With what impatience on the earth they trode
And coveted to trace th'ætherial rode.

179

Their shoes were Silver, and their bridles gold;
Thick pearl their velvet trappings studded; their
Luxuriant mains in curléd volumes roll'd
Down to the ground, their starting Ears did wear
Proserpine's favors with rich jewels tip'd;
The way their full Tails for their Sovereign swep'd.

180

The Wheels were Cedar, clouted round about
With Gold's more precious Rival, Chrysolite;
The Charet Almug, sumptuously wrought
With an embroider'd confluence of bright
Well-order'd Gems: upon which princely Seat
Prouder than it, sate Belzebub the Great.

181

So Titan mounted on his flying throne
Of flaming glory, sweepeth through the skies,
Outglittering all the combination
Of his bright Coach's raies by his own eyes
And by's imperial proper fire, exceeds
The ardor of his Heav'n-devouring steeds.

182

What Pomp in Alexander's count'nance reign'd,
Or swell'd upon Nebuchadnezzar's brow;
Improv'd and to a loftier Tumor strain'd,
To his own Aspect he transplanted now;
Having compounded in one stately ly
The universal looks of Majesty.

183

Disdain and Frowns the chief ingredients were,
And long ago he learn'd to manage them:
Yet Grace and royal Mildness too were there,
If need should be some soft Deceit to frame.
With awful gravity deep flow'd his beard;
And he some wise and ancient Prince appear'd.

184

A tripple crown of diamond on his head,
Wherein was graven Earth, and Air, and Sea,
His Empires provinces decipheréd;
So shameless his Presumption is, that he
Counts Adam's Right his own, and writes his stile
E'r since he snar'd him by the Apple's Guile.

185

Down from his shoulders streaméd to his feet
A Mantle of estate, with Ermyns lin'd:
Whose texture's glorious face so thick was set
With oriental Gems, no eye could find
What web it was, it being bravely lost
In that magnificence of too much cost.

186

Three troops of Pages on his wheels did wait,
The first in Azure, and in Green the next,
The third in darkest Purple: which conceit
Was but the Comment on his Crown's proud Text.
Ten thousand Curassiers, his dreadful Guard,
Before him trotted, and his passage clear'd.

187

Of Sumptures, Wains, and Carriages a Sea
Mannerly roll'd its plainer flood behind:
Which seem'd the Transmigration to be
Of all the Earth, engagéd now to find
Some other World whose larger bounds might give
Leave to those straitned Swarms at large to live.

188

Yet dar'd no justling Tumults interpose
Amongst their throngs, whom silent Discipline
Led on in decent state, though all sworn foes
To modest Order's Rules which fairly join
Troublous Disparities in Union's rest:
Confusion's Prince well knows this Peace is best.

189

In this magnitick Port, his Progress He
Gravely pretended through his Earth to take:
That beaten Circuit, where incessantly
Some hellish bus'ness kept his Rage awake:
But now more dangerous was this Lyon grown
Than when he rangéd Roaring up and down.

190

For though that barbarous Roar loud Terror spoke,
Withal it gave fair warning to beware;
But when majestick Grace and Order cloak
His thievish Enterprise, He charmeth fear
Too fast asleep, to think a King in so
Great pomp, a stealing would, and cheating go.

176

191

See'st thou that rueful place, that garden where
Eternal Barrenness deep-rooted grows;
Where unrelenting flints and pebles are
Both soil and fruit? that Scene thy Saviour chose
Wherein to wrestle with keen Famin, and
Grant her free leave on her own ground to stand.

192

And hither march'd that Pompous Pagentry:
Whose surly Van when they with JESUS met,
Deign'd not poor looking Him the charity
Of half an eye, but proudlier forward set:
For those inferior vulgar Feinds had not
Been privy to their Sovereign Cheater's Plot.

193

But Satan, though his spightful heart did leap
For joy to see how in his fallen cheeks
Hunger had writ her cruel conquest deep;
With fainéd princely pitty yet off breaks
His course: the Steeds, in foaming scorn to stay,
Their bridles champ'd, and stamp'd upon their way.

194

But He more gentle seem'd than they were fierce;
For, fixing on thy Lord his yearning eyes,
His breast he smote in shew of deep remorse,
His gracious head he sadly shakéd thrice,
And then as oft to heav'n he lookéd up,
And cunning tears at every look did drop.

195

He hop'd the pinéd Man would bend his knee
(Too feeble long to stand,) and succour crave
Whilst yet he could receive: he hop'd that He
Would ope his mouth, since so did now his Grave:
But Him too stout he found to buckle down;
He nobly held his tongue, and held his own.

196

With that, the royal Tempter thus began:
My Pity never was till now neglected
By any He who wore the face of Man;
Much less by such whom Famin had dejected
Below the looks of human life. And yet
Perhaps some Mystery I now have met.

197

That with contented patience thou canst be
The miserable Prey of Famin, and
Forbear (if not disdain) to ask of me
Who with all courteous Succour ready stand,
Implies thy strength, whate'r thy face appear,
Higher to move than in an human sphere.

198

Where-e'r she had it, Rumor sent of late
A strange Relation to my ear, which she
Profest she took both from the leaves of Fate,
And from experimental Certainty:
'Twas, that the Son of God had chang'd his Home,
And privately on earth to sojourn come.

199

She added, That his garb was plain and mean,
Since he was but a Pilgrim here below;
And rather came to see than to be seen,
As wisest Travellers are wont to do.
But more she told me not; perhaps, that I
And my good fortune might the rest descry.

200

I would be loth it should reported be
In heav'n, to my Realm's everlasting shame,
That this renown'd celestial Prince, when He
To any of my territories came,
Should taste no argument to make him know
And say at home, The World is kind below.

201

For much my Honor it concerns, and me,
That worthy Entertainment should attend
Such mighty Strangers: and, if thou be He,
Take notice thou hast met a royal friend;
A friend both able and resolv'd to prove
That thou all Glory hast not left above.

202

But yet these deep-plow'd wrinkles ill would suit
My solemn forehead, and this reverend Snow
My head and beard, if Rashness should confute
Those sage and sober Tokens; if I now
Who purchas'd long ago the high esteem
Of Grave and Wise, should Light and Credulous seem.

203

Then since my princely Credit pleadeth for
A clear Probation, you may not deny
Some rational Assurance who you are;
Nor can that Evidence be seal'd, but by
Some potent Demonstration, that to you
As to their Sovereign, Nature's Statutes bow.

204

If you be that great He, God's mighty Son,
(And God forbid you such a Truth should hide,)
Let it suffice your fast thus far has run,
And now a breakfast for your self provide:
Lo here a Board with Pebles ready spread,
Speak but the word, and make them loaves of bread.

205

The Tempter so. JESUS wisely saw
How he suspended was in jealous Doubts,
And by this Artifice contrivéd how
To extrecate his snarl'd perplexéd thoughts:
His heav'nly Prudence therefore took a course
On's hellish Craft a darker Mist to force.

177

206

For as a noble Champion when the Blow
Flieth with deadly aim against his heart,
With warey buckler back again doth throw
The intercepted and deceivéd Dart:
So did thy Spouse by God's unconquer'd Word,
His ready shield against the Tempter's Sword.

207

'Tis written, that the life of Man, said He,
Shall lean not only on the staff of Bread,
But on a stronger steadier Prop, and be
By God's more wholsom Word securely fed.
What need we loaves our Hunger's rage to still?
From God's Mouth floweth that which Man's will fill.

208

O most impenetrable Buckler! how
Slender an Help is tripple steel to thee!
Seav'n-times-redoubled Adamant must bow
To thy less vulnerable Durity.
O Scripture! what vain straws and feathers are
Goliah's Arms, if they with thee compare!

209

This Psyche, this is that victorious Shield,
Which sure Protection can on thee bestow,
Though all Hell's Troops pitch'd in a martial field
Conspiréd have, and sworn thy Overthrow.
Its noble use thy Spouse declar'd to thee,
Who fought with none but this Artillery.

210

With this he fought, who Thunder had at call
And all Heav'n's Hosts attending his Command:
No strength would he employ, but what might fall
Within the reach of thy short feeble hand.
Thou canst not thunder: yet his sacred Word
Thou well mayest wield, and wound ev'n Satan's Sword.

211

But as the greedy Wolf, once beaten back;
By that repulse is but enragéd to
Rebound with doubled spight, and fiercelier make
His fresh encounter: angry Satan so
Brus'd by this fall, and vexéd at the pain,
Plucks up his spirits and ventures on again.

212

Yet as he charg'd, he on the sudden felt
His Confidence's foot begin to slip;
Bold was his Will, but timorous his Guilt;
And, though he thought not on't, he bit his lip.
His Jealousy at last advis'd his Wrath
Calmly to march, and in the safest path.

213

His Plot now therefore slylyer driving on,
He plausibly pretends this sullen Place
To be the Stage where Heav'n's illustrious Son
Should act his Greatness, too unworthy was;
And in high courtship hasts to change this mean
And despicable, for a gallant Scene.

214

For as a stragling Cloud came by that way,
He, as th'usurping Monarch of the air,
His leisure sternly beckned it to stay,
And so gat up into his flying chair;
Taking thy Lord with him, who was content
To try what by this new design he ment.

215

Nodding the next Wind then on him to wait,
He through the welkin scour'd, and quickly came
(For now his way all open lay and streight,)
To this long journey's but, Jerusalem;
Where on the Temple's highest Spire he set
Him who, he fear'd, might prove the God of it.

216

Then to his work alone he fell; his Train
Being left behind, and chargéd to attend
Their King's return: for much he did disdain,
In case he could not now atchieve his end,
His envious Elves again should witness how
A starvéd Man Hell's Sovereign overthrew.

217

He wisely ponder'd that the Arms whereby
Thy Spouse had him repuls'd, the mightiest were;
And therefore cunningly resolv'd to try
If he could Scripture bow to serve his war.
O wit of deepest Hell, which makes a Sword
Of God's own Word, to fight with God the Word:

218

Appointed thus: I grant, said he, that thy
Reply was true, yet answer'd not my Doubts.
Lo here a scene where thou may'st satisfy
By one Experiment all scrupulous thoughts.
If God thy father be, leap down from hence,
In witness of thy filial Confidence.

219

Is it not Written, that He shall command
His Angels' trusty Care to wait on thee,
And with a watchful ready-stretchéd hand
In every Danger's sute thy bail to be,
That no rude stone with churlish shock may meet
(So tender is He) thy securéd feet?

220

Mark Psyche, mark the Cheater's craft, how he
Mangles the Text, and skips what spoils his plot:
In all thy ways they shall thy Keepers be;
So ran the tenor of that Scripture: but
He knew that desperate Precipices were
No Ways for Men who walk'd in holy fear.

178

221

Be sure it move thee not, if henceforth thou
See'st any of his Urcheons Scripture spit:
Who by their Master's jugling copy know
Both how to clip and to adulterate it:
Or else such peevish cunning glosses make
As it against it self shall force to speak.

222

They this Authority will quote, to throw
That royal Power flat it first set up;
And from their thrones urge sacred Kings to bow,
And to their reverend lyes make Scepters stoop:
By this the Church her self they from her own
Fair pinnacle will try to tumble down.

223

But with another genuine Text thy Lord
Nobly confuted him, and thus reply'd:
This Law's enacted in th'authentick Word,
Thou shalt not tempt thy God: and Heav'n forbid
That I should dare his Providence, and think
When down I plunge my self, I cannot sink.

224

Perhaps thy wonder asks, why Satan, now
He had on Danger's brink thy Savior set,
Brideled his fury, and forbore to throw
Him headlong thence: but thou must not forget
That still his guilty breast was jealous least
His foe at force of arms might get the best.

225

Alas the chain of all his power is short:
Believe it Psyche, there's no mortal Wight
But, if resolv'd to hold his Virtues' fort,
May tire his siege, and all his onsetes slight:
But silly Cowards to his strength make way
Whilst they by lazy fears themselves betray.

226

Repulséd thus, the Tempter in his heart
Stifl'd his grief and smotheréd his shame:
And now inforc'd to act another part,
Leap'd on the cloud upon whose back he came,
With which he through Air's wondring regions swum
Hurrying thy patient Lord along with him.

227

To his expecting Train he swum; for now
Put to his last reserve of plots, he ment
To venture all at one great cast; and though
Still loth his Elves should see him foild, he went
With desperate resolution to the fight;
Dear was his credit, but more dear his spight.

228

Up to a Mount he march'd, whose stately head
Despiséd Basan, Carmel, Libanus,
The Alpes where Winter always keeps his bed,
With Pendle, Calpe, Atlas, Caucasus,
And all the proudest cliffs of Ararat
Where Noah's floating Ark first footing got.

229

A Mount which on the highest Clouds look'd down,
And saw all kinds of Weather far below;
A Mount which rose like Earth's imperial Crown,
Where never any Wind aspir'd to blow;
A Mount which bravely reach'd at heav'n and made
Far distant Countrys subject to its shade.

230

Arrivéd there; with three new plates of brass
His never-blushing front he fortify'd;
Being now upon an Enterprise which was
Brother to that in impudence and pride
When arm'd with spightful fury and disdain
He ventur'd to assail Heav'n's Sovereign.

231

The same great Son it was of Glory's Father,
To whom his stomach then refus'd to yield
Free and ingenuous homage, choosing rather
To try it with him in a pitchéd field.
Fool, who though beat at first, no warning took
For what he was, in following fights to look.

232

A massy throne of beaten gold upon
A pavement of refinéd silver stood;
Which round about that gorgeous region
Pouréd the plenitude of Glory's flood.
Triumphant Arcs and Collumns on each side
In Laurel wreaths hid and display'd their pride.

233

Ten thousand splendid things, which bravely check'd
The brightest Diamond's count'nance, as obscure;
With dazeling Awe and Majesty bedeck'd
A spacious Canopy, which fastned sure
Upon the Stars, its neighbours, hover'd right
Above the throne, and vaild it o'er with light.

234

Here Satan pitch'd him down: when lo, the crew
Of his attending Imps in humble guise
Themselves before his radiant footstool threw
Adoring him with millions of Lies:
Nor durst they from the pavement stir, until
His Nod had signify'd his gracious Will.

235

Then reaching forth his hand, he gave the sign
To that brave Apparition which he
By sprightful art had tutor'd to combine
With his profound but glorious Forgery:
One moment did the feat; for all the Scene
Before his hand was quite stretch'd out, came in.

179

236

A mighty Globe roll'd fairly up the hill,
Where, upon Poles unknown, it turn'd before
His throne's proud face, and to that bulk did swell
That all the World's full countenance it wore.
No Conjurations ever grew so strong
As in this Witcherie's universal Throng.

237

There might you see the East's illustrious shore,
The Western Columns and th'Atlantick Sea;
The Snow's and Ice's never thawing store
High heapéd in the north Extremity;
The Dogstar's Empire; and the Lybian strand
Where endless Summer boileth in the sand.

238

There precious Indus washéd up his gems,
There wealthy Tagus pav'd his shores with gold,
There Vistula look'd brave in silver streams,
There Ganges, Ister, and Orontes roll'd,
Hydaspes, Tanais, Rhone, Rhene, Niger, Po,
Euphrates, Tigris, Nile, and thousand moe.

239

In milk and honey there swum Palestine,
There shadow'd with her odoriferous Cloud,
Arabia's Felicity did shine;
There Scythia in her furs her self did shroud;
There Neptune chose thine Albion for his bride,
And plac'd her, as a better World, aside.

240

There dwelt all Countries which your Traffick knows,
And more than yet must to its knowledge come:
But when young Avarice past her nonage grows,
And thinks her thirsty Purse hath more than room
For this scant World, another shall be found,
Which yet the West in ignorance hath drown'd.

241

But in this ample Pageant was display'd
That fatal World which future times shall see
By venturous Columbus' art betray'd
To Christian Covetousness and Cruelty.
(O why should Christians' Estimation hold
The Western Souls less dear than Western Gold!)

242

Yea, and those vaster Regions, which far
From Africk and from Asia ran away,
And the South's remoter bosom were
Lock'd up and treasuréd so close, that they
Shall longest 'scape Discoverie's reach, and be
From Navigation's bold incroachments free.

243

No sooner had the Globe turn'd round about,
And every Kingdom's proudest Glory shown:
But from his Rome Tiberius steppéd out;
And humbling from his head to's hand, his Crown,
With fear and reverence his approaches made
To Satan's footstool, where his lips he laid.

244

Then having prefac'd by that lowly kiss,
Behold, dread Sir, my Diadem, said he,
Bows to thy royal Pedestal: by this
The highest of Assurances, to Thee
I, who am in thy Roman World thy great
Viceroy, my homage tender at thy feet.

245

Impowred by thy sovereign Might alone
Th'Assyrian Lyon made the World his prey:
By thee the Persian Bear's Dominion
Through all the forests of the earth made way:
By Thee the Grecian Leopard snatch'd all this,
And stoutly wish'd another World were his.

246

By Thee the Iron-jaw'd ten-hornéd Beast,
The martial Roman, so prevailing grew,
That having torn and swallow'd all the rest,
He with the Sun victoriously flew
About the World, which now sits safe and sings
Under the shadow of our Eagle's wings.

247

By Thee great Julius did our Empire found;
By Thee Augustus fully rais'd its frame;
By Thee were these my loyal Temples crown'd
With this, the shadow of thy Diadem.
O may thy Vassal with thy favour, and
Thy Blessing, wear the Gift of thine own hand.

248

So with a thousand Holocausts will I
Make fat thy holy Altars morn and night:
So my imperial yoke shall always lie
Upon my Subjects' shoulders firm, and light,
Whilst I by thy auspicious Influence
Reign both of Justice and of mildness Prince.

249

Tiberius here some gracious nod expected,
As his Commission to resume his Crown.
But strait he saw his flattering Suit rejected,
And his fair hopes damp'd by a cloudy frown:
Which cloud into a suddain Tempest broke,
Whilst Satan thus his indignation spoke.

250

Thou hast depos'd thy self, Tiberius, by
Acknowledging that I thy Sovereign am:
For how shall I intrust a World in thy
Luxuriant lazy hand, who hither came
Upon no business but a Visitation;
Which bids the Earth now look for Reformation.

180

251

And well it may: Alas poor Earth, that I
So long delay'd to visit sickly Thee,
Through most unhappy confidence that my
Vicegerent had his Office known, and Me.
But though ignoble He betrays his trust,
I still must be my self, and that is Just.

252

Then since my Name, my Honor, and my Care
Of my dear World all summon me to find
Some Hero's worthy Temples, which may wear
That Crown according to my princely mind,
Be 't so: and thou Tiberius, thank my love
That I with it thy head do not remove.

253

Here turning to thy Spouse his kinder eye,
My courteous fortune I must thank, said He,
Who in my Progress hath so luckily
To my not poor acquaintance offered thee.
I little thought, till this survey I took,
That I a new Lieutenant had to look.

254

By Him I see how easily Princes slide
Down the glib paths of heedless Luxury:
And what can silly People do, whose guide
Leads them the way to Ruin have not I
Just cause to choose some sober Man whose care
May stop that vicious desperate career!

255

Now whether thou art Son to God, or no,
Surely thou spring'st from some heroick Race;
The noblest Rays of Honor sparkle so
In thy though pinéd yet most princely face:
Although thy Modesty conceals thy Birth,
And Parentage, it cannot cloud thy worth.

256

And yet that Virtue's precious too; for well
I know that stomachful Ambition threw
From Heav'n's high Turret to profoundest Hell
Disdainful Lucifer and all his Crew.
But still the miracle which doth advance
My wonder highest, is thy Temperance.

257

That Excellence, alone can never dwell,
But proves the fertile spring of all the rest.
How readily a temperate Prince may quell
Sin's breeding Surfeits in their nasty nest,
Whilst all his Life's an exemplary Law
Which sweetly leads, when Statutes cannot draw!

258

And such a Prince, and none but such, can cure
The wide Contagion which rank vice hath spread
On this poor Age; nor can my love endure
Longer delay, since I am furnishéd
With Thee, whose merits on my Justice call
To make thee Deputy of all this All.

259

Nay more than so: Thou seest how Age doth grow
Upon my weary back; and I confess
I cloyed feel my self and tiréd now
With Glorie's Sweets and Honor's Weight, no less
Than with my years, and could contented be
To end my days in quiet Privacy.

260

Nor must it be in vain, that I have found
An Hero on whose shoulders safely I
May trust the Burden of my Cares, and ground
Just hopes of all my World's felicity.
Wherefore this free and solemn Act I make
Before Heav'n's face which I to witness take:

261

First, I bequeath to Thee Tiberius' Crown;
To which imperial Rome's vast Pow'r is ty'd:
Next I surrender to thine Head mine own
High Diadem: for thou henceforth shalt ride
In this my royal Chariot, and run
In thine own Orb together with the Sun.

262

For wheresoe'r he sets or rises, He
Shall upon none but thy Dominions shine.
His Master long ago bequeath'd to me
This Monarchy below; and what is mine
Though I to whom I please might give, yet thy
Desert binds up my choice's liberty.

263

These Glories which inrich that rolling Ball
Are but the beams of that which shall be thine.
The Kingdoms which are spread from pole to pole,
Shall in thy universal Realm combine:
And in requital of thy noble Fast
The World shall join its store to dress thy feast.

264

My Legions here shall swear, so shall my Peers,
(And I my self will tender them the oath,)
Allegiance both to Thee, and to thy Heirs.
Yea to complete my grand Donation, both
My shrines and Temples I to thee resign;
No Name shall there adoréd be but Thine.

265

Nor will I any constant homage tie
To this my Grant; for all I mean to ask
Is one bare token of thy thanks, which I
As ample Pay will construe; and this task
Shall be as short as easy: fall but down
And worship me, and all the World's thine own.

181

266

So spake the King of craft: whose staring Train
Question'd the honesty of their own eyes,
In which this Prince elect appear'd so plain
And poor a worm: for these strange fallacies
O wily Belzebub were too profound
For their short Apprehensions to sound.

267

But as the gentle sweetly-swelling Sea
Which rolls above the Spheres, when daring Men
Affronted God with towring Villany,
Forgot its ever-polish'd smiles, and in
Tempestous violence breaking through the shore
Of Heav'n, a flood of death on earth did poure.

268

So thy provokéd Spouse, who never yet
Had suffer'd frowns to gather on his brow,
An angry look against the Tempter knit,
And with disdainful Answer made him know
That all his Pageantry could not conceal
His ugly self who fouler makes his Hell.

269

Bold Satan, 'tis enough that I, said he,
Thus long have seen and born thine insolence:
Lo I defie thy foolish Baits and Thee
Vainer than they: hence fond Impostor, hence
Behind my back, and there thy shameless pride
(If any place may hide it) learn to hide.

270

Do's not Religion's Law, the Scripture, say,
Thine Adoration thou to God shalt give,
And at his feet alone thy service pay?
All Heav'n forbid that I should Him bereve
Of his due homage, and imbezil it
Upon the Tyrant of th'infernal Pit.

271

As when on Sodom's Impudence of old
Heav'n pour'd its fire to purge their lustful flames,
The wretched Town repented not, yet howl'd
And mix'd its tears amongst the brimstone streams;
But all in vain, for Men and City in
One funeral pile were buried with their Sin.

272

So at the Lightning of thy Lord's Reply
This frighted Globe of Cheats made haste to melt
And nothing of this Universal Lye
Remain'd, but Ashes; whose strong vapor smelt
So hideously rank, that ev'n the steam
Of Stinck her self, to this would Odours seem.

273

Confounded Satan backward from his throne
Fell down the Mount, and tumbled towards hell:
To all the Deeps he by his bellowing Groan
Dismally rung his woful Comming's knell.
And in his fall, his Horns, and Tail, and Claws
Brake out; so did the Sulphure from his Jaws.

274

His yelling Peers and lamentable Crew
Of Legions, justled headlong after Him:
Presenting to thy Lord's victorious view
A Copy of that sight, when from the brim
Of highest Heav'n their King with them He beat
Down to the bottom of their damnéd Seat.

275

Thus changéd was the scene: and Satan who
Sought by his God to be adoréd, pay'd
That God this seemly Adoration. So
Great JESU, may all Treasons be betray'd;
So may all Rebels find their shameless feet
Snarléd for evermore in their own Net.

276

In these three Conflicts, Heav'n with tender eye
Upon its Champion waited; yet reliev'd
Him with no Seconds, till the Victory
By his own single valour was atchiev'd:
But then flew down an Host, whose highstrain'd Lays
Back to the spheres return'd the Victor's praise.

277

O Psyche, had'st thou heard their royal Song,
Thou might'st have learn'd how we above employ
Our blesséd time, where on each warbling Tongue
Sit endless Raptures of excessive Joy;
Whilst every hearty Angel, as he sings,
Claps his Applause with his exultant wings.

278

Their Gratulation ended; on their knees
A sumptuous Banquet they to him present,
Stor'd with the choice of all varieties
Which best might recompense his rigid Lent:
And He, in whom all princely graces reign,
Was pleas'd their ministry not to disdain.

279

But when He thus had broke his mighty fast,
The fury which so long possest his breast
Impatient fretting Famin, out he cast,
Remanding her unto her odious Nest;
And bid an Angel tie her in that chain,
When he had kick'd her to her den again.

280

There must she dwell past hopes of gitting loose
But when He's pleas'd (because displeas'd,) to let
Vengeance break out on his relentless foes
Whom lusty fatness makes too bold and great
To be his Subjects, and adore a Prince
Who in his Laws enacteth Abstinence.

182

281

But from the Lists of this renownéd fight.
Th'eternal Spirit's Conduct wafted Him
To Galilee's known coasts: to which he might
As soon on his own Power's wings have swum;
But Heav'n was studious to attend him, and
In his great bus'ness joy'd to have a hand.

282

Another World of wonders will appear
When we shall launch into that Legend's Sea?
But now repose and cheer thy spirits here
Against that Voyage: for thy Piety
Shall take at leisure solemn time and place
Wherein thy Spouse's fasting steps to trace.

283

This said; He spread his ready wing before
His Pupil, and on that fair table set,
Out of his own unseen but copious store
A neat supply of chastly-pleasant meat.
She blest her Lord, whose favour granted her
A Banquet on his own Fast's theater.

284

But whilst on those external Cates she fed,
Her Soul was sitting at a secret Feast
With all this Storie's Dainties furnishéd
Which faithful Memory anew had drest.
And well she knew (which much advanc'd the Cheer)
Her Spouse did fast not for Himself but Her.

285

And now, since Phebus hastned to his rest
And smoak'd already in the Western Deep,
Phylax his chariot curtains drew, and prest
The Virgin's eyes to do as much by Sleep:
One wing beneath, and one above her head
He laid, and turn'd her Board into her Bed.

183

CANTO X. The Marvels.

The ARGUMENT.

LOVE to convince the World in whom to lay
The treasure of its Hopes and Confidence,
Proves by a full and glorious Display
What undeniable Omnipotence
Dwelt in his Hand, which alway shelter spread
On those who to its Sanctuary fled.

1

It is not Beauty, which its blush doth owe
To Pix and Pencil's almes: it is no King
Who maketh on the stage a russling show,
And thunders big imperious words which ring
With awful noise about the Scene, when he
By his next Exit must a Beggar be.

2

All is not Gold that in a glistering ray
Fairly conceals its foul hipocrisy.
The garish Meteors, though they display
Right-boldly-shining Proofs, will never be
Own'd by the Stars for bretheren; nor can
The Ape, with all his tricks, be genuin Man.

3

To Maximilian when the Almain Eagle
On her strange wings Art's stately homage bare,
The brave Dissembler only did inveagle
Spectator's faith: for though her pinions were
Tutor'd by sprightful springs the air to cut,
Alas, ev'n whilst she flew she livéd not.

4

The heady Rebel, though all Texts he skrews
To force from Truth confession of a Lye;
Though at the bar of Nature's Laws he sues
To justify unnatural Liberty;
Though Conscience and Religion, the things
He overthrows, he for his groundwork brings;

5

Though from Success (a firmer Argument
For all th'Odrysian Christian-hating Race,)
He pleads the sanctity of his Intent,
And makes Heav'n Patron of his hell-bred Cause:
In vain strives to transform his hideous Sin,
Which makes him still to Lucifer akin.

6

The staring Wizzard never yet could by
His mumbling Charms, his heav'n-affronting Wand,
His barbarous Words and Figures, form a Lye
Able against the face of Truth to stand:
Nor can his Master Satan though all Hell
He rends or blends, atchieve a Miracle.

7

Oft has he ventur'd and strove hard to tread
In those almighty Steps of Heav'n; but still
The Paces were so wide, that all he did
Was but the proof of his aspiring Will.
His Wonders never reach'd above Deceits,
With which imprudent eyes and hearts he cheats.

8

For how can he who is himself a Part
Of Nature's empire, and must rankéd stand
In his created class; by any art
His finite Orbs activity transcend!
What Power of his own can help his Pride
Over his Being's bounded head to ride!

9

God, God alone is King of Nature; and
Nature no Sovereign but her own will know:
Her ear no sooner drinks in His Command,
But strait her knees, and heart, and statutes bow:
For, all things must be Natural, says she,
Which my Creator's Voice injoineth me.

10

That Voice the Fountain was whence first she sprung,
And ever since hath been the Rule whereby
She steers her loyal course. That Voice which rung
So loud as to wake Vacuity
Into a full and mighty World, at ease
May in its Parts work Metamorphosies.

184

11

Yet seldom it unsheaths its Power, but when
Some high and singular Design's in hand,
Some Mystery of potent Love: and then
The Center dares not in its passage stand,
But must and will give way, and to the top
Of Heaven, in meek submission hasten up.

12

For what's the Center's close-shrunk knot; or what
All Heav'n and Earth which round about it cling,
If in an equal righteous ballance put
With Love, that little Word but mighty Thing?
Since they, themselves to Love's sole pleasure ow,
How can they to his Will refuse to bow?

13

Full low they bow'd to it, when from the yoke
Of cruel Pharaoh, Israel's Seed it drew:
Ten famous blows it gave, and every stroke
Some part of Nature in proud Egypt slew:
At length it roll'd the Sea upon an heap,
And op'd the Rebel's graves amidst the Deep.

14

This fertile made the dry-starv'd Wilderness
In Miracles: This of Heav'n-kindled flames
For Sinai's Temples wreath'd an awful Dress:
This taught th'unlikely Rock to melt in streams,
Bidding the Desert flow, as it before
Had charg'd the Sea to start from either shore.

15

This order'd Heav'n to rain down Angels' Bread,
And every morning faithfully fulfil
That wonderous task; whence Earth's wide board was spread
With candied Cates, which Banquet lasted till
The liquorish Sun delighted with the tast
On that Ambrosia, daily broke his fast.

16

This made the Wind turn Caterer, and blow
The People Flesh: This gave the Cloud command
By day as usher in their front to go
With cooling shades: This built that walking, and
Bright-flaming Pillar, whose convoying Light
Commission had to banish Night from Night.

17

The Priest's dread feet This awéd Jordan to
Forbear to touch, though through his heart they past:
This arm'd meer Sound against proud Jericho
And storm'd the City by poor Trumpet's Blast,
Whilst those huge Bulwarks which all Rams did scorn,
Fell prostrate down, and yielded to the Horn.

18

By This more Power to a feebler Sound,
The single Voice of Josua, was given;
Which domineer'd amidst the starry Round,
Against Day's Gyant barracadoing Heav'n.
This made the Clouds their gentle drops forget
And storms of Stones on Israel's Enemies spit.

19

For two and forty Months This gave the Keys
Of Rain's vast store-house to Elias' hand;
No humid Traveller durst trace the skies
Without a Pass from Him, whose stern command
Quite hardning Nature, plated all the Face
Of Earth with iron, and of Heav'n with brass.

20

This This impower'd Elisha to repeal
Fate's adamantine Laws, yea even when
Himself lay pris'ner under Death's cold seal:
For in his Grave, Mortality's own Den,
Life's Dispensation he managéd,
And by his rotten Bones awak'd the Dead.

21

Yet all these Wonders but Preludiums shew'd,
And glimmering Dawns of that all-dazling Day,
Which was to crown Time's happy Plenitude,
And Miracle's ripe age on Earth display:
For then the Word it self came down, and broke
From human necks the crueler Egypt's yoke.

22

Decorum's Law requir'd this Time should be
Time's Excellence: Those forgeries by which
The height of all Poetick Industry
Coinéd the Golden Age, and made it rich
With fancie's gallantry, could never rise
To match this more than Golden Age's price.

23

Phylax resolvéd this bright Truth to shew
To his indearéd Charge, with whom (for she
Had now awoke) in his swift Coach he flew
High through the yielding clouds, and instantly
Reach'd Palestine's designéd Zenith, where
He curb'd his Steeds, and fix'd th'obedient Air.

24

Psyche admir'd to see the Chariot stand
Firm on so thin a floor: But then, said He,
This Region lies not only in the hand
Of Satan's Power; No, our Authority
Is clearer far, though that Usurper here
The name of Sovereign presumes to wear.

25

Alas, time was (as he remembers well)
When tumbled headlong from our highest Home,
He could not stop himself, but helpless fell
Through all this Air to his infernal Doom.
Indeed he often crawleth back this way,
Yet 'tis but like a Thief, to steal his prey.

185

26

But from this lofty Prospect Thou shalt see
The Stages where thy Lord his Wonders did;
Not all: their number is too vast to be
In one Day's little volume fully read:
And yet as many as shall amply prove
That all his business in this World was Love.

27

That Tract is Galilee, yon little Town
The place where first his Might abroach he set,
Where he was pleas'd a Marriage Feast to crown
Both with his presence, and approve of it:
He, though a Virgin's Son, was careful to
Assert himself not to be Wedlock's foe.

28

No; he at first himself contrivéd it,
A strong and delicately-sacred Tie,
By which indissolubly he might knit
Two Bosoms in one Love's Conspiracy.
Wedlock's that reverend Knot, by which alone
Two are no longer Two, but Both are One.

29

A Knot thy Lord delights to imitate,
Though in a purer and more mystick way;
Concentring with his Spouse so sweetly, that
He blends his Heart with hers, till amorous they
Cleave in such unity, as makes the Creature
Strangely partaker of its Maker's Nature.

30

A Knot which only hard and troublous proves
When knit unequally, and to atchieve
Unworthy ends; when free and genuine Loves,
(Whose skill is here the best) may not have leave
To manage their own trade; when Lust doth wear
Affection's face, and Passion domineer.

31

A Knot to which, until the Protoplast
A pris'ner was, not all the Joys which grew
In blesséd Paradise could dress a Feast
Of satisfaction for his Soul: his true
And proper Eden was his precious Wife,
In whom alone he liv'd his dearer Life.

32

A Knot of silk, yet stronger far than that
Which rais'd the fame of Gordius so high;
A Knot which to no weapon yields, but what
The World's true Conqueror weilds; a Knot which by
His uncontroulléd Sithe alone is cut
Whom Fate to mow down all the Earth hath set.

33

A Knot which cementeth Affection close
Between the Branches and the Root, and binds
Up Families in peace; which hanging loose
By doubtful Lines, as oft as waspish Minds
By Discontent's proud itch were spurréd on,
Would split, and into mischief's shivers run.

34

A Knot which Satan gall'd so deep, that he
Bewitch'd grave Plato's high-esteeméd Pen
To preach the Doctrine of Community,
As far more proper for the Weal of Men.
But failing in the moderate Pagan's Plot,
A desperate Christian's likelier tongue he got.

35

His Antiochean Monster ventur'd to
Spit poison on this wholsom Mystery,
Avouching Nuptial Union to flow
From jarring Hell's invention: Hell, said He,
Was that black Shop where Belzebub's own hands
First forg'd and fashion'd Matrimonial Bands.

36

Unhappy Saturninus, how hast thou
Proved thy self an urcheon of Damnation!
What gainst thou else by fetching from below
Thy Being's Root, which was of Heaven's Plantation?
O most adulterous Soul, whose rank offence
Deflowers the Beds of all the World at once!

37

But now, kind JESUS, sitting at the Feast,
And adding living Cheer to that dead Meat,
(For on his Face the Eyes of every Guest,
As on the richer Dainties all were set,)
A fit occasion him beseech'd to joyn
To that dry Banquet of his Face some Wine.

38

The Wine was out: when lo the Virgin Mother
In courteous pity of the Bridegroom's want
(Which she more studious was than he to smother)
Strait to her Son, the fount of all things, went,
And in a blush more lovely than the Bride
Could shew her Groom, the bus'ness signify'd.

39

But then her Son, (because not hers alone,
But also Heaven's, and purposing to show
A token of that high Extraction,)
Waving the precious Name of Mother now,
Reply'd, Woman, let the Purveyor see
To that defect, what is 't to Me or Thee?

40

But marking then how Her abashéd Eye
Begg'd pardon for her hasty Intimation,
He mollify'd his seeming sharp Reply,
By adding this serene Interpretation:
'Tis not thy Charity that I repress,
But its unseasonable forwardness.

186

41

The Bus'ness noble is; for Heav'n and I,
Before thy thoughts it enter'd, plotted it:
But yet thou needst not lend us wings to flie,
Who haste enough can make when haste is fit.
The wheels of Time though speedily they run,
Mine hour as yet they have not rolléd on.

42

Know, Psyche, that His hour is Mercy's Cue;
And at Extremity's last gasping Call,
She loves her seasonable Power to shew.
The want of Wine was yet not known to all
The company, whose Souls it did concern
By that, thy Lord's wise Potency to learn.

43

But when that want was grown notorious, He
With ready Goodness issued his Command,
That six capacious Water-pots should be
Fill'd with their own accustom'd Liquor, and
Drawn for the Guests: when lo, at every spout
The Miracle into the Bowl gush'd out.

44

He who dull Water taught, by thrilling through
The conduit of the Vine and of the Grape,
To turn to brisk and joyful Wine; did now
Teach it as much by running through the Tap.
The cool and Virgin Nymph drawn from the Pot,
All over blushéd, and grew sparkling hot.

45

The Master of the Feast amazéd at
Her looks and spirit, wonder'd whence she came.
Never had his judicious Palate yet
Discover'd such a purely-sprightful Dame.
Not knowing she was made to grace the Feast
By Him who nothing gives but what is Best.

46

And sure I am that in thy pious Ear
The bare narration relisheth so well,
That with thy thirsty Soul thou drink'st thy share,
And tast's the sweetness of this Miracle.
But for these Pots, that thou but turn'st thy Eye,
An Ocean of Wonders thou mayst spy.

47

Lo, yonder flows the Sea of Galilee,
Upon whose sandy shore, which He had set
To curb and discipline its waves, as He
Vouchsaf'd to walk, his Eyes an object met
Which mov'd his unrequested Piety
To wooe the Fisher's to a nobler Sea.

48

Peter and Andrew in that tiresom Main
Catching their Living with their Fish he spy'd:
In whom he read the tedious state of vain
And mudling Man, who in the briney Tide
Of this unstable World, his days doth Waste,
And with his Net, Himself into it cast.

49

So certainly Uncertainty upon
Life's lubrick stage, has learn'd to domineer;
Proud Change in such confounding sport doth run
Here sometimes flowing, sometimes ebbing there;
That solid Earth, no less than fluid Sea
Seems at unsetled Luna's beck to be.

50

This made Him call aloud, Come, follow me,
And I will you embarck upon the shore,
Yet in a safer, profitabler Sea
Than you have ever fishéd in before.
Let those mute Things alone, and I will teach
You speaking Fishes readily to catch.

51

The shoals of Men which in this Age's stream,
Busily scud, as thick and fast shall flow,
Not to those frail and feeble Nets, but them
Which Heav'n's Almigty hand shall weave for you;
Immortal Nets, which know not how to break;
Nets which the universal World shall take.

52

Scorn, scorn that crazy Hulk of yours; for I
Am come to rig a Royal Ship, in which
You round this mighty Globe, being steeréd by
My watchful Providence, shall safely reach.
When Heav'n fears being shipwrack'd, then shall this
Stout Bark, which nothing but Heav'n's Kingdom is.

53

Hast thou not heard how Syrens' Airs have blown
Fond Fishers from their Boats into the Sea;
In whose sharp billows they their Captives drown,
Drownéd before in their soft Harmony?
Well then might this strong Charme those Men invite
Into the Ocean of safe Delight.

54

Once more their Nets they cast, but Cast away;
Meekly ambitious to be Fishes now,
And render up themselves his joyful prey,
Who thus his Net of Love about him threw.
Never adventure had they made like this,
Where being caught themselves they catch'd their Bliss.

55

They catch'd their Bliss; and though their Anchors held
Their Vessel fast, yet could it not detain
Its ravish'd Owners, who made haste to yield
To this new Trade of more assuréd gain.
But, Psyche, yonder Place will tell thee how
Wonders by Land as well's by Sea did flow.

187

56

For there was seiz'd a fairer harder Prize,
And seizéd from Exaction's sturdy throne;
Where Levi sate, Lord of a strange Excise,
The heavy mark of Rome's Dominion:
A Knight was he, for none but such were held
Fitting that Legal Cruelty to weild.

57

That kindly calléd by thy lovely Lord,
Fishers were well content their Bark to leave,
Less ground to sober wonder doth afford;
Their cold and wet and dirty Trade might drive
Them to an easy Faith, their old Degree
Of Life, by any new advanc'd would be.

58

A Faith, which in the dregs of Time, so far
Abus'd would be, that bold Mechanicks, who
In poor and painful toil ingagéd were,
When Sloth and Pride make them too worthy to
Buckle to work, their tools away will throw,
And by this Call, inspir'd Men-fishers grow.

59

But what, what Charms can Golden Chains outvy,
And break those strong and precious Links which now
Held Levi in such dear Captivity,
That ev'n his Soul close pris'ner was: or how
Can this Poor Master such a Man persuade
To leave Great Cesar, and his thriving Trade.

60

A stubborn Mountain may more easily be
Convincéd to resign his native place,
And heave his mouldering bulk into the Sea:
The Sun may sooner from his princely face
Be won to tear his golden Tire, and damp
With Midnight nasty foot his highnoon Lamp.

61

Yet, passing by the Office, He no more
Artillery, but this only Word let fly,
Come, Follow me; which forthwith overbore,
In spight of all reluctant Policy,
The startled Seat, the Profit, and the Man,
And turn'd into a Saint the Publican.

62

He spins out no prudential stay to clear
His busy Book, to set his Reck'nings right,
And all his parcels up to sum: for here
His dearest Total walkéd in his sight;
And no Account he makes but only this,
That now from Money he remov'd to Bliss.

63

The World's opinion he revolvéd not,
Nor how Tiberius this Affront might take;
He weighed not what would be lost, or what
Would not be gain'd; he begs no time to seek
His Friend's advice how he his fame might keep,
Nor lingereth to look before he leap.

64

As from its clogging horrible Abyss,
The World at JESU's Call its head did rear;
So from the blacker deeper mass of his
Confuséd Mammon Levi mounteth here,
And bravely follows Him without delay
Who was himself his Leader and his Way.

65

For Love like Lightning from thy Spouse's Eyes,
Shooting its active sweetness through his Heart,
Into its own obedient Sacrifice,
Whate'r it met did instantly convert.
So sublimate and so refining was
That Fire, that all the Gold it turn'd to Dross.

66

Doubts, Fears, and Cares, and secular Relations
It quite burnt up; and in his flaming Breast,
Left nothing but the noble Exultations
Of valiant Zeal, which, should its course be crost,
Though with the cumbrous bulk of Earth and Sea,
Would rend its way through all, and Victor be.

67

Love, Psyche, Love is that most Potent Thing,
To which all other Strength its head submits.
Hence 'tis, that though the Universe's King
Omnipotence's glorious Title fits,
Yet in this sweeter Name of Higher Might
(For God is Love) he takes his prime delight.

68

Thy Lord his Ordinary Chaplains thus
Call'd out; and Twelve their Mystick number was:
For with this Zodiack He contriv'd to dress
His Grace's Orb through which He meant to pass;
That in as many Signs Himself might run
About his World as do's the other Sun.

69

In which selected Twelve there wanted not
A peevish scorpion too, which daily bit
The Hand that him had foster'd; and his hot
Invidious venom at his Patron spit;
Proving at length in matchless height of Evil
Against Incarnate God, Incarnate Devil.

70

Yet such was JESU's most untiréd Love,
That still he persever'd all stones to roll,
Which might that one in Judas' Bosom move,
And mollify his most obdurate Soul.
For Heav'n forbid that Pity's Lord should fashion
A way to plunge him deeper in Damnation.

188

71

O no! may those black Mouths for ever be
Damm'd up with silence, and with shame, which dare
Father the foulest deepest Tyranny
On Love's great God; and needs will make it clear
From his own Word: thus rendring Him at once
Both Cruelty's and Contradiction's Prince.

72

A Prince whose mocking Law forbids, what yet
Is his eternally-resolvéd Will;
Who wooes and tantalizes Souls to get
Up into Heav'n, yet destines them to Hell;
Who calls them forth whom he keeps lockéd in;
Who damns the Sinner, yet ordains the Sin.

73

Right Egypt's God, the barbarous Crocodile,
Whose weeping Eye the preface drops to that
Destruction, which his own devouring will
Determin'd has. But, Psyche, never let
That thought thy bosom taint, That Heav'n contrives
Those Crimes and Punishments, for which it grieves.

74

When goodly Vines shall Thorns' vile Mothers be;
And glorious Titan Father of dull Night;
When ugly Ink's obscure Nativity
Is lineally descended from the white
Womb of Sarmatian Snow; then; nay not then,
May God the Parent be of bastard Sin.

75

But all the rest were faithful Souls, who stood
True to their Master's Cause, and joy'd to write
Its confirmation in their dearest Blood,
As He had done in his: the sharpest fight
They counted sweetest; glorying that they
His Death might by their own in part repay.

76

The first of these was Zebedee's first Son,
To whom proud Herod's Sword the way cut ope,
And gave him leave that noble Race to run,
Which leadeth straight to Heav'n's illustrious top.
How little dream'd the Tyrant that he did
Put on his Crown when off he took his Head!

77

The next was Philip, who with zealous heat
Flew to the North, and hunted out the Ice
From those dull Hearts which ne'r with Heav'n did beat,
But in congealéd stupid Ignorance freeze:
For his large scene was rudest Scythia, where
December takes his walk through all the year.

78

When He that Winter all on Fire had set
With Christian flames; his Fervor brake into
A Clime which warmer Tempers promis'd, but
At his Life's price he found them colder grow:
He found that more than Scythia's barbarous Ice
Bound up the Heart of Hierapolis.

79

Jove's Name had left no room for JESUS there
And when he tells the People, of the Shames,
The Nails, the Cross, his Lord for them did bear,
He his own Torment's list aforehand names:
Enough of JESUS now, said they, for we
Will quickly make as good a God of thee.

80

Then piercing, first with cruel Taunts his Ear,
And next with Nails his sacred Hands and Feet,
With acclamations up his Cross they rear;
Where being placéd as their fury's Butt,
Of flints (less flinty than themselves) upon him
Pouring a tempest, into Heav'n they stone him.

81

Thomas, whose Doubts had fix'd his Faith so fast,
That neither Life nor Death its root could shake;
With JESUS in his Mouth through Parthia past
And charm'd what Rome could never pliant make.
Then having also rous'd the Æthiops, He
Resolv'd to reach the World's extremity.

82

He sadly markéd how the greedy West
Into the East was drawn by thirst of Gold,
Which had the Sun's and Nature's courses crost,
And into Indus' Mouth the Ocean roll'd:
And will none venture, there said He, to win
A fairer prize than that, the Souls of Men?

83

Sure Indian Souls of purer metal are,
Than that which Avarice so far adores.
Thomas will thither trade, though India were
Distant more worlds than one from Jordan's shores.
For in his zealous sails God's Spirit blows,
And not to fetch but carry Gold he goes.

84

If Gold be not too poor a Name to print
Upon such royal Wares as Glory, Bliss,
Love, Patience, Purity, divine Content,
And every Sweet of sweetest Paradise:
For these, and more than these, inshrinéd lie
In JESU's Name, Heav'n's best Epitomy.

85

With this he traded to make India rich,
And not himself, who now could not be poor,
As having more than All, though not so much
As any thing lay'd up in prudent store:
He knew his Lord was Plenty's King, and He
Counts as his own his Master's Treasury.

189

86

Close to this noble Work the Heroe fell,
And having fairly op'd his Merchandize,
Come buy, saith he; for though these Wares excel
Your glittering Ore's too much adoréd price,
Yet you on Trust may go for all this Bliss,
Give but your Faith, and yours the Treasure is.

87

A Treasure so inestimably pure
As neither moth can fret, nor rust devour:
A Treasure most invincibly secure
From pilferers' sly and robbers' open power.
Yet though so precious; 'tis not I, but He
Deserves your thanks, who sends it you by me.

88

The Brachmans wonder'd at the Generous Man;
So did the Sage Gymnosophists: until
Blindness with spight combined, hurried on
A barbarous Faction, to seize and kill
The wondrous Merchant; who as ready stood
To pour it forth, as they to suck his Blood.

89

Arm'd with their King's consent, and with their Spears,
Into his Heart they ope their murderous way:
Which wounds he with contented patience bears,
And for his doubting Hand returns this pay;
Remembring well how deep, till thus he dy'd,
It stood in debt to his Dear Master's Side.

90

The younger James, whose noble Pedigree
Advanc'd him to be Brother to his Lord,
Much nearer grew of kin by Piety:
No Saint with stouter fervor Him ador'd,
Nor with more resolute constancy than he;
Witness his reverend Forehead and his Knee.

91

His Knee; thick plated with Austerity,
Which day and night all naked dwelt upon
The Temple's floor, till it arriv'd to vie
In hardness with its cushion of stone.
There never grew on painful Camel's Knees
A stiffer Proof of Patience, than on His.

92

His Forehead; deeply sealéd with the same
Stamp of severest zeal, whilst prostrate He
Accustom'd to his Soul's his Body's frame.
O sacred Impudence of Humility!
As wicked Foreheads arm themselves in Brass,
His pious Front in Brawn immuréd was.

93

(A Brawn, which shall hereafter check their Pride
And senseless Superstition, who in New
Devotion pertly will the Old deride,
And hold no Worship from the Body due;
But, in pretence their Conscience tender is,
Maintain their dainty Flesh's Tenderness.

94

Who on the Spirit boldly score up all
Religion's work; and whilst they sit at ease,
Would have the World believe they humbly fall
On their adoring Soul's devouter knees:
Forgetting that the Tree must needs be dead,
Whose sap into no open fruit will spread.)

95

His dearest meat and drink was to obey
His Master's pleasure: Ne'r did Blood of Grape
Stain his abstemious Cup, and slily lay
An ambush for his Reason: mean and cheap
His liquor was, for Virgin Fountains were
His only Cellars, and his only Beer.

96

Ne'r could the rampant Flesh, of Birds, or Beasts
Get leave to reak upon his temperate Board:
Chaste Moderation cookéd all his Feasts,
And well she knew how to content her Lord;
His highest fare were sober modest Fishes;
Where Water serv'd for Beer, the aptest Dishes.

97

His Skin perfuméd Unguents ne'r bedew'd
With supple Flattery of delicious sweat:
Unmanly Baths his Body never stew'd,
Cheating his Vigor with effeminate heat:
His Limbs in active linen lov'd to dwell,
And ne'r were muffled up, and lost in Wool.

98

Nor was that Linen Robe, though coarse and plain,
Contemnéd in the People's Eyes, for they
On bended knees were suters to obtain
His Grace, their off'rings on its Hem to lay,
That on that Altar of Humility,
Their Lips and Kisses they might sanctify.

99

O how imperious is Meek Piety,
Whether it will or no, commanding all
Spectators into Love and Reverence! He
Who at true Honor reacheth, must let fall
His other Plumes, and wisely learn to dress
Body and Soul in humble Holiness.

100

For when did Pride and fond Ambition scape
The vengeance both of Hatred and Disdain
And when did Glory fail her self to heap
Upon his Head, who meekly could refrain
From climbing Honor's ladder, and his own
Desert by rigid Wisdom presséd down?

190

101

Nay, surly He who on the Priesthood's crest
Sits perch'd, of James his Worth convincéd is;
And finding Him the higher holier Priest,
Makes free the Oracle to his access.
Thus Heav'n's abstrusest Cabinet, the Glory
Of all the Earth, became his Oratory.

102

James was the truer Priest indeed: for now
The ancient Priesthood with the Vail was torn;
The Diadem too was fall'n from Judah's brow,
And Salem's royal Splendor lay forlorn:
This made him there erect the sacred throne
Of his Episcopal Dominion.

103

Yet are the Northern Winds, and Irish Seas
More trusty things than Jews: the Jews to day
Can heap their kisses and their courtesies
On him whom they to morrow will betray:
Jews' mouths this hour upon thy Praises' text
Can fairly preach, and suck thy blood the next.

104

With acclamations they this Saint had set
In state upon their Temple's battlement;
And there no sooner he asserts his great
Ascended Lord, but in one mad consent
Of rage they throw him down, and from his veins;
His heart, his head, dash blood, and life, and brains.

105

Zelotes, and Thaddæus, that brave Pair,
When He in Egypt preachéd had, and He
From Tigris to Euphrates, joinéd were
To reap in Persia their felicity:
This was the Crown of Martyrdom, which in
The Quarrel of Heav'n's King they nobley won.

106

Peter, the Leader of that glorious Troop,
When he had fix'd the Antiochean Seat,
His more renownéd Throne set stoutly up
In Cesar's conquering City; where the great
Irradiations of his fame did call
Rome's brightest Strength to try with him a fall:

107

That Strength was Simon, whose Apostasy
From Truth in Magick's Deeps had plung'd him down;
But more in desperate Lies and Blasphemy,
Whilst all that's God's he claiméd as his own,
And left no Trinity in Heav'n, but by
Strange impudence usurp'd that Mystery.

108

The Father in Samaria, the Son
In Jewry, and in all the World beside
He vouch'd himself the Spirit: yet alone
Pretended not ability to guide
His own creating Hand, but when he made
His Angels, granted he had Helen's aid.

109

He knew the surest way he had to gain
His Whore, was to exalt her to his throne,
And in his Godship let her Partner reign.
Besides, to help on his Production
Of blasphemous heretick Portents, Hell
Thought Females useful then; and always will.

110

And so the World will say, when once 't has known
Priscilla, Maximilla, and the Pair
Of Philumens, with Elxai's double Spawn
Marthus and Marthan. For her wretched share
In such Deceits some Eve will still come in,
As Helen here did into Simon's Sin.

111

He woo'd his Scholars in Himself and Her
To treasure up the hopes of their Salvation;
And heedless Souls the surer to insnare,
He freely loos'd the reins to every Passion;
No matter how you live or die, said He,
If once your Faith builds on my Grace and Me.

112

For what, alas, are all the fairest-faced
And goodlyest-featur'd Works which men atchieve,
But hidious Sins, unrighteously graced
With Righteousnesse's Name? But they who leave
Those putrid Props, and trust in Me alone,
Ingage my Power to become their own.

113

This was that Champion, by whose magick skill
Him God indeed, befooléd Nero thought,
And pray'd him by some signal Miracle
To dash those daring Wonders Peter wrought.
To which request his Credit bid him yield,
And set the Day when he would fight the field.

114

The Day is come; and Simon boldly makes
The Challenge, which was, Up to heav'n to fly.
With that, his Arms he weighs, and spreads, and takes
His unwing'd flight: but throws his scornful eye
Down upon Peter, whom into the hands
Of Nero's Justice proudly he commends.

115

The Clouds had gather'd thick about the sky
To guard fair Heav'n against his foul Intrusion;
Yet their battalia he broke, and by
His working arms unto his high Delusion
Forc'd ope the way. The People, as he went,
Their wonder after him, and worship sent.

191

116

But as the never-beaten fencer lets
His bold capricious Combatant grow high,
Before he will in earnest strike, and gets
A later but a nobler Victory:
So Peter suffers him to sore, till he
Might high enough for's fatal Downfal be.

117

Then posting after him with mighty Prayers,
His Coach of unseen Devils from him he tore:
Forthwith down headlong his aerial stayers
The Conjurer fell, and sprauléd on the floor;
Where batter'd, brus'd, and in himself imbrewed,
His black blood and his blacker soul he spewed.

118

So when heav'n-daring Lucifer himself
Try'd in the flaming face of God to fly,
His singéd wings betray'd the venturous Elf,
And down he plung'd into the Misery
Of endless Death. And may his followers all
For ever towre up to no other fall.

119

Strait in the People's Mouths the Devils cry,
Peter our God hath by enchantments slain:
And by this loud unreasonable Lye,
For Him who earn'd a Crown, a Cross obtain.
Unhappy Rome, who hast converted thus
Thy highest Gain into thy deepest Loss.

120

For thou no sooner gainst thy Freedom from
That Wizzard's cheats, but thou betray'st thine own
Deliverer: if wretched Simon, whom
Thou seest by Peter's mighty Prayers thrown
Beneath a Man, were yet a God; O why
Is Peter not the greater Deity?

121

Yet He cries out, This Altar is too rich
For Me, so poor and vile a Sacrifice:
Was't not the Cross, the glorious Cross, on which
My Master pay'd the World's renownéd Price!
Sure were some gallant Seraph here to die,
This Engine would his Passion dignify.

122

Yet if I must thus high aspire; may my
Unworthiness at least have leave to show
That I desir'd not in this pomp to die:
So hang me that my reverend Head below
May pay its final kisses on the Feet
Of my most Royal Savior's dying Seat.

123

Nero to such Requests as these was free,
And glad besides that he had learn'd a way
To cross and double Crucifixion: He
Commands his Sergeants not to disobey
The Wretch's wild desire, but, so he dy'd,
To let him any way be crucify'd.

124

Thus nail'd on his reverséd Tree, with Eyes
Quite turn'd (as was his Heart) from things below
The Saint looks down to Heav'n, and smiling dies;
Malgre his Nails' resistance, able now
That Place, at which his Feet were aim'd, to gain;
A Footstool Simon's ventur'd at in vain.

125

Andrew, his Brother both in Nature's and
In Zeal's and Piety's (much straiter) knot,
Display'd through Thrace to Scythia's furthest Strand
The beams of Grace's Day, so fairly that
It startled, and surpriz'd with holy fright
The dark Barbarians in their northern Night.

126

Thence into Greece the restless Preacher came,
Arrogant Greece, who though she ranks her own
Quite counter to the scorn'd Barbarian Name,
Yet now more cruel was and salvage grown
Than Thrace or Scythia: O that famous Arts
Should raise Men's Wits, and yet debase their Hearts.

127

Achaia smil'd, and with disdainful mirth
Patræ confuted all that Andrew said;
His Beggar-god's, poor miserable Birth
And viler Death, they scoffingly upbraid.
Nor blush'd Ægeus, though Proconsul, he
Forward to spur the People's villainy.

128

A Cross they make him of a new-found frame,
His meek Ambition, or their wanton Spight
Projecting it, which thenceforth bare his Name,
As Him it did that day: a Cross not right
Erected and transverse, but slopingly
Thwarted into the figure of a X.

129

A X, the blesséd Letter, which began
His Master's Title, and his own: his Cross
It self proclaims he dies a Christian:
And though the holy Omen to his gross
Yet learned Foes were unperceived, He
Rejoycéd in his Cross's Mystery.

130

A Cross, which shall inherit such Renown,
Wearing his Name, upon it crucify'd,
That it the Scotish Heraldry shall crown,
And on the top of all its Banners ride.
What Glories then shall Saints themselves obtain,
If in such state their Suffring's Badges reign!

192

131

Nail'd fast to this strange Honor was the Saint,
Array'd in Scarlet from his own rich Veins:
Fond Grecia took it for a torturing Paint,
And thought his Cross a fertile Tree of pains;
But to a Pulpit He converts that Tree,
A Pulpit which did preach as well as He.

132

That preach'd his patient Magnanimity,
His meek Obedience, and his brave Content:
But more illustrious was the Homily,
Which flow'd from his own Lips; so eloquent
And so divine, that Life it self upon
His dying Tongue seem'd to have built her throne.

133

Long held this Sermon, for his last it was;
Two days it measur'd; yet in truth was short:
For what are two poor flitting days, alas,
To that which doth Eternity import?
He preach'd Eternity, to whose fair light
He strove his blinded Torturers to invite.

134

But then observing Death forbear to make
His wonted haste, it forc'd him to complain:
Not that his Pains his Patience had broke,
But that his Heart now long'd its Home to gain;
Counting himself, where-e'r he was, abroad,
Till happily arrivéd at his God.

135

And am I nail'd in vain, dear Lord, said he,
To this stout Pillar of renownéd Death?
Though not poor I, yet Thou deserv'st for me,
That in this honor I may yield my Breath.
These potent Words to Heav'n with Violence flew,
Whence they of flashing Light a Convoy drew.

136

As in the bosom of his chariot's flames,
Blest Phebus sails through his Celestial road;
So in the arms of these officious Beams
The Saint was carry'd to his high Abode:
But yet with this most glorious difference, that
Here Andrew riseth never more to set.

137

On zeal's undaunted wings great Barthol'mew
To meet Day's flame where first it kindled is,
To India's remotest regions flew;
And taught the East to bless their wakening eyes
By worshiping a nobler Sun whose face
Was both the Spring of Glory and of Grace.

138

Then having left his goodly Picture there,
By Matthew's Pen drawn fairly in a Book:
He posted back into Armenia, where
The same illustrious Work in hand he took.
But when of Peace's King he 'gan to talk,
The Prince grew wroth and thus his Fury spake:

139

Bold wretch, who pratest of the idle throne
Of vainer Christ; I'l make thee know that I
In my Armenia will have but one,
And that's the Seat of my own Majesty.
If Jesus be a God, he must be fain
To seek some Realm of Beggars where to reign.

140

'Twere special credit for Armenia's King
To honor as a mighty Deity
A stable-born and manger-cradeled Thing,
Whose ignominious Death did justify
The vileness of Birth, because a poor
Resolvéd doting wretch doth him adore.

141

O no! the Gods by whose great blessing I
Possess my Throne and Crown, are Gods enough:
Fully enough I'm sure for me: and why
Should I go trouble heav'n with more; or throw
Away Devotion on this Jesus, who
At best but for an useless God must go.

142

He useless is; and so I fear art Thou
His correspondent Priest: and yet a way,
Perhaps, my Officers may think on how
To make of thy vile Nothing Something: say
Sergeants, will not this Carrion serve to flea?
Though he be naught, yet good his skin may be.

143

That only Word sufficient was to let
The Tigres loose; who strait the Saint undress
Both of his cloaths and skin which at the feet
Of their remorsless Lord they throw; for his
Due right it was the Martyr's skin to keep
In token that he slew the harmless sheep.

144

But He, though flead, now fairer than before,
As stars when strip'd from clouds, with such excess
Of lustre sparkled in his glorious Gore
As dazell'd by his sacred Nakedness
Vex'd Satan's eyes, who wish'd,—to hide the stain
Of his own shame,—the skin were on again.

145

In vain he wish'd; for Barthol'mew was now
Fit for the Robes of Immortality,
Which Jesu's hand as ready was to throw
On his deserving back; and happy He
Might well expect an easy entrance in
At heav'n's strait gate who first put off his skin.

193

146

But Matthew into Æthiopia ran,
Ventring upon a wonderous Enterprise,
To purge the swarthy Crow into a Swan,
To candy Ink, and Pitch to crystallize,
Sables to make traluced, Shadows bright;
I mean, to wash the Pagan Negros white.

147

Yet this by Baptism's searching streams he did,
Which drown'd their hearts in Life and Purity.
Hence came the torrent of his Name to spread
And in the chanel of the Court grow high.
The Court soon catch'd the News, but little thought
That in the News's net it self was caught.

148

Caught was its dearest Gem, the virgin Heart
Of Iphigenia, daughter to the King:
And now not all the flattering frowning art
Of royal Hirtacus from her could wring
The least consent her mystick Spouse to leave,
And unto him by nuptial cement cleave.

149

No: though the throne of her deceased Sire
Was now become his own; for noble She
Would to no other Royalty aspire
But what she found in Christian Piety;
And in that holy Realm she reached high
To gain Perfection's sublimity.

150

My solemn Vow, cry'd she, is past, and I
My body to my Maker must restore
As I receiv'd it; my Virginity
Is now intirely His, and mine no more:
And such a Queen why will thy Wishes seek,
Who to thy bed through Perjury must break?

151

If Me you love, O then love what I am;
Love Love himself, or else you love not Me:
Be truly Royal, love the Christian Name,
And let my sacred Vow still sacred be.
For I may to no earthly Spouse be ty'd
Who to an heav'nly Bridegroom am affy'd.

152

With wrath and folly blind, the Tyrant saw
Not how this Match most matchless was, nor that
She had already chose a King: and though
Humanity and Courtship suffer'd not
His Rage to tear the Princess, yet he swore
Her Tutor's blood should pay his Scholar's score.

153

His choisest thirstiest Bloodhounds he dispatch'd
With sutable Commission to the Saint;
Whom at the mystick Table having catch'd,
The floor with his and his Lord's Blood they paint:
And at the Altar thus the Martyr dies,
Both holy Priest and willing Sacrifice.

154

Matthias, whom heav'n-witness'd Faith commended
To traytor Judas his escheated Place;
Persuing Matthew's great Design, contended
To Æthiopia: but his final Race
In Jewry was, where not with sweat, but Blood
Besmear'd, his Master's steps to heav'n he trod.

155

John was the last; but first and highest in
His dear esteem who is himself Most high:
O blessed Soul, in whose delicious shrine
Divinity so much rejoyc'd to lie!
JESVS indeed lov'd all the rest; but He
Not only lov'd, but was in love with Thee.

156

He was in love with thy Virginity
With blooming Graces youthfully bedeckt:
Of all his Twelve indeared Consorts, He
Did for his amorous favours Thee select:
His softest nearest Spouse wert Thou, in whose
Ingenuous eyes he lov'd his own to loose.

157

He was in love with that reflection
Of his own Sweetness shining in thy face;
With sympathetick joy he dwelt upon
His iterated self in that pure Glass,
Resolv'd on it all Lovers Arts to prove:
Most happy Saint with whom Love fell in love!

158

From off the troubled main He lured Thee
Into the calmest Sea of living Pleasures;
The bosom of supream Serenity
To which the Ocean is but poor in treasures:
His own alprecious Breast He open'd wide
And welcom'd Thee to joy's ne'r-ebbing tide.

159

There did'st thou lie and learn thy Soul to glow
By that dear copy of thy Pillow's heat;
A Pillow in whose soft protection Thou
Laidst all thy Cares and fears asleep, and yet
Sleep'dst not thy self; for how could any eye
Indure to close when Jesus was so nigh!

160

There didst thou lie all next the heart of Love,
Heav'n bowing round to shelter thee from harm;
Heav'n, not so sweetly now display'd above
As folded up in His incircling Arm:
Which forc'd all wise Spectators to conclude
Thou wert aforehand with Beatitude.

194

161

Those Stories where the Quire of Seraphs dwels
Exalted in felicity's bright sphere,
Thy dainty Habitation excels;
For at his footstool they lie prostrate there:
Amidst the sweets of whose all-balmy breast
Thine only Head injoys its glorious Nest.

162

How vast an Army of most strong Delight
Beleaguered thy Soul on every side,
Whilst thy inamor'd Spouse try'd all the might
Of Heav'nly tenderness on his dear Bride:
What healing wounds gave his Affection's Dart,
How many living Deaths, to thy soft heart!

163

How deeply sealed He himself on Thee
By those intire Expressions, which can by
No heart be understood, but such as He
Instructs in Love's profound Divinity.
On his own bosom how did he repose,
When his embraces there did Thee inclose!

164

How did He study to epitomize
His Incarnation's amorous Design,
And sum the best of Mercy's Mysterys
Up in thy single soul! in which divine
Experiment, it was thine only grace
To fill his universal Churche's place.

165

Thus while He liv'd He sweetly liv'd in Thee;
And to his Death, when he was nailed fast,
He nobly scorned that Mortality
Should seize upon his Love: for by his last
And tenderest words, while He himself did die,
To Thee He left Love's living Legacy.

166

Into his dearest Mother's bosom He
Commended Thee, and bid her own her Son:
What Nature could not, Love contriv'd to be,
And Mary must be Mother unto John:
Love had so closely John and Jesus ty'd,
That in their Mother they must not divide.

167

Mary no other Glass could find, where she
So fair an Image of her Son might read:
Nor John so pure a Mirrour meet, where He
Might on his Master's graceful picture feed
His longing eyes: thus Love though dead and gone,
Her Son to Mary leaves, his Spouse to John.

168

No wonder, gentlest Saint, that on thy Tongue
Love built his hive, and drop'd his honey thence,
Whilst thy soul-charming words present so strong
A relish of Heav'n's choisest Influence;
That Love from his own wing lent thee the quill
Which all thy Lines with Charity doth fill.

169

No wonder Thou brave Eagle soardst so high
Making the Sun thy book, in which divine
Volume thou read'st the Word's great Mystery,
Which dazeling other Eyes, refined thine.
No wonder that thy Gospel's Calculation
Thou drew'st by none but God's own elevation.

170

No wonder, that Port Latin saw the Oile
Scalding in vain: thou who didst live by fire
Whilst amorous streams joy'd in thy breast to boil,
Couldst feel no other flames: O no! some higher
Fervor of Love must melt thine own, and send
It to the welknown bosom of thy friend.

171

The languishments of never-faint Desire
Must crown thy life with correspondent Death:
Though all the Rest through blood and wounds expire
This dainty Martyrdom must end thy breath.
So Heav'n has privileg'd thy Piety,
That thou who liv'dst by love, of Love must die.

172

Pardon me Psyche, that I have thine ear
By this Apostrophe detain'd, since John
Was by his virgin flaming worth so near
Of kin to our Angelick Tribe: and can
We mention Him, and no salutes afford
To one thus honored by Honor's Lord.

173

And pardon me that I have dwelt so long
On his Apostolick Consorts; the glory
Of whose Death-scorning Valor do's no wrong,
Nor interrupts their Master's royal Story:
He, and his Heav'nly Might in them appear'd
Who o'r the vanquish'd Earth his Banner rear'd.

174

Thus they who paint the praises of the Beams,
Display the commendation of the Sun:
When Eloquence's tributary streams
After the Silver-thrilling Current run,
Their Panegyrick homage they no less
Unto the Mother-fountains wealth profess.

175

Mark now that Mount, which lifts its lofty head
Near to Bethsaida, taking thence a view
Of all the Countries round about it spread;
Nor Zebulon nor Nephtali outflew
Its prospect's jurisdiction, nor the most
Removed skirts of Trachonitis' Coast.

195

176

Acquaintance also it sublimely took
Of other Mountains; unto Hermon, Seir,
And stately Libanus it reach'd a look:
This was that noble Oratory, where
Thy Lord so oft retired, that the Place
Thenceforth the Mount of Christ surnamed was.

177

A Mount where liberal Nature did her best:
Witness the flowry Beauties smiling there;
But Grace far more magnificence exprest
Than all that awful Pomp, which dressed for
The great Law-giver's feet the flaming head
Of Sinai, mix'd with thunder, smoak, and dread.

178

For here no Trumpet spake the frightful Mind
Of stern Imperiousness; no rigid Law
Back'd with an everlasting Curse, enjoyn'd
All shoulders in its galling yoke to draw:
But Love himself upon his gentle throne
Gave his soft Laws of Benediction.

179

Eight Springs of Blessedness abroach he set,
And woo'd the weary World to bathe in them.
Their fears he cheer'd, and taught them to transmit,
And bury all Solicitude in him:
He pass'd his Word, Heav'n should their Purveyor be,
Who served in the Wars of Piety.

180

His Evangelical Oeconomy
He instituted here; and so improv'd
The highest pitch of Legal Sanctity,
That though incumbring burdens he remov'd,
Yet Bonds of more Perfection on he laid,
And wondrous strict his Mercy's Candor made.

181

His Reins were silk, but yet he held them strait,
And drove amain; providing by that Art
Of loving sharpness, that no charming Bait
Might his Disciples lure, and tempt to start
Out of the King of Heav'n's High-way, but to
His Kingdom safely and directly go.

182

How sternly vain and foolishly severe
Appears the solemn Stoick's Discipline,
If duly weigh'd with this enacted here!
Grant that the Porch; the Sacred and Divine
Temple itself was this: That fram'd of none
But rude, This though of hard yet polish'd Stone.

183

Christ's Blessed Rules, and none but his, are they
Which past the Purity of Gold refine
Gross mortal Bosoms, sublimating Clay,
Till with Angelick Claritude it shine;
Whilst by his Spirit he scours off sinful Rust,
And into Heav'n blows up the purged Dust.

184

Turn now, and view those desart Fields which lie
Next neighbours to the Galilean Sea:
Into the quiet of whose privacy
Devotion had withdrawn thy Spouse: but He
Had given the People too much taste of his
Sweetness, to think he long could scape their press.

185

For as the busy Bees who once have found
A fragrant Garden, haunt it day by day,
Hunting out every flower, and humming round
About the tops of their delicious prey:
So to that Garden (such thy Lord had by
His presence made the Desert) they did flie.

186

JESUS who bow'd from Heav'n poor Man to meet,
Could not refrain to entertain the Croud;
Whom with impartial respect to greet,
As fully as their Tide, his court'sy flow'd:
For he kind welcome dealt to great and small,
Who came to be the Savior of All.

187

Then as the wise Physician's wholsome care
Is first to make the Vitals sound within,
Before he lends relief to any sore,
Which craves his pity in the open skin:
So did his prudent tenderness to those
His numerous Patients his Receipts dispose.

188

By long Distempers both their Brain and Heart
Into Despair's dominion had been brought,
Had they not met with his All-healing Art,
From whose sweet Lips such Cordials broke out,
Such Salves, such Balsams, that pure Health did seem
Turn'd into Physick to recover them.

189

Heav'n's Kingdom was the Med'cine he apply'd;
A Med'cine which its Doctor well became:
A Med'cine fit to humble down that Pride,
Whose tumor made them sick: his Home from home
To find his long lost Sheep, to Earth he brings
And is resolv'd to heal them into Kings.

190

Meek Kings, that so at length they might be High;
For none but such his wondrous Kingdom fits:
Since He, the God of all Sublimity,
To Lowliness's bottom thus submits,
His followers must learn by stooping down,
To raise their Heads to their Supernal Crown.

196

191

Doses of Wisdom, Power, Life and bliss
Into their ears he pour'd: and in that stream
So rarely He infus'd all Paradise,
That what did nothing but a Sermon seem,
Was liquid Heav'n: the jewel thus, unseen
Swum in the goblet of th'Egyptian Queen.

192

And this advanc'd the wonder, that his tongue
No help of learned Education had:
The soundest Doctor's brains were not so strong
But in his young and feeblest years He made
Them to his more oraculous Problems yield
The honor of sage Disputation's field.

193

For never did the Ezrahite Ethan, never
Did Heman, Chalcol, Darda, whose renown
Exalted high above the World did hover,
And plant upon their temples Wisdom's crown;
Never did Trismegistus; never did
The deepest reach of Zoroastre's head;

194

Never did Solomon, whose gallant wit
As high's the Heav'n, as deep as was the Sea,
Unlock'd and ransack'd every cabinet
Of darkest Nature; dive so far as He,
Or such sententious Rarities express
As sparkled in this rich Discourse of His.

195

Yea ev'n the Serpent, in whose wily head
All cunning reigns, when he thy Grandame Eve
With his profoundest and most studyed
Inchantments try'd, of old, and did deceive,
Less sweetly and less subtly preach'd, than now
This Sermon from thy Spouse's lips did flow.

196

The Serpent's Preachment aimed Man to steal
Into the snare of his own misery:
Thy Spouse's end was only to reveal
The passage to his own felicity:
And Heav'n forbid, but Truth as strong should be
As undermining lies and flattery.

197

It stronger was, by full authority
Shewing its own authentick worth and might;
And not in doubting sneaking jealousy
Desirous of, yet starting from the light.
The Chair which totters is the Scribe's, not His
Which surer than the World's Heart fixed is.

198

Amphion never by his charming Song
So civilized salvage hearts as He
Who by the sweets of his most potent Tongue
Wild Wickedness tam'd into piety.
The senseless Spheres a ravishing sound can make;
Much more His voice from whom their tune they take.

199

This done; thy tender God his love expresses
In outward Succours; for with Ears the Deaf,
With feet the Lame, with Eyes the Blind he blesses,
And opes more choise of Sovereign Relief
Than they of wants. O copious Savior, who
At once could heal both Soul and Body too.

200

The Day grown now decrepit (for the Sun
Bow'd to the West,) made his Disciples pray
Their Lord to give the crowd dismission,
That in the Desert's bordering Burroughs they
Might get their suppers: No, said bounteous He,
They are my friends, and they shall sup with me.

201

Before these numerous Mouths what will you set?
Cry'd they, alas! two hundred pence in bread
Will not the sorry pittance of a bit
To every one afford; and furnished
How shall this mighty Banquet be with dishes
Since here's but five poor Loaves and two small fishes?

202

As yet they knew not that their Lord was He
Who able made the petty spring to feed
And fill the Rivers' vast capacity:
He who the single Taper taught to breed
That fertile flame which lights a thousand more
Without diminishing its native store.

203

He by whose power Elijah could command
The final Handful of the wasted Meal
To grow upon the pious Widdow's hand,
From whom no scarceness could her bounty steal,
And by a springing harvest more than turn
The pined Barrel to a plenteous Barn:

204

He, in obedience to whose might (and though at
Elisha's word) the Pot of Oil awaked
Into a fount, whose bubling ceased not
Till want of Vessels its Abundance slaked;
But then grown wisely Thrifty, it represt
Its liberal stream, that nothing might be lost.

205

He, whom the same Elisha did foreshew
When he before an hundred Convives set
That simple Dinner, which in spending grew,
And being small at first, at last was great;
The Eater's teeth unlocking but the way
Unto the Much which in that Little lay.

197

206

But now they learn'd it: go, said He, and make
My Guests by fifty on a row sit down.
Which done; in his creating hands he took
The fish and bread, and lifting to his own
Fair heav'n his eyes, said grace: when lo, his sweet
And mighty Blessings swelled in the meat.

207

For as he brake the Bread, each fragment He
Made greater than the whole; no crum did fall
But rose into a Loaf, as readily
As when you cut a Line, whose products all
Are Lines as well as it, though you for ever
The new emergent Particles dissever.

208

By his Division the fishes too
Suddenly spawn'd a wondrous fulgrown fry;
Though dead, yet at his touch they started so,
That two usurped Multiplicity;
No longer Two, but now a shoal, which from
The Sea of Love out at his fingers swum.

209

Then his Disciples' service he commands
To be officious to this Growing Feast,
And distribute into the People's hands
The teeming Bread and Fish: strait every Guest
Fell to, admiring how that simple Meat
Made them forget all Hony to be sweet.

210

The Quails and Manna had been homely fare,
Which Heav'n did in the other Desert shower
When hungry Israel was a Pilgrim there,
Had This been then serv'd up: The Wine's brave power
At Cana born, excell'd the Grape's best blood;
So did this Feast to day all other Food.

211

A Feast, which though with Pleasure's Complement
The ravish'd Convives Tongues it courted; yet
Unto the Palates of their Souls it sent
More courteous Salutes; whose Taste did fit
Their inward Hunger so exactly, that
More with their Hearts than Mouths they feeding sate.

212

Satiety at length, not nauseous,
But soberly accomplish'd, put a close
To this strange Banquet: When thy generous
Yet thrifty Lord, injoyns them not to lose
His bountie's surplusage, nor scorn the Meat,
Because he gave them more than they could eat.

213

Straitway the fragments all collected were,
Which fifty hundred feasted Men had left:
When lo the total was exceeded far
By those remaining parts; the springing Gift
Persu'd its rare multiplication stil,
And with the Relicts stuff'd twelve baskets full.

214

Know, Psyche, that thy wise Redeemer by
This Wonder, to a greater op'd the way;
The long-design'd and precious Mystery
Of his dear Body; which He meant to lay
On every Christian Altar, there to be
The endless Feast of Catholick Piety.

215

A Feast which shall increase upon its Guests,
And keep intire when millions filled are:
A Feast of Miracles, a Feast of Feasts,
Not to a Desert ty'd, but every where
Dispers'd abroad, yet every where complete,
That all the World may freely come and eat.

216

The feasted People were dismissed now,
And JESUS steps into that Mount to Pray:
Sure 'twas that Bliss along with them might go,
Whom from his Love he sent not yet away,
That Night might not upon their path incroach,
Nor danger's ambushment their footsteps touch.

217

That by this Miracle, which proved to
Their very teeth his Power Divine to be;
All other fruitless Helps they might forego,
And build their trust on his Divinity.
His chosen Twelve mean time (for so their Lord
Commanded had) were gone before aboard.

218

That Sea, whose looks thou seest all polished
With flattering calmness smil'd just so on them
When out they launch'd; but dangerous Fraud lay hid
Beneath the glass of that alluring stream:
Truth needs no smiles; 'tis only Treason's face
Which forced is to borrow painted Grace.

219

As when an envious Spirit, who finds no way
Safely to vex the Master's Person, makes
His more obnoxious family his prey,
And at the second hand his vengeance takes:
So Satan now, too weak with Christ to fight,
On his Disciples vow'd to ease his spight.

220

Deeply he pin'd to see the People fed,
And for himself, resolv'd to make a Feast;
Yet by the Sea's vast mouth he studied
His dainties to devour; and thus at least
Part of the Miracle revenge, and though
Not for the Loaves, quit for the Fishes grow.

198

221

His pride advis'd his wrath not to forget
What Jurisdiction he had long pretended
Over the Airy Realm; and since a fit
Occasion here invited his offended
And potent Majesty, to this mad fight
He muster'd his Aerial subjects' might.

222

For from the Adriatick Main, and from
The Baltick Ocean, and the Irish Sea,
He summon'd all the stoutest Storms to foam,
And here disgorge their utmost treachery:
He made each Wind pick quarrels with his brother,
And tumbled them in frantick war together.

223

The East was peevish, sharp and grim the North,
The West impetuous, black and foul the South:
Each puff'd and swell'd, and wildly belched forth
Their fury full in one another's mouth:
The brused Clouds in floods their sorrows pour'd,
And all the weather-beaten Welkin roar'd.

224

The tatter'd Waves against the Shores were flung,
But churlishly again they kick'd them back:
Which sharp unkindness hideous mourning wrung
From their torn mouths: the startled Deeps did quake,
And thinking to escape that dismal fray
From their profoundest bottoms ran away.

225

Th'amazed Main within herself was lost,
Whilst this stern Tempest vehemently broke
Quite through her heart, and all her bowels tost
About the groaning Air, with hopes to choke
The Moon and Stars; which wild confusion
Made both the Waters and the Winds be one.

226

And thus the Winds flow'd, and the Waters blew;
The Waves' loud fra[n]gor with the Thunder's joyn'd;
The Lightning flashed, that misery to shew,
In which all direful Dread and Death combin'd;
'Twixt Light and Darkness hence grew such a fight,
That now alas 'twas neither Day nor Night.

227

In hurlyburly through the billowy Air
A thousand dismal Apparitions flew,
Whose bloody glaring eyes with deep Dispair
The frighted looks of every Comfort slew.
Hell chang'd its fiery Deeps in spightful sport,
And in these humid Gulphs kept open Court.

228

The woful Ship flung towards Heav'n in vain
Upon the back of an unfaithful Wave,
With dreadful mockery strait was plung'd again
Into the bottom of its gaping grave;
Which gave it there no rest, but spew'd it up
With indignation to the Tempest's top.

229

The Mast submitted to the Wind, and split;
The Sails forsook the Ship, and flew away;
The Helm disdain'd the Pilot's useless wit,
Who needed now some wiser hand to stay
And steer himself: the Sea made bold to come
Aboard, and take a view of every room.

230

Loud laugh'd the Billows at the Pumps, and in
Proud flouts defy'd their frustrate power: each blast
Bandy'd the Bark, contending which should win
The credit of its wrack: thus bang'd and tost
In Tennis-courts a Ball thou oft hast view'd,
Until some loss the boistrous Game conclude.

231

For their Devotions all themselves apply'd,
(For danger wakes the dullest piety,)
O where is Jesus now? his Scholars cry'd,
How is his Promise wash'd away, since we
Whom for Men-fishers He designed had
To Fishes now a booty must be made!

232

Yet as their lamentations swell'd, the Tide
Of louder Winds and Waves still drown'd their cry.
They once for all most gladly would have dy'd,
But still they saw Deaths strangely multiply,
And throw them and their Ship broken together,
From one Destruction's mouth into another.

233

Mean while the Gulph of Satan's boiling breast
Wrought with as great a tempest of vexation,
To see a crazy Vessel thus resist
The Wind's and Sea's most eager conjuration:
Puzel'd and gall'd he wonder'd what should make
A Bark so often broke, refuse to break.

234

When lo, shot through a Cloud's prodigious crack,
Continu'd Lightning smote the dazled Air;
By which one marching on the Tempest's back,
The staring Men descry'd: and now new fear
Stormed their wracked Souls: Alas, they cry'd,
By all these Deaths why might we not have dy'd?

235

Here, here the Spirit comes, whose fatal wrath
Rais'd this tempestuous preface to our woe:
See how he hither bends his hasty path,
And o'r the waves securely gallops; lo,
Which way soe'r he speaks, but with his hand,
The Clouds start back, and reverence his command.

199

236

Mark how the awed Winds forbear to blow
Disturbance in his way by boistrous weather;
And all officiously behind him go,
Shewing that on his errand they came hither.
He comes, he comes! sweet Sea, O gape not thus
In vain, but from this danger swallow us.

237

Forthwith their Lord, who heard this desperate cry,
Thrust in his Comfort: Add no more, said He,
This Tempest to your Storm of misery,
Nor rend your Hearts with dread: mistake not Me,
I am your loving Lord and Master, and
Why fear you Death, now Life's thus near at hand?

238

As He whose trembling neck lies ready under
The coming axe, if some unlook'd-for voice
Brings his Reprieve, 'twixt troubled joy and wonder
He starts, and slowly understands the noise
Of promis'd Life, already being dead
In's own despairing thoughts, and buried.

239

So these Disciples, drowned in their fears,
Now questioned their Eyes' fidelity,
Which saw their Lord; nor could they trust their Ears,
Although they heard himself profess 'twas He.
The sudden influence of unhop'd-for Bliss,
Always a deluge of amazement is.

240

But fervid Peter, rousing up his Heart
In confidence's Ark, resolv'd to ride
Above this Flood: though back the rest did start,
He forward prest, and valiantly cry'd,
O bid thy ready humble servant meet,
If thou our Master art, thy blessed Feet.

241

If thou deceiv'st us not, each surly wave
At thy injunction to my steps will bow,
And with security my passage pave;
If otherwise; Can I be worse than now?
The Sea into our Vessel crouds, and I
Must either here or there in water die.

242

Come then, his gracious Master cry'd: But as
He labour'd forward, lo an high-swoll'n wave
Tumbling and foaming in his way, alas,
Did all his courage instantly outbrave.
His Heart sunk first, and then his Feet, and all
But's Tongue, which sadly to his Lord did call.

243

Had any other Lord but He been there,
With what indignant scorn would he have made
His faithless Subject meet his censure where
He more in sin than in the Sea did wade!
But now Omnipotence itself exprest
Pity to Him, who dar'd its Power distrust.

244

Jesus, whose Ear delights to hear the cry
Of suppliants, though Sinners, reach'd his Hand,
(That Hand where only dwells Security;
That Hand which rules the stubborn Ocean, and
Measures it in its Palm,) and snatch'd him out
From that deep Sea, and from his deeper Doubt.

245

And then, O thou of little faith, said He,
Why did that weak suspition press thee down?
What made thee so forget almighty Me
Who can in their own Waves all Tempests drown?
Learn now, and blush, that Winds and Billows know
The Power of their Maker more than Thou.

246

Here having step'd aboard, he turn'd his Eye
Upon the Storm, and sternly signified
His royal Will: their duty instantly
The Winds discover'd in that Glance, and hied
Away in such great haste and fear, that they
Lost all their Breath and Spirits by the way.

247

The mutinous Billows saw his awful Look,
And hush'd themselves all close into their Deep:
The Sea grew tame and smooth; the Thunder broke
Its threatning off; forth durst no Lightning peep,
But kept its black Nest, now outshined by
The flashing Mandates of its Master's Eye.

248

The Devils who all this while had toss'd and rent
The Elements, perceiv'd the final Wrack
Fall on their own Design, and yelling went
Home to their Pangs; the Clouds in sunder brake
And having clear'd the Scene of these loud Wars,
Left Heav'n's free face all full of smiling Stars.

249

Forthwith the Ship without or Sail, or Tide,
Kept strait its course, and flew to kiss the shore:
Where Jesus deigns to be the Vessel's Guide,
Where needs no help of Time, Tide, Wind, or Oar:
His Eye alone might drive the Bark, whose Look
Abash'd the Sea, the Storm with terror stroke.

250

His Eye, his Eye is that eternal Star
Which gildeth both the Poles; which day and night
Equally shines; which guides all those who are
Sailing in Life's rough Sea: for by his Light
And none but his, each mortal Mariner
Who goes for Safety's Port, his Course must steer.

200

251

Mark now that shore of populous Genaser,
Where from a Storm He once arriv'd before:
Great was the Wonder He atchieved there,
Not on tempestuous Winds and Seas, but more
Outrageous Fiends, who had themselves possest
Of an unhappy Man's usurped breast.

252

Those Tombs shut out of town thou seest there
These Devils made his sullen habitation.
To damned Spirits such places dearest are
As most invite to desolate Desparation.
But henceforth Christian Cœmiteries shall
Revenge this boldness, and all Hell appal.

253

Which Truth, the Fiend who wears the famous Name
Of wise Apollo shall at length confess
To his own Julian, in the stinging shame
Of forced Silence, when great Babyla's,
Intombed Dust shall able be to stop
His lying mouth, and seal his Oracle up.

254

Oft drove they to that neighbour Mountain's brow
The frantick staring Wight, in hopes that he
Out of his tiresome Life himself would throw
Into their Pit of deeper Misery.
A thousand Snakes about his heart they wound,
Whilst Rage and Madness did his brain confound.

255

The froth of which Confusion foamed out
At his unquiet mouth: sometimes he roar'd;
Sometimes he sung; sometimes his frensy wrought
As high as Blasphemy, and freely pour'd
A rayling flood on Heav'n and God, whom yet
He thought not of in all his raving fit.

256

The Rocks and Tombs he tore with hideous Cries,
Which bellow'd fright on every Passenger:
Poetick fancy never could devise
Such dismal Barking for fierce Scylla, or
Fell Cerberus; nor could the Thunder's voice
Though louder, make so terrible a Noise.

257

For how should Monsters speak, but like themselves!
But for sweet-tuned Man to howle and yell,
Doubles the prodigy: nor were those Elves
Who make Damnation's Sink with Horrors swell,
Such frightful Devils, as they now appear,
Had they not once shin'd in th'Angelick sphere.

258

All Men he hated; but Himself much more
Than all his other foes, yet knew not why:
Alas, 'twas Hell which in his soul did roar,
That sworn Maligner of Humanity:
Hell, which with all the World maintaineth wars,
But chiefly with itself for ever jars.

259

And in his bosom now it boils so hot;
That he impatient of all Rayment grew,
('Twas Satan's dearest first-begotten Plot
Man's naked shame to lay in open view),
His cloaths he rent, and then pluck'd off his hair,
And star'd about for something else to tear.

260

The sharpest Stones which in the Rocks he spy'd
His cruel love more than all Jewels won;
With those his vengeance on himself he tryd,
And lin'd it out upon his launced skin.
And though they pained him, yet still to spight
His Pains, he in his Wounds would take delight.

261

Hast at the stake a roaring Bull beheld,
Worry'd by ten keen Mastiffs, and in gore
And gashes cloth'd? that Spectacle must yield
To his bemangled shape of horror; for
Not all the Dogs of Albion can tear
A Bull, as he himself had baited here.

262

His tatter'd brows hung down below his eyes;
His mouth and nose met in one rent; his head
Was slash'd; the bones star'd in his plowed thighs,
His sides were gash'd; his arms and bosom flead;
His wounds concurr'd, and drowned one another
Like Rivers blended in the Sea together.

263

And wonder not that all this tedious while
His vital Powers could be so hardy as
Pain's tide to stem, and be confederate still
With his tormented Heart: the Fiends could pass
No further than their Chain, which though it reach'd
His Body, could not to his Life be stretch'd.

264

(So when their King commission had to try
The valour of the Idumean Prince
Against a siege of Boils, and Battery
Of thousand wounds Job's Life made brave defence;
And spight of any Mines, maintain'd his Breath's
Strong Arsenal against an host of Deaths.)

265

This added to their everboiling spight
New raging fire, by which they stung his wrath,
To wreak itself on every mortal Wight,
Whose hard hap damn'd them to his headlong path.
Thus all about the coast this terror spread,
And cares, and fears, and plots awakened.

201

266

As when a Lyon from the Forest broke,
Invades some Shepherd's pasture, every Town
Which borders on that sad mischance, doth look
Upon their neighbor's danger as their own,
And all their country arms, and dogs unite
Against the publick foe in common fight:

267

Th'alarmed Gaderens so combin'd their strength,
The fury of this raving Man to tame:
In vain a while they grapled, till at length
By number not by power they overcame;
And loading him with chains and fetters, hop'd
They now had his mischievious torrent stop'd.

268

But he with ireful smiles disdain'd their plot,
And rending off his idle fetters, threw
Them at their scorned heads: No bands they got,
Their oft-defeated project to renew,
Whether of steel or brass, but served Him
For engins, which he tore, and flung at them.

269

Triumphant thus in fierceness, he espied
Thy Lord upon that shore, and to him ran:
But never with more hideous bellowing cry'd,
Nor madlier beat or cut himself, than when
Near Jesus he approached, from whose look
Both pity now, and indignation broke.

270

His bowels yearn'd, his anger flam'd, to see
Hell domineering in that tortured Breast
Of which his Sovereign Self, and Heav'n should be
By their eternal right alone possest.
This made Him by that Power which chas'd away
Of late that other Tempest, this allay.

271

Foul Fiend, he cry'd, usurp that Hold no more;
The Man is mine, and I his Lord will be.
Come forth, thou bold Intruder, and restore
Thy prize again, both to himself and Me.
O mighty Voice! which rent the Devil more
Then he had done the woful Man before.

272

For as the Slave, who broken is by stealth
Into his Master's closet, revels there
Among the Bags of ready-coined wealth,
And any Bills or Bonds presumes to tear,
Making all fuel for his peevish rage,
And thus revenging his own Vassalage;

273

But if his Master's unexpected Eye
Happens to apprehend him in his sin;
That glance, like lightning's dint, so piercingly
Afflicts his thievish guilty Soul, that in
Base-hearted thankless meekness down he falls,
And on his wretched face for pardon calls:

274

So did the Fiend: in one huge gust of horror
Were all the World's deep dying groans united,
They could not tear the Skies with so much terror,
As did his Ejulation; which affrighted,
And forc'd the mourning Tombs, and Rocks and Sea
In its impatient Echo to agree.

275

Jesus, thou highest Son of God most high,
Am I a match, an equal Match for Thee?
If I must yield my Fort, and naked lie,
Whilst Thou triumph'st and tramplest upon me;
Yet by thy Father's Name I thee conjure,
Thou damn me not new torments to endure.

276

But since the Lord had stretch'd him on the rack,
He charg'd the Traitor to confess his Name:
O how this Mandate did his Heart-strings crack,
Which snatch'd the vail from off his ugliest shame;
And for one Serpent which the World supposed
There to have lurk'd, a Legion disclosed.

277

No other Name he durst acknowledge now
But Legion; for so indeed they were.
Vile Cowards, what is Dust and Clay, that you
So numerous an Army mustered there?
Fine credit 'tis for troops of Spirits to lay
Their ambush one poor mortal Man to slay.

278

But O, that Men, whose mystick obligation
Of mutual Membership doth them invite
To careful tenderness, and free compassion;
With such confederate zeal, and stout delight
Would help their Brethren up the heav'nly Hill,
As these contrive to plunge them deep in Hell!

279

There hadst thou been, my Dear, thou might'st have seen
In what a fearful lamentable guise
These Devils to their prayers fell, to win
Some pity from thy Lord's imperious Eyes:
Which did the baseness of their Spirit prove,
Who stoop'd to fawn on whom they scorn to love.

280

Him they beseech'd to let them harbor still
In this cool Region, and not force them home.
They knew they should too hot have found their Hell,
If they had back without their Errand come;
That disappointed Satan on their head
Would all his boiling wrath have emptiéd.

202

281

Besides; their proper Diocess was this
Nor might their jurisdiction further go:
For Satan here cants out his Provinces,
And all his Deputies disposeth so
That no Commission jarreth with another,
Nor any Fiend incroacheth on his brother.

282

And this he do's in insolent emulation
Of that fair Polity by Heav'n erected,
Whereby each Empire, Kingdom, Country, Nation,
By some Angelic Patron is protected,
Guided, and governed; as every Man
By his particular vigilant Guardian.

283

What would'st thou have us do, they cry'd; Can we
Made all of active metal, idle sit?
Are we not Devils? how can Devils be
For any thing but rage and fury fit?
Mischief's our proper diet; why wilt thou
Who all things feed'st, not Us our food allow?

284

If we must be, we must be what we are;
Infernal Spirits can no change admit:
For sure our venturous though unfortunate War
Against thy self, thou never wilt forget;
Nor repossess Us of our calmy state
So that we now are Furious by Fate.

285

Besides; we Subjects are (and thine own hand
Buckled this yoke on our rebellious necks,)
To that impatient Prince, whose dire Command
Back'd with Hell's universal Terrors, pricks
Us on to Rage; and we do nothing now,
But what in duty to our Lord we ow.

286

Had we without Commission hither flown,
And garrison'd this Man's strong-builded breast,
The fault, whate'r it is, had been our own:
But since by Order we this Hold possest,
Our General must in equity, not We
Poor common Soldiers, answer it to Thee.

287

As then Thou art a generous Conqueror,
Give reasonable Quarter to thy Foes:
Since needs we must surrender, e'r we stir,
Ingage thy promise, that we shall not loose
Our natural Properties; some power leave us
(For 'tis no crime in us,) to be Mischievous.

288

An Herd of Swine there feeds on yonder Mount,
(And that's it Psyche,) Beasts so filthy that
They seem'd unworthy in thine own account,
And justly too, to be thy Servants' meat.
Yet what to Jews thou mad'st impure, shall be
Dainties to Us, if thou wilt leave us free.

289

Free, our own swindge to take, and domineer
In those despised reprobated Things.
If ever Devils did to Thee prefer
A sute more fair, more humble, may our wings
And Snakes be clip'd, our Tallons prun'd, our stout
Horns lopped off, our iron Teeth dash'd out.

290

The Furies pleaded so; and with an eye
Where fear insulted over jealous Hope;
Beheld their Judge: He knew the reason why
They begg'd that ugly boon; he knew their scope
Was, that the Swine to Man might seem a Creature
Curs'd and abandon'd by the God of Nature.

291

Yet He was pleased, (whither to avenge
The Owner's Avarice, or for some deep cause
Known to his wisest Self,) to let these strange
Dwellers upon those brutish Mansions seize:
For He to whom the whole World's Rights belong,
Can all things do, and yet can do no Wrong.

292

As when in pregnant Etna's labouring womb
The smoaking flaming and sulphureous Child
Is to its horrible matureness come;
The moved bowels of the Mount are fill'd
With pangs and throws, till by a roaring birth
The stinking Prodigy is broken forth:

293

With such tormenting Travel felt this Man
His entrails torn whilst Hell was bursting thence;
Rank Hell, which with more baneful vapors than
The worst of fuming brimstone choak'd his sense:
And surely he had by that Stink and Pain,
Had Life not looked on, been double slain.

294

But ne'r did Air put on so calm a face,
When every Wind to its own home was blown,
And Heav'n of all its storms deliver'd; as
Redeemed He, now once again His own:
Finding the Furies which his heart did swell,
Had left Himself within Himself to dwell.

295

As startled from some black and frightful Dream,
His safetie's count'nance he with wonder saw:
In sober rayment strait he hides his shame,
Or rather Theirs whose treason made him throw
It off before, and cloth his body round
In one unnatural universal wound.

203

296

No frantick fumes now reaked in his head;
Clear as the upper Region was his brain,
And with his heart distinctly trafficked;
Whose trade his Intellect maintain'd again
Whilst his late-cheating fancy thrusts no more
Adulterate Wares upon him, as before.

297

His furious Passions bowing to the yoke
Of temperate Reason, tamely grew serene:
His Will her mighty throne more wisely took,
And reigned like a stout but warey Queen.
His Thought's Pulse in his Soul beat gently, and
Taught him his Bliss and Self to understand.

298

He understood to whom his Thanks were due,
To whom his rescu'd heart, his life, his peace;
To his sweet task of Gratitude he flew
In holy haste, but flew upon his knees:
And then at his divine Redeemer's feet,
As his meek Scholar, begg'd, and took his seat.

299

Mean while the Devils to the Mountain made
Upon the wings of fury and disdain:
For though they scorn'd the Swine; yet since they had
No better prey, their spight could not refrain.
The feeding Herd strait felt their bellies swell
With unknown stuffing, being stretch'd with Hell.

300

As at the Orgies, when the Priests are drown'd
In their mad God, they grow as wild as He;
They stare, they roar, they rave, they tumble round,
And only in confounded strife agree:
So here the swine brake into raging revels,
Being drunk with this full Legion of Devils.

301

They grunt, they whine, they squeak, they foam, they leap,
They stumble, fall, and rise, and fall again;
Their tusks in one another's blood they steep,
But oftnest in their own: the Dogs in vain
Did bark, in vain the swineherds cry and swear,
The Herd no Clamor but their own could hear.

302

At length in one mad hurry to that Brow
By which into the Sea the Mountain peeps,
They headlong run, and one another throw
In loud tumultuous throngs into the Deeps.
And thus those Devils drown'd their wretched Prey,
Their own long thirst of Mischief to allay.

303

Observe that other shore: thy Spouse's fame
Shin'd with no less illustrious Glory there:
Witness Her faith who from Phenicia came
Wisely to take miraculous Physick here.
She long had her Phenician Doctors try'd,
Who not her Blood's but Purse's Issue dry'd.

304

But here she found a strange Physitian, whose
Sole Physick is his sovereign self, and who
Gratis on all his heav'nly Art bestows:
Yet her unclean Disease's shame did so
Confute its Pain, that rather than reveal
Her Sickness, she resolves its Cure to steal.

305

(O gratious Modesty, how potent are
Thy tender Laws, which, though despised by
Bold self-applauding souls, alone outdare
The saucy Armies of Impiety;
And Keep in Safety's garrison from peril
All those who war in Virtue's noble Quarrel!)

306

Her meekly-faithful heart had caught fast hold
On Jesu's garment's verge: and O, cry'd she,
Could but my fingers do as much, I would
Not doubt to catch my safe Recovery.
Which said, the pious Thief took heart, and stept
Into the Crowd, and there behind Him crept.

307

Then her most trembling most undoubting Hand
Upon His lowest Hem she gently stay'd;
Which with a tripple Kiss she reverenc'd, and
Her meek soul on that humble Altar lay'd:
But whilst her blushing Blood flush'd in her face,
She felt its other Current dryed was.

308

For as on Aaron's consecrated head
The holy Unguent would not bridled be,
But down his beard its precious influence shed
And fully reach'd his robe's extremity:
So did the Virtue of this higher Priest
His utmost Clothes with mystick Power invest.

309

But Jesus, who could not permit that such
Heroick Faith it self should smother up;
Inquires what Hand his vesture's skirt did touch,
And set the Issue of his Virtue ope;
That Virtue's mighty Issue which alone
Could wash away this Woman's bloody one.

310

She hearing this, and guilty of the high
And faithful Theft, fell trembling at his feet,
Confessing all her blessed Crime, and why
So timorously her Boldness acted it:
But while she fear'd her Saviour's anger, He
Applauds the fact, and bids her cheerly be.

204

311

Daughter, he cries (for those his Children are
Whose holy Confidence on Him relies,)
Henceforth for ever banish needless fear;
Thy valiant Faith secures and fortifies
Thy re-obtained Health: go home, and be
Assur'd my Peace shall sojourn there with thee.

312

Her zealous Thanks she pay'd, and homeward went;
But His dear Image in her heart she bore.
Resolv'd to fix it in a Monument
Of lasting Gratitude; which at her door
She reared up, and made Cesarea far
More nobly beauteous than it was aware.

313

Erected there in bright substantial Brass
Thy Spouse's statue shines; and so shall stand
Till Julian with a more obdurate face
And heart, than is that Metal, shall command
The reverend Effigies to come down
And yield its stately Basis to his own.

314

His own; which when on heav'n it 'gins to stare,
Shall learn what Vengeance dwells in Jesu's hand;
From whence a speedy bolt of fire shall tear
The proud and sacrilegious Idol; and
Warn its bold Owner timely to forbear
Affronting thus the pacient Thunderer.

315

But yonder, Psyche, holy Tabor is,
A Mount enobled by a brighter Story.
The Temple's Hill bow'd down its head to this,
And vail'd its Legal to the Gospel Glory.
To this, the Mount, where Satan's Pageant op'd
The Universe's pompous Beauties, stoop'd.

316

Thither thy Lord once pleased to withdraw,
With three Attendants, Peter, James, and John,
Leaving the rest, and all the World below;
That in Devotion's proper region
His soul might move; since his design was now
To pray himself, and teach his Consorts how.

317

To be retired from tumultuous things,
And sequestred from heavy clogging Earth,
Two trusty Ladders are which Wisdom brings
To help true Prayers climb; two Ladders worth
All Climaxes which ever yet were set
Up by the loftiest strains of eloquent wit.

318

He pray'd: and with such noble ardency
That through his eyes his flaming Spirit broke,
And stoutly flash'd to Heav'n: no Piety
In such a splendid chariot ever took
Its blessed journy to the throne of God,
Nor in such humbly-royal triumph rode.

319

Day's wonted Monarch dazell'd at the sight
Admir'd what other Sun from earth did rise;
With whose victorious Looks too weak to fight,
He some new ev'n sought for his vanquish'd eyes.
And well the Day could spare his garish beams
Being gilded by his Maker's purer flames.

320

For He who in his Bodie's vail till now
The Rays of his Divinity had hid,
Released them into free leave to flow
And roul about him in a glistering tide.
Thus when his Key unlocks the clouds, from thence
The lightning pours its radiant Influence.

321

But as that inexhausted fount of light
Which bubbles up in Titan's limpid eyes,
Sheds over all his royal robes its bright
Effusions, and his Charet glorifies,
So that about Heav'n's Circuit He is roll'd
Enthron'd and cloath'd in living sparkling Gold.

322

So from thy Spouse's more than sunlike face
The Lustre all about his Rayment darted:
A Lustre whose divine and gentle grace
It self with kind magnificence imparted
To that weak mortal Texture, which so pure
Immortal brightness else could not endure.

323

Thus when a dainty fume in Summer air
To lambent fire by nature's sporting turns,
And lightly rides on Men's Attire or Hair;
With harmless flames it plays, and never burns
Its habitation, but feeds upon
The Delicates of its own Beams alone.

324

As his Disciples wonder'd at the Sight
Which peeping through their fingers they beheld,
They spy'd two Strangers, whom with courteous light
The surplusage of Jesus's Beams did gild.
They wistly looked on them, musing who
The Men might be, and what they came to do.

325

The first ware horned beams (though something dim
In this more radiant Presence,) on his face;
Full was his beard; his countenance 'twixt grim
And pleasant, breathing meek but stately Grace:
His robes were large and princely; in his hand
He held a mystick and Imperious wand.

205

326

A golden Plate both deck'd and arm'd his breast,
In which the Ten great Words inammel'd were;
A grave a goodly Man he was, and drest
In such attire, that they no longer are
In doubt about him, but conclude that He
Moses the Legislator needs must be.

327

The other, sagely solemn in his look,
But course and homespun in his garb appear'd;
Nor had he any mantle's help to cloke
That vileness which in his poor rayment star'd;
The serious beams which darted from his eye,
Spake eremitical severity.

328

Two Ravens, whose plumes taught blackness how to shine,
Upon his venerable shoulders sate:
And ravenous now no more, did freely join
Their services in purveying for his meat;
For in their faithful beaks they ready had
The one a piece of flesh, the other bread.

329

Behind him stood a flaming Chariot,
With steeds all of the same fierce Element;
Nor was their fire more than their Courage hot,
And much ado they had to stand content.
Which Tokens having well observ'd, they knew
Those Indications must Elias shew.

330

These two grand Prophets, whom thy Lord gave leave
To wear some glorious beams, though He were by,
Their reverend Discourses interwove
Of his Humanitie's Oeconomy;
With high ecstatick Words displaying how
At Salem He Death's Power should overthrow.

331

A Doctrine which on his Disciples' ear
(And this their Master knew,) full hard would grate;
And therefore by these glorious Preachers here
With high solemnity was witness'd, that
His Crosse's and his Nails' mysterious shame
Might not with scandal shake, forewarned Them.

332

His Rod then Moses at his feet laid down,
In token that He had fulfill'd his Law;
And came to give a nobler of his own,
To which not only Jacob's Seed should bow,
But all the World, whose largest furthest bound
With Jesus and his Gospel was to sound.

333

That done; a vail he drew upon his face,
And cry'd, Bright Lord, this shade I us'd of old
Because my Count'nance too illustrious was
For those blear Eyes of Israel to behold:
But now mine own have need of it, to skreen
Them from that splendor's dint which shoots from thine.

334

This though refracted Vision's fuller Bliss
Than I of old beheld from Nebo's head;
How happily was I (reserv'd for this
Far fairer Privilege,) not suffered
To enter then, and feed my Wonder on
The less amazing sweets of Canaan!

335

But in a generous meek Expostulation
Elias argu'd with his glorious Lord:
And, Why, said he, in such triumphant fashion
Me didst Thou whirle to heav'n, and not afford
Thy servant leave to taste Death's bitter Cup,
Since Thou thy self resolv'st to drink it up!

336

Must Jesus, and must not Elias die?
Must God, and not a Worm? forbid it Thou
Who of all Order art the Deity,
And Death to my Mortality allow:
I 'l be contented with the last to stay,
Ev'n till Time dies, if then I allso may.

337

O pardon my Ambition to die,
Since, dearest Lord, it is for Thee alone:
If for thy Name, and in thy Quarrel I
The Robes of Martyrdom may once put on,
My passage up to heav'n shall brighter be
Than when my flaming Coach transported Me.

338

Ask me not what Reply great Jesus gave
To these Devotos, since nor James, nor John,
Nor Peter ever had their Master's leave
To ope this Secret to the World. But on
Their heads, when they had their due season staid,
He his dismissing Hand and Blessing laid.

339

Then having by a tripple Kiss ador'd
His sacred foot: into his Chariot
Elias leap'd, and through the Welkin scour'd
As swift as Arrow by the Tartar shot:
And Moses, spreading out his ready Vail,
Homeward to Abraham's blessed Port set sail.

340

When lo a Cloud came rolling on and stretch'd
Its shady curtains o'r the Mountain's top:
A precious Cloud, with God's own voice inrich'd;
For as it brake, no other Rain did drop
But these dear Words, My Darling Son is This,
Hear Him, in whom my Joy triumphant is.

206

341

The faint Disciples on their faces fell,
Amaz'd that Thunder could distinctly speak:
Mean while their Lord was pleased to recall
And charge his Glory's Beams to hasten back:
His Godhead needed now no more probation,
That Glimpse being doubled by Heav'n's Attestation.

342

Forthwith his Raies shrunk home into his breast,
And moderate Beauty repossess'd his face:
The orient Lustre which his Cloths had drest
To their plain native hue resign'd its place;
And He return'd to his Capacity
Of, what he long'd for, shame and Misery.

343

But turn thee now to Salemward, and see
New Monuments of both his Power and Love.
That Hill is Sion, and that Pool where he
Wets his large foot, is Siloam; above
Its bottom lies, for in the Mountain's breast
Its Springs of Living Silver make their Nest.

344

Springs sober and discreet; which brake not forth
By wanton Chance, but upon Bus'ness flow'd.
Right noble is the Story; and its Worth
Beyond the knowledge of th'illiterate Crowd:
But I, dear Psyche, will unlock to thee
The bowels of this ancient Mystery.

345

When Virtue's Sovereign, Hezekias sate
On Judah's throne, th'Assyrian Power swell'd high,
And turned sinful Israel's florid state
Into the worst of Woes, Captivity:
For Assur then was made the iron Rod
Which Vengeance put into the hand of God.

346

That first Success so puff'd the Rod with Pride,
That it forgot the Hand which sway'd it then:
And now would needs it self become a guide
Unto it self, and choose its Prey: but in
Its proudest height the Rod's rash plot was crost,
And near two hundred thousand Twiggs it lost.

347

Whilst Rabsheka, the Foulmouth'd General,
With Horse, and Men, and Brags, and Blasphemies
Beleaguer'd Salem, on the suddain all
Their stock of Water fail'd; but that which Eyes
Sad Eyes distill'd, and which but filled up
Their vast Affliction's lamentable Cup.

348

And now compassionate Esay, mov'd to try
What credit he with Heav'n and Mercy had,
Tuned his Prayer by the People's Cry;
Which with such violence beat the ear of God,
That strongly bounding back to Sion's foot,
And his own knees, it made the Spring leap out.

349

The thirsty People all came flocking in,
Their Mouths, their Bottles, and their Souls, to fill.
Th'Assyrians wonder'd what those Crowds might mean,
Until they spy'd their buis'ness at the Well;
And then they made a Party out, to stop
The newborn Spring, or else to drink it up.

350

Forthwith the Citizens themselves betook
To flight; so did the Fount, and shrunk its head
Into the Hill, and called back its Brook,
Commanding every Drop to go to bed,
And not to prostitute themselves, and be
Deflour'd by Assur's lips' impurity.

351

The Streams obey'd, and swifter than the speed
Of those impatient Horsmen, homeward ran.
So when the prudent Dame has summoned
Her crawling frie to shun th'incursion
Of Violence, the nimble Serpents shoot
Themselves into their Mother's ready throat.

352

The disappointed Soldiers rav'd and swore,
To see the Fountain mock and scorn their Might;
And cry'd, these Jews have by some magick power
Broached this wiley Spring from Hell, to spight
Sennacherib's Legions, and shew that We
Cannot so strong as wretched Water be.

353

Thus they retreated in disdain and wrath:
When strait their Thirst the Jews brought back again,
The Spring as soon found out its former path,
And courteously met them on the Plain;
Kissing their feet, and smiling in their face,
For whose sole service He so watchful was.

354

Thus checkering his work, he never fails
To fail his foes, and to befriend his friends.
Full often Assur tries, but ne'r prevails,
To catch the wary nimble stream, which sends
Him always empty back; and waited still
With fresh supplies on thirsty Israel.

355

The fam'd Sabbatick Fount which all the week
Keeps close at home, and lets no drop spurt out,
Exactly thus attends the Seventh Day's Break;
At whose first peeping Dawn, as quick as Thought
It pours its flood, and sacrifices all
Its Plenty to that holy Festival.

207

356

A Man there was, whom from her secret Shop
Dark and retired Nature sent abroad
Into the World, yet from him shut it up,
And him in's proper home an Exile made.
Compar'd with him, clear-sighted was the Owl,
So was the evening Bat, and earthed Moul.

357

For on his brow sate an anneiled Night
Which his Birth-day could not confute; in vain
His Mother hir'd the sage Physitian's Might
To war against that Shadow, and constrain
That inbred sturdy Blackness to relent;
In vain her money and her love she spent.

358

Less thick that Darkness was which did revenge
The lustful Glances of wild Sodom's eyes;
When those hot Lovers damped by a strange
Invasion of pitch, with oaths and cries
Tumbled and toss'd themselves from place to place,
And sought Lot's Door in one another's face.

359

As Jesus spy'd this helpless Wight, (for He
Watch'd to surprise all Objects of Compassion,)
Speeded by his own heav'nly Charity,
To his relief he flies. This generous fashion
Love duly follows, and ne'r stays to be
Woo'd and importun'd to a Courtesy.

360

The groping Man perceiving one draw nigh,
Fell to the Beggar's covetous Dialect;
He Money, Money crav'd: but that's not my
Largise, thy Lord reply'd, which doth infect
Those who admire it; surely thou wouldst find
What Bane thou begg'st, wert thou not double Blind.

361

Alas thou beggest that, which should I grant
Would make thee poorer than thou wert before,
Thou begg'st such Wealth as would but gain thee want
Of that cheap Rest thou now injoyest; for
Money is that bewitching thoughtful Curse
Which keeps the heart close Pris'ner in the Purse.

362

Money's that most mischievous Dust which flies
Full in the face of undiscerning Man,
Not suff'ring his abus'd and damned Eyes
To see the way to Heav'n; if thou didst scan
Thy state aright, thou mightst thy Blindness bless
Who seest not what this monstrous Money is.

363

A thinner Clay than that I 'll temper, which
Shall far exceed the worth of Gold to thee:
They are not Money's beams which can inrich
With pure and lasting wealth; from none but Me
Flow forth those efficacious genuine Rays,
Which bless the Age with sweet and golden Days.

364

This said, three times he spit upon the ground,
And moulded with his hand a sovereign Clay:
No salve by deepest Art was ever found,
Which could so sure all Maladies allay:
Should Balsam's self fall sick and die, the power
Of this sole Unguent would its life restore.

365

This on his Patient's Eyes he spred; and yet
Although he cur'd them, gave them not their sight:
First an Experiment he meant to get
Whether his inner Eyes of Faith were bright;
Then, with his Favor to reward and grace
The Pool, which long before so pious was.

366

Bethesda Waters swell'd with full-tide fame;
Wherefore though apt occasion him invited,
Time was when he refus'd to honour them:
But fail he would not, to respect these sleighted,
Though worthy Streams, which as his partners He
In this miraculous work vouchsaf'd to be.

367

To Siloam go, said he, and wash thine Eyes,
And thou shalt see what I to thee have given;
With holy Confidence strait thither hies
The joyful Man; no Hart was ever driven
By scalding thirst more greedily to cool
Refreshing Brook, than he to find this Pool.

368

He went to drink, not with his Mouth, but Eyes;
Which as he wash'd, behold he washed ope:
Out flew black Night, with all those dusky ties
By which his sense before was chained up;
And his released sparkling Pupils show'd
Like sprightful Lightning from the broken Cloud.

369

He now both lives, and seeth that he lives,
And Heav'n and Earth more than by hear-say knows.
No part of all the Universe but gives
Him a remembrance, unto whom he ows
His power of viewing it. O happy he
Who must in every thing his Savior see!

370

Since from the Darknes of the first Abyss,
The groveling World was wakened into Light;
Ne'r was atchiev'd so strange a Cure as this,
Which on condemned Eyes bestowéd Sight,
In spight of Nature, who had put them out
Before she gave them leave to look about.

208

371

Mark Psyche, now that love-renowned Town,
Great Salem's little Neighbour Bethany:
A Place of dear Remembrance, and well known
To thy great Lord: from Salem's tumults He
Would oft withdraw into that calm retreat,
And still as oft's he came he Welcome met.

372

For there two Sisters dwelt, an holy Pair
Who with all hospitably-pious love
To entertain this Guest ambitious were;
And by their most obsequious service strove
To let Him know They did no Owner deem
Of what they had or were, but only Him.

373

Industrious Martha; unto whom although
This World were something still, (in which she drove
Her practick trade of life,) yet well she knew
'Twas less than nothing unto that above;
The Cream of her Solicitude she spent
To purchase more than secular Content.

374

Pathetick Mary; one whom Mercy made
Her chosen triumph: this was lustful She
Who in the hottest troop of Sinners had
A leading Place; such stout Impiety
Incouraged her heart, that Hell could put
Her on no Task but she would dare to do't.

375

For seav'n soul Devils had themselves possest
Of all her Soul, and with imperious port
High in th'usurped palace of her breast
Their throne erected and maintain'd their court;
And all the Warrants which they issued thence
She still obey'd with desperate diligence.

376

But Jesus, who his Pity squared by
No Merit he in mortal Man could read,
But for his Rule took their Capacity
Of Succour; found how much this Heart did need
His potent Help; which he forthwith apply'd
And made her Live who now Seav'n times had dy'd.

377

For from the bottom of her pois'ned breast
Seav'n hideous deadly Sins she vomited;
And thus from Hell's oppression releast
High toward Heav'n she rais'd her zealous head;
Flaming with purest fire of Love, as she
Before had smoak'd in Lust's impurity.

378

Her brave Devotion she measured now
By that large Size of Mercy she had gain'd
For as no bounds that noble Mercy knew,
So to Infinitude her Love she strain'd;
She strained hard, and would the top have reach'd
Could mortal Passion to that pitch have stretch'd.

379

O Psyche, hadst thou present been when she
On Love's dear errand to her Master came,
Thou mightst have seen impatient Piety
Mount in the boldness of its generous flame:
First at his feet it 'gan, and then it spread
With fair and liberal fulness to his head.

380

That fragrant Ointment which before she us'd
To her libidinous Skin to sacrifice;
Upon his sweeter Feet, she now diffus'd,
Adding a shower from her own melting Eyes.
Then wiping them with her late crisped Tresses,
She offer'd there her consecrated Kisses.

381

She minds not how spectators censure her;
Love's careless, and secure, and scorns the mean:
She vows e'r from her Lover's Feet she stir,
To oint, or wipe, or weep, or kiss them clean;
And by this amorous zeal she sanctifies
Her Locks, her Lips, her Ointment and her Eyes.

382

But as the sprightful flame disdains to be
Confin'd below, and with undaunted pains
Up to its lofty sphere contends: So she
To her right gallant Passion gave the reins,
And at Heav'n's highest Crest took aim; for this
I'm sure, said she, the Head of Jesus is.

383

A Box of Nard she had of mighty price,
Yet not so precious as her peerless Lord:
Could Earth's whole wealth meet in one sacrifice,
All this, and more she would to Him afford:
And now unbridled Love such haste did make,
That strait the Box, or her own Heart must break.

384

Indeed both brake; and both she pour'd on
His Head, who is of Sweets and Hearts the King.
Forthwith through Heav'n and Earth the Odors run,
Which shall for ever with their Praises ring:
For now 't has lost its Alabaster Cell,
The famous Nard in all the World doth dwell.

385

And wheresoe'r Heav'n-breathing Trumpets sound
The Gospel's sweet Alarms, the living Glory
Of this Exploit shall certainly rebound
Through every holy Ear: in his own Story
Her Lord embroider'd her's; and there we see
None canoniz'd a Saint by Him but She.

209

386

Ill-reck'ning Thrift much grumbled at the Cost,
Which many needy Mouths might well have fed;
As if the Members had the largise lost,
Which here bestowed was upon their Head;
Or any thing had been too much to give
To Him from whom we every thing receive.

387

But Nobleness's Lord, and Mary's, who
Thus in his Love to her excessive was,
Vouchsafed her generous Soul free leave to go
The same most princely and licentious pace:
He knows the heat of this unweildy Passion,
And will allow it brave Immoderation.

388

The Law of Bounds all other eas'ly bear,
Finding their objects are in limits ty'd;
But Love alone with infinite career
Still further everlastingly doth ride.
Because let loose at God himself, in whom
Immensity affords her boundless room.

389

Thy easy judgment now computes how dear
Was this Seraphick Woman to thy Lord;
Well might her only Brother be, for her
Sweet sake, to His love's tenderness prefer'd:
Who falling sick, she sent her sole Physitian
The doleful News, join'd with her meek Petition.

390

He, who had never yet his Help delay'd
When Need made Mary his Compassion wooe,
Till Phebus twice the World had compass'd, stay'd;
He stay'd indeed, but 'twas that he might go
With advantageous glory; and his stay
Might prove but ripened Love, and not Delay.

391

Mean while his Weakness grew so strong upon
Good Lazarus, that his Soul it chased out:
Jesus, whose eyes through all things clearly ran,
Shin'd on it as it went, and saw it brought
On Angels' wings into the blessed Nest
Of naked Peace and Quiet, Abraham's breast.

392

Where when it gently was repos'd; our Friend,
Our Lazarus, is fall'n asleep, said He,
But from that Fall to raise him I intend;
Come therefore, let's away for Bethany.
And Lord what needs it; if he sleep, what harm
Cry'd his Disciples, can our friend alarm!

393

None can, their Lord reply'd, for now he lies
Safe in the bosom of Serenity;
Yet what his Rest is, little you surmise,
Loth to believe true Sleep in Death can be.
Alas, the Grave's the only quiet Bed
In which securely Rest can lay her head.

394

Death, Death's the soundest Sleep, which makes amends
For all this weary World's tempestuous Cares,
And pious Souls into that Harbour sends
Where never Dangers ride, nor Griefs, nor Fears.
Our friend is dead: and glad I am that I
Was not at hand to stop his Destiny.

395

Glad for your sakes, whose Faith now dead, shall by
His Death revive. This said, he forward went,
Yet reach'd not his designed Bethany
Till two days more their Sun-bred lives had spent.
He could have taken on the Wind's fleet back
His coach, but that his plot was to be slack.

396

Yet busy Martha met him, as he drew
Near to the Town, (for her solicitous ear
Soon caught the fame of his approach, which flew
Fairly before with full-mouth'd warning,) where
She threw her self upon her knees, and cry'd,
Hadst Thou been here, my Brother had not dy'd.

397

Dear Lord of Life, hadst mighty Thou been here,
Death would have his due distance kept, if not
For love of Thee, or Us, at least for fear
Of his own Life. And yet thy Power is but
Deferr'd; for well I know thy God will still
Each syllable of thy Requests fulfil.

398

Nor weep, nor doubt, sweet Martha, Jesus cry'd,
Thy Brother shall again to life return.
I doubt not, blessed Master, she reply'd,
But in the ruin'd World's repairing Morn
When all things live and spring afresh, that He
Shall with his Body reinvested be.

399

And why not now? from Me alone, said He,
Springs that great Spring: the Resurrection, and
The Life thou thinkst far off, talks now with thee.
Nor lies there any Pris'ner in the land
Of Death, but if in Me he fixt his trust,
Shall into life leap from his mortal Dust.

400

Nay He who lives by steady Faith in Me
His Life eternally secur'd shall find,
And never taste that Death's deep Agony
Which never dies. Say Martha, can thy mind
Digest this Flesh-amazing Problem, and
By meek believing learn to understand?

210

401

Here dazell'd by his high Discourse, great Lord
She cry'd, my Faith adores Thee for no less
Than God's Almighty Son, who in his Word
Wert promised, this cursed World to bless.
This said; on joyous Sorrow's wings she flew
And into Mary's ear the Tidings threw.

402

As when the powerful Loadstone's placed near,
Th'inamored Iron leaps its Love to kiss:
So Mary, hearing that her Lord was there,
Posted to meet her dearest Happiness;
And falling at her highest throne, his feet,
Did Martha's sad Complaint again repeat.

403

Short were her Words, but large her Tears and full,
(Love-ravish'd Pleader's strongest Eloquence,)
For in each Eye there dwelt a fertile well,
Which by its ever-ready influence
Confirm'd her Queen of Weepers: ne'r was seen
A more bedewed thing then Magdelen.

404

For Love, though valiant as the Lion's heart,
Is yet as soft as mildest Turtles' Souls;
And mourns as deeply; since no other art
Knows how to slake the mighty flame which rouls
About her bosom, and would burn her up
Did not her streams of Tears that Torrent stop.

405

If when the Clouds lament, the hardest Stone
Under their frequent Tears relenteth: how
Will Mary's thicker showers prevail upon
The Heart of softest Softness! Jesus now
Could not but melt and yearn, and gently by
His Groans his deep Compassion testify.

406

Which Groans when they broke into a Demand
Where Lazarus was inter'd; both Sisters by
Turning their lamentable faces, and
Their fainting hands, made Sadnesses Reply.
At last their Tongues gat strength to cry: O come,
See our Grief's Monument, and our Brother's Tomb.

407

He thither stepping, deign'd to broach his Eyes,
And vie with Mary's Currents: whether in
Pity of Man, whose fatal Miseries
From none but his unhappy self began;
(For neither God's nor Nature's hand, but He
Digg'd his own grave by mad Impiety;)

408

Or in kind grief his dearest friends to see
Distrustful still of his Omnipotence;
Or meerly in complying Sympathy
With their most piteous Tears' exuberance:
Whate'r his reason were, He showred down
Those streams for Man's sole sake, not for his own.

409

O Tears! how precious are your beads, since He
Who is the Gem of heav'n hath brought you forth!
Now you may worthy of God's bottles be,
Who from God's radiant Eyes derive your Worth:
All holy Drops which are of kin to you,
By that Affinity must glorious grow.

410

Let flinty Bosoms build their foolish Pride
On their own Hardness, and the Weeping Eye
As childish and effeminate deride,
And too too soft to suit the Bravery
Of masculine Spirits: yet truly-noble Hearts
With Jesus will not scorn to Weep their parts.

411

But from the Tomb He now commands the Stone
Which there had sealed Lazarus's Body up:
When lo an harder Marble falling on
Poor Martha's heart, her Faith began to stop;
Corrupted was her Mind, which made her think
And talk so much of four Days, and the stink.

412

What's four poor Days, that their weak intervention
Should able be to raise a scruple here,
And intercept His sovereign Intention
To whom Eternity submits? A year,
An Age, a World, can be no stop to Him
On whose sole Will depends the life of Time.

413

Stinks and Corruptions no Retardments are
To His productive Power, who derives
Through Putrifaction's pipes, and kindles there
The life his Love to all his Creatures gives.
For by his Law, which brooks no Violation,
Corruption Mother is to Generation.

414

The stone removed, and their Cave laid ope,
Jesus, of Life and Death the mighty King,
With awful Majesty first lifted up
His hand, and then his Voice, whose thunder rung
In these sublime imperious Words, which Earth
And Heav'n obeyed, Lazarus come forth.

415

Imperious Words indeed; which reach'd and rous'd
The Soul imbosomed in Abraham's Bay;
From whence as in exultant haste it loos'd,
The complemental Patriarch, they say,
Three Kisses gave it, and intreated it
To bear those Tokens unto Jesu's feet.

211

416

But at the trembling Cave arriv'd, it found
What there those fate-controlling Words had done;
Shatter'd and scatter'd all about the ground
Lay adamantine Chains which Death had on
The Carcasse heap'd; broke was that Cloud of Lead
Which roll'd cold Night about the Eyes and Head.

417

Away the frighted Worms scrambled amain;
Corruption hied her self into a hole,
To sneak aside pale Ghastlyness was fain;
Stark frozen Stiffness felt its thaw, and stole
Far from the Corps; Death sate lamenting by
To see that what he slew, now must not die.

418

Heat, Vigor, Motion, hover'd round about,
Attending when the Soul her place would take:
And she, as quick's her own most sudden Thought
Flew strait into the Heart, and there awoke
The sleeping Blood: When lo, whilst yet the sound
Of Jesu's Voice did in the Tomb rebound,

419

Out Lazarus leaps: O what Amazement now
On all Spectators seiz'd! they start, they stare,
They gape, they doubt, they hope, they fear, they throw
Their arms wide open, and divided are
'Twixt wondering at Lazarus, and at Him
Whose Word Mortality's strong tide could stem.

420

Out Lazarus leaps, though snarl'd fast and ty'd
Up in his funeral cloths: for why should he
Be by these slender ligaments deny'd
Free passage, whom the stout Conspiracy
Of all Death's massy chains could not compel
A pris'ner in his sepulchre to dwell!

421

Out Lazarus leaps; and full as fresh and fair
As summer flowers spring from their winter bed,
Which at their rising, through the purest air
A daintier gale of fragrant Odours shed:
Nice jealous Martha needs not doubt but he
Is now as wholesom and as sweet as she.

422

But wonder not why Jesus back would call
His Friend who lay compos'd in rest and peace,
To this tumultuous World, which seems to all
Heav'n-aiming Saints the sink of Wretchedness;
Whence, till by falling to their graves they rise,
They count their Death lives, and their Life but dies.

423

For seeing now Himself was breathing here,
His Breath perfum'd the Earth with heav'nly Bliss;
His face was Rest's and Pleasure's fairest sphere;
Musick, his Words; his Presence, Paradise.
And where soe'r he is, his friends he warms
With dearer Joys and Peace than Abraham's arms.

424

Alas 'twas Abraham's proudest Wish, that he
Might see, what Lazarus freely now beheld,
Him, and his Wonders, whose Benignity
All faithful Souls with Satisfaction fill'd;
Who to his Foes his tender favour spread;
With health reliev'd the sick; with life the Dead.

425

Such, Psyche, were those Arts and Acts, whereby
Thy Savior to his World himself indear'd;
But in so vast a multiplicity
That were they all distinctly register'd,
That World's whole bounds would not sufficient be
To find those only Books a Library.

426

And what meant these miraculous Dispensations
But his Affection to proclaim intire?
No royal Suter by such Demonstrations
E'r sealed to his Queen his true Desire;
As here the Prince of heav'n display'd, to prove
How with all Human Souls he was in love.

427

Here Phylax clos'd his ruby lips; and She
Who all this while upon his tongue attended
Both with her ears and heart, was griev'd to see
His high and sweet Discourse so quickly ended:
Yet glad for what sh' had heard, her Modesty
Paid him her maiden thanks upon her knee.

212

CANTO XI. The Traitor.

The ARGUMENT.

In sordid Love of thick and rusting Clay,
Prodigious Judas LOVE himself doth sell:
But for his pains, besides the Highpriest's Pay,
Receives a dreadful Sallary of Hell,
Which met him upon earth, and from his foul
And splitting body tore his wounded Soul.

1

Envy, thou rankling Bane of Quietness,
And of thy Self; what makes thy Rage so Mad
To play the Canker in all kind of Bliss,
And on thine own Vexation live! A Rod
To thine own wretched back, most peevish Elf
No less than to the World's, thou mak'st thy self.

2

All other Monsters are content to spare
Themselves, and only feast upon their Prey:
But whensoe'r thy Prizes fattest are,
Thou pinest most; and find'st a cursed way
Strangely to fast in riot, and to grow
Leanest when Plenty's streams about thee flow.

3

In thy mischievous womb was Discord bred,
The correspondent Brat of such a Dame;
A Brook which well becomes its Fountain head,
And can with equal genuine poison stream;
A Brook which round about the tainted World
Its arms pernicious Embrace hath hurl'd.

4

This is that fatal and destructive Jar
Which frets and interrupts the Harmony
Wherein all different Things concenter'd were
By peaceful Nature's sweet and sacred Ty:
That Jar which in Time's nonage belk'd and beat
So high, that ope to War the way it set.

5

To War, that foulest fiercest Sum of all
The worst of Hell: fell Belzebub at first
Begot the Monster of his own proud Gall,
From whence in Heav'n unhappily it burst:
A Birth-place how unfit for such a Birth!
And well it was that Heav'n strait cast it forth.

6

Heav'n cast it forth: but Hell receiv'd the Brat,
And hug'd it close, and nurst, and kept it warm;
Fed there with fire and blood, it soon grew fat
And strong enough to raise a desperate storm
In his black Nursury, whose rampant Revels
In wild confusion tumbled all the Devils.

7

When Satan saw his mad Activity,
With hellish joy he kiss'd his genuine Son;
And as he kick'd his Father's Courtesy,
And scratch'd his kissing lips; this Sign alone
Dear Child, cry'd He, sufficient is to prove
Thou art my Issue, and deserv'st my love.

8

Then from his own viperous Tresses He
Pluck'd three large handfuls of his longest Snakes,
Of which, with pois'nous liberality,
A favour for his darling Child he makes;
Who ever since in frightful triumph wears
The hissing Discord all about his ears.

9

He thus adorn'd without, and stor'd within
With sutable desires: a full Commission
Sole General to be of every Sin,
Of all Confusion, and of all Perdition
His Father grants him; and then sends him forth
To try what ruins he could work on Earth.

10

(The cunning Serpent lov'd his Hole too well
To suffer desperate War to harbour there
He knew that ev'n in his own Realm of Hell
Division would the joints and cement tear.
Which in obedience to his sovereign Pride
The Peers and Commons of Damnation ty'd.)

213

11

As through the bowels of deep Tellus He
Rent ope his way, amazed Nature shook,
Affrighted Quiet and Serenity
Their ardent flight to Heav'n for shelter took;
Leaving behind an universal Groan:
Through all the World such fatal Terror ran.

12

But blustering on the Fury sought where he
Might entertainment for his Mischief meet.
First to the Lyons' Dens he rush'd, to see
Whether their mighty Mouths, and armed feet
Might not be taught to manage with delight
The endless Quarrel of intestine Spight.

13

Big things he spoke, and highly magnify'd
The sweets of Licence and unbounded Will;
The gallant triumphs of that venturous Pride
Which scorning all the sheepish pleas of chill
And timorous Tenderness, upon the head
Of Nature's strictest Laws could freely tread.

14

The royal Beasts with generous disdain
Look'd on the Monster, and lay couchant still,
Wisely resolv'd Themselvs to hold the chain
Of their own Strength; and, when they pleas'd to fill
Their Lust with Blood, to hunt it up and down
The Woods, but never riot in their own.

15

Repulsed here; He made the like Address
To Dragons, Tigres, Panthers, Wolves, and Bears:
But they still hug'd their natural Friendlyness
Sealing against his charms their honest ears.
The Monster vex'd, and tore himself, to see
That wildest Creatures would not disagree.

16

Then Eagles, Vultures, Harpyes, and the brood
Of every cruel-beak'd fierce-tallon'd Bird
To mutual Salvagenesses' trade he woo'd:
But sober they their warey wings bestir'd,
And flying from his barbarous Advice
Traffick'd for Prey among their Enemies.

17

At last to Man he came: and who could dream
That sweetly-temper'd He, the only Thing
Which Heav'n's peculiar Hand vouchaf'd to frame;
He who could fight for nothing, being King
Of all this world; He who unarm'd was made;
Should turn Apprentice to the Warlike Trade!

18

Yet Man, the Riddle of all Monstrousness,
To this wild Monster desperate welcome gave:
Mad Man, for whom a thousand Maladies
Perpetually were digging ope his grave,
Would needs go learn a surer speedyer way
To cut that Life which posteth to Decay.

19

For Cain (th'original Curse's firstborn Heir,)
No sooner saw the Fury's looks, but he
More ameable fancy'd them and fair,
Then gentle Abel's blessed Suavity.
Ah wretched Fancy, whose blind Violence
Murder'd a Quarter of the World at once!

20

Yea more than so: for that inhumane Wound
Which in his Brother's Body sunk so deep,
Did on himself more fatally rebound,
And in his Soul the cursed Weapon steep:
Such is his self-revenging Guilt, that Cain
The living Murderer's more than Abel slain.

21

Yet could that dreadful Mark's all-warning sight,
Which seal'd his Crime on his despairing face,
From venturing in his bloody steps not fright
Succeeding Generations; still they trace
The guilty Tract, regardless of the Cries
With which Blood wakens Vengeance and the Skies.

22

With unrelenting Steel they barbarize
Their tender Flesh, and cloth their skin with Brass;
They for Destruction proper Tools devise
To hasten on the fate of fading Grass;
To Time's not lazy Sithe they join their arts
Of Death, Spears, Arrows, Daggers, Swords, and Darts.

23

And loth that any dull Delay should make
Them loose the credit of their Madness, They
Trust not their own two feet, but mount the back
Of fiery Quadrupeds; with cruel joy
Flying to salvageness in full carreer,
And triumphing their brethren's hearts to tear.

24

Yea though the Vengeance of that Deluge, which
Washed away that bloody Torrent, and
Those who rejoic'd to quaff it; well might teach
Poor Man how needless 'twas to arm his hand
Against himself: He still resolv'd no Flood
Of Water should confute his Thirst of Blood.

25

O no! He more industrious daily grows
In butchering Wrath, and with it taints the heart
Of gentle Learning, which his cunning draws
In all his bloodyest Plots to act its part.
Hence came those Engins which so strangely spit
Death's multiply'd and deadlyer made by Wit.

214

26

Yea these, as Rage's Lameness He disdains,
Angry to see that Heav'n's Artillery flies
Swifter than his: this made him bend his brains
To shoot his fury like th'incensed Skies:
Thus from his Canon's mouths the Thunders roar,
The Lightnings flash, smoke, Bullets, Vengeance pour.

27

No snaky Feinds with more remorseless spight
Rend one another's breasts, than Man doth Man's:
Wounds, Shrieks and Gaspings are his proud Delight;
And he by Hellishness his Prowess scans:
In humane Blood he strives to write his stories,
And by his Murders counteth up his Glories.

28

Thus milde Humanity aside is thrown,
And Manhood takes from War its ominous Name.
Alas! and was not genuine Manhood known
Till Pride and Spight disjointed Nature's frame;
Till Beasts upbraided Man, who entertain'd
That horrid Monster which all They disdain'd?

29

Were there not lusty Sins, whose sturdy might
Sufficient fuel could afford to feed
The boldest valour of the bravest Wight;
And with a fairer Laurel court his Head,
Than those unhappy wreaths which smeared are
Thick in the gore of an unnatural war.

30

Had not each Breast their enemies at home,
With which no truce could honorable be?
Was any Heart of Man secured from
The headstrong Passion's dangerous mutiny?
There, there that Field was to be pitch'd, wherein
True Virtue might the noblest Prizes win.

31

But ah! that blessed Combat is forgot
In this wild heat of fighting: Licence here
Commands in chief, and from its Quarters shut
Law, Property, and sober Order are:
In whose fair rooms the foul Troops listed be
Of rampant Rage, Rapes, Rapines, Luxury.

32

For when this more than brutish General once
In lawless gulfs himself had plunged, he
Prints on his mad adventure's exigence,
The specious title of Necessity:
To which he blushes not to count the Law,
Whether of Earth or Heav'n oblig'd to bow.

33

Shame on their Souls, who love this Trade of Hate
At others, and their own destruction's price,
From their own bosoms quite erasing what
Might prove them Men. But their impieties
Swell highest, who the Name of Christian wear,
Yet stain it in the blood of causeless War.

34

Impudent Boldness! which can to advance
Most meek Religion, put on Barbarousness,
And make the Bond of Sweetness their pretence,
To break all other yoaks; which dares profess
In fights to rescue that, whose highest praise
Injurious suff'rings always us'd to raise.

35

Which garrisons the Pulpits first, and makes
The venal Tongues of roaring Preachers set
The Trumpets their alarming Tune: which seeks
To plunder Consciences, and to defeat
Unarmed Souls, before its faulchions hack
Their Bodies, or their Goods its paws attack.

36

Which in despight of God will take his part,
And war for Heav'n, against Heav'n's flat Command:
Which with a Brazen-face, and harder Heart
Under the Cross's Banner marches, and
Makes Patience's noblest Trophy over
Th'unruly head of bloody Fury hover.

37

Which to maintain the Church, her maintenance
Grasps and devours: which licenseth the Flock
To tear the Shepherds: which in Truth's defence
Imprison her, and to complete the Mock,
Breaks open Hell, and lets loose thousands fries
Of giddy Schisms, and frantick Heresies.

38

Which, if defeated, by an hardy Lye,
Recruits its credit, and before the face
Of scoffed Heav'n in proud solemnity,
Enacts Thanksgivings: which accounteth Peace
Its most assured ruin; and no snares
Like those of honest sober Treaties fears.

39

The glorious Army of those Martyrs, who
To Heav'n in Triumph's Chariot ascended,
And never learn'd Christ and Religion so;
Both which they by a surer way defended,
Drowning all opposition in the flood,
Not of their foes, but of their own brave Blood.

40

Nor did Heav'n's most propicious bottles e'er
Distil more fertile showers on thirsty Earth;
Than streamed from those Heros' veins, to cheer
The new-sown Churches' Seeds, and help them forth
Into that sudden goodly Crop, which swell'd
So high, that all the wondering World it fill'd.

215

41

Can others' Blood their tincture be, who are
Sworn servants to the King of sweetest Peace?
That King who deign'd to be a Lamb, and wear
Of Tenderness the white and dainty fleece?
That King whose business, and whose dearest joy
It is to save, but never to destroy.

42

That King, who to this World forbore to stoop,
Till every sword return'd unto its sheath;
Till Quiet sealed Janus's Temple up;
Till Nature was restor'd to lead on Death;
Till Peace's calm had pav'd his passage plain,
And Men repented into Men again.

43

Yet being come; though Satan could not raise
An open tempest to disturb him, he
Contrives a thousand secret envious ways,
Patching his want of force with subtilty:
He lends fresh malice to the peevish Jews,
And in the High-priest's Head his projects brews.

44

Annas and Caiaphas conspire to try
How their popular Glories may protect,
Which daily they beheld eclipsed by
The splendor which the Name of Jesus deckt;
Upon whose flames, if nothing else will do,
Rather than fail, his Blood they plot to throw.

45

And Phylax, through this Story's tract thought fit
Psyche's attention to lead; for He
After their short reposement, bids her sit
Steady and fast: and yielding then the free
And long-desired reins to's fervid Steeds,
Quick as the wind to Salemward he speeds.

46

There, over Sion's head he plucked back
The bridle; strait his docile Coursers knew
The language of his hand, an 'gan to slack
Their pace, and in a semicircle flew;
For by one wing they the other fought,
And damp'd their course by wheeling thus about.

47

Then lighting on the Hill, their mains they shaked,
And lifting high their heads, toss'd up their voice:
The bottoms at their mighty neighings quaked,
And from their caves flung back the doubled noise:
Till Phylax spake; when with fair manners they
Humbled their awed crests, and ceas'd to neigh.

48

Though to this World thy Lord himself, said he,
So much indear'd by those sweet Miracles,
A taste of which I have presented thee:
Yet so importunately loud was Hell's
Invidious clamor in the High-priest's ear,
As all Heav'n's words and works to overbear.

49

And now the thicker Wonders Jesus does,
More Articles against himself he draws:
The shameless Judges turn his vowed foes,
Forgetting Rights, and urging Envy's Laws:
And in black Envy's impudent esteem,
No crime so foul as Piety doth seem.

50

But how this Malice brought about her end,
And rais'd her self to that transcendent pitch
Of Monstrousness, which never any Fiend
With Hell's most scrued wit before could reach;
Deserves thy Ear and Hate: and forth will I
The venom pump of that rank History.

51

Near Erebus's yawning mouth a cave there is,
(The little Emblem of that greater Realm,)
The native house and home of Avarice,
Who though her craving thoughts quite overwhelm
The Universe, yet whatsoe'r she gains,
As lean and hungry as before remains.

52

If ought but Money there for entrance call,
The door is deaf; for its bewitched ears
No noise, no musick apprehend at all
But Money's chink: which it no sooner hears,
But ope it flings its mouth as fast and wide,
As Tigers when their prey they welcome bid.

53

Six yellow springs before the threshold rise,
Infected by that House's Neighborhood;
Which stealing far, through Earth's close cavities,
Disgorge their splendidly-contagious flood
On this condemned World, devouring here
More than in stormy Seas e'er swallow'd were.

54

Indus and Ganges range about the East;
Pactolus taints the middle of the Earth;
But Tagus undertakes to cheat the West,
And spews in Spain his glistering poison forth;
The North is Hebrus's charge, and treacherous he
Breaks ope his way through Thracian Rhodope.

55

Plate slips into the further World, to put
To pains and cost adventurous Covetousness:
Who, when her thirst is grown maturely hot,
Will scorn th'Atlantick Ocean's fright, and press
Through unknown Monsters, hunting out that stream
Which shall not quench but more inrage her flame.

216

56

For those dire draughts of burning sulphure, that
Fry all the throats of ever-howling Hell,
As soon may cool, and quite confute the hot
Pleas of their furious drought; as any Well,
Or Stream, or Sea of wealth can slake the Fire,
Which reigns in her unsatisfy'd desire.

57

The structure of the House is plain and poor,
And calls with many a mouth for reparation:
No Clouds can weep that way, but needs must pour,
Through every rotten room an inundation:
In at their pleasure whistling come the winds,
And here a ready Inn all weather finds.

58

A thousand stilts and props their shoulders set
To aid the walls; where many a wisp and rag
Into the weather-beaten wounds are put:
Such is the thrift of that old carking Hag,
Her House's fall she ventures, but to spare
The simple cost ev'n of a patch'd repair.

59

Within, vast mouldy Trunks and Hutches stand,
Pil'd to the roof on one another's backs,
Guarded with massy hoops of iron, and
Warily fortify'd with triple locks:
As if indeed some Treasures' shrines they were,
When only yellow Clay lies sleeping there.

60

There lay that golden Mount the Lydian Prince
Had raised by his numerous Victories:
Unhappy Crœsus! who at such expence
Of pains and time, obtain'd so sad a prize,
Which prov'd his Life's sad load, and lower prest
Him than his grave, when Death did him arrest.

61

There lay the Phrygian Monarch's coined God,
Whose golden Wish made all his Riches poor;
Whose privilege was to want ev'n what he had,
And famish'd be amidst his growing store:
Sure for that Wish he more deserv'd those Ears
Which by the Poet's quaint revenge he wears.

62

There heaped lay his useless Talents, who
By Pagan's verdict is condemn'd to thirst,
Whilst mocking Currents round about him flow.
Ah Tantalus! how crosly wert thou curst
In Life with Treasures which thou couldst not use,
In Death with Dainties which thy mouth abuse!

63

There lay the Purse of stern Callicrates,
Who us'd Exaction's iron hand to rake
Up gold, and make th'Athenian miseries
Swell equally with his huge wealth; who brake
The Laws in lawless urging them, that he
Owner of what he could not keep might be.

64

The stuffed Coffers of rich Cinyras,
The prisons of his Cyprian Plenty, there
Congested were in mighty throngs: the Mass
Of Gyges's glittering joys, which far and near
Wonder and envy rais'd, lay next to them,
But all abashed now with rusty shame.

65

The teeming Bags, which Pelops brooded o'r;
The wealth which Crassus upon heaps had heap'd;
Darius's brave inestimable store,
There in their sepulchres of darkness sleep'd:
So did great Pharaoh's, into whose vast barn,
A crop of Gold was brought for that of Corn.

66

Whatever Rapine, Fraud, Oppression, Lies,
Distrustful Greediness, vexatious Care,
Had snatch'd, stole, poll'd, or scraped, to suffice
What could not filled be, was crowded there.
Men little think that all such Riches will
Go home at last, and with their Plutus dwell.

67

Nay, there that proud Accumulation lay
Which dares call every other Treasures poor;
That wealth which did the Golden Age display,
When Solomon the Crown of Israel wore;
Who such disgrace on silver pour'd, that it
Like vulgar stones was kick'd about the street.

68

Wise as he was, that King well understood
That with those huge ador'd Vacuities,
Which puff the World up with their frothy flood,
Ev'n massy Gold must counted be; which flies
Away on wings more swift than any thing
That Fortune rolls in Vanity's fine Ring.

69

He understood how Men's fond estimation
Gilds that by which they gild all things beside;
How in the Coach of their own admiration,
They make pale Earth in glorious triumph ride;
For though their poring sight be weak and gross,
His eye discern'd that Gold it self is dross.

70

Alas, as here in all its strength it lay
Immur'd in thousand Chests, it could not by
Its power, or its value keep away
Æruginous Cankers, which eternally
Both dwell and feed upon it; nor could all
Those mighty Locks forbid their Festival.

217

71

But howling round about the woful room,
Ran those unhappy Souls, whose thirst of Gold
Had plung'd them in this everlasting Doom:
Souls, which to their own Bags themselves had sold,
And bought their Prison; from whose misery
Their useless wealth could no Redemption buy.

72

His mystick Wand there wrinkled Balaam crack'd,
And flung his wretched Charms about the floor;
Cursing the day when he to Balak pack'd
In sordid love of vile-bred Mony more
Than Truth and Heav'n; and crying oft, Alas,
Who was the Wizzard then, and who the Ass!

73

There guilty Achan roar'd, himself to see
So gorgeous in his Babylonish Cloak;
Besides, to make him rich in misery,
Deep in his heart his Golden Wedge was stuck:
And his two hundred silver Shekels fast
About his feet were into fetters cast.

74

There cursed Ahab with Soul-gnawing fright,
Thought Naboth's Ghost came flashing in his face;
Whose guiltless Blood quite quenched that delight
With which the Vine's should have inflam'd his glass:
For all the stones which Calumny had thrown
On Naboth's head, he felt upon his own.

75

Gehazy there, as white with Leprosy
As guilt had dy'd him odious and black,
His double Change of Garments hates; which he
Can for his noisome sores no cover make;
And still he starts, and thinks his Master's eye
Doth him and his two Syrian Talents spy.

76

There Dives rends his Purple, and away
Kicks his now bitterly-delicious Feasts:
His Envy snarleth at his Dogs, since they
Less dogged were than He to needy Guests;
Whose boils they kindly kiss'd and lick'd, whilst He
With cruel railings griev'd their misery.

77

There Demas curses all the World, with which
His Gold-bewitched Soul in love did fall;
Lamenting his vain plot of growing rich,
By flowing from the Poverty of Paul;
That glorious Poverty which to the fair
Treasures of Heav'n was now the granted heir.

78

This ugly Room the decent Portal was
Into the Temple miserably builded
Of equal vileness: yet with lofty grace
Its ruinous Roof was screwed up, and yielded
Full space for Majesty to stand upright,
And let the God appear in his own height.

79

Hast thou not heard how, when on Dura's Plain
Nebuchadnezzar's Oven's hot mouth did gape
For those who fear'd Hell's furnace, and the stain
Of foul Idolatry; proud He in deep
Disdain of Heav'n, rear'd sixty cubits high
The Mountain of his Golden Deity?

80

The Copy of that Idol hence he took,
And still th'Original in this Temple stands;
Such is the massy Head and such the Look,
Such are the Legs, the Breast, the Arms, the Hands;
Such is its monstrous Bulk, and such the Beams,
With which its pure and burnish'd metal flames.

81

His Name is Mammon; and although he be
So dead a Lump, that aid he cannot lend
To's heavy self; yet to [t]his Deity
The most of living mortals couch and bend:
Heav'n's King with all his powers of Love and Bliss,
Of works on humane hearts with less success.

82

Both those who see, and those who want their eyes
Are by his splendor equally invited;
For both alike are blind, when once they prize
His worthless worth, and feel their Souls delighted
With contemplation of inchanting Money:
Their fond thirst's Milk, their foolish hunger's Honey.

83

Thrift, that most slander'd thing, pretended is
By every Sex and every Tribe of Men;
Who spare no pains to spare; who weigh their Bliss
In Gold's false scales; who gain not what they win;
Who fretted by th'immediate itch
Of heaping riches, ne'r think they are rich.

84

Some Young, and Poor; most Old, and Wealthy, at
The Idol's footstool reverently lay:
Active and stout was their Devotion's heat,
Disdaining any respit night or day;
And mortifying with hard penance what
Soever Mammon's Laws allowed not.

85

Where'r He sent them, to the East or West,
The North or South; no War of Heat or Cold,
Of Seas or Tempests, ever could resist
Their venturous March, or make too dear their Gold;
Nor could Earth's mass their hardy pains repel;
Through Mountains they would dive, and dig to Hell.

218

86

Thick at his shadowed feet there grew a Crop
Of every villany which taints this Earth;
Fruits which those fond Devotos gather'd up
As fast's the pois'ned roots could bring them forth:
The Golden Crime's Prerogative is such,
That it in other sins is always rich.

87

In other sins, and in the righteous Curse
Which by wise Vengeance is eternally
Ty'd to the strings of th'avaricious Purse;
For still those Cormorants are tortured by
Vexatious cares and fears of Want the more:
They are incumbred with their growing Store.

88

That Store, which with such tyrannising aw
In endless bondage holds their Souls, that they,
Though on their Lips their golden Torrents flow,
Yet durst not with one drop their thirst allay;
But choose to antidate their Hell, and learn
Betimes in everlasting Drought to burn.

89

The Priest, whose service waits upon this Shrine,
Is full as ugly as the Idol's fair:
The raving wallowing Mænades, would fine
Spruce courtly Ladies seem compar'd with Her;
So would the rankest Witch that ever yet
Disfigur'd was in any Magick fit.

90

Age bends her downward to that Earth in which
To delve and grope, is her profound delight:
As are the backs of bunched Camels, such
Is Her's, and sutes as well with any weight;
All load is light to Her, if but a grain
Of intermixed Profit it contain.

91

Her face all over's plowed up with Care,
And gastly deep the wretched furrows be:
Her hollow Eyes quite damp'd, and dazell'd are
By glaring on her glistering Deity:
Her sallow Looks, and shrivell'd parched Skin
Confess what pains she takes about her Sin.

92

Her Nails she never cut, but let them grow
Up with her Wealth, since Scraping was her Trade:
No greedy Vultures could such Tallons show,
And with such hungry hooks no Harpys prey'd:
For with these Engines she was wont to break
Mine's bowels open, and the Center rake.

93

A putrid Mantle round her stinking Waste
Was all the Robes she would her self allow,
Which she had found upon a dunghil cast
A thousand years before; and which was now
Nine hundred times repatch'd: so deeply did
Her Soul the charges of a new one dread.

94

Seven stuffed Pouches on a leathern thong
Crouded about her miserable Loins;
With these, of massy Keyes two bunches hung,
The Memorandums of her Treasur'd Mines:
Which Keyes she twenty times a day would tell,
And count what sums did in their keeping dwell.

95

Though thousand tongues with righteous indignation
Pour'd shames and curses on her sordid Head,
She scorn'd to blush, or from her self-vexation
Release her anxious Soul; for still she fed
Her Thoughts with hopes of more and more, and still
Went on, what never bottom had, to fill.

96

Patrocles was to Her a generous Knight,
And made his Board fat lavishness's scene:
When she with Dainties would her Taste delight,
Some rotten Root her Banquet was; and when
Her fare she ventur'd highliest to enlarge,
She'd be in salt at half a farthing's charge.

97

But planted deep she carried in her Breast
The horrid Root of all her monstrous cares,
Blind Infidelity; by which she cast
About how to withstand what her own fears
Made terrible; and built her trust upon
No Power or Providence, but her own alone.

98

Besides, th'Ideas of her Gold, which lay
Pil'd there in cursed Mountains, rusty grew;
This Rust, its dwelling turn'd into its prey,
And on her Heart with restless gnawing flew:
Yet was her Idol to that Heart so dear,
That for more Money she more Rust would bear.

99

This Hag was Avarice; whom Satan's Soul
Lov'd near as much as he thy Spouse did hate.
On her might's Axel he presum'd to roul
His final hopes of compassing his great
Design of Malice; knowing well that she
Much more with Men could do, than Heav'n or He.

100

To her vile Grot himself in person came;
Where with all condescent of courtesy,
Wiping aside the sulphur and the flame,
Which flash'd about his royal Count'nance, He
Saluted her, who never had the Bliss
Obtain'd till now of her grand Sovereign's Kiss.

219

101

This favour ravish'd her so deep, that She
The Task he set her triumph'd to receive:
First taking her Commission on her knee,
(Which thrice she kiss'd) and then her hasty leave,
To earth she posts, and findeth there a Cell
Almost as hellish as her native hell.

102

For to Iscariot's breast her way she snatch'd
Which foolish he left ope without a guard:
With al her venom in she rush'd, and pitch'd
Down in the bottom of his heart: full hard
It was e'r she intruded there; but now
No marble could such proofs of Stiffness show.

103

Those Words of potent Sweetness which did drop
From Jesu's blessed lips, could Winds, and Seas,
And Sicknesses, and Devils bridle up,
And any Storms but Judas his appease.
Alas, that Man should that sole Monster be
Which is too hard for Mercy's Suavity!

104

As he who boiling Lead hath swallow'd down,
As violently burns as it; and though
A thousand Seas into his cup were thrown,
They could not quench his drought: so Judas now
Feels his impois'ned belking bosom fry
In covetous Thirsts impatient ardency.

105

Millions of thoughts run raging through his breast,
And every one of these is all on fire:
He scorns and hates the Poverty of Christ;
No Bliss but Money lureth his desire:
Talk not to him of penniless Piety;
Whate'r it cost, he must have Coin, or die.

106

Ah strange Resolve! as if Life's Soul were Coin,
Which only paves the way, to flattering Death.
Fond Wretch! who liv'd whilst he did poor remain,
But when for sinful Wealth he trafficks, both
His Money and his Life that Trading cost him,
And every thing but mere Perdition lost him.

107

Yet was this Poison not enough to swell
His heart: another joyned in the Plot:
Deep in the nasty sink, of lowest Hell
Is situate a dismal gloomy Grot;
A Grot which there in ambush seems to lie
Hatching the egs of all Conspiracy.

108

And yet within a goodly House was built,
As for the Palace of some virgin Queen:
With quaint Designs the frontispice was gilt;
The total Fabrick smil'd like Beautie's Scene;
Through all the Walls white vains of marble ran;
And yet the Workmanship outshin'd the stone.

109

What full Balconies, stately Terrasses,
Spruce Anticks, fair Compartments, handsome Cants,
Elaborate freezes, graceful Cornishes,
Brisk and wellorder'd Turrets! nothing wants
That art could give to make the Outside fine;
Yet still the House is gallanter within.

110

The double Door with open lips invites
All Passengers; th'officious Porter there,
Completely learn'd in complemental Rites,
Kind welcome bids them with his vocal cheer;
He smiles, he bows, he fawns, he knows the Name
Of all the Guests; and in he ushers them.

111

The Hall's large Pavement silken Carpets spread
To court the strangers' feet with soft delight;
The dainty Roof is arched over head
With checker'd Roses red, and Lilies white;
Their precious Vapours liberal Odors deal,
And round the room sweet entertainments thrill.

112

But at the upper-end upon a throne
Of moderate height sits crafty Treachery;
A Fury older than her Hell, and one
Whose years would by her Count'nance witness'd be,
Had Art not interven'd, and taught her how
To make false Spring upon true Winter grow.

113

Craz'd Jezabel's lank and wrinckled face, was yet
Less out of shape than hers; until she found
A Paint's Hypocrisy to garnish it,
And with a youthful verdure cloth it round;
Thus came her Chinks, all stopp'd, and either cheek
With beauteous politure grew plump and sleek.

114

Though thousand frowns her thoughts had overspred,
Her outward Aspect wore a gentle guise;
Loves, Joyes, and Smiles were sweetly marshalled
About her lips, her forehead, and her eyes:
Brave Judith's lovely glances ne'r could dart
More potent charms at Oloferne's heart.

115

Her Tresses, which indeed were Knots of Snakes.
She overlaid with lies of dainty Hair;
Whose waving circling net of amber takes
Spectators' souls as well's the sporting Air;
Atchieving no less valiant wonders, than
The mighty Locks of Manoah's conquering Son.

220

116

An Olive Branch adorn'd her dexter hand,
Her sinister a Wreath of Roses: but
The Wreath was slyly lin'd with Nettles, and
The gentle Branch with ireful thorns beset:
For this was She who Peace could teach to fall
To Massacres, and Sweets to flow with Gall.

117

Her robe of state stream'd full about her feet;
For such they fondly were esteem'd, whilst hid:
But she had neither feet nor legs; a great
And knotty Tail hung sweeping in their stead;
A Tail which she about her round could wind,
And hug and kiss the Sting she ware behind.

118

The Siren thus, above the Water, is
As soft and smooth and clear a Nymph as she;
But her Catastrophe of Monstrousness
Lurks underneath with warey subtilty;
Whilst the most fairly foul contriveth how
To keep the Maid aloft, the fish below.

119

Whene'r she speaks, a flood of honey flows,
And with her breath a cloud of odours breaks;
Yet in her mouth a crop of poison grows;
Between her lips a brood of adders makes
Its cursed nest; her tounge's a mortal spear,
And all her teeth invenom'd arrows are.

120

But in her desperate bosom treasur'd lies
The fatal Marrow and the Pith of Hell;
Spight, Tumults, open Wars, Impieties,
Confusions, Desolations. Who can tell
The Monsters of that black Abyss, wherein
Full room is found for all the Sea of Sin.

121

Her chosen Courtiers waiting round her throne
Were fulfed Peace, and buxom Courtisey,
Freehearted Friendship, mild Compassion,
Neat Complement and golden Flattery,
Nimble Officiousness, large Promises,
Deep Oaths, false Truths, insidious Faithfulness.

122

Sweet angel-faced things, restored Laws,
Reform'd Religion, rescu'd Liberty;
For such the Vulgars' silly faith, which knows
Not what a Vizzard means, presumes they be;
Admiring for celestial Spirits of Light
The masked furies of infernal Night.

123

But at her back the Crew whom most she tenders
Behind a Vail's dissimulation lies;
Scoffs, Calumnies, Excise, Assessments, Plunders,
Ingagements, Covenants, Pulpit villanies,
Thanksgivings, Fasts, Law-ruining Exigences,
Sacred Rebellions, Murdering of Princes.

124

Beyond which vail, an iron Portal led
Into a Dungeon stuff'd with fire and smoke;
A Dungeon horribly replenished
With all Damnation's furniture, whose look
Tortur'd with endless fright those Pris'ners which
Lay in that Jail of everburning Pitch.

125

Grief liv'd in triumph there, and all the Pains
Profest excess: the Language of the Den
Was Sighs, and Groans, and noise of tumbled Chains,
Cries, yellings, Curses, Blasphemies of Men
And God himself, eternal Seizing by
The Souls which Vengeance doomed there to fry.

126

On Cain's most guilty brow there might you read
A deeper Mark than God upon it set,
His innocent Brother's Blood, which scalt and fed
Upon its seat: his breast this made him beat,
And now with truer reason cry, My Pain
Is greater than my Patience can sustain.

127

No longer now he dreaded to be slain,
But wish'd to meet another Lamech who
Might rid him of this dying Life: in vain
He gnash'd his teeth; in vain he curs'd his Woe,
And Him who chain'd him in it; for his Grief
Sunk now below the region of Relief.

128

That Millstone which his cruel brains had grown'd,
Abimelech there counteth soft and light:
For now a Stone more ponderous he found
Squeazing his Soul with full Damnation's Weight;
That Stone he made his desperate altar, when
To's Pride he sacrific'd his Bretheren.

129

There Delilah lay tearing off her Hair
To think of whose her traiterous sheers had clipp'd;
The twisted Withes and Ropes less sturdy were
Than those her falsehood now on her had heap'd:
Those Chains, which bound her to her endless rack,
Stronger than Samson's sinewy arms could break.

130

There lay fierce Joab, with his woful hand
Clap'd on his fift Rib: for th'insidious Wound
He thought he seal'd so sure on Abner, and
On Amasa, did on himself rebound!
Just David's Will, and Solomon's Command
This Legacy gave him by Benaia's hand.

221

131

Falsehearted Rechab, and Baanah there
With everlasting horror seem'd to see
The Trunk of righteous Ishbosheth, and hear
His dying Groans upbraid their Treachery.
Gladly would they, to buy off this their pain,
Give both their heads that his were on again.

132

There hung rebellious Absalom by his Head
Not on an Oak, but on a fiery Tree,
Whose boughs of Torture round about him spread,
And shadow'd him with flaming Misery:
Three Darts stuck in his double Heart, and made
Way for the stinging Worm therein to feed.

133

His Tongue its popular blandishments forgot,
By which it stole the Vulgars' loyalty,
And nothing now but ugly Curses spit:
Whence his religious Sire, whose piercing eye
Descry'd his Doom, tun'd by no other key
His Lamentation, but Extremity.

134

There Ziba pour'd deep detestations on
That fawning Lie, which help'd his fraud to gain
Upright Mephibosheth's Possession,
From which he reap'd this crop of endless Pain.
There Shimei rail'd on his own Railing, who
Had heap'd his curses on his Sovereign's Woe.

135

The Pride of ready Wit, Ahitophel
With all his Plots about his halter wound,
Hung sadly there: and now the Oracle
No Answers gave, but hideously profound
Yellings and roars, which plain confession made
That he himself more than his King betray'd.

136

There Zimri howl'd to think how he was more
With Treason drunk, than Elah was with Wine;
And now much fiercelyer flaming tortures bore,
Than when his Palace all on fire did shine.
There Shallum felt himself for ever by
The wounds which murder'd Zachariah, die.

137

There in their torn bemangled Flesh, and in
Their broken bones, the Median Peers beheld
Their Treason's recompence; and found this Den
More full of Terror, and more surely seal'd,
Than that in which their cursed Fraudulence
Had plunged blessed Daniel's Innocence.

138

These and ten thousand more liv'd dying there;
For deep and large the woful Dungeon was,
And for their latest Heirs had room to spare;
Choise room for those to whom the loftiest place
Of most profound Damnation was due,
The Christian-seeming Trayterous-being Crew.

139

That Crew, whose shameless zeal pretends to set
Christ on his throne, by pulling down his House:
Who vow to make their Princes glorious, yet
With monstrous triumph in their blood carrouse.
That Crew, whose Pride and Lust's their only Reason;
Whose highest Sanctity deep-layed Treason.

140

That Crew, whose several Stalls were ready built
Of burning brass, and all in order placed
(According to the merit of their Guilt)
About a Throne, whose canopy was graced,
With flames of sovereign Dreadfulness, a Throne
Wide gaping for Perdition's venturous Son.

141

For 'twas establish'd for prodigious Him
Whom Jesus would have crowned King above;
But Judas in an heav'nly Diadem
Would nothing find which might oblige his love;
With desperate impudence resolv'd was He
To earn his torment's Principality.

142

For hither now hell's anxious Monarch came,
As to the Den of Avarice before;
When she beheld her dreadful Lord, the Dame
Leap'd from her chair, and met him at the door,
Where on her face, she humbly asked what
Occasion brought his Highness to her grot.

143

His red hot iron sceptre Satan here
Reach'd forth for her to kiss in sign of peace:
Then smiling on her answering face, Most dear
Of all my Feinds, said he, my bus'ness is
The weightyest that my Spight e'r undertook,
Which if it fails, this Sceptre must be broke.

144

Thou knowst time was when I and thou, did make
A brave Adventure in the face of Heav'n,
When at our Courage all the spheres did quake,
And God was to his utmost thunder driven;
His Throne stood trembling at our rival Power,
And had our foot not slipp'd, all had been our.

145

But that Mishap's too sleight and weak to break
The strength of our immortal Pride; forbid
It all my Hell, that Belzebub should make
Truce with that Tyrant who disherited
Him of his starry Kingdom: No; I may
Perchance be beaten, but will ne'r obey.

222

146

I am resolv'd to find Him work as long
As He, and his Eternity can last;
My Spirit never must forget that wrong
Which me into this hateful Dungeon cast:
Nor need I fear Him now, since I can be
But still in Hell, should He still conquer me.

147

Full well I know his spight: had any Place
Been worse than this, he would have damn'd Us thither:
Yet He, forsooth, must be the God of grace,
Of Pity, and of Tenderness the Father:
And silly Men believe him too; but We
More wit have bought than so befool'd to be.

148

For be he what he will to Men; to Us
He is a sworn and everlasting Foe.
And is 't not just, He who maligns Us thus,
Should find that Devils are immortal too?
I would not wrong Him; yet mine own must I
Not clip, to save intire his Majesty.

149

My noble Will He never yet subdued,
And I am now too old to learn to bow:
Upon my youth his utmost strength He shewed,
Yet tender though I was, himself doth know
Ev'n then I yielded not: And shall this fist
Now brawny grown, the Tyrant not resist?

150

It must and shall: my Confidence beats high;
For now on evener ground our fight shall be.
He from steep slippery heav'n is come; and my
Footing on earth as sure as His will be.
Besides, should we miscarry, We are there
Nearer our hell, and no deep fall can fear.

151

Yet that we may unlucky Chance defy,
Wise Treason must direct our Project's way:
Lend thou thine aid, and let th'iniquity
Of Fate or Fortune, if it can, say nay.
How oft when Rams in vain have push'd the Wall,
Have cunning Underminings made it fall:

152

It can be no dishonor now, since He
Hath in the vile hypocrisy of Dust
And Ashes hid his heav'nly Majesty,
For Belzebub on Fraud to build his trust.
'Tis true, I scorn to trace his steps; yet may
I justly Him in his own Coin repay.

153

Come, let's away: with hate to Christ I burn
More than with all my kingdom's flames. I swear
By my bright Mother, th'undefiled Morn
(A fairer Virgin than the Carpenter
Chose when he hew'd out Him;) by this my Crown,
And Horns, I'l win his blood, or lose mine own.

154

The cursed Souls within all heard him swear,
And clapp'd with damned joy their flaming pawes,
Hoping some fresh Companions destin'd were
To share in pangs with them: Hell op'd its jaws;
Earth split into a mighty gap; and He
Ascended with his Handmaid Treachery.

155

Then having melted both himself, and Her
Into the next Wind's pliant lap he met,
He sliely flew to Juda's bosom; where
In with his breath he unperceived shot.
Thus other Plagues infused in the air
With pois'nous stealth down to the Heart repair.

156

As when a Tyrant hath usurp'd the Crown,
The Arms and Ensigns of the rightful Heirs
He blurs, and tears, and pulls their Statues down,
And in their rooms his own with triumph rears;
Leaving no Sign to make the People dream
Of any Sovereign extant now but him:

157

So Satan acts his spight in Juda's breast;
All characters which were ingraven there
Of his leige Lord and only Master Christ,
His mighty Miracles, his Love, his fear,
His heav'nly Life and doctrine, he defaces,
And every line of Piety erases.

158

Then by the help of those Allies, which He
Had there confederated (Avarice
The Mother of all Mischiefs, Treachery
The dextrous Midwife,) he erecteth his
Black standard in th'Apostate's wretched heart,
And thence his Conquest spreads to every Part.

159

For Judas now breaths nothing else but Hell,
Whose fumes are tumbling all about his brain;
With plots of spight and rage his fancies swell,
And with contrivances of cursed Gain.
No fury ever hatch'd such thoughts as He,
Nor brought forth such portentuous Villainy.

160

O Treachery how desperately blind
And foolish is thy piercing Policy,
Which trembles not an headlong way to find
How to betray its own Felicity;
Which ventures to project Destruction for
The Universe's only Saviour!

223

161

O Avarice, how flat Idolatry
Is thine, who canst vile rusty Wealth prefer
Before the King of heav'nly Majesty
Whose beams than all thy Gold more golden are;
Who canst adore what Cankers feed on, and
Scorn Him on whom bright Cherubim attend!

162

Judas, the Slave of Gain, resolves to sell
His most inestimable Lord; though He
And He alone, his thirsty soul could fill
With all the Riches of Eternity.
But Avarice his heart doth so bewitch
That Heav'n he'l sell, and only to be rich.

163

His Chapmen are the Priests; for they who had
Betray'd God's sacred House to Merchandise,
Will make no scruple to extend their trade,
And count God saleable: but in the price
They thrifty are, and beat their market low;
But Thirty silver pieces they'l bestow.

164

They little think their Heirs in time to come
Will scorn this sneaking Copy, and find reason
With lusty generousness to make their Sum
Suit with the brave Magnificence of Treason;
When for a King (how much less precious?) they
Two hundred thousand Pounds will freely pay.

165

Fy sordid Caiaphas, and Annas fy!
Your Law cries shame of this unworthy Rate;
Consult your Books, and see if Equity
Has not the meanest Man esteemed at
Full fifty Shekels: and will noble you
For God and Man no more than thus allow!

166

His Worth has Jesu's Godhead lower sunk
Than is the vilest Wight's that breaths your air?
Bid but like Chapmen; of your credits think
And by the precious Ware your Offer square.
O could you purchase Him aright, the Prize
Would make you rich in all felicities.

167

But thou improvident Judas, since thou art
Resolved Him to sell whose value is
Beyond the power of Arithmetick Art
To reckon up, proportion but thy Price
In some more near degree: let thy Demand
Make Buyers what they purchase understand.

168

Ask all the gold that rolls on Indus's shore,
Ask all the treasures of the Eastern Main,
Ask all the Earth's yet undiscovered Ore,
Ask all the Pearls and Gems where Lustres reign,
Ask Herod's checker, ask the Highpriest's Crown,
Ask Cesar's mighty scepter and his throne.

169

Ask all the silver of the glistering Stars,
Ask all the gold that flames in Titan's eyes,
Ask all the Jewels of Aurora's Tears,
Ask all the Smiles and Beauties of the Skies,
Ask Paradise, ask whatsoever can
Or cannot given be by God or Man.

170

Trade not with these, the worst of Chapmen, who
So fouly under-rate thy Merchandise:
To John, to Andrew, or to Peter go,
Who knowing 'tis past knowledge, know the price
Of their invaluable Lord; and see
What for their Live's best Life they'l profer Thee.

171

Try what the Virgin-mother will bestow
For Whom she values dearer than her heart;
Proclaim thy Market unto Heav'n, and know,
Whither wise Seraphs will not gladly part
With more than thirty silver pieces for
Him, whom with prostrate faces they adore.

172

Or have but patience to see what He,
Not for his own, but for thy Life will give;
And at what charge his Charity will be
Thee from that killing Bargain to reprieve.
Suspect not that his Poverty is poor;
Thou keepst his Bag, but keepst not all his store.

173

Alas, though every Sin be Blindness, yet
Hell knows no Crime so full of pitch as this,
Nor doth the Sun of human Reason set
In any Night so black as Avarice:
Darkness ne'r sate so thick on Egypt's brow,
As on the mental eyes of Judas now.

174

Urge him no more with Sense and Reason; He
Against those tides is stifly set to row;
For since no God but Money he can see,
He nothing sees at all, and cares not how
He makes his desperate Bargain, so he may
Have but this wretched Sum in ready Pay.

175

Thus Jesu's Wisdom had contriv'd to shew
The mighty patience of his Goodness; who
Though from Heav'n's Glory his bright self he threw
Into the arms of dust and shame, that so
Man's cursed Seed he might redeem to Bliss,
Sold by ungrateful Man's perverseness is.

224

176

And now the chink of his adored Coin
Sounds in his Purse, the Traitor hasts to be
As good's his wicked word, and is in pain
Till forth he brings his hired Treachery.
He thinks it an unworthy odious crime,
To cheat the Priests, who thus had trusted him.

177

(O Enigmalick Wickedness! that He
To whom his Heav'nly Lord's all-precious Love
Could seem no bond of Faithfulness, should be
By this most vile obligement bound, and prove
So faithful to his foes! this, Psyche, this
A knotty riddle to thy Phylax is.

178

So strange a thing is Man's mysterious Heart,
No Angel's Eye can through its secrets run:
To sound this bottom is the sovereign Art
And Privilege of God himself alone:
A certain proof that his sole fingers did
Write those dark Lines, which only He can read.)

179

The Caytiff therefore, loth his plot should fail
And Treason's matchless credit be prevented;
Begg'd some assistance, that he might assail
Omnipotence the surer, and indented
To have an armed Guard: the Priests were glad
To see the Man so desperately mad.

180

A Band they had, and of commanded Men
Whose Hearts were iron, and whose Foreheads brass:
No Boars or Tigres ever could outrun
Their fury, when their aim at mischief was:
Right Sovereign were these Monsters, had it not
Been for their Master's and Iscariot.

181

With churlish Clubs were some appointed, some
With keen and thirsty Swords, but all with Spight:
In front of whom new Captain Judas came,
Resolv'd to slay, but yet afraid to fight:
For Cowardise in Treason's essence rests,
Which fraud or number more than Valor trusts.

182

The Ensigns of this Band of Night-birds were
Suspicious Lanthorns, and bold Torches, which
With glaring beams awak'd the Midnight Air,
Whose groping silent shades startled by such
Unseasonable Apparitions, fled
Behind the Hills and Trees to hide their head.

183

Thus having marched over Cedron, they
To yonder Garden came, too sweet a place
To be this Mischief's scene; but yet his Prey
Th'insidious Serpent ventured to chase
In sweetest Eden; and Iscariot, who
His footsteps traced, hither chose to go.

184

Thy sacred Lord with his Disciples, there
Retired was, and now began to pray:
When lo, a Spectacle of direr fear
March'd full against his single face, than They
Whose armed spight approach to sacrifice
His Patience to contempts and cruelties.

185

A black and labouring Cloud hung o'r his Head,
In which his Father veil'd his gracious Eyes;
Yet through that pitch his dreadful Arm he spread,
And reach'd it down to Earth: from angry Skies
The Lightning never with such terror broke,
Nor Thunder's trump the Rocks and Mountains shook.

186

For in his Hand a mighty Cup he held,
In which he made all Horrors boil and flame:
Unto the brim's vast circle it was fill'd
With all the World's excrementitious stream,
Which Vengeance kindling with her fiery breath
Had turn'd into the Ocean of Death.

187

That Universal Taint whose rankling flood
From Adam's veins through all his Race had run,
Met in this Sink, and joyned with the Brood
Of every singular Transgression:
Besides, about the Cup each several Pang,
Which every several Sin deserv'd, was hung.

188

Had now the sublimated Soul of Gall,
Had all the Deaths which live in Thessaly,
Had every Cockatrice's egg, had all
The maws of Dragons, had the Tyranny
Of Spight her self, or had the odious flood
Of Anna's, Caiaphas's, Iscariot's Blood.

189

Had Styx, had Phlegeton, had all that Wits
Have fain'd, and all that Justice made in Hell,
Had all the flames which Etna's furnace spits
Had all the Stinks which in the Dead Sea dwell,
Had all the Poisons of each Serpent's tongue
Which Lybia frights, into the Cup been wrung.

190

The Draught had Nectar been compar'd to this:
Yet loe the monstrous Mixture to the lip
Of Sweetnesse's own Lord presented is.
O Psyche, how shall he digest this Cup,
Which were the Sons of Adam forc'd to drink,
The World would drowned be in its own Sink?

225

191

But well He knew the Hand which lov'd his Cheeks
When he in Bliss's bosom made his nest;
And though so strange an Offer now it makes,
'Tis still the same: and how can he resist
What his dear Father tenders him, although
The Cup with Horror's own heartblood do's flow!

192

Were it as wide and deep and full again,
This Thought alone commands it to be sweet;
And till he drink its Pangs he is in pain,
So valiant's his Obedience, and so great
His Love to Man, who else must needs have quafft
This dismal Boul, and perish'd in the Draught.

193

But then this Thought was justled by another,
For He himself was passive flesh and Blood:
Nature (whose earnest voice who e'r could smother?)
Up in her own defence right strongly stood;
For who can willingly be headlong hurl'd
Into that Gulf which would devour the World?

194

O how He struggled in this mighty strait,
Being himself with his brave self to fight!
Had all the Center's most compacted Weight
Pitch'd on his heart, the burden had been light,
And easy unto that which squeazed He
Endur'd in this heroick Agony.

195

In vain should I contend to represent
What no Comparison's excess can reach;
Vnknown, unknown the Sorrows were which spent
Their fury on his Patience, and such
As none but He himself could measure, who
Resolv'd to grapple with the Soul of Woe.

196

The Contestation grew so hot within
That all his bosom fell on flaming fire;
And from that melting furnace, through his skin
Thick Proofs of monstrous Fervor did transpire;
For at the mouth of every labouring pore
Not watery Sweat, but Blood broke ope its door.

197

O matchless Combat! whose mysterious power
Without the edge of sword, or point of dart
Could cloth Him round with lamentable gore,
And wound him from within; whilst every Part
Rack'd and transfixed with intestine strains,
In streams of purple tears bewail'd its pains.

198

Down to the Ground this sweating Torrent pour'd,
From off its Face to wash the barren Curse;
Whilst moated in his melted self, thy Lord
The noble fight did freshly reinforce:
His Mortal Passion three stout Onsets gave
To his Immortal Piety and Love.

199

Father, he cry'd, by that thy tender Name,
Thy most afflicted Son commiserate:
If Mercy's wisdom any way can frame
How to reprieve me from this dismal fate;
O let thine Hand, which brings this Cup to me,
Remove, with it, my Woe's extremity.

200

But strait by most athletick bravery
Mounting above himself, he noblyer cries,
Although all Bitterness triumphant be
In this one Cup, it must and shall suffice
That from thy Hand it comes: thy sovereign Will
And not mine own, shall be my Pleasure still.

201

Thus when his adamantine Fate doth call
The Phenix to his grave; though Life's strong plea
Urges his stay, yet to his Funeral
He flies with joyful grief; where generously
Blowing the fire with's wings' applauding breath,
To hatch his End he broods his flaming Death.

202

Thus reverend Abraham when his God's Command
Sent him to bath his sword in Isaac's blood,
Divided was in his own bowels, and
With his stout self in competition stood;
Till valourous Piety her powers strain'd,
And th'arduous Laurel of self-conquest gain'd.

203

But when thy mighty Lord atchieved had
This triple Conquest: Judas and his Rout
Like hungry bears into the Garden made,
And for their booty rang'd and rov'd about;
Not knowing He as ready was to be
Betray'd, as they to act their Treachery.

204

For like a known victorious Champion, who
Before his other Foes hath conquer'd Fear,
He meets their Rage; demanding, whom with so
Untimely strange a chase they hunted there.
Them, and their Spight's design ful well he knew,
Yet this brave Challenge in their face he threw.

205

Jesus of Nazareth we seek, said they.
Alas, blind Souls, He came to seek out you,
And lead you safely in the King's high way
Up to his Realm above, that on your brow
The Crown of Bliss might ever shine: but ye
In nothing would be found but Treachery.

226

206

Nor They, nor his own Judas, Psyche, knew
Thy Spouse's face; which as it flam'd before
With royal beauty, so was clouded now
And smear'd in's bloody Agonistik Gore.
Thus like some dusky Meteor Phebus shows
When an Eclipse has quench'd his glittering brows.

207

But He, who would not be unknown to those
Who came to suck what blood was left behind;
(That blood which burned in his veins, till loose
It got, and flowed like his liberal Mind,)
Revests his Look with graceful Majesty,
And champion-like professes, I am He.

208

If ever thou hast seen what killing Dread
Base-hearted Traitors doth arrest, when by
Their injur'd Sovereign discovered
Their naked Treason feels his awful Eye;
Treble this fright, and then compute what fear
Shot through the Souls of these vile Caytiffs here.

209

A stream of horror drove them trembling back,
And overwhelm'd them flat upon the ground;
Deep in the Gulph of which dismaying wrack
Their shivering spirits had been for ever drown'd,
Had He to Mercy's shore not snatch'd out them,
The Tempest of whose fury storm'd at Him.

210

O how will they endure his radiant Eyes,
Which all this World on flaming fire shall set;
When He in triumph sweeping through the skies
Shall hither come, and mounted on his great
Tribunal, once again cry, I am He;
No more the Prey, but Judge of Treachery.

211

When they no Lantern's, nor no Torch's light,
Nor Judas's conduct any more shall need;
But by Our Trumpet's Death-awakening fright
Be summon'd from their dust, and hurried
Up to the Bar of Heav'n's all-dooming Son;
Whom then they would not find, but cannot shun.

212

But Bridling now this guilt-appalling splendor,
And cov'nanting, that his Disciples may
Safely retreat, He condescends to render
Himself to his unworthy foes, who lay
Quaking before him, and had quite forgot
Their own fell envy, and the Highpriest Plot.

213

But feeling Life afresh their Bosoms beat,
And seeing Jesus upon yielding, (since
For all his braving flash, he stoop'd to Treat,)
They heartned up their frighted impudence,
And feared not to hope, that they might now
Safely as furious as their wishes grow.

214

For as a Serpent brus'd and foil'd, if she
Spies any ways to reinforce her fight,
Her crest and looks she rears, and venturously
Advanceth both her wrath and bane to spit:
So started up these Elves, and cheer'd their head
(And this Iscariot was) to do the Deed.

215

When lo, strange He, forgetful of the Fall,
From which he rose but now, and fearing not
The hazard of a greater, muster'd all
His Impudence's power; and to get
The fame of second Lucifer, led up
Against the Lord of Hosts his desperate Troop.

216

Yet golden was the Arrow that he shot,
Burnish'd with fair and complemental grace;
Though in as mortal venom dipp'd as that
Which slew Eve's Heart, when she saluted was
By Fair-tongu'd Hell, and by the Tempter driven
With courteous treason from her Earthly Heaven.

217

Hail, Master, was the Word: What Ear could now
Disrelish such a sugar'd Noise as this!
Can discord's killing-jars be taught to grow
Upon a bed of Musick? Master is
The phrase of service; Hail of Love; yet He
Could make this sweet salute insidious be.

218

And when his faithless Tongue her part had done,
His Lips succeeded in the Treachery,
With flattering-bloody malice venturing on
The very face of highest Majesty;
For, that his cursed Project might not miss,
He seal'd it on his Master with a Kiss.

219

O Wit of Treason! which abuseth thus
The Paranymph of gentlest Courtesy
Into the Bawd of deepest Barbarousness!
Monstrous Iscariot how dost thou by thy
Inhumane Kindness, both a Traitor prove
Of Love's great Master, and the Pledge of Love.

220

Is not a Kiss the soft and yielding Sign
Which claps the Bargain of Affection up:
The sweetly-joyous Marriage between:
The tenderest Pair of Lovers, Lip and Lip:
The closing Harmony, which when the Tongue
Has done its best, completes the pleasing Song?

227

221

Is not a Kiss that Mystick Stamp, which though
It sinks not in, yet deep Impressions leaves:
The smooth Conveyance of the Soul, which through
The closed Mouth her thrilling self derives:
Th'Epitomy of genuine Salutation,
And Modesty's most graceful Copulation?

222

Is not a Kiss the dearly-sacred Seal
Which cements happy Friends' concording hearts?
Must this betrayed be! Must faithless Hell
Truth's daintyest Soder taint! Must Hatred's Arts
Be clothed in the delicatest Dress
Of courteous Peace and amorous Tenderness!

223

Must sweet Arabia's beds belch out a Stink
Outpois'ning all the Bane of Thessaly!
Must milky Lilies stain their leaves with Ink!
Thick-lin'd with Thorns must Buds of Roses be!
Must Harshness lurk in Down! Must Honey flow
With Gall! Must summer Gales bring Ice and Snow!

224

O what will Treason not presume to do,
Which more than all these strange Mutations makes
In this one venturous Fact of Judas; who
By Love's delicious Tye all Friendship breaks;
Who biteth with his Lips, not with his Teeth
And plotts to Kiss his dearest Lord to death.

225

Who teacheth all Succeeding Traitors how
To mask with burnish'd Gold that rankling Brass
Of Impudence, which arms their sullen brow;
To tip Rebellion with meek Lies; to grace
Their arrogant Treaties with submissive Words
Whilst at their Sovereign's heart they aim their swords.

226

But though Iscariot his own Love betrays,
His Lord's triumph's beyond all Treachery,
Resolv'd against the Traitor's Rage to raise
An higher counter-work of Lenity:
Though Jesus yields his mighty self, he will
Intire maintain his tender Pity still.

227

He call'd no Lightning from the Clouds, or from
His dared Eyes to flash on Judas's face,
And stamp upon his Lips that flaming doom
Which due to their blood-thirsty Flattery was:
He charg'd not Earth her dreadful mouth to ope,
And evermore this hellish Kisser's stop.

228

O no! with heav'nly Tenderness he cry'd,
Friend wherefore art thou come? strange Miracle.
Of most affronted Patience, which vy'd
With Spight's Excess! upon the face of Hell
Shall Friend's celestial Name be printed by
Him who beholds and feels its Treachery!

229

Is foul Ingratitude, rank Apostasy,
Right down Rebellion, into Friendship turn'd?
Or rather has not this Disciple by
His curs'd Revolt, a Fury's title earn'd?
And will his wronged Lord by none but this
Sweet Name, revenge his most invenom'd Kiss.

230

O Psyche, Jesus tortured was to see
His Foe himself down into Tortures throw;
And by this Charm's inviting Suavity
Back into heav'n endeavor'd him to draw:
He knew Love's Cords were strong, and strove by these
To pluck him from his gulf of Miseries.

231

Why art thou come, thy Friend to undermine?
Why art thou come, with arms against a Lamb?
Why art thou come, to loose what would be thine?
Why art thou come, to gain eternal shame?
What means this madly-mighty Preparation,
For thy Lord's death, and for thine own Damnation?

232

I in its natural Language will thy Kiss
Kindly interpret, and to it reply
In that dear dialect, if thou to Bliss
At length wilt yield, and in my Nursery
Of heav'nly Plants enjoy thy ready room:
Say then my Friend, O say, Why art thou come?

233

Thus did the Prince of Sweetness woe and plead:
But this deaf Serpent stopp'd his cursed ear.
The stubborn bolt of thirty Pieces made,
Forbad all holy Charms to enter there.
When lo, the Soldiers, knowing now their Prey,
On Jesus fell, and hurried him away.

234

The Spouse of Souls was thus, for love of thee
Psyche, and all his other Brides, content
By Judas to be viley sold, and be
Insidiously destroy'd in Compliment.
Shrink not if thy near Friends abuse thy love,
Since God's own Favorite could so faithless prove.

235

And let the World by this one Copy learn
That hell-bred Boldness is not strange or new;
By which most foster'd favour'd Creatures turn
Fairtongued Enemies, and lead a Crew
Of Miscreants arm'd with bloody-meek Pretences
Against the Powers and Persons of their Princes.

228

236

But mighty matter 'tis of Wonder, that
They who have seen what gains Iscariot made,
Are not astonished with horror at
The thought of following his accursed Trade;
But desperately forget what Him befel,
Him, their abhorred Usher into Hell.

237

For when no Mercy could th'Apostate win
To entertain his Pardon, Vengeance made
Just haste to pour her self upon his Sin;
Whilst Satan, of her fierce concurrence glad,
His Treason in its proper coin repay'd,
And this Betrayer fatally betray'd.

238

She to the Garden's grimmest corner, where
Thoughtful disconsolate Night sate thick and black,
Lash'd him aside; and having fitted there
The implements of her infernal Rack,
With studied fury, not his body, but
His captivated Soul on it She put.

239

For, by a Torch, which glar'd with hellish light,
She to Iscariot's intellectual eyes
Her dismal Self display'd: Excessive fright
Did strait his wretched helpless heart surprize;
Each joint and member quak'd and sweat; and He
Felt in this Garden too his Agony.

240

He saw dire Belzebub's sulphureous Look
Boiling with swarthy fire; his Horns he saw
High mounted on his head, which as he shook
His Hair's intangled Snakes their knots did knaw:
He saw his adamantine Nails and Paws,
His steely Teeth, his brazen gaping Jaws.

241

He saw the Tempest of his flaming breath
Which gloomy volumes spew'd of stinking smoke:
He saw the windows of eternal Death
Flung open in his staring Eyes, whose stroke
Slew him alive: he saw his iron Mace,
His burning Feet, and his enraged Pace:

242

He saw his forked Tail in triumph thrown
Upon his shoulder, and his ireful Brow
With cruel scorn contracted in a frown:
Rampant Implacability he saw
In every gesture, and too plainly read
The full Description of Immortal Dread.

243

Profoundly learn'd that Lesson made him in
The mighty Volumes of his own Distress:
The more he look'd, the more in every line
He found himself so lost, that no Redress
Could glimmer in his damped Hopes, or cheer
His woful Desolation's hemisphere.

244

When lo, stern Lucifer threw out his hand,
And by her throat his guilty Conscience took;
And now, he cry'd, I'l make thee understand
What thou hast chose, and what thou hast forsook:
Mark well this dainty Pair of Damsels, which
Could from thy God and Heav'n thy Love bewitch.

245

Which said, he op'd to his astonish'd view
The face of his adored Avarice,
And Treachery; not in their former hue
Of borrowed smiles and outside comelyness,
But in their naked native filth: and then
Shaking his Horns and Paws, he thus went on:

246

Maddest of Fools, how many Hells dost thou
Deserve, who with such Hags couldst fall in love,
When Jesus woo'd thy heart? these Hags, which now
Th'hast paid so dearly for, must, doubtless prove
Sweet Brides, and preciously adorn thy Bed
Which in the bottom of my Realm is spred.

247

If they have any feature, joint, or lim
Which is not horrid; may my Scepter break,
And may my royal Tongue no more blaspheme.
For once I tell thee true, and thou mayst take
The Devil's word, in monstrous ugliness
I know no Furies who thy Wives surpass.

248

And was thy Lord so vile a Thing, that He
Might not with These in competition stand!
Were thy unthankful Eyes e'r grac'd to see
A face so rich in purest Beauties, and
Majestick Graces, as in His did shine,
Making Humanity appear Divine?

249

Most stupid Sot! how oft didst thou behold
Divinity from his great Hand break out!
How oft has his Omnipotence control'd,
And put my stoutest Legions to rout!
Yet still with desperate devotion thou
(And here he beat the Soul,) to Me wouldst bow.

250

Nay never houl; 'tis but the Earnest, this,
Of what's to come: Thou needs wouldst bow to Me,
Of whom that Christ the well-known Conqueror is:
He threw me down from heav'n's Sublimity
Into that Pit of Pangs, where I am now
The damned Sovereign of such as Thou.

229

251

Hadst not as good have bow'd to mightier Him,
Whose Yoke thou wouldst have lighter found than mine?
I tell thee Judas, I am but a grim
And rugged Lord; what Prizes once I win,
I grasp for ever, and shall make them fry
In Torment's bottomless extremity.

252

And can my Hell, and everlasting Spight,
Put on the looks of such prevailing Worth
As Jesu's value to outshine! Can Night
Day's lustre dazel! brings Damnation forth
Such strong Temptations? can eternal Bliss
Not woe and win as potently as this!

253

Sure Hell and Death are gallant Things, and I
Must not allow thee them, until thou hast
In all the storms of Hate and Infamy
Which Salem, or the World can raise, been tost.
This Preface shall for that eternal Smart
Which gapes and longs for thee, prepare thine heart.

254

Go then, the Age's Blot and Monster, go;
Let every Mouth spit on thy hated head;
Let every Tongue thy way with Curses strow;
Let every Hand be arm'd to strike thee dead;
Let every Eye abhor thy baleful sight;
Let all the World revenge thy traiterous Spight.

255

Let every mad Dog bark and snarl at thy
More currish Look; Let every Night-raven groan
Thy funeral knell; Let every Scritch-owl's Cry
Teach thee to tune Death's Ejulation;
Let every direful Mandrake's killing Shriek,
Thy ears, thy comforts, and thy heart-strings break.

256

Let Heav'n frown on thee, and the starry Host
Pour on thy soul their angryest influence, who
Their and thine own great Lord betrayed hast;
In one vast bolt let all God's Thunders now
Conjoin their Wrath to tear obdurate Thee
Who by no Mercy mollify'd wouldst be.

257

That Stroke will ram thee down into thy Death,
Thy dear-earn'd Death of never-dying Pain;
Where melted by my flaming eyes and breath,
Thy thirty silver pieces I will drain
Into thy heart; that thou mayst shriek and roar
Whilst there they burn and boil for evermore.

258

This said; th'insulting Prince of Tyranny
A while withdrew, and rested confident
To see Maturity get wings, and fly
To overtake his Plot: yet e'r he went,
Seven times he thresh'd the Conscience with the flail
Of his enormous poison-pointed tail.

259

As when the Deluge in the youth of Time
Broke out upon the World, and with a Sea
Of universal Wo surpriz'd the Crime
Which dar'd just Vengeance's Severity;
Those bold Delinquents saw their opened graves
In Desperation first, then in the Waves:

260

So Judas taken in this mighty flood
Of deepest Anguish, had no power of thinking
Which way to scape, or that his Saviour's Blood
Might drown that Sea in which he now was sinking.
O no! the thought of that pure Blood alone
Pour'd on his face Guilt's blushing Ocean.

261

Since more in Money he his Trust, than in
His God had put; he dares not harbour hopes
That Mercy now could reach his heightned Sin:
A gap by fear to Impudence he opes;
For by this wretched Dread of Goodness he
Gives flat defiance to its Lenity.

262

Revenge he sees full aiming at his head,
He sees his Treason flashing in his face,
He sees the World's just Anger marshalled
Against his odious Crime; hee sees the place
Deep in the heart of Hell, where damned He
Designed is for evermore to be.

263

With that, his cloths, his hair, his flesh he tore,
He roar'd, he rav'd, and thus to Cursing fell:
May that unhappy Day be read no more
In any Calendars but those of Hell:
Which to this baleful Life did me betray,
A Life to living Death the dying way.

264

Curs'd be my Father, who a Brat begot
The Heir to nothing but to Hate and Woe:
And cursed be my Mother's womb, whose hot
Pleasures at my Conception, only to
Those hotter Pains prepar'd the path for me
Who now in fire's deep womb conceiv'd must be.

265

Curs'd be those Paps, which nourish'd me, when my
Young Innocence might happily, have dy'd:
Curs'd be my tender Nurse, who feared by
Sure Poison's courtesy, in death to hide
Me from this deadlyer Night: and cursed be
All sicknesses which would not murther me.

230

266

Curs'd be this Hand, which often ready had
A Knife, and yet forbore my throat to cut:
Curs'd be these feet, which often travelled
Over the brows of Precipices, yet
Would never stumble, that I might have fell
Then but to Earth, who tumble now to Hell.

267

Curs'd be the Day, which first acquainted me
With Jesus, and my ominous Name inroll'd
Amongst his blessed Chaplains; Cursed be
That Thirst of Wealth, by which my self I sold
More sadly than my Master; Curs'd be all
The gravely-wicked Chapmen, and the Sale.

268

Curs'd be this Garden; upon every bed
May fatal Hemlock, Wolfbane, Poppy grow;
May Adders, Basilisks, and Vipers feed
Their poison here; on every Tree and Bough
May winged Dragons perch, that something may
Resemble Judas here another day.

269

Another Day! O no; may thickest Night
Upon this Scene of Treason ever dwell;
That neither Sun nor Star may reach their light
More unto this, than to the other Hell.
The bloody beams of Ghosts and fiends will glare
With fittest lustre in this guilty Sphere.

270

But may the deepest of all Execrations
On you my Thirty Silver Torments fall:
What Vengeance shall requite those sweet Temptations
Which thus have drown'd me in a Sea of Gall?
Can I no way contrive, base paltry Clay,
How I may you, as you did me, betray?

271

Down shall I hurry you with me to Hell,
And hold you fast amidst my endless flames;
Or kick you back into your former cell,
The High-priest's Bag? this, this to Judas seems
The blacker and the crueler Pit; and I
Thither again will damn you instantly.

272

This said; like that tormented Man in whose
Wild bosom reign'd a Legion of fiends,
Himself to Salem in mad haste he throws,
Where to the Temple he his passage rends;
Not doubting but his Chapman he should find
Against their God in his own House combin'd.

273

He found them there, and in among them ran,
Flinging about his hand, his head, his eyes;
And having strein'd his Ejulation
To Horror's tune; my Crime, my Crime, he cries,
Burns in my tortured breast, and domineers
Too fiercely to be quenched by my tears.

274

No Expiation that Altar knows
Which for my monstrous Guilt can satisfy:
My Master's blood in such vast torrents flows
On my unpardonable Soul, that I
Am drown'd for ever in my deep Offence,
Being condemned by his Innocence.

275

Take, take your Trash; and take my Curse with it:
Hell's gulf devour your Souls. Here first on Them,
Then on his Silver pieces having spit,
He threw them at their hated heads; and from
The Temple in wild indignation flung,
Raving and cursing as he ran along.

276

For all the way he thought he strugled through
An army of reviling Detestations:
Over his head his arms this made him throw
To shield it from his own Imaginations:
Through which from heav'n and earth such arrows flew
As wounded him at every step anew.

277

For Melancholy, dark as is the Pitch,
Which on Avernus's throat so thick doth grow,
Chok'd every glimpse of Sense and Reason which
Offer'd to dawn in's bosom's orb, and show
Him by what torturing Mistakes he had
Himself unto himself a Tyrant made.

278

Dive Melancholy; which, (though sober she
Whilst young and governable, gains the name
Of Wisdom's Handmaid,) when Maturity
Strengthens her gloomy poison, turns her tame
Hypocrisy to headlong Madness, and
All other Feinds in Fury doth transcend.

279

Thus came he to a silent secret place
Without the Town, yet could not think it so;
But fancied still that all the City was
Hot in the chase of Him his Saviour's Foe.
Each bird or fly that moved, made him start;
Each Wind that puffed, blew quite through his heart.

280

His Eyes distracted were, 'twixt looking up
For fear least Heav'n should fall upon his head;
And down, least Earth her dreadful mouth should ope
And snatch him to his grave e'r he were dead:
Till with this Terror tir'd, his breast he stroke,
And into right-down Desperation broke.

231

281

Adieu all Hopes, he cry'd, and Fears adieu;
Come Vengeance come, my heart is ready here.
Back to the Priests, I see, in vain, I threw
That Money, whose sad burden still I bear;
Still close and heavy sticks its Rust upon
My gnawed Soul; and I must be undone.

282

If Heav'n be just, what means its Wrath's delay,
Now it beholds my most-deserving head!
Am I not Judas! did not I betray
Its only Son? Is not my Conscience red
With Jesu's spotless Blood? and yet can I
Endured be to live, when He must die!

283

At least great Satan do not thou deny
Thy Servant Pay for that grand Work, which he
Hath compassed with matchless Villany,
In high obedience to thy Feinds and Thee.
What Soul e'r dared more than I have done,
Or earn'd a gallanter Damnation?

284

Didst thou not nobly promise me but now
The dearest Torments of thy deepest Jail?
Deceive me not again: if ever thou
Thy Credit tendredst, venture not to fail
Thy trusty Judas; or ne'r hope to see
Man serve thee more; if thou rewardst not Me.

285

Come then, burn up these Lips which learn'd of thee
Their killing Kiss; Dash out these Brains which thou
Taughtst how to plot, what now I dread to see;
This Carkase in a thousand pieces throw,
And empty out on every cursed Part
The total rage of thy infernal Smart.

286

Take this despairing Soul, and let it be
The Prey of thy immortal Furies: 'tis
No groundless challenge; that, as due to me
I claim the utmost of thy Spight; unless
Thy Debt's infinitude thou hast forgot;
Jesus and Heav'n into thine hands I put.

287

Jesus and Heav'n; whom I must ever hate,
As having made them my eternal foes:
O how I long to be in that Free State
Where generous Blasphemy no bridle knows;
Where I may Rage as loud's Heav'n's Thunders roar,
And, being cursed, curse for evermore.

288

Here Fury's foaming Tide quite stopp'd his throat:
Yet still he star'd, and struggled with his Grief;
Still off he tore his hair, his breast he smote,
And through Self-tortures hunted for Relief:
His Tongue he bit because it would not speak,
And stamp'd the Earth which would not open break.

289

He hideously grinn'd and gnash'd his teeth,
With most importunate frenzy stung, to find
The cruel dalliance of his wooed Death
Which spar'd his Body whilst it slew his Mind:
His sides he griped, and was mad to feel
Hell in himself who long'd to be in Hell.

290

But as the sullen Fat, and Pitch, and Hair
By Daniel cast into the Dragon's, throat,
Burned, and roar'd and rag'd, and tumbled there
More furiously than in the boiling Pot;
Till with importunate swelling torments they
Quite through his monstrous belly burst their way.

291

So flam'd this Lump of Horror and Despair
In Judas's bosom, till so strong it grew
That all his stretch'd and racked Entrails were
Conquer'd with tortures, and in sunder flew:
His Body split, and through that cruel wound
Pour'd his more barbarous bowels on the ground.

292

Thus from this Prison his black Spirit ran
Into as black a Jail, prepair'd for it
Full in the center of Damnation;
Where now it raves in chains at Satan's feet:
Enforc'd the pois'nous flames he spews, to drink.
O that all Traitors would of Judas think!

232

END OF VOL. I.

VOL. II.

CANTO XII. The Banquet.

The ARGUMENT.

To seal his Dear Remembrance safe and sure
Upon the hearts of his selected Sheep,
Love institutes his Parting Feast, so pure
And richly-sweet, that Psyche rap'd by deep
Desire at his Description, sues to be
A sharer in that Board's Felicity.

1

But ah! how large a Name is Treason, which
Doth in another fatal chanel run,
And from the Universe's Cradle reach
Down to its funeral Pile: no Ocean
E'r stretch'd its dangerous Arms so wide, or more
Wrack'd Mortals flung upon its helpless shore.

2

Inbred Selftreason's this unnatural Feind
Whose bus'ness 'tis to undermine her Home;
Who musters up intestine Storms to rend
Her too too loving Dame's unhappy Womb;
Who on her Darlings joys her Spight to pour
And whom she pampers most do's most devour.

3

Her title's Luxury; a rampant Weed
Which grew at first in an unlikely place;
Who would suspect that such a cursed Seed
Should Paradise's blessed Beds disgrace?
Yet, as the Serpent there presum'd to ly,
So did this full as venomous Prodigy.

4

Too prying Eve first found her at the Tree
Of Knowledge, and observ'd her clambring up
With licorish zeal the dangerous Rarity
Of that fair-fac'd forbidden Fruit to crop;
Fool as she was, she help'd her climb the bough
Not knowing that her self she headlong threw.

5

She knew not that her own wild Teeth would now
Tear and devour her Innocence's Bliss;
She knew not that this flattering Elf would draw
Her to a forfeit of all Paradise,
And having dress'd it in the beautious coat
Of that gay Apple, thrust Death down her throat.

6

Yet She to Adam needs would her commend;
Nor could unkindly-courteous He resist
The huging of his Spouse's seeming Friend,
Though Death and Hell it levell'd at his breast:
And now all Eden's lawful Banquet is
Too scant his wanton palate to suffice.

7

No; he must taste of that which never was
Design'd thus to be ravish'd: But the sour
Revengeful Fruit would brook no wrong, for as
She stuck between his teeth, with all the power
Of stupefaction them on edge she set,
Proving his fretful Torment, not his Meat.

8

Nor could he chuse but leave his wretched Heirs
Th'Inheritance of this inchanting Pain,
Which down through all his Generations stayers
Fail'd not its propagated Bane to drain:
This hankering licorish Itch found way to run
Hot through the veins of his remotest Son.

9

Which Fervor wax'd betimes so furious that
The youthful World on fire with Lust it set;
A fire which glow'd with Hell's rebellious heat;
A fire which downward burnt, and being knit
In league with other flaming Sins, grew stout,
And found the Deluge work to quench it out.

10

Earth's face this having washed clean and white,
On Heav'n she smiled with wel-pleasing grace;
And God vouchafed Humane Appetite
A full Commission over all the Race
Of Beasts, of Fishes, and of Birds, to see
How Man himself would bridle being Free.

11

For generous Spirits then will most abstain
When Lords they are of their own Liberty;
When Virtue is intrusted with the Rein,
And room's allowed for Self-victory;
When Moderation's Discipline may prove
No Task of Duty, but a Strein of Love.

12

Man's Appetite to every thing was free,
Except the Blood, where Life hath chose to swim:
Blood's tincture's that in which stern Cruelty
Dyes her bold Guilt: a tincture fit for grim
And salvage Tigres; not for Man, who is,
Or should, Professor be of Tenderness.

13

(Besides, whilst Men refrain their Lips from this
Red Draught, their cheap Acknowledgement they make
Of their most due Allegeance unto His
Kind Majesty who pleased is to take
(As little sure as they themselves could wish,)
No homage but the Blood for all the flesh.)

14

Indeed good Noah, who both Worlds had seen,
And was in holy Worth above them both,
By watchful Temperance kept himself as clean
As now the Earth was wash'd; and, that no Sloth
Might tempt and steal him into Luxury,
Buckled his bones to painful Husbandry.

15

Then, that the Sweat his Vinyard cost him, might
In kind requited be, into his Glass
The Grapes he shed: whose Look, though brisk and bright,
Might well have been his Monitor: alas,
Its ruby Dye had he but understood
He would have shunn'd this Liquor too as Blood.

16

Yet when it smil'd and sparkled in his face,
And mov'd with generous fervor in the cup,
The unsuspitious Saint invited was
With equal cheerfulness to drink it up.
Vntryed Pleasures by their dainty skin
And sweet behaviour, Approbation win.

17

The flattering Liquor as it downward went,
Knock'd at his heart, and easy entrance got;
Where with his Spirits it did compliment,
And soft delicious fire amongst them shot:
Noah rejoyc'd to feel his bosom glow,
And his old Age's Ice begin to thaw.

18

This Bait drew down another: for, alas,
Good Man he little dream'd that Treachery
In his soul-cheering Cup infused was;
Or that his Wine which sparkled, e'er would be
Destructive flame: But from tame Embers rise
Rampant Combustions when we least surmise.

19

By that Recruit the Liquor seconded,
Awak'd its vigor, and grew proudly bold;
Impatient to sneak below, it spred
Through all the upper regions, and roll'd
About his brains, wherein there 'gan to swim
Such thickning clouds that Reason's Sun grew dim.

20

And then, infected with the pois'nous Sweet,
He found no power left him to abstain:
No more to quench his Thirst, but that new Heat
Which burnt his veins, he takes his Bowl again;
Which to the brim in heedless haste he fills,
Then part on th'earth and part in's mouth he spills.

21

But now he Drunk no more, the Wine drunk Him,
And swallow'd up both Man and Saint and all;
(For thus, when in their own wild Draughts they swim,
Our witty Tongue doth Drinkers Drunken call;)
Which change so throughly did his head confound
That Earth as well as Heav'n he thinks turns round.

22

And this is all he thinks of Earth or Heav'n,
So shipwrack'd was his Soul in this red Sea;
His Reason from its wonted helm was driven,
His Fancy overwhelm'd, his Memory
Away was washed, and the useless hulk
Was only left him of his Bodie's bulk.

23

The Wine now sparkles in his eyes no less
Than in his Bowl before: He gapes and stares
On every thing, and yet he nothing sees;
He trips and staggers, but no fall he fears,
Nor feels it when he falls; for having let
His Bowl drop down, himself sunk after it.

24

Thus he who in the universal flood
Trampled the fury of the proudest Waves,
And on the Ocean's back in triumph rode,
Below him seeing all the Nations' graves;
Alas, was drowned in a silly Cup
Which he himself unwittingly drunk up.

25

No Ark above this Deluge Man can bear
But Temperance, which here the Saint forgot;
Who as he downward tumbled, took no care
Of keeping on his modest Mantle; but
As destitute of Cloths, as Senses lay,
And did his double Nakedness display.

26

But as the Traitor who has slain the King
Speeds from the Court as soon's the Mischief's done:
So now the treacherous Liquor backward flung,
And from the Murder it committed, ran:
Besides, a rout of other Humors follow'd,
And slaughter'd Noah in his Vomit wallow'd.

27

Slaughter'd indeed; and now a Man no more,
For nothing was alive in him but Beast;
Which spake its kind by his right swinish Roar:
'Till tir'd at length with yawning, and opprest
With his most heavy self, he fell asleep,
And in that nasty Rest his brains did steep.

28

Thus Luxury's first part in Eden grew,
The second set in Noah's Garden was;
By which kind Heav'n the warned World would shew
That Danger's root can lurk in any place.
Alas, the holyest Ground too often breeds
As well as wholesom flowers, invenom'd Weeds.

29

God's Bounty granted all Variety
Of Meats to feast the sober Appetite;
And added brisk and cheerful Wine, to be
The active soul of moderate Delight:
Yet Man abusing his indulged Bliss,
Deflour'd Heav'n's Grace by peevish Wantoness.

30

He neither would by Eve's Examples, nor
By Noah's be advis'd, whose Sanctity
Rendred them more invulnerable far
Than common Mortals' feeble breasts can be:
He still would dive, and rake the most profound
Bottom of Pleasures, though himself he drown'd.

31

And from that bottom up he fetch'd at last
Improved fat and full-grown Luxury;
Who ne'r appeared to those Ages past
So hideously-compleat a Prodigy;
For she much cooler was and tamer then,
And had not banish'd Men quite out of Men.

32

But an unruly Monster now she grew
Incourag'd by the Vinyard's rampant flame;
And round about the World in triumph flew,
All which she wrack'd in her sweet-bitter stream:
Stark raving she and roaring prov'd, and made
All so, who practis'd her intemperate Trade.

33

The laws of God, of Man, of Nature were
Vain feeble bridles, whensoever she
Resolved in her furious carreer
To let the Circle of her Healths run free:
Oft has she brew'd with Wine's outragious flood
Friends', Brothers', Parents', Masters', Princes' blood.

34

With firy spurs oft has she pricked on
The neighing fury of her venery
To Daughters', Sisters', Mothers' beds to run:
Oft has she ventur'd by foul Blasphemy
Upon the Virgin Heav'n's; and boldly mad,
Committed, as she could, a rape on God.

35

Her Disposition's suted with a shape
As odd and shapeless; for her parched Head
Burns up all hopes of hair, and wastes the Sap
By ill-bestow'd excess of moisture: Red
With putrid fulness are her Eyes, and seem
In her own overflowing Wine to swim.

36

But provident's her tumid Nose, for there
The Wine is bottel'd up past running out;
Which Bottle's lether being thin and clear
Speaks what it holds; and studded round about
With fervent Rubies, eminently shines
Like grapes' large Bunches hung for Taverns' signs.

37

Wroth fiery knots are marshalled upon
Her forehead and her cheeks: had Sicily
Her Etna lost, this sulphury Region
Would shew it her in multiplicity;
For though these hills swell not so high as that,
As great's their horror, and their smell as hot.

38

Her powting lips still dry and crannied are
Though every day a thousand times too wet
Alas her burning Breath which traffick'd there
Makes them their supple commerce strait forget,
And by the Poison of its fulsome stinks
Taints all the aromatick Wines she drinks.

39

But by her Paunch's prominent Storehouse, great
With child she seems of Mountains, for in this
What all the World can yield of Drink and Meat
In one prodigious Heap congested is:
Here Solomon's twelve Oxen, and with them
His mighty brasen Sea it self might swim.

40

This Sink is that where Surfeit being bred
The fertile Parent of Diseases grows;
Which she distributing from foot to head,
All undigested Pleasures turns to Woes.
Thus though the Bees delicious Honey bring,
They always end in an invenom'd Sting.

41

Who knows not that Luxuriant Mortals eat
The fuel of their final fate, and wrest
The good intent of their abused Meat
Not Nature but her Maladies to feast?
Who knows not that in Health's deceitful Name
They drink those Sparks which kindle fever's flame?

42

Themselves they diet thus with their own Death,
And to a Weapon of Destruction turn
The Staff of Life. In vain Heav'n's Mercy hath
So bounteous been: if Men perversly learn
Self-cruelty to find in it, and all
Its Sweets adulterate into deadly Gall:

43

If Bacchus must be dubb'd a God, and have
His larger and more constant Sacrifice,
Than He who all their Vines to Mortals gave
Whilst they the Giver by the Gift despise:
If Ceres too a Goddess prove, and we
All sworn Devotos of the Belly be.

44

Alas, and had not bold Mortality
Commission large enough before, to check
Our proudest Strength! Was all the Misery
Of Famin, Plague, and War, so faint and weak
That We, strange Voluntiers, our help must lend
Of Luxury, to hasten on our End!

45

'Twas time, high time, for God himself to come,
And with Heav'n's Balsam tame our desperate Wound;
Our Madness swell'd so wide, that now no room
For mortal Hand to give Relief was found.
'Twas time to come; and blessed be his Name,
For, knowing Pity's cue, in time he came.

46

Jesus himself came down, and left the Feast
Of all Delights which he above enjoy'd;
Into the Depth of Poverty he cast
His noble Life; and taught us to avoid
Intemperance's baits, which Riches lay
So fair and thick in Wantoness's way.

47

Then by his practick Abstinence he shew'd
How eas'ly, fairly, and in open field
Pernitious Luxury might be subdu'd,
And healthful Temperance the scepter weild.
Forty long days and nights at once he spent
In Consecrating of his Servants' Lent.

48

His Doctrine He to His Example join'd
When for His frequent Text He Fasting took,
Proving those wilful Eyes much more than blind
Which could discover in her solemn Look
No richer Beauty than what smileth in
The polish'd plumpness of a pamper'd skin.

49

'Tis true She's pale; so is the Lily too,
So is her heav'nly daughter Chastity;
So is the milk, so is the Virgin Snow:
And yet when Modesty would dressed be
In graceful Scarlat, she can raise a flood
Of Purple, and shine fair in blushing Blood.

50

With costly Pride she seeks not to be deep
Red in spruce Wines, strange Meats, and learned Sauce;
She's not ambitious a tongue to keep
More wise in Taste, than Speech; to hold a place
Among quaint Kitchen-criticks; and to gain
A more judicious Palate, than a Brain.

51

She is contented to be lank and lean,
As one who counts it martial policy
To keep her Ammunition close within
Her less and therefore stronger Walls: for she
Laughs at those plump and burly Gallants, who
Can nothing but their swelling Out-works show.

52

But though her most contracted Ramparts need
No numerous Garrison's incumbrance; yet
This sober Mistress of all active Heed
Her guard both day and night doth duly set,
Being of treacherous Ease and Sleep afraid,
By which fat lazy Bulwarks are betray'd.

53

She knows what Ballast will her bulk suffice
To keep her steady in Life's dangerous Sea,
And lays in but enough: the Marchandize
Which fraughts her stowage, precious vertues be;
And provident She, no bigger than her self,
Securely sails by every Rock and Shelf.

54

Her Parts and Passions all their duties know,
And she as little fears a storm within
As from without: her flesh delights to bow
To all commands; no Officers repine
What course so e'r she steers, but all conspire
To make their own still fail with her desire.

55

And thus she safely at that Port arriveth
Which leads into the Continent of Bliss;
The Port in which her dying Life surviveth,
The blessed Key and Gate of Paradise:
For whose incomparably-dainty fare
With wise forecast she sav'd her stomack here.

56

This difficult but advantageous Grace
Was that which Jesus strove on Earth to sow;
But Earth so shamelesly-ingrateful was
As to reject the noble Seed; for though
Some few ingenuous Beds did entertain it,
The most with peevish stubbornness disdain it.

57

Yea those who to the King of Abstinence
Have sworn Allegiance, blush not to enroul
Themselves the servants of Intemperance;
And their licentious and revelling Bowl
More sacred and obligatory count
Than all the streams of Baptism's Heav'nly fount.

58

Else how comes that (O how unmanly) Trade
Of daily turning Swine, to be profest
With most applause, not where the Pagan shade
Upon prevented Reason's eyes hath cast
Blind Irreligion's Night; but where the Rays
Of most revealed Heav'n gild Christian dayes?

59

Else how can'st thou, degenerous Britain, which
Barr'st out all other Oceans by thy shore,
To let the Sea of Drunkenness with such
Unruly fury in thy bowels roar!
O that thy feeble Sands should stronger be
Than in thy Reason, or thy Piety!

60

How has this Deluge drown'd in Sottishness
They once renowned Sense of Bravery;
Since in thy gallant Sword's and Buckler's place
A cowardly Succession we see
Of Pots and Glasses, and (O Valour's shame!)
Strong Drinker turned into Credit's name.

61

How come those Bacchanial Wars so dear
In thy repute, who prid'st thy self that thou
So well appointed art as not to fear
Or Dutch or Danish bowls; but knowest how
Both foes and friends by Grapes' mad blood to shed,
And, though not strike, yet surely drink them dead.

62

How comes the Name of Cynick, or of Clown
To blast their fame who never learn'd the Arts
Of roaring Revels! how is Goodness grown
No more by Virtue's Standard, but by Quarts
And Pottles to be measur'd; whilst by Good
Fellows, Carousers must be understood!

63

How comes this Mockery of Discipline,
To drink in order and observe the Round!
How comes Debauchery to defloure divine
Solemnity, and sacred modes confound
With swinish Rites; whilst Riot's Liturgy
Devoutly is perform'd with Cap and Knee!

64

Why must it be in vain that Nature's care
Hath tam'd thy Vines, and made them chaste and cool?
Why must thy thirsty Lust rome far and near,
And from all forreign Climates fill thy bowl?
Such tedious voyages why dost thou take
The whole World's Drunkenness thine own to make?

65

O how hast thou the sumptuous pains forgot
Which mighty Love hath taken to requite
The cost of Virtuous Abstinence; and what
For Piety's untainted appetite
His Bounties hand prepar'd; those dainties which
Surmount all wishes' and all fancies' pitch.

66

At that high Banquet's strange magnificence
Heav'n stands amazed: nor could Phylax now
Longer conceal his brave ecstatick sense
Of its dear Sweets: for Heav'nly bosoms glow
So hot when Love's Exploits their wonder wake,
That through their lips their flaming hearts must break.

67

The infamous Traitor's famous Story done:
And Psyche having her short Supper eat;
Her ardent Guardian thus again begun:
My Dear, this Evening season, and the Meat
Thy Spouse's providence hath given thee,
Are Items of his greater Feast to Me.

68

He, Abstinence's noble Doctor, who
Had taught his Servants not to clog their heart
With corruptible viands; being now
Already Sold, and shortly hence to part,
A Banquet made so great and rich, as may
More than the whole World's Temperance repay.

69

A Banquet not of gross and earthly chear
Where birds, or beasts, or fish might convives be,
But of immortal Dainties, Spirits' Fare,
Diet of Souls; so pure, that only He
The God in whom all Power and Sweetness live
Could such celestial Entertainment give.

70

The solemn Day now summoned the Jews
Their memorable Passover to eat:
Nor would thine inoffensive Lord refuse
With due respect that Feast to celebrate,
Whose typick Office, like the faithful Shade
On Him the Sun so long attended had.

71

With his Disciples down he sate; and from
The consecrated and unblemish'd Lamb
Observ'd the Copy of himself, in whom
No Critick's searching eye found room for blame:
Yet could not Innocence secure his life
More than the Lamb it saved from the knife.

72

The Lamb devested of his fleece and skin
The Fire's most hungry rage had naked fed,
With its tormented patient flesh; and in
This Lesson he his Pangs aforehand read,
How to his Cross the Jewish fury tost him,
And how the flaming Wrath of Heav'n did rost him.

73

The sad attendance of that bitter Sauce
Which sourest Herbs about the Meat had thrown;
The smart resemblance of that Anguish was
With which his Dish of deepest Wo was strown:
The stinking Weeds of humane Sins exceed
In bitterness, all Herbs that Earth can breed.

74

The Haste which quickned on this transient Feast,
Was not so winged, as the noble Speed
With which He posted in desire to rest
Upon the cruel Cross his tender head:
A woful resting place was that, and yet
To Love no Pillow seem'd so soft and sweet.

75

The Lamb he eat; and, though the Lamb of God,
He meant himself as truly to be eaten.
But that the strangeness of this mighty Food
Might not appal his Guests; his Love do's sweeten
Its own Conveyance by that dear Invention
Whose depth exceeds created Comprehension.

76

For having finish'd this Solemnity
And honorably brought it to its grave;
He ushers in that precious Mystery,
Kept for his final Favour, which might leave
His precious Memory imprinted deep
In all the souls of his beloved Sheep.

77

His combrous Mantle having laid aside,
A Towel on he girds; for humble He
Would not the least impediment abide
Of most officious Activity:
A Bacin then he fills, and at his own
Poor servants' feet the mighty Lord falls down.

78

The conscience of his own eternal Worth,
His boundless Power, and native Sovereingty;
The clear remembrance of his coming forth
From God's bright arms, and that he was to be
There re-inthroned, could not hold him up;
All this he knew, and yet He down did stoop.

79

Stoop then proud Mortals, whosoe'r you be
Who have no power alone to stand: O stoop
Now you behold your Sovereign on his knee,
Whose Hand of all your Beings is the Prop:
Stoop, since you see Him to his Scholars bow,
And of the Highest make himself so low.

80

To stand on foolish terms of Honor now,
Is but to found your glory on your shame:
O, is't not more illustrious to bow
With Jesus, than with Lucifer to aim
Above your reach! why, why will Dust forget
The place originally due to it!

81

But what's God's bus'nes at his Vassals' feet?
Only to wash, and wipe them clean. O now
Stoop lower still, lower and lower yet,
For at the lowest you are not so low
As He, the Universe's Monarch here
Strangely become a servile Minister.

82

When Jesus thus with Water purged had
His Servants' feet, and cleans'd with Grace their hearts;
Shewing what Preparation must be made
By all who hope to have their happy parts
In his pure Banquet; down he sits again,
With Miracles his Guests to entertain.

83

The Close of sumptuous Feasts is proud to be
With choice and sovereign Delicacies crown'd,
Which may the Convive's learned Luxury
With deep and dainty Ravishment confound;
And Jesus would not let this Supper want
That costly point of princely Complement.

84

Indeed the Supper which They now had eat
Its ready way into the Belly took;
Where in the kitchen of poor mortal Meat
Committed 'twas to active Heat to cook:
And Heat's best skill could only dress it fit
To feed the Body which had fed on it.

85

But Christ's adorable Design was now
With such a second Course to grace the Board,
As might to pined Minds relief allow,
And nutriment to hungry Hearts afford;
Such Nutriment as sprightful strength might give
To all his Guests eternally to live.

86

In his Almighty Hand he took the Bread,
And his Magnifick Blessing pour'd on it;
Bate but his own, and ne'r on any Head
Such potent Benediction chose to sit:
Indeed, it was that Blessing's echo, and
Bounded upon his Body in his Hand.

87

For breaking that dear Bread, He tender'd it
To his Disciples, saying, Take and eat;
This is my Body broke for you: and let
My Death's Remembrance live in this your Meat.
But Jesu's Feast must not a dry one be;
His Wine shall match his Meat's high rarity.

88

He takes the Cup, and cries, Drink all of this,
My Blood, the Blood of my New Testament,
Which shed, and liberally bequeathed is
To wash the Sins of all that will repent.
As oft as of this Fount of Life you Drink,
Of Me, your bountiful Redeemer, think.

89

Sweet Jesu! O how can thy World forget
Their Royal Savior, and his Bounty; who
Upon his Tables his own Self hath set;
Who in their Holy Goblets deigns to flow,
And in their Dishes lie. Did ever Friend
So sure a Token of his Love commend?

90

Infallibly there dost Thou flow and lie;
Though mortal eyes discover no such things,
Quick-sighted Faith reads all the Mystery,
And humble pious Souls know how to bring
Into the Wonder's Cabinet, and there
Make all the Jewels of this Truth appear.

91

She generously dares on God rely,
And trust his Word, though up in Riddles knit:
If Jesus once pronounceth, This is my
Body and Blood: Far, far, cries she, be it
That I should think my dying Lord would cheat
Me in his Legacy of Drink and Meat.

92

His Word's omnipotent: by Saying, He
Effects whate'r he says; and more than I
Or can, or would conceive. What is't to me
If He transcends Man's low Capacity?
Surely it well becomes Him so to do;
Nor were He God, if He could not do so.

93

Let Him say what He will, I must deny
Him to be God, or certain hold his Word:
Me it concerneth not, to verify
What He proclaims: My duty's to afford
Meek credit, and let Him alone to make
Good, whatsoever He is pleas'd to speak.

94

Good He can make it; witness Heav'n and Earth,
Yea, ev'n Themselves who thus his Words distrust:
For from what fount flow'd this Creation forth,
But his Almighty Lips? Needs therefore must
His Words be real, or the World's vast Mass
Must for a Dream and vain Delusion pass.

95

Gross and unworthy Spirits sure they be,
Who of their Lord such mean conceptions frame,
That parting from his dearest Consorts, He
No token of his Love bequeath'd to them
But simple Bread and Wine: a likely thing,
And suting well Magnificence's King.

96

A likely thing, that when the lusty Blood
Of Bulls and Goats can wash no Sins away,
The Blood of Grapes should with a stronger Flood
Quite overwhelm and drown the World's Decay:
O no, such virtue in no Blood can dwell,
But that which through the Veins of God did thrill.

97

Ask me not then, How can the thing be done,
What power of Sense or Reason can digest it?
Fools, as you are, what Demonstration
So evident as this, My God profest it?
And if you prove it true, that He can lye,
This Wonder, and Him too, I'll strait deny.

98

But first demonstrate, how one single Sound
Can to the Circle's brims its self impart,
And on a thousand Ears at once rebound
In its compleat totallity: your Art
Alas, is puzell'd here: and every Noise
Chides your distrust of your Redeemer's Voice.

99

Speak out, fond Infidelity, speak out,
And say, This single Sound is more than One:
Or, if shame stops thy Mouth: why is thy Doubt
So shameless as to make Great Him alone
Who is th'Eternal Word, that power want,
Which to each flitting Voice thy Faith doth grant.

100

But what thanks were't, if you could credit what
To Sense and Reason's eye were written plain?
Heav'n's much to them beholden, who will not
Believe it higher is than they can strain;
Who jealous are of God, and will not be
Induc'd to trust Him further than they see.

101

And yet had you these modest Eyes of mine,
You in this gloomy Cloud would see the Sun;
That Sun, who in wise justice scorns to shine
On those who with bold prying press upon
His secret Majesty; which plainly I
Because I make no anxious search, descry.

102

This is the Valorous Resolution
Of gallant Faith: the blessed Rule whereby
All those through Mysterie's meanders run,
Who are the Scholars of Humility.
Yet must I tell thee, Psyche, itching Pride
Will not hereafter thus be satisfy'd.

103

A thousand waspish Syllogisms will
Be buzzing from the mouths of those who build
Their groundworks of Religion on the skill
With which they proudly think their brains are fill'd;
'Till Queries, Doubts, Distinctions, Niceties
Breed fretful Schisms, and pois'nous Heresies.

104

Needs will they peep into the Manner how
This hidden Miracle to pass was brought;
And madly being not content to know
What Christ thought fit to teach them, study out
They know not what, and make this Banquet prove
A Sacrament of War and not of Love.

105

Some press too near, and spy what is not there,
Some carelessly take what is there away:
Some will admit no Miracle, for fear
That Consequent be usher'd in, which they
Resolve to stop; and that their Faith should be
Forc'd to confess more than their eyes can see.

106

Some first Conclude, and afterward Dispute,
Loth to confess they did Define in haste:
Some rest contented only to confute
What others urge: nor can the mighty Feast
Perswade their sceptick Stomachs to sit down,
And by meek Faith make Angels' Cheer their own.

107

Some sift Existence, Substance, Accidents,
Concomitance, through Logick's busy sive:
Trans, Sub, and Con, by strange experiments
They boult so long, that they themselves deceive:
For whilst to win the precious Flower they strain,
The course and refuse Bran is all they gain.

108

When Aristotle's Laws are urg'd to be
The Umpiers in Religion, the Rent
Poor Art would fain sew up in Piety,
Is mended but by further Detriment:
For by th'unworthy clownish Needle, it
Both multiply'd, and wider ope is set.

109

O happy World, if all would once agree
In that which Jesus did so plainly teach!
If those short Words no more might tenter'd be
By long Disputes beyond themselves to reach:
If they to apprehend their sense, would strain
Their faithful Heart, and not their doubtful Brain:

110

If they their Notions and themselves would cease
To rack and torture; and to make their great
And burly Volumes swell with Witnesses
Of their profound and learned Want of Wit:
If for the Manner they would trust their Lord,
And for the Substance take Him at his Word.

111

For Heav'n its faithful wheel shall sooner turn
And backward hale the Sun into the East;
The Polar Bear in Lybia's furnace burn;
And Sirius's mouth be sealed up with frost;
Into the lofty Spheres dull Tellus leap
And headlong tumble Height into the Deep;

112

Than any Syllable which droppeth from
The lips of Jesus, can be born away
Upon the Wind's swift wings, and never come
Back with its full Effect: however They
Whom Wit befools, will be so mad in this
Clear point, as to dispute away their Bliss.

113

In vain it is to tell these Wranglers, how
Jesus could graft cold Stones into the Stock
Of Abraham, and make dead Pebles grow
Fresh lively Jews: or that he did not mock
His stomach by the Bread he daily eat,
But to his Fleshe's substance turn'd his meat.

114

In vain to tell them, how, into his Blood
The Wine he drank was truly chang'd; for though.
Such speculations pois'd and understood
With reverent heed, might help the soul to row
In this deep Wonder's sea: yet Wranglers will,
Because they will be so, be Wranglers still.

115

But as the strictest siege of Thorns is laid
To goodly Roses; whilst the vulgar flowers,
Not worth the choking, never grow afraid
Of armed neighbours, whose infestive powers
Might plant their bane about them: so it fares
With this rich Bread invaded by the Tares.

116

What heart can of the monstrous Gnosticks think
And not abhor their damned Sacrifice;
The matchless and the most blasphemous sink
Of Earth's and Hell's profound Impieties!
Thine ears were never frighted with so black
A Sin, as they their grand Religion make.

117

But I in reverence to thy Blush forbear
That deep Abomination's Den to rake,
Whose rank Sent reaks as high's the highest sphere
And in God's nostrils stinks: yet leave must take
To tell thee thine own Albion will at last
Contempt on this most glorious Banquet cast.

118

For in the dregs of Time; when Wealth and Pride
Have fatned British hearts fit to defy
All sacred Discipline, and to the Tide
Of furious Licence, and wild Ataxy
Flung ope the gap; unhallow'd Hands will dare
From holy Priests this reverend Work to tear.

119

Mechanick Zeal, inspir'd by Sottishness,
And by enthusiastick Ordination
Of self-deluded Fancy Call'd to dress
God's Feast in Man's reformed misshapen fashion;
Will purest Purity it self defile,
And by Heav'n's gate find out a way to Hell.

120

But happy Thou who shalt not live to see
Thine eyes tormented with that cursed sight,
Which acted shall and authorized be
By equal Sons of everlasting Night.
Come then let our Discourse return, and be
Attendant on the Board of Sanctity.

121

Thy Lord's great Banquet was the Consummation
Of Israel's famous Passover; and did
With mystick power antidate His Passion,
And that long-long'd-for Word, 'Tis finished.
Right noble was that typick Passover,
But nobler this, because substantial, here.

122

How much more precious is this Lamb; who though
This Feast of Dainties to Himself be sour,
Presents no sauce of bitter herbs to gnaw
His Convive's taste; but with the plenal power
Of Sweetness entertains their Palates, and
Pozes their Wits their Bliss to understand.

123

This is that more renown'd Viaticum
The Israel of God to fortify
When they from Pharaoh's iron Bondage, home
Are hastning to their holy Liberty.
O Psyche, those dim Stories clearlyer are
Reacted in the Christian hemisphere.

124

Sin, Sin, that hateful Egypt is, where reigns
A King more stern than Pharoh's fiercest rage;
The Tyrant Belzebub, who throws his chains
About the World, its shoulders to engage
Under a more unreasonable Law
Than making brick whilst 'tis denyed straw.

125

But pious Souls are by this Paschal Feast
With holy vigour so embrav'd, that they
This servile yoke from off their necks can cast,
And into Rest's free region snatch their way;
Although their hard obstructed passage be
Both through the dismal Desert and the Sea.

126

This enigmatick Life of Misery,
Can own both those repugnant Names: what are
Its Storms, and Broils, and Tumults, but a Sea
Red with Destruction? what's a Theatre
Lin'd thick with salvage and enraged Foes,
If not a dreadful Wilderness of Woes?

127

But through this wretched Desert, and this Sea,
The virtue of this Passover will lead
Believing Souls, till they securely be
In blessed Canaan established;
That Canaan whose Milk and Honey is
The Sweetness of exuberant Paradise.

128

That Canaan whose Inhabitants shall not
Through nine and forty Orbs of Slavery
Be forc'd to climb to one of Freedom, but
Find every year a constant Jubile;
In which, although they never sow or reap,
They still an everlasting Feast shall keep.

129

That Canaan, where no Jebusits shall run
Thorns through the sides of its accomplish'd Rest;
And whence no Babylonish Army can
E'r hope the happy Colonies to thrust:
A Canaan which alone makes good the grand
And glorious Title of the Holy Land.

130

This Sacramental Bread, and this alone,
Is that supporting Staff of Life, with which
The stoutly-faithful Generation
Their gallant journey take to heav'n, and reach
The top of their Desires more surely far
Than by his Staff the Artist do's the Star.

131

By Bread, and bread alone, Man now must live,
This Bread which from God's mouth on purpose came;
Christ's potent Institution did derive
This virtue to it; and Himself to them
Who pant for Life, proclaim'd the way to get
That noble Prize was by this only Meat.

132

All Delicacies moulded up in one
Pure precious Composition flourish here:
No Sybarit's Invention e'r upon
Their Board's fat Altars sacrific'd such Cheer
To their dear Bellies, though of all their Rout
Of Gods, their Paunches they the highest thought.

133

The Syracusian Tables never sweat
Under such Dainties: Alexandrian Feasts
Could never with such princely sprightful Meat
Ravish the palates of their pamper'd guests:
No Asiatick, nor no Medick fare,
No Cates of Marsel's might with these compare.

134

Great Solomon's profoundest Industry,
Which through all Nature did his Pleasures hunt,
Sifting and boulting every Suavity
To find the fugitive Soul of true Content,
Nought but unsavory Vanity could taste;
All solid Pleasures here alone are plac't.

135

Here, in this sacred close Conspiracy
Of most substantial Delights; to which
That high Angelick Cheer which studiously
Heav'n's bounteous hand did every morning reach
To His dear Jacob's pilgrim hungry Seed,
Resigns its fame and seems course homely Bread.

136

O Nest of fledgest Joies! O sacred Mine
Of richest Sweetnesses! O fertile Tree
Of Life's own Life! O mighty Magazine
Of ever-nutritive Felicity!
O Bread of Wonders, who thy praise can tell
Which God Himself dost render Edible!

137

Nor is the Dainties of the Cup less rich
Than that which in the noble Patin lies:
The Wine of Love, of Life, of Spirits, which
By new unheard-of entheous properties
So strangely human Hearts imbraves, that they
In Fear's most frightful looks read no Dismay.

138

Heav'n's prudent Law took warey order that
No creature's Blood the lip of Man should stain:
And just and useful was the Caution; that
All pious mouths might be reserved clean
In reverence to the Blood of this pure Lamb
Design'd into believing Lips to stream.

139

O blessed, bloody, peaceful Wine! O how
Divinely hast thou satisfaction made
For those enflaming Poisons, sweets which flow
In other Wines! may Noah now be glad
Of his Invention, since his foul Mishap
Is clean wash'd out by this al-purging Grape.

140

This Wine is that wherein dwells Verity,
The Verity of Heav'n: for Heav'n in it
All melted is: those boundless Joies which We
Bath'd in at home, are here together met
In strange epitomy, and smiling swim
About the Chalice's soul-charming brim.

141

To Venus's milk let shameless Luxury
Turn other Wines, and to its swelling Cups
As to the bottles of her bosom fly,
Whence only furious Uncleanness drops;
This is a purer Juice than can be prest
From Chastity's own most unspotted breast:

142

Of this mild Doves may drink, and never fear
That any Inflammation will intrench
Upon their sober blood: white Virgins here
Their shie and bashful hearts may safely drench:
This Liquor breeds no flames but soft and cool,
Which though they burn, cannot infect the soul.

143

One Drop of this, though it can amply fill
The most immeasurable Thirst's desire
With more than any wish can covet; still
It raises that fulfilled Longing higher,
And makes in vastest Satisfaction's tide
The overflowing heart unsatisfy'd.

144

Should Greek, Canary, or Pannonian Wine,
Should Spanish, French, Italian, and the rest
Which crown the chalices of Kings, combine
In one Extraction, sumptuously drest
With aromatick helps; they would be all
If parallell'd with this, but costly Gall.

145

Proud Cleopatra's prodigalest Bowl
Where her luxuriant Jewel learn'd to swim,
And its inestimable riches roll
Melted and mixed with the gallant stream;
Compared with this Cup, was full as vile
As any bottle filled at her Nile.

146

This Wine makes those all blush for their own shame
Which in great Belteshazzer's goblets smil'd;
Which Olofernes to the beauteous Dame,
And yet more masculine than beauteous, fill'd:
That Dame, who in her Nation's quarrel durst
Quench with his Blood more than his Wine, her thirst.

147

Sardanapalus nor with cost or care
Such precious Liquor ever could obtain:
No Epicurean ambition e'r
Its liquorish self screw'd to so high a strein
As to affect a Draught so rich as this:
No: fancie's utmost reach here posed is.

148

Where other Grapes' outrageous Powers reign,
Both Sence and Reason rue that tyranny;
Which being drown'd together with their Brain,
Strait every captiv'd Part and Faculty
To beastly Madness is enslav'd, and flies
On murders, rapines, rapes, and Villanies.

149

But where this Wine of Angels domineers,
The heart with noble Drunkenness it fills;
The conquer'd spirits it sweetly overbears
With charming streams of mystick Miracles;
Till quite intoxicated by this Flood
Of Love and Heav'n, the Man is drunk with God.

150

Strange, Psyche, are this Drunkennesse's fits;
Oft have I seen, and them as oft admir'd:
The world esteem'd them fir'd out of their wits
Whom with this Liquor's flame it saw inspir'd:
But we know what ecstatick Raptures mean,
And Zeal's Exploits whene'r it gets the Rein.

151

Oft have I seen brave Spirits, when they rose
From this great Banquet fill'd with generous Rage,
Fly in the face of Vice; and nobly choose
Against its stoutest Ramparts to engage
Their heav'nly Confidence; nor has their high
Adventure fail'd to reach down Victory.

152

Oft have I seen them smile in sweet disdain
Upon Misfortune's most insulting Look:
Oft have I seen them kindly entertain
Those guests' faint humane Nature worst can brook,
Grief, Sickness, Loss, Oppression, Calumny,
Shame, Plunder, Banishment, and Poverty.

153

Oft have I seen them scorn the frown of Death,
On Crosses laugh, most sweetly hug the bitter
Salutes of Swords, and spend their final breath
In wooing greatest Tortures to be greater:
Oft have I seen them enter single fight
Both with the Peers, and with the Prince of Night.

154

For knowing well what strength they have within,
By stiff tenacious Faith they hold it fast.
How can those Champions ever fail to win,
Who cap-a-pe, for Arms, with Heav'n are drest!
Those Breasts must needs all Batteries defy,
Where God Himself in garrison doth lie.

155

But to augment the wonder, Psyche, this
Great Feast of Feasts can never all be spent:
When Millions it has fill'd, intirely 'tis
The same it was, and knows no detriment.
So though the World all drinks in Air, yet still
The undiminish'd Region is full.

156

And yet not so: for here each Soul doth eat
The total Banquet, and yet leaves it whole:
These antecedent Ages cannot cheat
Those which lag on behind: whilst Heav'n shall roll,
And Earth stand still, this ever-teeming Board
The same Delights will unto All afford.

157

No fount lives on such living Springs as dwell
In this pure Cup of Life, to which though all
Nations and Tongues flock in to drink, it still
Maintains its equal Plenitude; nor shall
The busy School, with all its endless fry
Of Doubts and Queries hope to draw it dry.

158

Though all Heav'n's starry Tapers lighted be
At Phebus's eyes, his Raies keep still intire:
His Image shines in every Lake and Sea,
Yet only One is his original fire;
Which doth its wondrous single self so wide
In its compleat Similitude divide.

159

Thus, but more really thus, this feast
Most absolutely One is wholly spread
Into the mouth and heart of every Guest;
And fails not there more Heav'nly beams to shed,
Than when the Sun by his meridian Ray
Triumphs upon the highest throne of Day.

160

Thy most profoundly-gracious Lord, who far
Above the reach of any Want did reign,
Descended from His mighty Glorie's sphere;
And that His voyage might be sure to gain
Him Emptiness' fulness, lowly He
To prove the poorer, woul'd a Borrower be.

161

For hither on this strange Adventure come,
He borrow'd of the World Humanity,
And in the Cabinet of Mary's Womb
Dress'd up Himself compleatly Man; yet He
Though by this Condescent new raies He set
In Nature's crown, still thought Himself in debt.

162

And pay He would, right generous as He was,
All back again which He had borrow'd here;
He meant His Blood and Body on the Cross
To tender, and make full requital there
To His unwitting Creditors, and that
With Interest which Numbers cannot rate.

163

And yet because His Human Nature He
So dearly loves, that He concludes to bear
It home in triumph, and eternally
Those narrow Robes of bondless Mercy wear;
E'r He His journy took, He plotted how
It might Ascend and yet Remain below.

164

Remain below, to be Restor'd, and that
As oft as human Mouths would take it in:
And this th'Invention was, this Wine and Meat,
By which His mystick power to all His Kin
Repays His Flesh and Blood, that Man might eat
And drink, and with his God Incorporate.

165

For, His excessive favour to complete
Beyond the stretch of any Parallel,
This noble Pay is so improved, that
His Godhead's vastness too concurs to swell
The royal Feast; since this can never be
Dissevered from His Humanity.

166

O boundless little All! O Banquet which
Must feed Astonishment for evermore,
Whilst largest Souls their intellectual reach
Tenter in vain, and find it still too poor
To equal thy extent, ev'n when thine own
Fulness they have receiv'd and swallow'd down.

167

O Banquet! fit for His magnificence
Whom might and goodness own for Sovereign.
By this dear Project, Psyche, Mercy's Prince
Collecteth in His more than golden Chain
His World unto Himself, and ties it close
That no Disunion may interpose.

168

The glorious Incarnation began
To knit this knot; which now redoubled is:
There God vouchaf'd to join Himself to Man,
Here Man has leave to make the juncture his,
And weave himself with his Redeemer. O
What God e'r stooped to his Creature so!

169

By this sweet Combination Mortals grow
Forgetful of their Singularities,
Their thwarting Interests, their I and Thou,
Their Mine and Thine, their grounds of Avarice
Of Envy, of Ambition, and comply
In holy Peace's common Unity.

170

This Cement's power doth mystically wed
The Stones which raise Ecclesia's Edifice;
This Ligature the Members to their Head
Symmetriously links; the sheep by this
Though spread through all Earth's pastures far and near,
One perfect Total with their shepherd are.

171

For as the active Soul, although she swim
Intirely one through all the Body; still
In every Member and in every Lim
In her Totality doth single dwell:
So by this Sacramental Union
Jesus is One to All, and All to One.

172

Believe it Psyche, though thy mortal Eye
Spies no such brave Attendance on this Board,
Yet thick those Waiters stand whose Dignity
Shines next the glories of their royal Lord:
No prince's Coronation Pomp was e'r
Aggrandiz'd by such servitors as here.

173

Here Legions of the Heav'nly Army keep
The guard of Reverence; round this Mercy-seat
Not two, but thousand Gallant Cherubs peep
With ravishment on what you drink and eat;
Here stately Principalities attend,
Here Thrones bow down, and here Dominions bend.

174

For when they perched were in their own sphere,
The glorious Ocean of eternal Sweets,
Their blessed eyes beheld no richer Cheer
Than Mercy on this noble Table sets:
Nor could that Troop which kept the avenue
To Paradise such precious Dainties shew.

175

Pure is their sight, and sprightfully can pass
Quite through that Vail, which on this Banquet lies;
A Vail which in profound compassion was
Thrown on the count'nance of these Mysteries;
Which dart more glories from their naked Face,
Than ever did great Moses's Temples grace.

176

Yea, ev'n his Eyes, though sublimated by
His long converse with flaming Wonders, yet
Mov'd in too low an Orb to reach the high
Looks of his Maker; and were only fit
To read those secondary Beams which make
His Rear, and meekly wait upon his back.

177

So long as mortal Grossness sticks upon
The brows of Man, and clogs his feeble sight,
One glimpse of Heav'nly Majesty alone
Would seal his eyes up with eternal Night.
For what exceeds the sense, the same destroys:
No pitch is darker than transcendent Rays.

178

When Bats may venture to the Eagle's nest,
And their faint eyes against fair Titan's set;
When purblind Owls may leave their gloomy roost,
And with safe looks the face of High-noon meet;
When Midnight dares throw off her sable cloak,
And into bright Aurora's wardrobe look;

179

Then may dim-sighted Men securely gaze
Upon their Lord's unvailed Brightness; then
May they directly to His royal Face
Without a Perspective's assistance run;
Then may they boldly scorn their eyes to shroud
Under the shadowing court'sy of a Cloud.

180

But Jesus, who full well their weakness knew,
Would in the shelter of plain Wine and Bread
Accommodate His Goodness to their view;
That in familiar Elements they might read
The hidden Mystery, and happier be
Than their dust-damped mortal eyes could see.

181

The time shall come when that dull Dust shall by
The quick brisk virtue of the Resurrection,
Refined be to a capacity
Of radiant and spiritual perfection;
When faithful Souls in their celestial rest
Shall at the Lamb's unmasked Supper Feast.

182

Mean while, it is their privilege that they
The Day can kiss in darkness; that the Sun
They freely in the shadow may enjoy;
And in Hope's Region meet Fruition.
But who would dream that peevish Man from hence
Should pick bold Reason of Irreverence!

183

Alas, when Time shall old and doting grow,
And Christian Spirits sympathize with it,
Men will not blush to make this Banquet know
That by its Out-side they will square, and fit
Their wary Faith, which further must not venture
Than blunt and feeble Sense's edge can enter.

184

Rank Superstition 'tis presum'd, if they
Esteem God's Table holier than their own;
If to this Chalice more respect they pay
Than to those Cups which all the jolly Town
Toss in the publick Inns, whene'r they keep
Their free Communion of Good-fellowship.

185

If they but bow the Head, or bend the Knee,
Or let their humbled Bodies comment on
Their lowly Minds; if they but dare to be
Professors of good Manners; if they shun
But that which Love and Gratitude abhors,
They must be voted flat Idolaters.

186

Nor Jove, nor Juno, nor the silliest He
Or She of all that rabble, wildly made
Gods by vain Man; found such impiety
In their mad Makers, as to be betray'd
To slovenish Altars, and to clownish Rites,
By fained Zeal's irreverent Deceits.

187

On Jesus and his Noblest Mystery,
Must Rudeness only be allow'd to wait?
Zealous and pure must this Religion be,
Because most gross and lazy? surely, great
Is our Mistake in Heav'n, who alway there
Our lowliest Service to our God prefer.

188

Is this the Thanks for bridling in his flames
Of most intolerable Majesty;
Which once unrein'd, by its immortal Streams
Would them destroy, and all their slovenry!
Alas, that Love should thus neglected be,
And for no cause, but Mighty Charity.

189

Are these the Tribe of Saints, who boast that they
Possessed are of Faith's Monopoly?
Ah, dead and rotten Faith, which can display
No fruit to prove the Root's vivacity!
'Tis vain to dream a faithful Soul can dwell
In any Body that is Infidel.

190

But those brave Lovers, of whose generous Breasts,
Jesus intire possession holds; are so
Inamor'd of this Soul-attracting Feast,
That they with all the art of Reverence to
Its Board approach, and make their meek desire
After Angelick Compliments aspire.

191

Their Hearts beat high with that illustrious Zeal,
Which fires our Breasts, and fain would stoop as low
As Seraphs do, whene'r this Miracle
Of Love invites their reverent Knees to bow:
Fain would their panting passionate Piety
Be infinite, as is this Mystery.

192

For infinite it is: and O that I
Could that Infinitude before thee set!
No Theme could raise with such exultance my
Applauding Tongue: But Angels must submit
To Ecstasies in such vast deeps as this,
Where Love himself reigns in his own Abyss.

193

Here Phylax ended; and observed how
The Bait would relish he so fairly cast
To Psyche's Soul: which being captiv'd now
By his Discourse's potent Charms, and fast
Chain'd to the vunerable Table's foot;
This yielding Answer gently forth she brought;

194

My Soul's sweet Friend, what equal thanks can I
Pay for this Honey which thy tongue hath shed
Upon my Ears and Heart! May He, whom thy
Sublime Elogium honor'd, crown thy Head
With full Requital: as for simple Me,
What can the Worm, poor Psyche, give to thee?

195

All she can give is but the Begger's Dole,
Occasion of thy further favors: yet
No earthly cates I crave: O no! my Soul,
In spight of Famine's power, dares forget
All other food, if at this royal Feast
Of Heav'n and Love I now may be a guest.

196

And if I be not so, I am undone!
Such hunger gnaws, such thirst do's burn my Heart,
That by this Banquet's Comforts I alone
Can rescu'd be from my impatient smart,
And 'tis thy courteous fault, dear, Phylax, who
With its Description me hast ravish'd so.

197

The sickly, what but Health can satisfy?
And what Balsam can the Answer be
Unto the Wound's wide mouth, and bloody cry?
What pants the heated hunted Hart to see
But some cool Fount, or sovereign Ditany?
What cures the Captive's grief but Liberty?

198

My Health, my Balsam, and my Liberty,
My dear Dictamnum, and my Fount of Bliss,
My only Nectar, and Ambrosia lie
In Jesu's Cup and Patin: if I miss
Of this my Hunger's necessary aim,
Psyche, a farewel must to Hopes proclaim.

199

She fainted here. But strait her Guardian's hand
Snatching her arm, thrust comfort through her Heart.
I like, cry'd he, thy noble Ardor, and
Its fuel will to this thy fire impart.
In yonder House there lives a reverend Priest,
Who for thy pious Soul will dress this Feast.

200

This said, he leads the Virgin thither: where
Close in a Vault a knot of faithful Hearts
For that great Bus'ness early did prepare:
For Pagan Tyranny wak'd all their Arts
Of Privacy, and made Devotion choose
Such Temples as might hide them from their Foes.

201

There in a simple Dish and Cup of wood,
The furniture of Primitive poverty,
The Wonder of their Savior's Flesh and Blood,
With golden Hearts they waited on: but we
Alas, in Patins and in Bowls of Plate,
With Hearts of wood this Banquet celebrate.

202

They in the Stranger's zeal-inflamed Eye
Such genuine beams of Piety descry'd,
As soon dispell'd their mists of jealousy
At her Intrusion; unknown, untry'd,
She welcome was: besides, the holy Priest
By Heav'n was warn'd to entertain this Guest.

203

Phylax withdrew his nimble self into
His closet of Invisibility,
And there attended on his Psyche; who
With such brave fervor to the Mystery
Made her approaches, that her hungry Haste
Copy'd the boundless greatness of the Feast.

204

So when th'Olympick Runner draweth nigh
The noble Goal, and sees the naked Prize
Incouraging his panting Ardency;
First he devours with his greedy Eyes,
Then with his thirstier Thoughts; and as he may
Reaches the End, though yet but in the way.

205

O how her Soul into the Patin leap'd,
And dived to the bottom of the Cup!
With what Inamorations she weep'd!
What sighs of joy did break her Bosom ope!
How struggled Fear with Love! how did she groan
Between Humility and Ambition!

206

O how she thinks her Lips and Heart impure!
And yet she cannot for a world refrain:
For how shall she her useless Life endure,
If from the Life of Life she must contain!
How can her Iron linger and forbear
To meet the Loadstone now it is so near!

207

So near; that she sees nothing else but that;
Not one of all those numerous Convives who
About her kneel'd: Nay she has quite forgot
The thought of her most precious Phylax too,
And of her self, who Psyche is no longer;
She's nothing now but holy Thirst and Hunger.

208

Whilst in this dainty agony she lay,
Into her Mouth the Priest her Wishes brings;
Which to her Heart directly took their way,
And there pour'd out ten thousand ravishing Things:
By which strange Deluge her dear hopes were driven
Into Fruition's gulph, and drown'd in Heav'n.

209

O most miraculous Feast! how fain my Song
Would be luxuriant in admiring thee.
But not my low, nor Phylax his high Tongue
Knows how to reach that lofty Harmony
Of Joys and Pleasures, which united lie
In bounteous Love's profoundest Mystery.

210

Yet may my pin'd and pained Spirit lay
At this Song's foot her just and heavy sighs;
Which, never since mine Eyes first op'd on day,
So deeply relished Life's miseries:
The more my shame, whose active sins for me,
Have earned this Heart-gnawing malady.

211

Time was when Heav'n in this late happy Isle
Kept open house; when this celestial Feast
Did freely wooe all Souls to come and fill
Their appetite's ambition with the best
Of antidated Bliss, and grow divine
By this spiritual mighty Bread and Wine.

212

But now both Feast and Board devoured are
By strange new Banquets, as jejune and dry
As barren Air: for all this Pulpit Cheer
Feeds but the itching Ear's fond Boulimy
Whilst still the Heart remaineth lank and thin,
And nothing fatter grows but lusty Sin.

213

(Thus when the meager Skeletons of Cattle
Array'd themselves upon the banks of Nile;
They bad the goodly well-flesh'd Oxen battle
And gormandiz'd their Preys; yet could not fill
Their wretched skins, but pin'd and proved more
Ill-favour'd shrivell'd Monsters than before.)

214

Sin fatter grows; so fat that now it dares
Kick both at Earth and Heav'n, and scorns to be
Aw'd by those generous and ingenuous Fears
Which hold the reins of virtuous Modesty;
It mocketh Vengeance, and derideth Law,
Because their patient Sword they slowly draw.

215

Witness that Sacrilege, that Fury, and
That impudently-made Profaneness, which
Tears down the Church with Reformation's hand,
And robs its God the surer to be rich:
Which scorns Religion for Religion's sake,
And Offrings to it self doth Altars make.

216

Witness those numerous Spawns of shameless Lyes,
Which with heretick insultation tread
On Sacred Truth, and make her patronize
Her own Contempt; whilst shamelesly they plead
Th'authority of God Himself, and on
His Spirit all their Carnal Fancies pin.

217

Doctrine and Use with empty Noise ingross
The gulled Auditors; and there's an end.
Out runs this sleight Religion with the Glass,
And well is measur'd by the fruitless Sand.
Here no Excuse's help can intervene;
Alas, the Doctrine by the Use is seen.

218

O how come Christian Souls so well content
To want the choisest Viands Heav'n could give!
O how preposterously abstinent
Are they who with all riotous Dainties strive
To fortify the Belly, but can find
No time to victual and recruit the mind!

219

More provident those Heros surely were
Upon whose nearer hearts the warmer Blood
Of Jesus drop'd: not once a month, or year,
They their Devotion cheer'd with Angels' Food,
But duly every morn this Table spread,
And made the Lord of life their daily Bread.

220

They next their hearts no other Morning Draught
Would take; but what suits with the heart indeed.
The bottles of their souls betimes they brought,
And at this living Fount replinished
Their brave Desires; whose thirst did swell so high
That nought could quench it but Immensity.

221

With sprightful zeal this kept their bosoms warm,
This made them eagle-like their strength renew;
With death-despising Courage this did arm
Their gentlest Spirits; by this they Masters grew
Of earth and hell, which having trampled down,
Heav'n too by violence they made their own.

222

So ne'r can they who feed on preached Wind,
Which vainly bubbles in their wanton ear;
And tympanizeth so their cheated Mind,
That they too big and burley grow to wear
Christ's humble Livery, or enter at
Supreme vast Bliss's low and narrow Gate.

223

But O my Heart, why art thou stealing thus
From thine own woes, thy Neighbours to deplore?
Time was, when (whilst thine unfledge[d] wickedness
Flew not in Heav'n's long-patient face, nor tore
This judgment down,) I once a week, at least
Could at this Board of wonders be a guest.

224

With solid Joy then could I turn mine eye
Back on the year, which happily had run:
Then could I count what Gains I reaped by
My constant trading in Devotion;
Rejoycing in my satisfied mind
That every Sunday I in heav'n had din'd.

225

But now the flaming Coursers of the Sun
Are drawing on the fourteenth month, since I
Was sharer in the Celebration
Of this sweet life-enliv'ning Mystery:
Which yet I then was fain to steal; and so
A thief that day to Paradise did go.

226

I went; but woo'd by a forbidden Tree
Of Idleness, ah fondly licorish I
Believ'd the flattering Bait, and would not see
The lurking Hook's too well-known treachery.
Dear, wonderous dear, this heedless fault hath cost me,
For all my heav'nly joys and powers it lost me.

227

And no recruit do's now that Loss supply,
But I'm abandon'd to this tedious Fast:
O how the palate of my Soul is dry!
What burning Drought doth shrivel up and wast
The bowels of my heart! how is my mind
With most uncomfortable Squalour pin'd!

228

O how my Understanding's pinions tire,
And flag below when I aloft would soar!
What leaden Numness damps those hopes of fire
With which my Fancy 'gan to glow before?
How bankrupt's my Invention since my Wrack
Of Judgment upon Lazyness his rock!

229

O how this dry and barren Verse attests
The heavy truth of these my Lamentations!
Pity me you whose soft and gentle breasts
E'r felt the stings of mystical Vexations!
Pity me, O my candid Readers, now
What makes me tire your patience you know.

230

Had I my wonted portion in that Feast
Which with celestial spirits embraves the heart,
A fairer Banquet I for you had drest;
Who now can only by my starving Smart
Warn you to prize and to embrace with most
Religious tenderness what I have lost.

231

Lost hitherto: but must that Loss run on,
And can my Life mean while make good its name?
Can Day maintain her beauty, if the Sun
Deny to feed her with his vital flame?
Can Rivers keep their full unwearied course
If once the living Fountain them divorce?

232

O King of constant Love, whose sumptuous care
For hungry hearts that high Provision made;
Lo how my famish'd Soul lies gasping here
For one dear Crumb of thy mysterious Bread;
And craves, to cool her burning tongue, one Drop
Of liquid Life from thy all-saving Cup.

233

I know, and feel my worthlessness, and how
Unfit I am to hope for any share
In those peculiar Delicates, which thou
Didst for thy genuine faithful Sons prepare:
Yet to a Dog once more they leave afford
To catch what falleth from thy Children's Board.

CANTO XIII. The Impeachment.

The ARGUMENT.

Spight, Slander, Scorn, Injustice, rampant grown,
Array themselves against Love's single head:
He hurried and worry'd up and down
Through thousand Wrongs, with mighty Patience fed
Their hungry Cruelties, who studied how
To blanch their ugly Villany with Law.

1

The azure Spheres, though in a several tract,
Their proper Motions endlessly they wheel,
With pure harmonious constant friendship act
Their mighty Parts; and ne'r were known to reel
Beyond their bounds, or by irregular
Crossness on one another interfere.

2

The faithful Sun observes from East to West
His first appointed Course; and slopes his coach
By rule, when he through Cancer's claws would thrust,
Or Capricorn's opposed distance reach,
Nor stops he there; in our deceived eyes,
And not in restless Heav'n the Solstice lies.

3

Exactly constant in her changing face
Untired Luna manageth the Night;
Which duly she adorns with silver grace,
As Titan decks the Day with golden light:
And though her self she often waning sees,
Yet in her Task admitteth no Decrease.

4

The Spring remembers her appointed Cue?
And so doth dull benummed Winter his;
For still he worries forward at his due
Determin'd season, spight of all the Ice
Which clogs his heels, and all the banks of Snows
Which up had block'd him in his Northern house.

5

All Plants and Trees their annual Tasks attend,
And fertile answer give the Gardner's sweat:
No Reptile, Beast or Bird presumes to rend
Their God's Prescript, and Nature's Laws forget.
Thus loyal Heav'n and Earth contented are
Thy yoke, O dear Obedience, to wear.

6

Men, only Men perversly-wanton, throw
The reins of Discipline from off their necks;
Rowing against the Tide of sacred Law,
And madly running upon Vice's rocks:
Boldly enforcing thus their heav'nly Lord
To draw on Earth his necessary Sword.

7

His Sword he draws, and arms with it the hand
Of his Vicegerents; whom a full Commission
He gives, the Cause of Justice to defend
Against Disorder's daring opposition:
That seeing Man would not by God be awed,
He might by Man be to his duty bowed.

8

But O what thing so sacred is and strait
Which humane Crossness ventures not to wrest!
Into Astræa's venerable Seat
How oft doth impudent Injustice thrust!
How often purple Malefactors are
Upon the bench, and Virtue at the bar!

9

When Bribes, when Envy and when Stomach steal
Into the ponderation of the Case;
Poor helpless Right her undermined Scale
Sees quite blown up: for predetermin'd was
The cruel Tekel; and this grave ado
Of Tryal, only Solemn makes her wo.

10

But to infuse in every bitter Cup
His exemplary Sweetness, and persuade
His patient Followers to drink it up;
A willing Prize Himself great Jesus made
To lawless Law, and wonderfully deign'd
By Innocency's foes to be arraign'd.

11

A Condescent so rare, that Phylax knew
His Pupil 'twould to imitation draw,
If ever Tyranny occasion threw
In her meek Spirit's way: He therefore now
Resolveth by his tutoring Tongue to lead
Through this strange story her attentive heed.

12

For her religious Breast was fired now
With noble vigor from the Heav'nly Board,
And bravely fit to tower, and travel through
The loftiest Atchiements of her Lord.
This made him haste her from the sacred Cave,
When by the holy Kiss sh' had took her leave.

13

Then he conducts her up to Calvary,
The Hill of Marvels, that this Prospect might
Yield her with uncontrolled Liberty
Of Love's chief stations an open sight:
And there arriv'd, Mark now, my Dear, said He,
What further Wonders Jesus did for thee.

14

Wert thou enthroned on Heav'n's proudest Hill,
Which looks o'er all the glories of the Skies,
Thou could'st not with a nobler Spectacle
Feast there the hunger of thy wondering Eyes;
Than from this Mountain's most renowned head.
Thou by my Finger and my Tongue shall read.

15

In yonder Street of ruins towring high
Stood High-priest Annas's House; but Caiaphas,
(His Son by more than Marriage, since the Dye
Of guiltless Blood in which they joyn'd, may pass
For Consanguinity,) enjoy'd his Den,
Where now that Rubbish is the Tomb of sin.

16

Those Caytifs, who had in the Garden seiz'd
Thy Lord, to Annas hal'd Him first, to see
What Censure's load his Reverend Spight was pleas'd
To heap upon the guilt of Piety;
But he with cruel Favor Him dismist
Unto his Son, the bolder bloodier Priest.

17

Thus Jesus through the Streets and scorn, is led
To Caiaphas; who smil'd within, to see
What full success had crown'd his Bargain's head,
And grudged not the slender price: yet he
Still in his Looks, with sage Hypocrisy,
Maintain'd his sober Priestly gravity.

18

So hast thou seen a Lyon cast his eyes
Upon his harmless prey with stearn disdain,
As if his fury long'd for no such prize;
Whilst he his greedy paws can scarce contain,
Or with his teeth bite in their own desire
Of blood: so certain is his salvage ire.

19

In seeming jealous zeal of Peace and Law,
Sacred and Civil, he demandeth, Why
Throngs of Disciples He presum'd to draw,
And with His New-found Doctrines multiply
Sects in the Church, and Tumults in the State,
Religion and Allegiance to defeat?

20

(Such Impudence on Sin's hard forehead grows,
That whilst the Laws of Heav'n and Earth she breaks,
On Innocence her own black crimes she throws;
And loudly-holy ardent outcries makes
Against all Innovations, which on them
She chargeth, for whose Blood her thirst doth flame.)

21

Those grave-fac'd Bloodhounds thus, those Elders, who
Had sold their Conscience to the barbarous Queen,
God's Honor and the King's, pretended to
Redeem from Blasphemy: and whilst with keen
Hunger and rage for Naboth's Life they hunted,
A solemn Fast the shameless Saints appointed.

22

Thy Lord's wise Eye pierc'd through this vain Demand;
And why, said He, requir'st thou this of Me?
Behold what witness crouds on either hand,
Whose gaping Mouths expect their cue from thee.
They heard My Preaching; and hear thou what they
Against Me, now I challenge them, can say.

23

No Conventicle's sneaking Cloisters hid
Those Doctrines which against blind Darkness sought;
The Synagogue and Temple witnessed,
And so did they themselves whate'r I taught.
My Gospel it concern'd the World to know,
And from my Lips in publick it did flow.

24

And what more reasonable Word than this
From Righteous Wisdom's Mouth could strained be!
And yet by being such, alas, it is
An augmentation of His Crime; and He
Is guilty now at least of Petty-treason
Against the Priest, because He speaketh Reason.

25

For strait a surly Sergeant standing by,
First bent his angry Brow, and then his Fist;
With which at Jesus's Face his spight let fly,
Crying, Bold Fellow, Can God's Reverend Priest
Deserve no fairer Answer? now we see
What kind of Manners grow in Galilee.

26

Would'st thou not look that Thunder's roar should be
The echo to that vile unworthy Stroak?
For how can Jesus seem unmannerly
To any Priest of God, who though He took
Dust's servile Vail to shrow'd His glorious head,
Still prov'd Himself to be both Priest and God.

27

But from the Lamb's sweet mouth thus Meekness spoke:
If in my Answer any Crime there be,
Accuse Me thou, and let the Highpriest look
That legal Justice be perform'd on Me.
If not; before the face of Justice' Seat
Why dost thou Mine injuriously beat?

28

Melted by this ingenuous soft Reply
The Vulgar Him with silent pity view'd,
But Caiaphas, with his Society
Of consistorial Scribes and Elders, shew'd
What Covenant's poison they had swallow'd down:
And past all cure their Zeal's disease was grown.

29

Since of free-cost no Slanderers they could get
To bring thy Lord's Impeachment in; they make
Their stronger Purse supply their weaker wit,
And prodigally now mischievous, seek
To hire false-witness, as before they bought
That Treason which Him pris'ner thither brought.

30

Is this the venerable Sanhedrim
Which hunts so eagerly to find a Lye
That Truth may not escape? Are grave and grim
Judges the Panders grown of Calumny?
In Moses's Chair sits bold Injustice, and
Wrests righteous Law by holy Aaron's hand?

31

Ah this is Hell's refined Master-piece
Of dangerous Craft, to beautify the face
Of horrid dire Intents; and Wickedness
So foul a Monster is, that her own Glass
Frights her deformity into desire
Of sheltering her self in Virtue's tire.

32

Whole troops of Witnesses strait thronged in
With thicker Articles: when Rulers dare
Once egg the venal Vulgar on to sin;
Slander to Conscience never lends her ear;
But, in presumption Law is on her side;
With furious Impudence delights to ride.

33

But this rude Rout were Younglings yet, and raw
Knights of the post, nor had they conn'd their Lye,
With warey forecast; or remembred how
Their work required perfect memory:
This made th'Accusers each impeach his brother
Whilst all their stories jarr'd on one another.

34

Yet check'd they must not be, whose clear Intent
Aim'd only at the publick Good; least this
Should damp new witness with discouragement,
Who Articles might urge with more success.
Alas, those men came well-affected, but
Quite out of count'nance by the Court were put.

35

Their honest meaning by the Sanhedrim
Is kindly constru'd, and with thanks requited;
That others might with subtler art to trim
Their likelyer Accusations be invited;
For still the patient Court expects to see
Who will the next Calumniators be.

36

But when that first Miscarriage had dismay'd
All other Lyars: Satan, who stood by,
Snatch'd unto hell his way to fetch some aid,
For fear the labouring Priest's ripe Villany,
And his great Hopes, should now abortive be:
Such care to murder thy dear Spouse had he.

37

Deep in the bowels of eternal Night,
Is sunk a dismal Den of choise Damnation,
Where Stinks with Stinks maintain a deadly fight,
And Ejulation roars at Ejulation;
Where Horrors Horrors fright, and where Despair
The face of Desperation doth tear.

38

He hither came: when lo the iron Door
Gap'd like the thirsty Earth to drink him in;
Whilst from the joyful Cavern's mouth a Roar
Of sulfury thunder bellow'd, to begin
Its Sovereign's welcome; who with gracious look
That direful Compliment right kindly took.

39

For in he went; and there his Daughter saw
Busy in pouring ever-flaming lead
On yelling Souls, whom Lyes and Slanders threw
Into that boiling Curse. Upon a bed
Of red-hot iron, not yet cooled lay
Lust's holocaust, Madam Potiphera.

40

She lay, and bit, and roard and bit again
Her slanderous tongue whence deadly shafts she shot
At holy Joseph when she had in vain
Spent all her eyes' artillery, and what
Soft blandishment's quaint wit could muster up
To bring about her hot venerial Hope.

41

There lay that foul-mouth'd Ten, whose envious Lye
Blasted the florid Sweets of Canaan,
Spreading dry Dearth on fat Fertility,
And spewing Gall where Milk and Honey ran:
One drop of which they wish'd, but wish'd in vain,
To cool the fury of their burning Pain.

42

There fry'd that Pair of venal Souls, who by
Their hired Falsehood Naboth swore to death;
Acting themselves that foul Impiety
With which they slander'd him: with flaming breath
God and the King they curs'd, and wish'd all hell
Melted into the heart of Jezebel.

43

There howling Zedekia felt his own
Imposture real prove upon his Heart,
Which gored by his iron Horns was grown
Beyond the hopes of Cure; and by the Smart
Of meet Damnation fully taught him that
His Lyes did more himself than Ahab cheat.

44

His throat there Assur's Railer General rent
With loud assertion of his Blasphemy;
Avouching still, that God expresly sent
Him to extirpate Salem's strength: and why
Fond Rabsheka do's He thus deep torment thee,
For that bold Errand, if on it he sent thee?

45

There raved those two goatish Elders who
So reverently bely'd Susanna's fame,
As naked now as she, and bathing too,
But in a spring of never-dying flame,
Well-suting with that fire of leacherous rage
Which burnt ev'n in their cold and snowy age.

46

These, and ten thousand more, lay roaring there,
The dire remorsless Mistress of the Den
Triumphing in their tortures: never Bear
With such intemperate fierceness revell'd when
Her hungry teeth were flinging ope their way
Amidst the bowels of her helpless Prey.

47

Fell Calumny it was; a monstrous She:
Her Front and Brows were built of sevenfold brass;
An obstinate Swarthiness, which scorn'd to be
Pierced by any Blush, besmear'd her face;
Her hollow Eyes with peevish Spight were fill'd;
Her powting Lips with deadly Venom swell'd.

48

Her dreadful Jaws replenish'd Quivers were,
Wherein for Teeth, Spears, Darts and Arrows stood;
Her lungs breath'd plagues through all the neighbour air;
Her mouth no moisture knew, but blended blood
Of Asps and Basilisks, to make her fit
Sure Mischief upon Innocence to spit.

49

Ten Dragons' stings all twisted into one
Engin of desperate Sharpness, was her Tongue;
This made her Language pure Destruction,
For dying Knells in every Word were rung;
No Sentences composed her Oration
At any time but those of Condemnation.

50

Her Brain is that mischievous shop, in which
As every other Slander forged was,
So that, which, all Examples to out-stretch,
Shamelesly dar'd Omnipotence's face,
Proclaiming that thy Lord not by his own
But Satan's power trampled Satan down.

51

Whenever any rankling Canker breeds
Kingdoms' or Countries' fatal overthrow,
Her viperous trade it is, the pois'nous seeds
Of restless Fears and Jealousies to sow
In People's hearts; who strangely readier are
To lend to Falshood than to Truth their ear.

52

And O how greedily that Ear drinks in
All forgeries this cursed Hag can mint,
Whilst she on Kings and Princes joyes to pin
Whatever wittyest Envy can invent,
To make the Countrie's publick Parent be
In his own Children's eyes an Enemy.

53

She spying now her royal Father there,
Thus beg'd his benediction on her knee;
Bless Me, O awful Sire; and grant me here
Some tools of fresh new-fashion'd Cruelty:
These Souls are us'd too kindly; all their Pains
Grow stale and cold, familiar their Chains.

54

Fear not; it shall be so, cry'd Satan: but
Sweet Child, another Work first craves our Care:
My Hate's prime But our Judas's help has got
Fast in an handsome seasonable snare;
I mean that Galilean Beggar, who
Pilfring my Subjects' hearts about did go.

55

But now the Priests forsooth are so demure,
(And I'l remember 't when I get them here,)
That though with Judas they did all conjure,
And bought that Christ ev'n at a rate too dear;
Their Holinesses some pretence must have
How in destroying Him their Fame to save.

56

Confusion on their Fame; who though they dread
Not what the thundering wrath of Heav'n can do
In vindication of a guiltless Head;
Are awed by the putid Vulgar so,
That they confess most infamous Impiety,
Whilst they the People make their greatest Deity.

57

Base-hearted Hypocrites! Can they not be
Brave venturous Sinners, as am I their Prince?
Yet since they needs will sneak to hell; sure we
For once will help the Fools to their Pretence:
They want False-witness for a cloke, and Thou
This Livery canst best on them bestow.

58

But see thou mouldst up some athletick Lye,
Whose burly bulk all Truth may overbear:
Some petty sucking Knaves their best did try,
But strait their ill-shod Tales did enterfere.
On thee the Feat depends: come let's away;
The Highpriest's Court, or rather mine, doth stay.

59

This said: his Daughter by her hand he took,
And with more sprightful speed than Indian arrow
Cuts Air's soft body, violently broke
Earth's sturdy obstacles, and posting thorough
The sullen Mass, in jealous fury came
Back to his other Home Jerusalem.

60

There when the puzzell'd Council he had ey'd
Gaping and staring one upon another;
Two itching Rogues he in a corner spy'd
Scratching their heads, and beating them together:
He smels their meaning strait, and through their breasts
His unperceived Daughter slyly thrusts.

61

As when the bosom of the Delphick Priest
Rampantly boil'd with his desired hell,
His rapture by his gestures he confest,
Hastening to vent his belking Oracle:
So this accursed Couple kindled by
The Fury's vigor, long'd to belch their Lye.

62

Each flung his hand above his working head,
Crying, I have it sure; let's to the Bar:
And when their Projects they examined,
They found that in one mould both minted were:
At which they smil'd, and shaked hands, and kist,
And flew with full-mouth'd clamor to the Priest.

63

Great Caiaphas, and ye the Sanhedrim,
The holy Guardians of Heav'n's reverend Law,
Hear us, said they, who will object to Him
No tales of Fame, but what we heard and saw
Our present selves; and may nor Eye nor Ear,
If we a fiction vouch, nor see nor hear.

64

Forgive this Preface: Witness should we know,
As naked as the Truth they offer be;
But when delinquents so portentous grow
As to affright Belief, well well may we
This license crave (ah that there were no need!)
Our own hard case, no less than Truth's to plead.

65

Notorious 'tis how deep this Pris'ner wrought
On Vulgar Hearts by His miraculous Feats:
And they, 'tis like, our Evidence will flout
Who have enslav'd their Faith to His Deceits.
But sure no Jannes, nor no Jambres e'r
Shall blind the wisdom of great Moses's Chair.

66

We saw Him strutting in the Temple, where
Broaching His most blasphemous Pride, He cry'd,
This Hand-erected House I down will tear,
And rear another where no Hand shall guide,
Or help the Building: intimating that
He was forsooth a God, not Mary's Brat.

67

Nay, to be sure His Blasphemy might want
No compliment of desperate impudence,
Though six and fourty years He knew were spent
In compassing this Work's magnificence;
He blush'd not to affirm, that three poor days
Was all the time He'd take the Pile to raise.

68

Thus needs must He a rank False-prophet be,
Or else this sacred Temple lay in dust.
Chuse which you will, th'enormous crime you see
Is capital: for sure you ne'r will trust
Him for the Restauration. Here their roar
They ceas'd, presuming that they home had swore.

69

But how shall rash self-shattering waves, maintain
Themselves against impenetrable Rocks!
This brittle wretched Slander beats in vain
On Innocence's firmitude, and wracks
Its own split spight, could but the Highpriest's eye
Have seen its shivers which about did fly.

70

For grant this confident Article as true
As it was false; why must it branded be
As Blasphemy in Him, who in the view
Of ample witness prov'd His Potency
Sufficient was the Temple to restore,
When He from Death her captive Lazarus tore?

71

To re-erect that little Building, was
A piece of Architecture which alone
Outvy'd all Herod's power, and did surpass
The wit and wealth of sumptuous Solomon.
No Hand but Heav'n's that sovereign strength can have
Which layeth Life's foundation on the Grave.

72

Yet to a murmur buzz'd about the Hall,
Toss'd by the silly Rout from one another:
The Council gravely shak'd their heads; and all
Mingled their jealous whisperings together:
Till Caiaphas stood up, and ask'd thy Lord
Why He would no Reply to's Charge afford?

73

But Jesus, who ne'r spilt a word in vain,
(For sweet and precious was his blessed Breath,)
No answer would to that Impeachment deign,
Which crosses well-known Truth, and carrieth
Its Answer in it self to any Ear,
But that which is resolved not to hear.

74

The Priest's curs'd expectation being by
This generous silence quite confuted, he
Consults his own malicious subtilty,
And Answered there at least presumes to be:
Yet pumps his desperate Wits in vain, until
Satan with fresh Advice his head did fill.

75

Which so embrav'd his Impudence, that now
This Savior deeply he contests to make
Him prove His own Accuser: Well we know,
Said he, those towring Words of thine must speak
A more than Mortal Power; nor must thou hope
Thy silence now shall lock the bus'ness up.

76

For by the ever-living God, whose Name
Too glorious is on human Tongues to sit,
I thee conjure expresly to proclaim,
Whether thou art the Christ, whom holy Writ
Has promis'd to the World, that Blessed One,
The Heir of Heav'n, and God's Eternal Son.

77

O who would think this consecrated Tongue,
Which with such reverential Awe can quote
God and His Word, mean while should burn in strong
Thirst of most guiltless Blood! but Hell can shoot
It self through Heav'n, and Satan dares make one
Amongst the Sons of God before His Throne.

78

Hence he his Scholars teacheth to begin
The foulest crimes with God's all-beauteous Name;
So with a winning cheat to usher in
What else by plain and necessary shame
Would be obstructed. Thus the Charmer's Tongue
Distils his poison through his dainty Song.

79

But He who came Truth's glorious Lamp to light,
Was pleased now to give a clear Reply:
His Heav'n, His Sire, Himself did Him invite
Himself, His Sire, His Heav'n to verify.
In Me, said He, fulfill'd your Scriptures are,
God's Son am I, and Heav'n's apparent Heir.

80

And though your Eyes now look such scorn on Me,
Time comes when they shall melt in tears for This;
When on the Cloud's high Chariot they shall see
My Majesty in Glory's bright excess,
And by my march's flash have light to know
I own a Judgment-seat, as well as you.

81

No sooner was this glorious Truth profest,
But Caiaphas in deep dissimulation
His politickly-bloody malice drest;
For starting from the Bench, with zealous passion
He tore his cloaths, in token of his high
Horror at that presumed Blasphemy.

82

So when the barbarous Crocodil doth flame
With greedy ire against his present Prey;
His cursed eyes will needs religious seem,
Pouring out yearning tears to wash away
By Pity's flood the shame of that foul fact,
He so impatiently gapes to act.

83

Vain Hypocrite, keep whole thy Cloths to hide
Thy shameless self; whom thou one day shalt tear
For this thy emblematick Trick, to bid
The People use the Pris'ner at the Bar
As thou thy Robe: But they are dull, and yet
Read not what thou commend'st to them by it.

84

They read it not: But, Psyche, salvage He
Awakes their drousy cruelty, and cries,
What need we further Witnesses? for ye
Have heard His wide-mouth'd raving Blasphemies.
Speak what you think; so plain's the Case to me,
That I dare let His friends His Judges be.

85

O sage, O righteous Judge, and fit to wear
The sacred Mitre, who doth first invite
The People's Mouths to Blood, and then repair
To their wild Sentence! Whether wrong or right,
Speak what think you, a firebrand is and will
Kindle the fury of their murdering Zeal.

86

Refer the harmless Chicken's case unto
The censure of the hungry Kite: Demand
The Wolf's opinion of the Lamb; and who
Can doubt what judgment they will pass, who bend
The utmost nerves of all their Wit and Might
Upon those Innocents to feast their spight?

87

Their feet these Blood-hounds felt no sooner loose,
But they pursu'd the scent, and with joint cry
Their common sense proclaimed thus: May those
Not live, who think He is not fit to die.
This roaring Sentence serv'd the turn; and so
Abused Jesus for Condemn'd must go.

88

What matter though the sacred Rolls can show
No Statute which His Life as forfeit touches?
This popular Extemporal Vote is Law
Enough, to yield Him into barbarous clutches;
And He, so foul and monstrous is His Case,
Must die for breaking that which never was.

89

Forthwith the busy Officers, and all
The insolent Servants seize Him as their prey;
And in the middle of the smoaky Hall,
His gentle Patience make their froward play:
Where, as a preface to His deep disgrace,
Their odious scorn they spit upon His Face.

90

One at His Mouth, another at His Eyes,
One at His Beard, another at His Nose
His slaver aims, and impudently tries
To shoot his shame with art. O putid Foes,
Where are your Eyes and Face, that you can His
Bedaub so thick with studied Noisomness!

91

What rival Excellence could e'r compare
With this Majestick Look? is Libanus,
Is Paradise, is Heav'n, so sweetly-fair?
Are Titan's Eyes so mildly-glorious?
Is delicate Aurora's April cheek,
So roseal as this, so soft, so sleek?

92

Cull out ten thousand of th'exactest Faces
Where goodly Feature ever made her home;
Yet must the Exactest of their richest Graces,
Array'd in bashful yielding blushes come
Into the presence of this Aspect, where
The Rule and Standard of all Beauties are.

93

No other Scene of glorious Loveliness
Had everlasting Bliss to feast the Eye;
An ample Banquet furnish'd were in this
Accomplish'd Countenance, to justify
Their Faith beyond exception, who conclude
Vision the sum of pure Beatitude.

94

And must all Gracefulness's radiant Throne
Of your vile Excrement the sink be made?
Rather on Caiaphas his Cheeks, or on
Great Cesar's, this rank Contumely spread;
Or on the Stars, whose Eyes all lighted are
At those bright Lamps your filth beclouded here.

95

This strange Requital must his Spittle find,
His Sovereign Spittle, which bestowed sight,
Unknown, unhop'd-for sight, upon the Blind;
That His own Eyes' all-love-deserving light,
Must in your foul-mouth's scum be drown'd!—O stay,
Dear Psyche, I have something more to say.

96

Thy loyal streams are ready broach'd, I see,
To wash this odious Wrong from off His Face;
But rein them in a while, that they may be
Officious to thy Lord's more deep Disgrace.
The saddest part's behind; and fit for thine,
And all the pious World's lamenting brine.

97

This word so awed Psyche's sorrow, that
Biting her Lip, she bit off half her sigh;
And having dry'd her cheeks, a conquest got
Against her will, of forward sympathy.
Then pray'd she Phylax to proceed; and He
Thus spun on Grief's triumphant History.

98

These Varlets, when their clotted spittle had
Besmear'd His Face with so much ugly froth,
That they their own work's sight abhorr'd; their Bad
They turn to Worse: for strait they wind a cloth
About his patient Head, which should have been
To wipe away, not hide, their nasty Sin.

99

Thus blinding both of Heav'n and Earth the Light,
Some with their Fists, some with their Cudgels fly
Upon His Head and Shoulders; and their spight
So gamesom is, that His Calamity
Must find them sport, and all His bruses be
The ticklings of their barbarous Jollity.

100

The petulant Caytifs, as they thresh Him, cry,
Great Sir, we know you are a Man of God;
Be pleased therefore now to prophesy
Who aims at you the Cudgel or the Rod.
No matter though your eyes that towel bind,
Prophets are Seers, and cannot be blind.

101

No surer way could Peevishness contrive
Its most malicious self to multiply;
For every jeer they spit and stroke they give,
Is now improved, and do's double fly:
With witty Cruelty to overbear Him,
They teach each jeer to strike, each stroke to jeer Him.

102

Ignoble scorn, and sordid insultation,
Add Bitterness unto the Soul of Gall,
And stretch all torturing Racks with new vexation,
When they upon Heroick Spirits fall:
Who then that stinging sorrow's gulph can sound,
With which these Taunts thy Lord's brave Heart did wound!

103

For all the Metal of illustrious worth
Which ever temper'd Greek or Roman Breast,
Was glorious Dross to that which had its birth
From Heav'n and Mary; that, which not the least
Degenerous mixture e'r deflour'd: so high
Was Jesus His refined Gallantry.

104

But on your heads, bold Worms, your Mocks rebound;
For he less blinded is than you, and sees
Your antick villany; and those profound
Sinks of unfathomable Wickedness,
Those Hearts of yours, which open he at last
To all the World's both view and hate shall cast.

105

You then shall need no Prophesy to clear
Who stroke the first, or who the second Blow;
Whose stroke's the hardest, jeers the bitterest were,
Who did the quaintest art of Malice show:
Your foul Exploits shall then be printed fair
Upon your Foreheads, and themselves declare.

106

Whilst at this Working-play they busy were,
Thy Lord ne'r shrunk nor sought to shield His Head:
No Butt with firmer constancy could e'r
Welcome the Arrow's wounds; nor ever did
The patient Anvil more unmoved stand
Under the labouring Smith his iron Hand.

107

For He resolved was Himself to wade
Quite through the reddest sea of Shame and Pain,
To bless and sanctify the Valiant Trade
Of Patience, and by His example train
His faithful Martyrs' noble Army in
Religion's quarrel, Glory's Bay to win.

108

Tir'd by His Tolerance, at length, in loth
Compassion of themselves these Feinds give over,
Snatching from His victorious Head the Cloth,
Which now to deeper Grief did Him discover;
For His Disciple strait He heard and saw
Bruising Him with a far more violent Blow.

109

Peter, of late so fix'd and resolute, who
Had boasted that the grimmest face of Death
Should not out-look his Faith, and Duty to
His Royal Master; with the self-same Breath,
Had twice renounced his Allegiance, and
Now on the brink of his third Fall did stand.

110

For as he lingred in the Hall to see,
His fear's event about his Lord; a stout
And busy Actor in the Treachery,
By Judas's lately headed, cries, About
This sneaking Rogue, what need we clearer proof?
Is not his Galilean Tongue enough?

111

Then with sure claw his Throat arresting; I
Remember your bald Pate: nay, never stare,
Nor puff, nor gape, nor study for a lye,
To mask the part you in the Garden bare,
But, Sirrah, know that now I have you here,
I must and will revenge my Cosen's Ear.

112

Nor think this leathern staring Pair of yours
Can pay the debt you ow his single One:
We know the Witch your Master's conjuring powers
Can clap them on again: but by the Throne
Of God, I vow, that now I'll take a course
To make thee sure, in spight of Magick force.

113

It is no running, nor no sculking now;
No shades, no trees are here; before the Priest
D 'ye see your Goodly Leader yonder, how
Silenc'd with Truth, with heavy Guilt opprest,
Quite dumb, half dead He stands? Friend you must go,
And in His Censure be His Follower too.

114

Forthwith the Soldiers justling round about,
Besieg'd his frighted Soul with thicker dread.
So have I seen a peevish snarling rout
Of hasty Curs agreeing down to tread
The fallen Dog, and for no cause at all,
But that 'twas his unhappy hap to fall.

115

As when the waves which in his way grew high,
Had wrack'd his Faith which bore him up before,
His sinking Heart was quickly follow'd by
His frighted Feet: so his Accusers' roar
Now storming in his Ears, distrustful He
Yields to this tempest's importunity.

116

Yet there he crav'd his Savior's help: but now
He sinks so deep that he despairs of that,
And with vile Cowardise contriveth how
To save his wretched Skin: he cares not what
He curses, swears, or lyes, so any shift
Him from his Panick-gulf may serve to lift.

117

Hark O ye high-conceited Mortals, who
Presume your strength may scorn the battery
Of any earthly or infernal foe;
Beat not this Heart of late with full as high
Resolves as yours? yet now it faints away;
And all his Courage melteth to Dismay.

118

Ah silly Confidence, which dares erect
Its pile on fragil Dust! the Bubble thus
When puff'd with widest pride, is soonest crackt;
Thus when the foolish Smoak's voluminous
Ambition aims to reach the lofty sphere,
It quickly vanisheth to empty air.

119

By Heav'n, he cries, and Him who heav'n did frame,
By all the Sanhedrim, the sacred Law,
The Temple and its Gold, by Pilate's name,
By Cesar's head, by whatsoe'r I know
Divine or reverend, I freely swear
That I'm a stranger to the Pris'ner there.

120

If I were with Him in the Garden, may
I never enter blessed Paradise;
In Abraham's bosom may I never lay
My head, if ever it did rest in His;
On me may Egypt's Plagues, and Sodom's Flame
Be pour'd, if till to day I knew His Name.

121

'Tis true, I am of Galilee: but was
It in my power in Jewry to be born?
I'm ne'r the less of Israel's holy Race,
Nor for a world would I Apostate turn:
I'm Moses's Scholar: Hell their portion be
Who e'r would such a Master change as he.

122

Right lusty are thine Oaths, and generously
Thy daring Imprecations thou dost thunder,
Reply'd the Soldier; and why might not I
For once mistake? for I confess I wonder
How thou couldst serve that sheepish Master there,
Who canst so bravely Curse, and stoutly Swear.

123

Thou knowst 'twas dark, and let my Error be
Scor'd on Night's back, whose shades abus'd mine eye:
Go then, (and here upon his shoulder he
Clapped his barbarous applause,) but by
Thine own rare Oaths I swear, thou lookest still
As like that Rogue as Tophet do's to Hell.

124

Thus gained he his too dear liberty,
And lost himself: but as he sneak'd away;
A crowing Cock awak'd his memory
Into the broad light of his Dutie's day:
His startled Eyes strait hasted to repent,
And back to Jesus with submission went.

125

When lo, mild He, who could no Pity find,
To ease His own oppressed Innocence,
With ready beams of heav'nly kindness shin'd
Upon His Servant's traytorous Offence;
Forewarning Peter how to use his Sheep
When they down Error's precipice should leap.

126

Denyed Jesus would not him deny,
But spake His pardon by His gracious Look:
Yet so that Peter might withal descry,
Deep written in that most pathetick book,
The piteous copy of that causeless smart,
With which his Falshood pierc'd his Saviour's heart.

127

Powerful and long the Sermon was which He
Preach'd in th'epitomy of this short Glance.
But with such speed all Wonder's love to be
Atchiev'd when Flashes of Omnipotence
Weilded by Grace's hand the work assist;
Witness the Miracle in Peter's breast.

128

That breast which by this Glimpse was vanquish'd so,
That driv'n by holy shame, he seeketh where
To weep away his ugly Crime; and lo
His Tears now bitterer than his Curses were.
Thus when the Sun on sturdy Ice but looks,
It strait repenteth into running brooks.

129

But now Aurora from the roseal East
Had newly dress'd and sent abroad the Day;
To finish his Design of Night, the Priests
To Pilate's court dispatch'd thy Lord away:
Nor needs he teach his Miscreants what to do,
Who Spight's fell trade had better learn'd than so.

130

The boistrous Rout with galling cords and chains
Load Jesu's hands and feet, and hurry Him
With headlong haste through all the streets and lanes;
Which sweat with Crouds,—who an outrageous stream
Of odious blasphemies and curses shed
At every step He takes, upon His head.

131

Hast thou not mark'd how in a silver night
The mad-brain'd mungrels gather in the street;
Where with united barkings at the light
Of beauteous Phebe, heav'n and earth they beat?
Such and so causless were the Clamours which
Against thy Lord these railing Throngs did stretch.

132

But thus arrived at the Palace, they
The Pris'ner in to Pilate gravely send;
For 'twas with them an high religious day,
Nor could unhallowed Places but offend
Their scrupulous strictness; who all cleansed were
To celebrate their reverend Passover.

133

Shame on their foul Hypocrisy, who in
This goodly Mask of zealous Sanctity
With eager Fury strive to act a Sin
Too horrid to be expiated by
Their greatest Sacrifices; and would fain
By this Lamb's blood their Paschal one destain.

134

But when the Judge came forth, demanding what
Offence exposed Jesu's Life to Law;
The surly Priests grew insolently hot,
And cry'd, We hop'd the Governor e'r now
Had understood that Israel's Sanhedrim
No Malefactor makes without a Crime.

135

Can it be dreamt we'd take such pains to chain
A Lamb, and send him for a Wolf to thee?
If so; what need disputes? the case is plain;
We, we alone must here Delinquents be:
O then release that righteous Soul, and bid
The slanderous Sanhedrim be Crucifi'd.

136

To this bold shift was Malice driv'n to make
Meer Accusation for Conviction pass.
But wisely then reply'd the Judge, why take
You this long way about? since you so gross
Have found His Crimes, you might, and may do now,
Make Him a sacrifice to your own Law.

137

True, said the Priest; nor had our pious Zeal
Loiter'd thus long, did but our Law permit
Our indignation liberty to deal
With such a Malefactor as is fit:
Surely we in our looks have written plain
And legible enough, our just Disdain.

138

But our Lawgiver's gentle heart did ne'r
Provide a Death for such a Monster, as
He ne'r suspected any Jew could dare
To shew himself; and this is Jesus's case.
His due's the Cross; and none, great Sir, but you
That decent vengeance can on Him bestow.

139

The generous Roman shak'd his head to see
The Priests so shameless in their bloody Hate:
And yet to cool their mutinous Spirits, he
Commands the Pris'ner to the Judgment Seat;
Requiring His Impeachment might in clear
And open terms before the Court appear.

140

Forc'd here their troubled fraud to shelter in
The sanctuary of some strong-built Lye;
If we, said they, by His outragious Sin
But able were to mould and tune our Cry,
The noise not only would amaze your ear,
But rend all Heav'n, and Vengeance hither tear.

141

For know, that in profoundly-bold despight
To God, and that unspotted Truth which We
Receiv'd from Him, this Brat of hellish night
Blush'd not to broach blasphemous Heresy,
But through the honest credulous Country ran
Tainting the Commons with his Doctrine's bane.

142

Yet well it were if Heav'n alone had been
His desperate Mischief's butt: most traytorous He
Both hop'd, and try'd to work His dangerous teen
On Earth, and its Imperial Majesty;
Great Cesar's tribute down He preach'd, and yet
Up for a King Himself the Varlet set.

143

Thus roard the Priests. But when the Judge had well
The bus'ness weigh'd by grave examination,
And found its big-look'd bulk with Malice swell
And not with Truth: he made this Protestation:
Had I your eyes, I know not what might be,
But with mine own, no fault in Him I see.

144

He, that He is a King doth not deny;
But mark what Royalties he challengeth:
So simple is His Ingenuity,
He owns no Territories here beneath.
What harm to Cesar can by Him be done
Who fancyeth his Kingdom in the Moon?

145

There let His idle fancy reign: but yet
'Tis pity for His folly He should Die.
What Justice ever counted Want of Wit
A capital Offence. Nay more, if I
Be right informed, in the Tribute He
Hath witness'd His sufficient Loyalty.

146

The Case was put, and cunningly, to try
What at the bottom lay of His Design:
Yet by His Doctrine He most readily
Asserted it, and doubted not to join
His Practise too: what Custom more, I pray,
Could Cesar wish, than both to Preach and Pay?

147

As when the flames by Winds are beaten back,
With boiling murmur they their wrath increase,
And with more violent combustion mock
The pacifying Gale's attempt: so these
Repulsed Priests more hot and raging grew
And with full mouth these Exclamations blew.

148

All dangerous Impostures know their trade
And foul Intents with fair Pretences paint:
Whate'r He craftily or Preach'd or Pay'd,
Was but to shield Himself from Law's restraint:
Sedition was His Drift, and He could ne'r
Persue that game unless he footloose were.

149

'Tis strange wise Pilate should not clearly see
What through our Nation is so sadly spred;
For all Samaria, and Judea He
With mutinous Principles envenomed;
Whose egs He hatch'd in Galilee; a Nest
Of all the world for such a brood the best.

150

But this deferr'd their bloody hopes; for now
They father'd Him on Galilee, it put
Pilate upon a politick search to know
If He to Antipas' Command might not
Of right belong; which having gladly found,
Strait to the Tetrarch he dispatch'd Him bound.

151

Nor fail'd this cunning Compliment to reach
The mark of his Desires, which was to win
The Tetrarch's love, and close that rupture which
Had in their wounded friendship gaping been.
Jesus, who found no friends Himself must be
The means to cement others' Amity.

152

Thus through new Streets and new Revilings, He
To surly Herod's lodging bandied is:
The Prince could not conceal his joy to see
Him whom his unbelieving Curiousness
Had oft desir'd, since trumpeting Report
With Christ's strange Acts had fill'd his wondring Court.

153

And now himself he cheateth into hope
The Pris'ner His good will and word to gain,
Would rouze His utmost skill and power up
Him with miraculous Feats to entertain.
For Herod knew that this Man was He
Who scorn'd to buy His life with flattery.

154

His Questions thick he spur'd, but spur'd in vain;
Wise Jesus would no idle motions mind,
Nor any Answer but of Silence deign;
And though the Priests and Scribes their Railings join'd,
He said as little to their shameless Lye
As to the Tetrarch's Curiosity.

155

Is this, said Herod then, with big disdain,
Great Cesar's Rival, one who's only fit
Sovereign of sheepish stupid fools to reign?
Is this that wonder-working He, who yet
In this hard pinch can not with Power or Brain
His scorn'd, accus'd, and challeng'd self maintain?

156

Is all the wide-spread Glory of His Name?
Are all His Miracles shrunk up to this,
That He Himself with most ignoble shame
Should prove a Miracle of Sottishness?
Is this the King, to find whose heart my Father
A thousand Infants' breasts tore ope together?

157

Ah how my fancy wrong'd brave John, when I
Dream'd this was He to life again arriv'd!
Yet grant it John; His gross Stupidity
Assures me still that he is not reviv'd.
Come Souldiers, use your antick wits, that so
We may have sport at least, before He go.

158

Glad were the Guard, and ready equally
Jesus to mock, and to content their Lord:
About Him round they danc'd with hideous Cry,
And bid Him still that Tempest with His Word;
And when His Patience silent stood, enjoyn'd Him
To cast out that dumb Devil which did bind Him.

159

One limping came, and His great Godship pray'd
To cure his Leg, then kick'd Him on the breast:
For his lame Hand another crav'd His aid,
Then beat and brus'd Him with his brawny Fist;
A third desir'd Him to restore a dead
Dog unto life, then threw it at His head.

160

To vary this most scornful sport; at last
Come dress Him like a Prince, the Tetrarch cry'd,
And let the Jews return their King to taste
What Banquet Pilate will for Him provide:
Perhaps 'twill make Him ope that mouth which He
So obstinately here hath shut at me.

161

Tell him, I thank him for his Courtesy;
It made me merry, as ye all have seen:
But I'l not rob his Lordship's Pleasures by
Detaining this his Idiot; when I mean
To play with fools, I hope my Galilee
With one such Puppet more may furnish me.

162

Thus Jesus in a gorgeous Robe is clad,
The more conspicuous to make His shame:
And so through fresh Disdains and Scoffings led
To be of further Tyranny the Game.
With such a Pageant of Contempt the base
Abusive vulgar never feasted was.

163

They dance, they hout, they hollow, winck, and grin,
And this occasion trayterously embrace
Upon all princely Ornaments to pin
Their scornful Jeers. But Pilate stricken was
With wiser wonder at His splendid hue,
Knowing what Garb was to Delinquents due.

164

For those whose Lives presum'd as forfeit were
To Death, by Custom's sad solemnity
Were tir'd in Funeral Black, which might prepare
Them to the thoughts of their Catastrophe,
And intimate the colour of that Sin
Whose horrid darkness cloth'd their souls within.

165

But Providence did so correct their spight,
That He whose breast was purer than the Day,
Wore in His Vesture's face no guilty Night,
But by His Foes' own hands in an Array
Of Glory shin'd, and was absolved when
They hal'd Him to His Condemnation.

166

So when a boistrous loud Conspiracy
Of Winds their puffing labouring fury blow
About the World, in hopes to damp the sky
With swarthy clouds and storms; they often throw
All Vapors out, and with a full and fair
Serenity attire the purged Air.

167

Check'd by the sense of that pure Vestment's look,
And feeling moral Honesty beat high
In's startled bosom, Pilate could not brook
His Conscience to be Slave unto the Cry
Of those importunate Jews, who roaring stood,
And gap'd with thirsty mouths for guiltless blood.

168

What me concerned I have done, said he;
Him, and your Accusations have I
Oft sifted to the bottom: as for me,
I hope I never gave you reason why
You should presume that any Clamors may
Fright Pilate out of Justice's Highway.

169

Your Temple or your Altars cannot be
More venerable unto you, than is
My yet-unspotted Judgment-Seat to Me;
And mine, I trust, shall all impatient Cries
Of groundless Rage as valiantly resist
As Minos, or as Rhadamanthus's breast.

170

What I to Cesar ow, and what to Right,
I long have known, and must not now forget:
My heart is Roman, and the dearest Light
Of Heav'n or Life far less inamors it,
Than Honor's splendor, which can never be
Cohabitant with Wrong and Tyranny.

171

In Pilate's Annals shall it e'er be read,
That he deflowr'd Tiberius's sword, and most
Divine Astræa fouly ravished,
And that not by his own but others' Lust?
That Jewry's Ruler trembled at a Voice,
And was subdu'd by nothing but a Noise?

172

I'll sooner chuse mine own heart-blood should flow,
And let your Thirst carouze in it, than I
From any guiltless Veins their streams will draw,
To quench the loudest Importunity.
Mine is mine own; but what have I to do
To give another's Life, when Law says No?

173

Law takes no hold of Jesus, nor must I,
Nor did the Tetrarch; and why, why will you
But since I see that crafty Calumny
Abused hath your honest meaning, now
I'll for your Credit Him chastise, and so
Give Him dismission without more ado.

174

And this the rather, since by custom I
Ingaged am to honor this your Feast,
In granting some Offendor Liberty,
Whom fit your Pity counts to be releast:
And who deserves your candor more than this
Poor Man, whose fault at most but Folly is.

175

Thus strove the Judge, that he might not condemn
Himself with Jesus; but the sullen Priests
His gracious Offer spitefully contemn,
And spur the People (in whose fury rests
Their final hope,) to beg with all the strife
Of stoutest Throats, none but Barabbas's Life.

176

Bold Bloodhounds! is not this Barabbas he
Whom you your selves know guilty of the Fact,
You fain would fasten upon Jesus? ye
Beheld what tumults he presum'd to act,
And how his desperate Riot he persued,
Until in Murder he his hands imbrued.

177

Hold you the Murderer's Life so dear, that he
Must live with you, whilst Innocent Jesus dies?
And do's Barabbas's cursed Company
Suit better with your reverend Sanctities?
Or think you God and Man so blind, as not
To see and hate your grosly-barbarous Plot?

178

Strange, Psyche, 'twas, with what impatient cries
The Mad-brain'd Vulgar, Heav'n and Earth did tear:
Barabbas's Name through all their Clamor flies,
Anxious for him, and none but him they are;
He is their Darling, and they cannot live,
If Pilate will not grant them his Reprieve.

179

Thus hellish Hate op'd Providence's door
To heav'nly Love, and made Barabbas be
The Type of all the World; which from the power
Of endless Death, and equal Misery
Was to be snatch'd to day, and in its room
A harmless Lamb expos'd to bloody Doom.

180

Mean while, the Judge's Lady sent her Page,
To pray her worryed and perplexed Lord
Not to be mad, because that Rout did rage,
Nor venture to prophane the Roman Sword
With Holy Blood; since certainly, said she,
Jesus is just, and they seditious be.

181

For my good Genius, as I lay asleep,
Appear'd unto me hand in hand with thine;
Thine beat his Breast, and bitterly did weep,
And told the reason of his grief to mine:
He said, (and sigh'd, and trembled as he said)
Pilate with Jesus now will be betray'd.

182

Pilate will be betrayed to destroy
The Life of Jesus, and his own withal;
For Jesu's Blood will cry another day,
And loud to Pilate's Veins and Heart will call:
His Veins and Heart must to that Call reply—
—I started here, and out the Dream did fly.

183

Thus Heav'n-admonished Claudia sought to fright
Her Husband from his Precipice's brow,
And gave miraculous witness to the bright
Integrity of Jesus in the view
Of all His foes; for Heav'n was pleas'd that He
By either sex now justify'd should be.

184

No sooner had the trembling Page deliver'd
His ominous Message, but the Judge's Heart
With fatal jealousy and horror shiver'd;
His Joints unbuckled; Eyes and Hair did start;
His Knees together smote; his Blood flew back,
And left his Lips and all his Visage black.

185

O gracious Lord! who never fails to send
Smart warnings ev'n to Pagan Hearts, when they
By strong Temptations baited are, to rend
And throw their own upright Resolves away:
So monstrous is a Conscience-stifling Evill;
So loth is God that Man should prove a Devil.

186

But when the Scribes and Priests had learn'd the News:
See how this Conjurer hath by Magick Art,
Cry'd they, sent hellish Spirits to abuse
The honest thoughts of noble Claudia's Heart:
That by this Trick the Judge might frighted be,
Our Truths made Slanders, and Himself set free.

187

'Tis well the Lady signify'd that she
Sleep's pris'ner was and so Delusion's prize:
But this Impostor's Life shall find that we
Are waking, and know how to use our Eyes.
The Wife may to her rest again; but keep
We must and will the Husband now from sleep.

188

Strait all the People with fresh clamors roar'd,
Thund'ring Barabbas in the Judge's Ear:
Which violent storm quite blew away the Word
His Spouse had sent; and he through sudden fear
Of Insurrection, thus returns to treat
About the bus'ness which he most did hate.

189

Friends, ask, I pray, your second thoughts, and see
If they upon Barabbas needs will dote:
'Tis far from my desire your Haste should be
Your prejudice; 'twas Haste made you so hot
Against your smother'd Reason: but my leave
To make your choice again, I freely give.

190

For I would fain my Courtesy should be
True to its Name; which sure cannot be so,
If none but this bold Murderer must be he,
Whom you will let my Love on you bestow.
Consider well, and you will find it stand
More with your Credits, Jesus to demand.

191

But that Advice melts into empty air,
Which woos the Vulgar to Consideration:
And Pilate might as well, by speaking fair,
Have hop'd to send a Torrent's Inundation
Back to its spring-head, to consult and see
Whether it had not best more gentle be.

192

For at this word enrag'd, they all renew
Their former Outcry; For Barabbas we,
And for none other but Barabbas sue;
Our Fame no plaster craves or needs: you see
We beg but wonted Favor, which if you
Thus geld by cutting off our Choice, Adieu.

193

Mov'd with their boistrous Madness, Pilate cries,
If this seditious Murderer alone
Can seem to you to be a worthy Prize,
Tell me what must with Innocence be done?
Both cannot be reprieved: therefore speak
What course with Christ shall I and Justice take?

194

Right glad the Judge had giv'n them leave to name
The manner of their plotted Cruelty;
They with a barbarous smile reply, The Game
Is not so hard to play; Let Jesus die:
Do you but doom Him to the Cross, and We
At charge of Executing Him will be.

195

Then, as an Army with united Shout
Rends all the Field, when most impatient they
Fly to their Work of Blood: th'unanimous Rout
Discharg'd at Pilate's Ear, and cry'd, Away,
Away with Him, that Justice on may ride
In her free course, Let Him be crucify'd.

196

O more than hellish Impudence and Spight!
Is this the People, whose high Estimation
Of Jesus could the Highpriest's projects fright
Into a secret cautious Conjuration!
The People, who admir'd His heav'nly Word,
And His convincing Miracles ador'd!

197

The People, who to pave His welcome way,
Could strip Trees' bodies, and their own, and spread
That Princely Entertainment, to display
How ev'n His Ass's feet they honored!
The People, who could brave Hosanna cry!
A Word, O how unlike to Crucify!

198

How well sage Heads have fix'd the odious brand
Of Fickleness upon the Vulgar! for
More safely may you on the Lydian Sand,
Or on the Adriatick Billows, or
The flitting Winds, build Towers, than rely
Upon the multitude's Fidelity.)

199

The horror of that Word made Pilate start;
Who, stepping back, and flinging up his hands,
Far be it, cry'd, far be it from my heart
To harbor such Injustice! Your Demands
Should not be Traps; nor is it fit that I
Turn Tyrant, others' Spight to gratify.

200

Wears He the stain of Murder, or of Treason,
To mark Him out for death? can any eye
Barabbas find in Him? Or is it reason
That He because He has no Crime, must die?
And can you choose no Instrument but Me,
The Pandar of your bloody Lust to be?

201

Great Cesar thinks me wise enough to hear
And judge of Cases; and why will not you?
I have (though with some prejudice; so far
Your zeal had biass'd me,) the Pris'ner through
A strict Examen drawn; and must withal
Confess, His Crime is far from capital.

202

And shall my Foes' glad Tongues have cause to say,
To my dear Honor's vile confusion, that
Pilate bow'd down his Conscience to obey
A Lawless Motion. Henceforth urge me not:
Some reasonable Castigation, I
Will lay on Jesus; but He must not die.

203

As when a knot of eager Hornets are
Repressed by a wary hand, about
With doubled rage they fly, and buzzing their
Right smart, alarms more resolutely, the stout
Onset renew: So now in fiercer Cries,
The Rout's disdain at this Repulse did rise.

204

The Cataracts of Nile, or those which tear
Their headlong way down steepest Alpes, make not
A fra[n]gor so astonishing, as their
Wide yelling Mouths, resolv'd no more to shut
Till they can conquer by Impetuousness;
And, Crucify Him, still their thunder is.

205

The frighted Palace trembled at the crack,
Whose dismal echo to the Temple flew;
And from the Temple loudly bounding back,
It self through all the startled City threw.
Yea, ev'n the Rout themselves could not forbear,
Against their own Request to stop their Ear.

206

Which whilst thus terribly it bellow'd, though
It shak'd the Judge, and made him stagger; yet
It fail'd to work his total overthrow:
For fast he clapp'd his arms about his great
And generous Resolution, nor could
He fall (and that he knew) except he would.

207

Then wisely pondering that the Highpriest's spight
The coals of all this mad Combustion blew;
And that they on the headstrong Vulgar might,
Had built their Salvage hopes: he studies how
To frustrate their malicious Design
By a severe, yet tender Countermine.

208

For in he takes thy Lord, and yields Him to
The servile Scourge, that by this Cruelty,
Way to His Pity he might ope, and so
Some blood for all the rest might satisfy.
He hop'd if once they saw Him all in gore,
Their thirstiest Malice would not wish for more.

209

For though the Multitude's untutor'd Ears
Are deaf to Reason's Plea; their Eyes can hear
The mute but loud complaint of bloody Tears,
And understand the Dialect, whene'er
It flows from Wound's red lips: And why, said He,
May Jews, if they be Men, not Human be!

210

The surly Beadles fetch'd their strongest Tew,
And having stripp'd their patient Prey of all
His cloths' defence, with churlish twitches drew,
And to the stoutest pillar of the Hall
Fast bound Him up; least He, by sinking under
The lashe's load, their wrath's carreer should hinder.

211

With iron Whips then to their work they fell,
And plow'd his Back's delicious Garden up:
Profound and long the Furrows were, yet still
Levell'd and fill'd as fast as broken ope;
For drown'd they were, and drowned in no flood,
But of their own inestimable Blood.

212

Down to the bottom of each tender Vein
The cruel Engins div'd, and tore from thence
The precious purple springs; which in disdain
They toss'd about, until their violence
In too too costly colours painted thick,
Upon th'unworthy Floor and Pillar stuck.

213

The Pillar and the Floor now blush'd to see
How those remorsless Bloodhounds knew no shame;
For still they prosecute their tyranny,
Till weariness prevails with tired them.
(As lately with the Servants of the Priest,)
Meerly in self-compassion to desist.

214

But then the Soldiers take their barbarous cue,
To vex His Patience with more witty spight:
And that He may some royal token shew
Of His pretended Kingship their conceit
Prompts them to wreath a Crown of Thorns, and it
Upon His Head, in Fury's triumph set.

215

And thus the Curse which Heav'n injoin'd to grow
On Sin-condemned Earth, from thence is rent,
And deep engrafted into Jesus's Brow;
Who with this Diadem of stings content,
Nor wish'd nor envied their dainty pride,
Whose tresses were in roseal chaplets ty'd.

216

Then on His Back, to mock His Temples' pain
With gorgeous scorn, a purple Robe they throw:
Alas, how needless! now in richer grain
Too full they see His native scarlat flow,
Whilst all His Body is arrayed round
In one expanded universal wound.

217

And having planted in His Hand a Reed,
(A silly Scepter, and which well comply'd
With His ignoble Crown,) themselves they spread
In several gamesom squadrons, to deride
This meekly-silent miserable Thing,
Whom of Contempt they had created King.

218

O may the Sovereign of the Jews, said they,
Outlive the Hart's, the Raven's, the Eagle's years!
May His victorious Ensigns He display
Throughout the World, affrighted at His Wars!
Thus may He thresh all Nations: and here
They bang'd and brus'd Him; and went on to jeer:

219

May Heav'n's propitious Eye for ever dwell
On Him, who best deserves its care! may all
The Clouds which with the fattest Blessings swell
Let on His Head their choisest riches fall,
As freely as we rain these drops on it!
And at this word they all upon Him spit.

220

High on the Roman Bird's Imperial wing
May thy illustrious Name and Glory ride!
And may Tiberius to this nobler King
Thus yield his mighty Throne! this said, a wide
And massy Chair full at His Face they throw,
Which deeply grav'd its footsteps in His Brow.

221

From all the proudest Conqueror's Temples, who
Fondly conceive their never-fading Bay
Has power to make themselves immortal too,
Their glorious wreaths thus mayst Thou rend away!
Then hollowing loud, in raging sport they tear
Off from His sacred Head His goodly Hair.

222

One, after three low bowings, on his Knee
Humble Petitions brings; and having pray'd
His pardon of that Importunity,
Flings dirt and mire in's Eyes. Another play'd
Ambassador, pretending mighty things
He had in charge to Him from neighbour Kings.

223

Most Excellent Sir, my business is, said he,
Of such immediate consequence, that it
Can no delay digest, but urgeth me
To this unwonted and uncivil fit
Of craving present Audience: and here
He smartly box'd His Ears to make Him hear.

224

A third came with a golden Goblet in,
And fawning thus: The Queen to you hath sent
This Morning-draught, and prays you to begin,
That she may pledge you: suddenly he bent
At Jesus's gentle Face his ireful Brow
And in His Mouth the Bowl of Urine threw.

225

A fourth His Reed pluck'd from His Hand, and cry'd,
Your Scepter, Sir, too heavy is, I fear;
Let not your Majesty your Servant chide,
If he offend in too much Loyall Care:
Your self shall judge how grievous is its weight:
Which said, Him with the sturdy Cane he beat.

226

A fifth with earnest supplication su'd
For leave, his Princely Train that day to bear;
Then snatching up His Robe behind, with rude
But eager peevishness, he kick'd Him there;
Batt'ring the Body of all Sweetness, till
His weary Foot stopp'd his unwearied Will.

227

A sixth came bawling, Treason, Treason, Sir,
Treason against your sacred Majesty:
Your Jewish Subjects all conspiring are
Against your Honor and your Life: O fly,
And save your Royal Self. This made them all,
Seeing Him bound so fast, a-laughing fall.

228

'Twere endless, Psyche, to describe how they
With crabbed wantonness did sneer and pout;
How they did wrest their looks; what wry-mouth'd play
They us'd, their gentle Savior to flout.
The worst of ugly Petulance conceive,
And infinitely worse than that believe.

229

This Scene thus acted: Pilate brings Him forth
Accouter'd thus, into the People's view:
And though no Crime of His appeareth worth
The name of Capital; 'tis fit I shew
You with what heavy punishment, said He,
His light and petty faults revenged be.

230

If this ridiculous Garb seem not enough,
With more than killing shame to clothe Him; see
What full-tide streams of Blood about Him flow,
And guess what favor He hath gain'd from me.
Alas, can any further room be found
In all His Body, but for one more Wound?

231

Behold the Man; this torn and worryed Thing
Is He, how ever Comely heretofore:
Sure He has for His foolish Name of King
Full dearly pay'd; and of your Credits more
Regardful were not I, than of mine own,
Such proofs of Cruelty I had not shown.

232

Say now what augmentation of Disgrace
Or Anguish, could from any Cross accrue,
To that which in His brused batter'd Face,
And all-bemangled Flesh you read: 'tis true
He lives; but such a joiless Life, as hath
All reason to prefer the foulest Death.

233

O spectacle of most commanding sorrows!
How would all Hearts, but [fierce] Jews', melt to see
These ghastly torrents, and these gasping furrows:
The perfect Picture of Calamity!
How would a Tyger's thirsty wrath relent!
How would the souls of hungry Bears repent!

234

Had these unhappy Miscreants any Eyes,
But those of hard'ned Rancor, they might here
Have marked how their own sad Miseries
To patient Jesus all transferred were,
And scor'd upon His Back: they might have found
A salve for all their sores in every wound.

235

They might have seen His innocent Temples wear
That Malediction, which to them was due:
Whilst He the stinging Briars pleas'd to bear,
And leave to them the fragrant flowers which grew
Both in their Mortal Gardens here, and which
With endless Sweets did Paradise inrich.

236

At least that Lesson of Compassion they
As well as Pilate, might have plainly read,
Which in large Rubrick Letters open lay,
And to the eyes of all Spectators spread
So fair a challenge, that no generous Breasts
Could Pity's importunity resist.

237

But lo, the barbarous Priests, unsatisfy'd
With all that sea of Blood already shed,
Because some more behind remained: cry'd
O ease the Earth of that blasphemous Head,
Before Heav'n vindicate it self, and we
Involved in the Flood of Vengeance be.

238

Those sorry Gashes, though they glare, are yet
Less deep and broad than His Offence: beside
All Serpents have the ill-bestowed wit,
To lick and heal their wounds, though far more wide
Than those of His: and why may pois'nous He
Not full as cunning as His Kindred be?

239

Is His a boyish fault, that you should deem
A whiping, meet and ample Punishment?
O rather square your own by Heav'n's esteem,
And join with ours your righteous consent.
A Cross, a Cross: Heav'n cannot pleased be,
Until this Monster crucify'd it see.

240

This most unreasonable Madness made
The Judge as loud as They: Your throat, said He,
Shall never roar me to your bloody trade.
The Man is guiltless in mine eyes; if ye
Resolved are that Innocence must die,
Go murder Him your selves, and cease your cry.

241

Harsh was this word, and grated their Design:
So hard, that they inforced were to fly
To that reserve which they did most decline,
As knowing well 'twas an old-answer'd Lye:
That Law they now pretend, to which long since
The Pris'ner justify'd His Innocence.

242

Nay, they reply'd, It is not We, but Law:
Our Law, more dear to us than are our Lives,
Requires His Death. May Pilate please to know
That our just God no grace, nor pardon gives
To (though but faint) Blasphemers; and shall He,
Who makes Himself the Son of God, go free?

243

If Thou Protector of our Laws wilt be
Break not our greatest for this Varlet's sake.
Should He intrude into the Family
Of Cesar, and his Heir's great Title take,
Sure thou wouldst judge a Cross his due; and is
Heav'n's Emperor's Wrong a less Offence than this?

244

Bloodthirsty Hypocrites! who clearly knew,
How they their Law in urging it deny'd:
Had this most false Impeachment been most true,
Yet must not Jesus by the Cross have dy'd;
Their Law an heap of Stones ordain'd to be
The Death and Monument of Blasphemy.

245

Yet this New-plea stung jealous Pilate so,
That he again retires, and tries again
What fresh Examination might do:
Blind Notions tumbled in his troubled Brain
Concerning Heros and Half-gods, which had
The solemn Cheats of Pagan Faith been made.

246

For seeing more than human Patience shine
In Jesus's strange deportment; he began
To think he might be one of Jove's Divine
And Sovereign Stock, though masked now in Man:
Him therefore he requireth to uncase
The truth, and satisfy him whence He was.

247

But to this needless Curiosity
Thy sober Lord would no Reply vouchsafe:
For whether He from Heav'n His Pedigree
Or Earth deriv'd, 'twas evident enough,
That Innocence in God or Man, could from
A righteous Judge deserve no fatal doom.

248

This Silence spurr'd indignant Pilate's pride:
Oft have I spoke for Thee, and yet wilt Thou
Not one poor word bestow on me? defy'd
Is all my power, said he, by which I now
Can bless Thee with a free release, or send
Thee on the Cross to make Thy cursed End?

249

But Jesus thus: no power hadst thou to reach
My life, but by Heav'n's special private Grant:
'Tis not thy common Jurisdiction which
Involveth Me: this makes the Priest who sent
Me pris'ner hither, to be plunged in
So much the deeper and the fouler Sin.

250

Aw'd by this Answer's gravity, into
A piercing sense of His integrity;
Th'ingenuous Judge resolves his best to do
In setting Him, and his own Conscience free;
His utmost prudence he awak'd to treat
And into honesty the People cheat.

251

But whilst he signify'd his gentle Mind,
Alas, new oil upon their flames he threw;
For in their loudest fury all combin'd,
Upon Him with this bold Reply they flew;
If Jesus you dismiss, We must have leave
Great Cesar to acquaint with this Reprieve.

252

Did not that Traitor's Head contrive to wear
A Crown of gold, where now those Thorns you see?
And who more dangerous foes to Cesar are
Than those who would no longer subjects be?
He says, His Realm is not on Earth: and what
Should Traitors being taken, plead, but that?

253

But were He free again, and had proud He
New thousands at His heels, to follow on
His Will's Carreer; might His design not be
True to our Fears? And will our Judge alone
Let loose this danger? surely loyal We
Must hold you then for Cesar's Enemy.

254

Drove by this Menace to his Judgment-seat,
Behold your King, and mark Him well, said he:
Can this poor sorry Wight be thought the great
Rival of Cesar? But this honest Plea
They thus confute: Away with Him, and let
Him pay upon the Cross His Treason's debt.

255

The Cross? in smiling anger Pilate cry'd;
Is that the Throne where I must set your King?
No King have we, the sullen Priests reply'd,
But Cesar: as for this accursed Thing,
'Tis more than time that to His Cross He go,
And every one who is His favorer too.

256

The Judge had with their Malice grappled long:
But now his Place and Office lay at stake;
He who before so righteous was and strong,
Hop'd to support himself by turning weak
And impious: Nor did the People spare
To hasten those strange Hopes whose ground was Fear.

257

This new State-blast on his faint Bosom blew
So thick a storm of Jealousy and Dread
That now he fancy'd all the City drew
Their mutinous Swords against his single Head;
And that the Priests had with their specious Lye
Dispatch'd to Rome a dangerous Embassy.

258

Thus toss'd and bandy'd by the tempest, He
His Faith and Truth, the dearest wares he had,
Throws over-board; and to their Cruelty
Steers his Consent: which yet appear'd so mad
And full of foul and odious horror, that
He calls for Water, off to wash its Blot.

259

Why wilt thou ravish, foolish Hypocrite
The Virgin Nymph? what Water canst thou get
To wash This clean; which cannot make thee white,
But only by thy wretched touching it
For ever will be stain'd: should all the Sea
Flow on thy Hands, they still would bloody be.

260

The Leopard's spots, which fix their feet so sure
Upon his skin, shall sooner run away;
Sooner the Æthiop's face shall learn a Cure
And change its ugly Night to beauteous Day;
The Ravens with Swans in white shall sooner vye,
Then thou be purg'd from thy ingrained Dye.

261

Yet Pilate flatter'd by his own Device,
Will needs be dabling in the Bacin; and
Behold, ye Priests and People all, he cries,
Of Jesu's blood I wash my guiltless Hand:
Though I the Sentence pass, it shall be known
You forc'd my tongue, and you the Act must own.

262

Content; and since in it you will not share,
Let ours, said they, the Honor wholly be:
Both Heav'n and Earth will thank our zealous Care,
And safe Tiberius praise our Loyalty.
So will your Self, when you have weighed well
What kind of Monster you have sent to hell.

263

As for His Blood which frights your timorous Hand,
It is to us the brightest paint of Glory,
And will to all Succession's eyes commend
Our just and pious Resolution's Story:
'Tis our Ambition's highest Wish, that it
May on our Heads, and on our Children's sit.

264

Unhappy Wish! had this been rightly fram'd,
No Pray'r with purer wings had soard to heaven,
Nor pull'd more Blessings, than would have streamed
In this rich Blood: But see the monstrous leaven
Of holy-looking Malice, which can thus
Make sweetest words turn sadly Ominous.

265

For 'twas not long e'r Titus came and pour'd
This Flood upon them, and their Wish fulfilled:
They and their Heirs together were devour'd,
With such full vengeance this red Torrent swelled;
Their Town and Temple too the Deluge found,
Which in their Wishe's surplusage were drown'd.

266

Wild War did never yet so riot in
The veins of any helpless wights, as here;
Nor fatal Misery hunt out any Sin
With so severe a Quest as that: for their
Outragious Wish and bloody Exclamation
Tolled the funeral Knell to all their Nation.

267

And now the Judge, within whose breast the fear
Of Men, vile Men, much more than God did reign;
Those Bonds of generous Right himself does tear
From which he woo'd the People to refrain;
And ruins all his Honor that he may
Secure his tottering Dignity to day.

268

His Roman Boasting's splendid plumes he plucks;
To hold it fast, he stains his Master's Sword;
His righteous Tenderness, upon the rocks
Of Tyranny he breaks; and by one Word
Gives all his Protestations the lye,
Judging the Lord of Innocence to die.

269

O monstrous Sentence! were the fell Decrees
Which ever yet from mouths of Tyrants brake,
With all their dismal Pomp of Cruelties,
Describ'd in one black Roll; they could not make
So hideous a show as This alone
Of Barbarousness the dire Perfection.

270

All Injuries in This triumphant are,
Skru'd to the highest pitch of rampant Spight:
Injustice but a Suckling was, till here
She suddenly attain'd her stature's height:
Herod indeed had fairly nurs'd her; but
Her bulk's full growth by Pilate's help she got.

271

For could all Hell mould up so dire a Doom
As might send every Babe who 'gan to see
Life's morning light, strait from his Mother's womb
To Death's black Ev'n; that Sentence yet would be
Less fell than This, which murders at a blow
More Innocence than all the World can show.

272

Than This; to which no Copy near shall draw
Till Albion with Palestine shall vy;
When British Jews against their King a Law
Shall find, and make the Rout for Justice cry:
When they a Pilate of their own shall get,
And desperate Soldiers too, to do the feat.

273

Unfortunate Judge! how rufully hast thou
Condemn'd thy timorous Self in dooming Him!
The time draws nigh, when Caius will not know
Pilate for Cesar's friend; thy dear Esteem
And Office, to their fatal evening draw,
And Six Years more will make Thee feel the Law.

274

The Law of Banishment; when France shall see
Thee to Vienna ty'd in strong Disgrace;
Where Hell shall to thy Soul displayed be,
And make thy Conscience war against thy face,
Mustring the Guilt of this unhappy Day
Before thine eyes in terrible array.

275

Thy Ladie's Message there again shall sound,
And sting thy heart; thine own Profession's there
Of Jesu's Innocence, shall all rebound
Upon thy thoughts, and thy Remembrance tear:
That mocked Water there shall scald thee, and
Revenge its wrong on thy polluted Hand.

276

There shall thy Whips on Thee their Lashes turn;
There shall the Thorns plant Tortures on thy head;
There to thy self each Stripe and Scoff and Scorn
Shall in full tale be duly numbered;
There thy prodigious Sentence back shall fly,
And point black Pilate out as fit to die.

277

Then shall the cruel Cross, the Nails, the Spear,
March through thy thoughts, and slaughter thee alive;
Till Crucify'd by thine own fatal fear,
Thy Self meet vengeance to thy self shalt give,
And from thy Hell above by cursed death
Send thy despairing Soul to Hell beneath.

278

So shall thine Hand thou thoughtst thou washt so white,
Foully imbru'd in thine own horrid gore,
An useful Copy to all Judges write
Of what sure Doom Heav'n's righteous Wrath doth pour
On them who warp Law's rule to Peoples' Lust,
And make the Throne of Justice be Unjust.

CANTO XIV. The Death of Love.

The ARGUMENT.

Love having liv'd for Man, is pleased to Die,
To make His Purchase sure by Life and Death;
Through Earth's profoundest gulf of Tyranny,
And vaster Ocean of Heav'n's mighty Wrath
He nobly waded: then upon the shore
After His blood, vouchsaf'd His Soul to pour.

1

O Soul of Sweets, O Life, how dear art Thou
To all that ever had a Taste of Thee!
How much of Heav'n it self triumphs to flow
Into the region of Thy Suavity!
Indeed Heav'n were not Heav'n, unless it had
By marrying Thee the Court of Bliss been made.

2

Thou in the Center of Divinity
Before the birth of Ages had'st Thy Spring,
Where Thou did'st sweetly smile amidst the Three
Most undivided One, and traversing
Those heights and depths of glorious Pleasure, through
Eternitie's immense Expansion flow.

3

Thence, when the World burst out from Nothing, Thou
Let'st out some streams created Souls to cheer;
With which sweet Influence when they 'gan to glow,
All Bosoms strait of it inamored were;
Which as their richest dearest Jewel, in
The temple of their Hearts obtain'd its shrine.

4

Goods were no longer Goods, compar'd with Thee;
Parents and Children were no more of kin,
If they disturb'd thy Consanguinity:
Their tenderer Selves, though lying treasur'd in
The bosom of their Love, they thence would throw,
Counting no Wives so near them as wert Thou.

5

For Thy sweet sake they durst rejoice to bear
All Bitterness, and not to blush at Shame:
Their Joints, Limbs, Skin, they readily could spare,
Yea and allow their precious Name and Fame.
A prey to Injury, so they by them
May Thee and Thy Security redeem.

6

The vilest Worm whom Thou dost please to grace,
Forgets not that high Worth he gains by Thee:
He shoots his warey self from place to place,
And, when oppressed, feeble though he be,
He turns again, and with the strongest Fo
Tries what for Thy dear Rescue he can do.

7

Rather on basest Dust the Snake will feed
His wretchedness, than part with precious Thee;
Though Heav'n's sad Curse sits heavy on his head,
He makes his body all one helmet be
To shelter it; and rolls himself about
Himself, to keep all mortal bruses out.

8

Nay when the Sword, or Wand Death's way has cut
Quite through his circles, till his carcase be
In its own woful fragments buried, yet
Ev'n by the cement of his Wounds will he
Soder himself; so loth is he to die,
Though Life him Pris'ner holds to Misery.

9

What voyages will silly Swallows take
Warm courteous Seasons round the World to chase!
How hard a shift will hunted Pheasants make
To shun the greedy Griffen's deadly face!
What wings of speed, what tricks and sleights will Fear
Of dying, teach the close-persued Hare!

10

In how great sweat and pains will Pismires spend
Their warmer months, to reap and carry home
Their crop, which in the Cold may them befriend
With sustentation, and protect them from
The fear of loosing that poor Life which they
In love of it, to endless Toil betray.

11

The most industrious never-tired Bee
Flies through all Summer, knocking at the door
Of every likely Flower, where thoughtful she
Can borrow ought to help her Winter's store:
And thus for love of Life, her honey-Trade
A bitter task of Painfulness is made.

12

Yea ev'n the simplest Weed, whose Life doth but
Preserve that Stink by which she taints the air;
When Boreas 'gins his icey chains to put
On captiv'd Earth, makes all her Spirits repair
Down to the Root: for, rather than be dead,
Alive she chooseth to be buryed.

13

But yet no Creature with such painful pains
Doth hunt out Life's security, as Man:
What Projects tumble in his anxious brains,
What Cares and Labours make him faint and wan!
Earth all things else can freely entertain,
But he must sow before he reap his grain.

14

A tedious Prenticehood he spends, to learn
How he may toil himself another day,
And by his still-returning Studies earn
His wasting strength's support; that still he may
Be grapling with his growing Work; his Sweat
Being the constant Sauce to all his Meat.

15

To get a Living's a sufficient Charm
To lure him through the most portentuous Sea;
To make his Weakness scorn th'outragious Storm;
To harden him above the durity
Of desperate Rocks: for, that he still may breath,
He dares within three inches live of death.

16

A Charm sufficient to make him list
Himself a foe unto the Life of Man,
Whilst he triumphs to make his stoney breast
Yet more obdurate by bold steel, and can
Without all blushing take his bloody Pay
For his endeavours daily to Destroy.

17

Sufficient to engage him in the love
Of Hate, and Spight, and Fraud, and Rapine, and
Any accursed Helps which may improve
His stock of Avarice; to make him stand
Stiff on the mountain-top of Villanies
Defying Vengeance, and the thundring Skies.

18

O wonderous Riddle! though eternal Death
Inevitably be entail'd upon
His wicked Life; yet he his present breath
Esteems so dear, as forward still to run
In any deadly Crimes, to spin on that
Weak thread of Days which must e'r long be cut.

19

Indeed the Man whose teeming Coffers bring
Him forth free choise of all the dainty Store
With which the Land or Sea can court a King,
May find some feeling reason to adore
His jolly Life: but what convincing plea
Can Beggers move to this Idolatry?

20

Yet sorry they, so destitute within
And poor without, that equally they want
Both what should line and fill their wretched skin,
And what should cover it; are well content
On these hard terms to live, nor quit would be
By any Death of this Calamity.

21

The buried Captive, whose dark Dungeon is
His anti-dated and his sadder Grave,
Though banish'd thus from vital Happiness,
Yet hugs his Life as dearly, as the brave
And freest Gallant who his Lust can please
With all the Fat of Pleasure and of Ease.

22

The Leper, clothed in his winding sheet
By his Disease, abhors the thought of Death;
Life still is ev'n in his dead body sweet;
And full as precious he reputes his breath
As lovely Virgins, whose fair Features' dress
Of native Roses, and of Lilies is.

23

He whom a Fever's furnace fries, would yet
Escape the being cooled in his Grave;
And hires Physitians' costly doubtful wit
To find some way, though painful, now to save
His torturing Life: not for a world would he
By Death's most sovereign Physick eased be.

24

He whom a Cancer gnaws, had rather feed
That Monster, than the Worms; nor sticks to buy
Wounds, Cauterisms, Dismembrings; and be dead
In part, a mangled life a while to try.
On piteous Stilts he'l rather choose to creep
Than in a sumptuous tomb lie down to sleep.

25

The lamentable Gally-slave, who fast
Is chained to perpetual Misery,
Still toils and rows against the Tempest's blast
Without all hopes that any Port can be
His hav'n of Rest; yet holds that Life full dear
Which only makes his bondage persevere.

26

She whom a Siege begirts so close, that She
Is crowded up to nought but bones and skin;
Shrinks further yet from gaining Liberty
By Death's assistance; and will rather win
Upon her bowels to devour her Child
Than be by Famin of that Life beguild.

27

The cursed Traytor fettered alive
In Death's strong iron chair; though sadly sure
Abandon'd he in vain for Life shall strive;
Yet will in mighty love of it endure
To feed on his own Arms, that so he may
Though by selfe-torture, live one other day.

28

He who disjointed on the Rack doth lie,
Though now his shatter'd Life be scarcely his,
After a thousand deaths, is loth to die;
And ne'r-thought Treasons willing to confess:
Confess he will what needs must be his death,
Only to gain a little longer breath.

29

Thus all the Gall that sharpest Misery
Into the heart of Mortal Life can pour,
Meets there such resolute Powers of suavity
As conquer all its Bitterness; such store
Of precious mystick Delicacies as
Eas'ly outweigh the heavyest Sorrow's mass.

30

Tear what you will from Man besides, and he
Will stoutly set his shoulders to sustain
The Loss; but if his Life attacked be,
In vain all Comforts fawn on him; in vain
Are Crowns and Scepters proffer'd him, a price
Too poor to hire him to his Obsequies,

31

Since then the Life ev'n of the meanest Wight
Scorns to be ballanc'd with the richest Treasure;
What depth of mightiest Worthiness, what height
Of most refin'd preciousness can measure
The value of the Life of Jesus, which
Doth Earth with all the best of Heav'n inrich.

32

A Life more worth than was the Breath which fann'd
The panting Hearts of all the World beside;
More worth than all the tract of Ages, and
Old Time it self: A Life which nobly vy'd
With vast Eternity, though not in space,
Yet in unbounded Excellence and Grace.

33

For whilst all Human Life besides, the breath
Of Eden's venomous Serpent tainted so,
That by the rankling Principles of Death
It from its cradle was condemned to
Its herse; His kept it self unstained, and
Defy'd the gaping Grave's unjust Demand.

34

And well it might, as having gain'd a pitch
Higher than Human, by the Mystery
Of Theanthropick Combination, which
Peerless Prerogative's sublimity
Did Infinite with Finite strangely wed,
And make it both the Life of Man and God.

35

Yet this dear Life of His, less dear He held
Than worthless Man: so generous was His Love
His royal Heart's last Blood He freely spill'd
To ransom Theirs; desiring so to prove
Ev'n by their Soul's own rule, that They to Him
More worth than His all-precious Self did seem.

36

They, and the worst of them: nor did He choose
And pick some Noble Friends, for whose sweet sake
His Life to offer up; but for His Foes
Vouchaf'd that dear Oblation to make:
Resolv'd that their ingrateful Hate should be
Drown'd in vast Courtesy's profoundest Sea.

37

O most adorable and matchless Art
Of Strange Revenge! what Enemy is he
Whose sweetly-wounded and convinced heart
Triumpheth not to be subdu'd by thee!
By thee, Love's highest Gallantry, and fit
For Him who is the mighty King of it!

38

With this divine Exploit her Guardian now
To ravish Psyche's plyant Soul, went on:
(The wonderous Legend though before she knew,
Yet 'twas at distance; Circumstances can
Make deep impression, and the present Scene
Of Miracles more admiration win.)

39

No sooner to the Shambles sentenc'd thus
Was Heav'n's pure Lamb; but streight upon their Prey
The rampant Soldiers fly: His gorgeous
Attire away they snatch, and Him array
In His own simple Fleece, (yet suff'ring still
The stinging Thorns upon His Head to dwell.)

40

Thus rubb'd, and wounded all those Wounds again,
Whose weary Blood had 'gan its clotted rest;
This op'd the worry'd mouth of every Vein,
Which though so strictly urg'd, yet confest,
Not all they knew; resolved still to keep
Enough the Cross in Ruby paint to steep.

41

Thus, dress'd for further spight, to Calvary
They hurry Him, ev'n though their Senate's Law
Wisely provides no Execution be
Done, till by ten days' thoughts the Judge may know
Whether his Sentence more by Passion's haste,
Than slow-pac'd Reason's Rules he has not past.

42

The Priests had Money, that commanding spur
Which fires all Soldiers with impatient speed;
And Pilate now can cast in no Demur;
The Jewish Casuists tell him there's no need:
But need, or not; in vain his Fancies beat;
The Soldiers now were bought to do the Feat.

43

Yet being Martial generous Spirits, they
Must not debase their armed Backs to bear
The servile ignominious Cross; nor may
The holy Jews, who purified were
To keep their blessed Paschal Supper, be
Stain'd by the touch of that accursed Tree.

44

On Jesus's wounds His Death the Soldiers lay,
And He must earn His Cross's Service by
First bearing it: then hasting Him away,
They 'gin their march; thus with a barbarous cry
Of Tongues and Trumpets, which the welkin rent,
Through Salem's Streets this sad procession went.

45

But He whose Springs so drained were before
Of Blood and Spirits, feeble grew and faint:
In vain they kick Him, and in vain they tore
Him forward by His Hair; for no constraint
Can screw weak Nature into strength, or breed
Robustuous Firmness in a broken Reed.

46

Easy indeed and light His Burden is:
But that's not this Himself was pleas'd to bear:
For though His bloody Yoke did grind and press
Him to the ground, He lays upon His dear
And faithful Followers no weight, but such
As helps them up Heav'n's lofty gate to reach.

47

What Heart not seared by the fire of Hell,
Could now Compassion's yearning tears repress?
But these rude Sons of Mars are by the fell
Cantagion of the Jewish Salvageness
So deeply tainted, that what might invite
Panthers to pity, only whets their Spight.

48

For meerly in prevention of the Loss
Of that choice sport their hopes had fram'd, when He
Should fairly yield them mounted on His Cross
A steady Mark, at which all scoffs might be
Directly aim'd; they from this Load reprieve Him,
And force Cyrenian Simon to relieve him.

49

Nay Live, good Sir, you shall, till you may Die
As you deserve: mean while this Earnest take
Of that full sum, which we will by and by
On Golgotha without abatement make:
Which said, they slash'd Him, and so much the more,
As with His Blood He no Complaints would pour.

50

Indeed the softer sex, attending Him
And His still-growing woes with tenderer eyes,
In His own Blood could not behold Him swim,
But with their sympathetick Tears and Cries
Confess'd that Women still had Bowels, though
Remorsless stone Men's Hearts did overgrow.

51

But Jesus, who had all this grievous while
Encourag'd by His patient silence those
Most spightful Tempest[s] belched by the vile
And loudly-railing Jews; doth now oppose
These Women's loving showers, and turn on them
With nobler Pity their own pitying stream.

52

For 'twas His brave Ambition to engross
All griefs and sorrows to Himself to day;
Esteeming every groan of their's His loss,
And all His woes disparaged, if they
Intruded thus, and must His Partners be
In this calamitous Monopoly.

53

Weep not ye Daughters of Jerusalem,
Weep not for Me, who ope have set My Breast
To every Anguish which can hither stream,
And heartily will welcome every guest:
Weep not for Me, said He, whose sorrows are
Not to be quenched by a mortal Tear.

54

If you will broach your Bottles, let them run
Both for your selves, and your unhappy seed;
Those lamentable Days are posting on
Which all your brine, and more than all will need;
The Days when Blessing shall no longer spread
Its joyous Complement on Mothers' Head.

55

The barren Womb shall then applauded be
As fertile in the choisest Happiness;
All Tongues shall then those Paps' aridity
Which ne'r nurs'd up a Prey for slaughter, bless:
Then shall the dearest Pledges of your Love,
Your Sons and Daughters, living torments prove.

56

Then in impatient longing for a Grave,
Despairing Men shall to the Mountains call,
And every neighbour Hill's compassion crave,
Beseeching them upon their Heads to fall,
And hide them, though in Death, from seeing what
Perplexity shall through the World be shot.

57

For if in Me, a young and verdant tree
The flames of vengeance thus prevailing are;
What dismal Doom shall executed be
On stumps and trunks, all withered and sear,
And ready-dry'd, and fuel fit indeed
Only their own combustion to feed.

58

Strait, in a fresh blaspheming cursing fit
This set the frantick Rout; who ask'd Him, Why
When they of late so humbly begged it
He would not condescend to prophesy?
And why His entheous Tongue could not as well
His own, as others' misery, foretell?

59

And see, good Prophet, yonder Hill, said they;
Be sure you take before too late it prove,
Your own advice: let's hear what you can say,
Both its Compassion, and it self, to move.
Set out your throat; if hard and loud you plead,
Perhaps 'twill bow its own to hide your Head.

60

Nay, use your strongest Rhetorick; and know
It mightily concerns you to prevail:
For your arrested Life and Credit now
Nothing but that great Miracle can bail;
Since if that Hill comes not to you, by Fate
It is decreed, that you must go to that.

61

Then having star'd a while upon Him, all
Whose Fists, or Toes, or Spittle Him could reach,
With thick and peevish indignation fall
Upon His brused bloody Body: which
Variety of Scorns He vanquish'd by
Meek Silence; and march'd up to Calvary.

62

This Calvary, where now we standing are,
Which from a Scull deriv'd its solemn Name;
Adam's discover'd Scull, whose Sepulchre
Was digged here: which secret careful Fame
Told to posterity, and so the Hill
Wears in its Title that old story still.

63

With such Decorum did thy prudent Lord
His meritorious Passion order, that
The Second Adam might His help afford,
To free the First where chain'd he lay and shut
In Death's dark Jayl,—the most remorsless Grave,—
To worms, and stinks, and putrifaction slave.

64

Jesus on that dry Dust contriv'd to shed
His sovereign and purifying Blood;
That He might wash and cure the tainted Head
Of deadly miseries ev'n by the Flood
Of His own Life; that Life which only can
Restore true vital vigor unto Man.

65

Here, here the Cross's steady foot was set,
When up it bare the World's Supporter; here
Is that renowned Soil, which once was wet
With richer Drops than ever shoured were
From kindest Heav'n; that potent fertile Dew,
By which Mature Salvation's Harvest grew.

66

But yet this Hill wears not that only Name
Of Calvary; 'twas call'd Moriah too,
When Heav'n-commanded Abraham hither came
His dearer Self to sacrifice, and so
By that unparallel'd Obedience prove
The valorous Bravery of Faithful Love.

67

He hither came, and built his Altar here,
Which pre-possest the nobler Crosse's seat;
So Isaac did thy Lord's a while: yet there
A snarled Ram untwisted Isaac's fate;
But no Vicegerent here, no Ram alas
Which might of God's own Lamb supply the place.

68

That fatal Hour of Darkness, Psyche, now
Was come, which in the hand of Tyranny
Left free the reins; and she her freedom knew:
That Hour, when Innocence by Heav'n's Decree
Became surrendred, and abandon'd quite
To feed the Luxury of hungriest Spight.

69

'Tis true, His Lips were complemented by
A draught of Wine; but ah, the Complement
Cruelly mock'd Him by the treachery
Of Bitterness, which made His Taste repent.
Besides, He had resolv'd to swallow down
No blood of Grapes, till He had shed His own.

70

His worryed limbs forthwith the Soldiers stretch
To fit Him to His wide tormenting Tree:
Up to the top His blessed Hands they twitch,
Those Hands which made them; and as violently
They to the bottom draw His Feet, which clear
Of all but their own guiltless Purple were.

71

These Hands and Feet with salvage Nails they make
Ah sadly sure, and rivet Him into
His Pains and Death. What heart-strings would not crack
To see these tender veins broke open? Who
Could barbarize his eyes to keep their flood
At home, now those dear Torrents run abroad?

72

Sure none who dare the Name of Softness wear,
The name of Christian, can this Story read
With hearts so stony, but these Nails will tear
Their Thoughts, and make their Contemplations bleed:
For how can living genuine Members be
Not wounded with their Head's Calamity.

73

But these inhumane Torturers shouting loud
In desperate applause of this their Sin,
Rear up the Trophy of their rage, with proud
Delight to see their Victory. So when
Harpyes on heaps have heap'd their butcher'd Prey,
They smile, and clap their wings for cursed joy.

74

So when the Prince of monstrous Barbarousness
Abimelech, had seav'nty breaches in
The Bands of Nature made; by murdering his
Envy'd but harmless Brethren; on his Sin
The Fabrick of his high Content he built,
And measured his Triumph by his Guilt.

75

This done; on either hand a noted Thief
They crucify; by these Companions so
To cheat the foolish World into belief
That He of equal Crimes was guilty too.
Alas, He knew no other Theft but this,
To steal His Torturers to heav'nly Bliss.

76

For whilst between these Bryers, like the Rose,
Or beauteous Virtue 'twixt her foul Extremes,
He nailed is; He plots to save His Foes,
And projects how to pay them Diadems
For these His Tortures: unto Heav'n He flies
On Love's stout wings, and to His Father cries:

77

Father! by all the Sweets of that dear Name,
Regard the Prayer of Thy dying Son:
By this My Cross, and all its noble Shame,
By these four Wounds which with full current run;
By all these Thorns which on My Temples grow,
And sharper those which pierce My Bosom through:

78

Behold not Thou the Sin of these poor Men,
Since they themselves perceive not what they do;
Though foolish, yet they are My Brethren:
O spare them then! Let not their Error who
Occasion all the World's most sovereign Bliss,
Make their own souls their proper portion miss.

79

Though blind, 'tis Zeal: the Blindness O forgive,
And teach their Zeal henceforth to use its eyes:
Why hang I here, if not for their Reprieve
Whose Wickedness most needs this Sacrifice?
Since I to drink Thy Fury ready am,
O make it not a Potion for Them.

80

Thus deign'd the Lamb for ravening Wolves to pray,
The Partridge for the Hawks. O mighty Love
Which all the Wrongs of this most barbarous Day
Cannot repress! the more the Caytifs strove
To wreak upon Him their elaborate Spight,
The more on them He tries His Mercie's Might.

81

Thus let Arabian Odours brused be,
Their sweet revenge they on their Enemies take
By pouring out to them their treasury
Of pure Perfumes; whose Breaths no anger speak,
But in the Language of delicious Sent
And that alone, are kindly eloquent.

82

Thus when the tender Vine is nailed fast
About her Prop, and by the pruning Knife
Robb'd of her Limbs; she taketh no distaste
At all those deep intrenchments on her life,
But with a bounteous Vintage strives to chear
The heart of him who wounds and mangles her.

83

But what care retchless they, who scorn to be
By Kindness softned? Wax indeed may run,
Warm'd by the Touch of Highnoon's charity;
But sordid Mud although the courteous Sun
With free and ful-tide Raies about it flows,
In stead of Melting only harder grows.

84

More need they think that Jesus has to Pray
For's Self, than Them; and smiling with disdain
At His unask'd-for Intercession, they
High time now count it to divide their Gain:
This was His Clothes, the Lamb's poor plunder'd fleece,
The simple prize of their bold Villanies.

85

His other Robes they severally share:
But since His larger Vesture's texture was
Intire and seamless, they contented are
To offer the decision of the case
To Fortune's sentence, and conclude by Lot
To give that whole they thought too good to cut.

86

Too good they thought this Common-web to be
Mangled and slash'd; yet with the self-same Heart
Abhorred not His precious Flesh to see
Gashed, and plow'd, and rent in every part.
Rude Butchers thus think fit the Skin to keep
Untorn, although they quarter out the Sheep.

87

But now thy Lord was seated on His Throne,
Of pangs, His Royal style above His Head,
By Pilate fixed is; and, though but one,
Yet in three Languages decyphered;
The Learned three; that all the World might learn
The Mystery which did their Life concern.

88

Indeed the Highpriest's Stomach's rose, and pray'd
The Judge to write Him but pretended King:
But he, by Heav'n or Conscience oversway'd,
Their peevish suit away sullenly flung.
To make His wronged Person some amends,
Thy Saviour's Title stoutly he defends.

89

Mean while arrayed in His naked Gore,
Sweet Jesus sadly hangs 'twixt Heav'n and Earth,
Of both rejected; yet doth freely pour
The World's red price at four wide floodgates forth:
An object of more Pity never yet
Exposed was, nor reaped less of it.

90

All Passengers without Regard went on,
And turn'd their careless backs upon His sorrow:
Which surely upon theirs had Jesus done,
Alas, they must themselves have waded thorough
The Ocean of tempestuous Pangs, nor had
He in their stead this woful voyage made.

91

Yet well it were, if only this Neglect
Made war upon His Patience; if His Foes
To heedless sleighting and cold Disrespect
No busy active Malice join'd: But those
Ingenious Sons of Mischief still devise
New tricks and ways afresh to tyrannize.

92

For not contented with their Nails and Thorns
To dig His precious Body, now they strive
To pierce His Soul with ignominious scorns,
To wound His Meekness, and His Suff'rings grieve:
His bloody Cross cannot their spight suffice,
Unless He mocked and reviled dies.

93

They point their Fingers, and their Heads they shake;
And then their crueller Tongues, and thus they cry:
Remember what your Pride once pleas'd to crack;
You could both ruin and re-edify
That Pile in three days' space: yet, mighty Sir,
The Temple stands, and You are hanged here.

94

For shame make good your boasted Power, and now
Shake from your Hands, kick from your Feet the Nails;
Command the Cross before your face to bow;
Call home your stragling Blood; close at your Heels
Destruction hunts: high time it is to save
Your self, if you design to scape your grave.

95

O no; the Elders, Scribes, and Priests reply,
Though many seeming Wonders He hath done;
Though cured many an ugly Malady:
Though strangely conjur'd up Salvation
For others: yet 'tis certain, wretched He
Can never to Himself a Saviour be.

96

No cheating lying Prophet e'r was known,
Who once into the hands of Justice brought,
Could by his highest Witchcraft reach his own
Deliverance, and work his Carcass out
Of Chains or Tortures: for if this might be,
Who could distinguish Truth from Forgery?

97

Now it appears by whose assistance He
Breath'd with His Word that Nature-conquering strength
Which charm'd the People's fond Credulity.
But Belzebub is wise enough at length
To leave his Instrument to Justice, when
Through all his Task of Mischief He has run.

98

Now Pilate finds how little cause he had
To shake his Head at our importunate Cry:
Had not our Zeal that fervent Onset made
On his abused Lordship's Lenity,
This rank Impostor, then reprieved, might
Have pass'd still for a Wonder-working Wight.

99

Yet if the potent King of Israel now
Will deign to stoop from that unkingly Tree,
And to His Subjects' doubtful hearts allow
This proof of His Divine Supremacy;
For our parts, we are ready here, and will
Believe His Pow'r, and His Commands fulfil.

100

What can He more expect from Us, who are
Attending on Him in His deepest Shame,
And wait till He will please those Mists to clear,
Which damp the lustre of His glorious Name?
So fain our homage we to Him would pay,
Would He assert Himself, and ope our way.

101

But silly King, nor hand nor foot can He
Stir, though His Kingdom lyeth at the stake;
He talk'd as if the Clouds His Coach should be,
And that upon the Air's commanded back,
He'd ride into our view: yet now, alas,
We find His sorry Charet's but His Cross.

102

He oft was heard to brag of God His Sire:
How is it then His Father owns him not?
Sure were He worth the Owning, all the Quire
Of Heav'n, would bring their Wings to hide this Blot
Of His so broad, so deep Disgrace, and hence
In triumph carry home their Native Prince.

103

Shame on your blasphemously-shameless Tongue,
Unpriestly Priests: for Jesus aimeth not
To free Himself, but You who flout and sting
His noble Patience. He has not forgot
That Truly-sovereign He holds treasur'd in
His Hands Omnipotence's Magazine.

104

For those Almighty Hands He stretcheth out,
Are busied in working your Salvation.
He could Come down; but stays till He has wrought
The mighty Act of his victorious Passion.
He could Come down; but His Design is now
Up after Him all groveling Men to draw.

105

He could Come down; did you not fix Him there,
Not with your Nails, but with your stronger sins.
He could Come down; were but His Life as dear
To Him as yours: but on His Wrongs He wins,
And by Love's indefatigable Might
Strives to subdue the utmost spight of spight.

106

Down should He come; ye foolish Miscreants how
Could you get up the Hill of Heav'nly Bliss!
Down should He come; how desperately low
Would you and all the World be tumbled! this
Your Exaltation is, and not His own,
Who Condescendeth by not Coming down.

107

O Psyche, barbarous were those scoffs: but yet
More stinging Ignominy's still behind;
For now the putid Thieves upon Him spit
Their odious taunts, and seem in Him to find
What their vile Souls amidst the Miseries
Of their own cursed Crosses, dare despise.

108

Ink scorns the Snow, foul Night upbraideth Day,
The virgin Spring deflowred Puddles mock,
Dark Shades contemn the Sun's Meridian Ray,
The Swan by Rav'ns is hooted at as black,
Blind sneaking Bats reproach the Eagle's Eyes,
And Hell it self insults o'r Paradise.

109

Art Thou that mighty Christ, said they, and yet
Hang'st here the patient Game of Shame and Spight?
Can Heav'n's great Son so far Himself forget,
As rather to endure to Die, than Fight?
Discredit not the Lord of Hosts, if He
Thy Father be, by yielding cowardly.

110

Come, justify that Royal Title there,
Which now but laughs at Thine ignoble Head:
Approve Thy self the Jewish King, and tear
Thy Fame and Life from Ruin's jaws: but spread
Thy Favour too on us, that under Thee
The Sovereign, we may glorious Nobles be.

111

For since in these Thy deep misfortunes we
Of all the World Thy sole Companions are;
We well in Thy restor'd Prosperity
May promise our Desert the deepest share:
'Tis true, we 're Thieves: but such a one we hear
Was Judas too; yet your Lord Treasurer.

112

And reason good: since Thieves and Murderers now
Are Names of Credit grown: did not our Nation
Elect Barabbas, reprobating You?
Although in pangs, sweet Sir, be not in passion.
So scoffed they; and then they roar'd for pain;
But quickly fell to mock and curse again.

113

And shall not Heav'n's Artillery now attend
Its injur'd King? Can Earth this Language hear,
And her indignant Mouth not open rend
Into Damnation's Gulph these Elves to tear?
No: Jesus still no Vengeance can approve
But that of patient and silent Love.

114

Sweet Vengeance! which so strongly wrought upon
One of this loud blaspheming Pair, that he
Converts his Curses to Devotion,
And prompts his Fellow-thief to Piety;
Rebuking sharply his outrageous Tongue,
Which still persu'd his Lord with shameless wrong.

115

We only are the proper Fruit, saith he,
Of these accursed Trees, whose Root is Sin:
For how did Jesse's Branch deserve to be
Torn from His Royal Stock, and grafted in
To that vile Trunk! O score no Blot on His
Account, who purer than the Lilies is.

116

If e'r thou mean'st to have a sense of God,
'Tis time, high time, before thy Senses fail:
Though Standers-by feel nothing of His Rod,
Thy present Tortures may with thee prevail;
They leisure have to flout, so hast not thou
Who on Damnation's brink art tottering now.

117

Then like a wise and sober Thief indeed,
He seeks to steal into his Saviour's Grace:
Great King of Heav'n, he cries, I plainly read
Thy Majesty though in Thy clouded Face.
Thy Goodness taught mine Eyes this skill; O then
Let Mercy finish what she hath begun.

118

When in Thy Kingdom Thou shalt mounted be
Upon Thy Throne of Glory, O forget
Those Wrongs my Ignorance hath pour'd on Thee,
On Thee, the God of Innocence: but yet
Forget not Me, whom greater pangs must grieve
Than these, unless Thy Pity me reprieve.

119

Jesus, whose Goodness never yet disdain'd
To hear the humble suppliant Sinner's cry,
Though His provoked Lips themselves refrain'd
In those loud storms of scornful Blasphemy;
With gracious sweetness now assurance gave
Unto the dying Thief, that he should live.

120

Though thou to Death's dark door art drawing nigh,
Ev'n that shall prove the gate of Life to thee;
My Word, the pillar of all Certainty,
To thee I pawn: Thou from that cursed Tree
Stepping to Paradise's bow'rs to day,
Thy Head with me on Bliss's bed shalt lay.

121

The Priests and People loudly laugh'd to hear
Him talk of giving Bliss, who hung in Pain;
Blind fools, who could not now discern how clear
His Power shin'd, which from Hell's jaws could gain
So strange a Prize, and by Love's mild constraint
Make of a cursing Thief a praying Saint.

122

By this dear Token He to every one
Of them, aforehand did their Pardon seal,
If they, what now the humble Thief had done,
Would to His Grace with broken hearts appeal:
But wretched They this tender deep Design
Of Love, by obstinacy countermine.

123

Profoundly did this Scorn of Mercy tear
His most divinely-gentle breast. But He
Spying His precious virgin-Mother there,
And virgin-Friend, of this His Tragedy
The sad Spectators: lo, a double dart
Of fresh Grief shot quite through His bleeding heart.

124

For in His Mother's wounded Soul He saw
That Sword now sheathed which old Simeon
In Prophesy had drawn; and though no Throw
She felt at first in bringing forth her Son;
For Him she now in hard hard Labour strains,
And pays her debt of puerperial Pains.

125

O how the bowels of her yearning Heart
Are rent and torn, although untouch'd. How she
Profoundly griped is with distant smart,
And made a Sacrifice to sympathy!
For from her Son she feeleth every wound
On her soft self most heavily rebound.

126

A siege of Thorns now hedge her Temples in,
To Tortures nailed are her Hands and feet,
Tatter'd and mangled is her dainty skin,
Her flesh plow'd up, Her veins wide open set,
And all her modest Body to the view
Exposed is of every shameless Jew.

127

On her those spightful Taunts and Blasphemies
Their venome spew, and swell with grief her Breast;
That Breast which noble Love so strictly ties
And cements to her Son's, that not the least
Division can interpose, or make
This Double one themselves for single take.

128

If she had in her other self, if she
In Mary had been Crucify'd, the Cross
Had seem'd a finite Sorrow; but to be
Destroy'd in Jesus, is so vast a Loss
As knows no limits, being stretched forth
By His incomparable boundless Worth.

129

Her Hope, her Joy, her Life, her Love, her Bliss,
Her Heav'n, her Son, her God, all these she now
Abandon'd sees to deadly Enemies;
And what has Mary more? How shall she row
Through this fierce Sea, which in each gaping Wave
Presents her O how much more than a Grave!

130

Were any Port in ken which might invite
And cheer her tempest-broken Hopes; or did
The courtesy of any Pharus's light
This Ocean of Blackness check; her head
She still with courage might have rear'd: but now
All Heav'n is dark above, all earth below.

131

As oft as to the Cross she opes her eyes,
Death rusheth in; yet she as oft do's die
As to their strong Compassion she denies
That ruful Spectacle. Alas had I,
Or any Seraph, by Grief's armies so
Beleaguer'd been and storm'd, what could we do!

132

What but surrender! yet most noble She
Strugling amidst a thousand Deaths, at last
Snatch'd from her mighty Losses, victory,
Whilst at the feet of God's great Will she cast
Her own: as gallant Abraham, when He
Preferr'd before his Isaac, Piety.

133

Yet what was Isaac unto Jesus! O
With how much dearer Prize did Mary part!
Though Isaac precious was, he could not so
Profoundly be ingrav'd in Abraham's heart,
As He in Mary's: yet content is she
Ev'n of her heart's own Heart depriv'd to be.

134

O Heav'nly Mother! never Agony
Was more heroical than this of thine;
Except thy Son's, when in the Garden He
His bloody humane Patience prov'd Divine:
And all Decorum 'twas, that next the Son
The Mother, Glory's hardest race should run.

135

But Psyche, though this Amazon of Love
So stoutly fought; yet John, whose valor's metal
Was of a britler temper, could not prove
Himself so strong in this Distresse's battle:
He strove a while with hearty fervor, but
Poor Saint, at length he found the fight too hot.

136

For whilst his eyes dwelt sadly on that Breast
Upon whose Sweets his head was wont to lie;
And those dear Arms, which us'd to hug him fast
And chain him into Bliss; the Tyranny
Which now on them had seized, overthrew
His melting Soul, and all his Comforts slew.

137

He wonder'd what the virgin Mother meant
Whose Hopes dar'd live, ev'n whilst her Life was dying;
And on what bottom stood that strange Content
The fall of Joy's foundation defying:
For his part, bow he must to sad Dismay
Since with his Lord his Heart a bleeding lay.

138

Jesus observ'd them Both; and saw how She
Although her Sorrows far the mightier were,
Compell'd them to her Will to stoop; how He
Yielded, and let the Tempest domineer
Through all his conquer'd breast: and seeing this,
Felt what He saw in Both, for Both were His.

139

He felt their Tortures; but with deeper sense
Than they themselves, and more Excess of pain:
His Soul was temper'd to the Excellence
Of daintiest softness, and could not refrain
Its bowels from resenting all the Darts
He spy'd in any of His Spouse's hearts.

140

Witness His tender Care before he dies,
To cheer them by a bounteous Legacy:
His Mother, far above all Jewels' price,
Ev'n in that dearest of Relations, He
To John bequeaths; and mutually John
To her, and that no other than as Son.

141

Sweet Legacy! where though the Mother be
The richer Gift, if valued alone;
Yet is the balance poised equally
Now John's inhanced by the name of Son;
A Name intitling him alone to be
(O wonderous honor!) Jesu's Deputy.

142

A long-long hour had now run out, since by
His weeping Wounds the King of Mercy hung:
Yet from the staring People's stony eye
He of compassion not one drop had wrung:
This made the Sun, though on his high-noon throne,
Doubt his own eyes had not their duty done.

143

But looking wistly, he discover'd that
Bold Men had exil'd all Humanity:
Which sight a Blush through all his count'nance shot
In shame and horror at the Prodigy:
He blush'd, and shut his royal eyes, and hurl'd
More than Cimmeria on the guilty World.

144

Though Earth refuse, yet will the Heav'ns at least
In mourning Weeds their dying Lord attend,
And with no gaudy tire of Light be drest
Now all the Powers of Hell and Darkness bend
Their uncontrolled spight, in Him to damp
All other lights' divine original Lamp.

145

The Air was daunted at this monstrous Change,
When Midnight boldly ravish'd Highnoon Day,
Marching with gloomy Spectres, and with strange
Phantoms of dusky fire, in fierce array;
Whilst every hollow Wind which passed by,
Groand and bemoan'd this sad Calamity.

146

The lesser Sparks of Heav'n all started at
Their sudden privilege, who now might view
The open face of Noon; and marvell'd what
Had thrown upon the Sun his sable Hue:
With doubting twinckling eyes on Him they gaze
At once both down, and in his highest place.

147

Each gentle fair-condition'd Bird and Beast
Hy'd them into their nests and dens for fear:
Only some ominous Ravens and Scritchowls thrust
Their sooty pinions through the swarthy air;
And to the Jews, their fellow-monsters, croke;
Who little thought what fatal things they spoke.

148

Dismays and frights walk'd not so thick upon
The muffled face of Memphis, when the mad
Egyptians were by vengeance over-run,
And in a three-days' Night lay buried.
Amaz'd stood Nature, and began to doubt
Her Life, now she beheld her Light put out.

149

The grave Astronomers, who with Titan were
Of old acquaintance, and knew all his Gifts,
His Way, his Inns, his Hosts, and wheresoe'r
His restless Coach in his bright road persists;
Quite lost themselves to find what Prodigies
Had plunder'd him both of his Locks and Eyes.

150

None could suspect the Moon as guilty; She
Knew not the business, being far away;
No less than half the Heav'n's immensity
Betwixt Hers and her Brother's station lay;
For whilst He flourish'd in the perfect Height
Of Day, he groveled in the Depth of Night.

151

Yet granting some portentuous Wheel had from
Her due and proper Place thus whirl'd her; say
How could her pety bulk usurp the room
Of his vast flames, and dam up all the Day.
Sure Phebus scorns that her small Blot should rob
The total Beauties of his mighty Globe.

152

O no! a larger Blot it was then so:
A Blot where Blackness all its powers combines,
A Blot to which the Ink is Alpine Snow,
A Blot compounded of all ugliest Sins,
A Blot as hideous, as profound, as wide
As Impudence could make; 'twas Deicide.

153

No wonder now Heav'n would not viewed be
By those who slaughtered her King; or that
Just Phebus his less reverend Majesty
Deny'd to desperate them who blushed not
Thus to eclipse and quench that Soverain Sun
Whose open eyes his durst not gaze upon.

154

Yet this dire Darkness but the shadow was
Of that more monstrous Pitch which stuck upon
The blinded Jews' obdurate hearts: alas
This Prodigy's stern admonition
Could not awake their sober thoughts to see
How frighted Day abhorr'd their Cruelty.

155

The itching Wit of their immortal Spight
Detorteth all things into Blasphemy:
Behold, say they, the most audacious might
Of His unsufferable Witchery;
Whilst other Wizzards only on the Moon
Or Stars throw darkness, how He chokes the Sun.

156

The Sun He chokes, and fondly hopeth by
New Villany to hide that shame to which
His former Crimes are nail'd: yet still the Eye,
The higher Eye of Heav'n, to Him can reach;
And so can ours, however cunning He
Before He gains His grave would buried be.

157

His Goblings came too late: a pretty Trick
Women and Boys to scare; but He, 'tis thought,
Has met with Men. Thus belched they their thick
Insulting scoffs: yet still they cast about
Their doubtful Eyes, and in their count'nance spread
A pale confession of their guilty Dread.

158

But, Psyche, now the Day's Ninth hour drew on
This Tragedy's last Act to represent;
That most amazing Hour, in which alone
More Horrors than all Ages' vast extent
Had e'r beheld, and ru'd, together met,
And in array themselves all armed set.

159

His other Griefs but dim Preludiums were;
And gathering Clouds, in which the storm was bred;
But now grown ripe, that storm in full carreer
Broke down and sous'd directly on His Head.
Thus in the stream was He, in Him the stream,
For now into His Soul the Waters came.

160

The Waters of that loathsome Cup, which He
Both fear'd and lov'd, eschew'd and chose to drink:
The fatal dregs of Wrath and Misery;
Of every black and dreadful thing the Sink;
The true dead Sea, compar'd with which, alas,
Curs'd Sodom's Lake a living Fountain was.

161

Heav'n's Justice (who had with a constant Eye
Observ'd all Tribes of Men, and noted down
Each little slip, and broad Impiety,
With all the trappings Time and Place had thrown
About them,) hither rent her passage, and
Full in thy Spouse's Face took up her stand.

162

For at His Eyes alone her own she shot,
And not at theirs who most deserv'd the blow.
The dint was so intolerable, that
Not any Rock, nor Mount, or World knew how
To meet its fury. O what Parallel
Can represent this direful spectacle!

163

Less Terror from the Vulture's count'nance breaks
When she her tallons claps upon her prey;
Less from the Eyes of Lightning, when it takes
Aim for the Thunder's arrows; than to day
Flash'd from this cruel Maid, in whose fell look
Her dismal Throne accomplish'd Vengeance took.

164

Immortal Dread star'd wide in either Eye;
Plow'd was her Forehead, and the Furrows deep
Sown with the Seeds of all Severity,
And now mature for Jesus's Soul to reap:
Her Cheeks red-hot, a spark was every Word,
Bright fire her Lips, her Tongue a flaming Sword.

165

She never in such horrible Array
March'd down to Earth; not when she furnish'd came
With Water's arms to wash the World away;
Or purge Gomorrha with a flood of Flame;
Or wet her winged fiery Serpents' Tongue,
The Israelites' Rebellion to sting.

166

A veil, so hideously black, that Night
Or Hell, could not in Darkness vie with it,
'Twixt Heav'n and Her was spread; which, tho' Day-light
Here now at liberty, would not permit
The stoutest Mortal's Sin-condemned Eyes,
To reach the gracious comfortable Skies.

167

Ten thousand Furies throng'd on either hand,
With millions of Pangs and Ejulations;
Whilst strong Eternity supported, and
Hugg'd every Horror: troops of Desperations,
Raving and rioting with barbarous chear
In their own Blood, made up her Army's Rear.

168

A Massy sable Book she sternly held,
And op'd it leaf by leaf to Jesus's Eyes:
When lo, each dreadful page appeared fill'd
With crouds of such transcendent Prodigies,
As quite absolv'd from Horridness's guilt
Those Feinds of which her Regiments were built.

169

Lin'd out was that Rebellion there, which grew
In Paradise, so huge and rank a Weed,
That it no limits but the World's would know;
For through all Generations its Seed
It scatter'd thick, and made each pois'ned Birth
Of its own Death bring full assurance forth.

170

The Serpent which in Eden planted it,
Wears not such fatal Horror in his Face,
Nor stings so deep, nor can his Venom spit
So far and wide, nor e'r attended was
With such a numerous hissing fry, as this
Old Beldame sin by young ones follow'd is.

171

This was the fearful Frontespice: But Pride
Usurp'd the first and fairest Leaf, and shew'd
(What never mask was large enough to hide)
Her swoll'n and blister'd Countenance, which spew'd
Rank baneful matter, being brused by
A fall she caught as she was climbing high.

172

Then follow'd learing Spight, sly Calumny,
Lean Avarice besmear'd with gnawing Rust,
Ignoble Cheating, ugly Treachery,
Dark sneaking Theft, and ever-stinging Lust,
Intemperance wallowing in a nasty flood
Of Vomit; Murder in a sea of Blood.

173

That Earth-relying Heav'n-distrusting Thing,
Foolish base-hearted Infidelity;
Grinding Extortion, and self-torturing,
Because for ever jealous Tyranny;
Rotten Hypocrisy; proud learned Folly;
Dire Discontent; and hellish Melancholy.

174

Disloyal Murmurs; Pulpit Villanies;
Curs'd Holy Leagues; and zealous Profanations;
Sin-fatning Fasts; Thanksgiving solemn Lyes;
Bold Sacrilege; rebellious Reformations;
Enchanting Error; venemous Heresy;
New Lights and Spirits; old Idolatry.

175

But for their number, it disdains the skill
Of Computation, and all figures' reach,
Not all the Sparks whose glistering Armies fill
The field of Heav'n; not all the Atoms which
Traffick about the Summer Air, can tell
Their mighty Total how to parallel.

176

For each dwarf fault, and gyant Crime did stand
In martial rank and file arrayed there,
Which any humane Tongue of Heart or Hand
Was ever stained with, since through the ear
Of heedless Eve the Tempter's charms let in
The desperate Torrent of contagious Sin.

177

Nay more than so: for every Stain which through
All Ages to the end of Time's carreer
Shall taint the World, most mindful Justice now
Had in a black Appendix marshall'd: there
Psyche, thy proud Revolt, and all the rest
Of thy offences, were at large exprest.

178

And so were His, whose Pen hereafter shall
Paint, with more Will than Art, thy Legend: His,
His monstrous Score, which stood outglaring all
Its hideous Neighbours. And so true is this
My Witness, that it fairly by his Hand
In his own Records registred shall stand.

179

And if the least of Crimes, (as sure it is,)
Be infinitely foul, imagin then
How strange a Mass of horridness was this
Whose bulk was swell'd with All the Sins of Men:
What store of black Infinities were here
For single Jesus's wounded Back to bear.

180

For Justice heap'd them all upon His Back,
That He who did no Sin, might suffer all.
How would the World's deep-rooted Pillars crack,
Should such a Load upon their shoulders fall!
How would the all-supporting Center faint,
And strive to shrink into a smaller Point!

181

How would the joints of noblest Seraphs quake;
How would the Cherubs' sinnews tremble at
This Burden, which all Nature's bones would break,
And lay Heav'n's highest stoutest Powers flat!
Which all human Hearts for ever press
Down to that bottom which is bottomless!

182

Now Jesus groans, and feels His heartstrings stretch,
This monstrous Weight so sadly on them lies:
Those other Torments He forgets with which
The Whips and Nails and Jewish Blasphemies
His Patience had varied: River's powers
Are lost, when them the mighty Sea devours.

183

Should all the deepest Pangs that e'r did yet
The Veins and Joints and Lives of Mortals tear,
In one fell composition be knit,
And then enraged to their full carreer;
Less furious would their fury be than that
Which now on Jesus's soul in triumph sate.

184

It sate in triumph, barracading up
All Avenues which to His heart did lead,
That not the least Relief might pass, nor Hope
It self; if possible, be suffered
To march that way. Alas what Martyrs e'r
Girt in so strict a siege of Sorrows were!

185

Some Comfort it would be, if Heav'n would now
But with a gentile Aspect own its Son;
Who spies no Consolation's glimpse below:
But O, the Spheres are not eclips'd alone
By Phebus's absence; no; another Night
Has thrown its curtain o'r Heav'n's dearer Light.

186

The Light which from His Father's pleased eyes
His whole Soul us'd to drink, its influence hid:
With earnest labouring looks He pleads, and pries,
But is by sad Obscurity deny'd.
O Blackness, which no Parallel canst know!
To thee, all Ink is Milk, all Pitch is Snow.

187

Ask me not Psyche, what He suffer'd now:
Those Pangs are fitter for thy adoration,
Than for thine intellect: and they who row
With bold Enquiries through this Stormy Passion,
Will scarce avoid their shallow thoughts to wrack
Upon some dangerous desperate Mistake.

188

Long grappled He with this unbounded Grief
In patient silence: but His Soul at length
Snatching at least the desolate relief
Of free Complaining, with the utmost strength
Of His imbitter'd spirit, thus He spake:
My God, My God, why dost Thou Me forsake?

189

Am I not still Thy Son, in whom alone
Well-pleas'd Thou wert? Is not Thy Bosom still
The same, where once My habitation
I freely could enjoy? wilt Thou expel
Me, Me the Image of Thy blessed Face,
Thus from the view of its all-sweetning Grace?

190

Less terrible that Outcry was which shook
The tow'rs of Memphis, when the wretched King
And all his People, to one fatal stroke
Beheld their Firstborn Hopes an Offering:
And that which tore Gomorrha's throat, when from
The Heav'ns she felt her Hell and Brimstone come.

191

Had every Sigh, and every Groan and Shriek
With which the Air of Bethlehem was rent
When Rachel saw the streets so sadly reek
With an unheard-of flood of innocent
And infant blood, met in one Ejulation,
Its fra[n]gor had not match'd this Exclamation.

192

Never was such a lamentable Cry
Wrung from the mouth of Grief; and never was
Complaint more unregarded: Clemency
Was deaf; without all bowels Heav'n no less
Than Earth, pass'd by. Did ever tragick Day
So black a Scene of Heaviness display!

193

Sorrow her self amazed at the sight,
Would have repented of her Tyranny:
But Jesus meant not to decline the fight
Since die He could, but could not conquer'd be.
O no: He hugs His Horrors, and although
His Nature shrinks, His Courage loves His Woe.

194

Thus gallant Soldiers in the dreadful Wars
With generous Pride their gushing blood behold;
Counting their Glories only by their Scars,
And that their dearest Limbs they well have sold,
Yea and their Hearts, and Lives; if so they may
Upon their Herses wear triumphant Bay.

195

How fondly dreamt some Standers by, who thought
That He Elias call'd to help Him down!
He help'd Elias up; and could have brought
Him and his Charet back: but He His own
Fast-fixed Pillar of extreme Reproach
More glorious judgeth than that Prophet's Coach.

196

At length, as in the furnace of His Pain
This helpless Victor fries, He cries, I thirst.
O how He long'd Himself to drink and drain
The dregs of Grief; that none of that accurst
And deadly Draught He might behind Him leave,
His mortal Brethren evermore to grieve.

197

But cruel They His burning lips present
With Vinager, who broach'd the Wine for Them,
His Blood's most precious Wine; all which He spent
To wash and cheer their hearts. Do's He not seem
O salvage Jews, without the help of this
Strange Gift, to feel enough of Bitterness!

198

Is this your Thanks to Him, whose Bountie's Hand
Cull'd out for you the Jewel of the Earth,
Your fertile milk-and-honey flowing Land?
And who a Kingdom of more noble worth
To entertain you, after this, prepares,
A Canaan situate above the Stars.

199

Yet Jesus takes it kindly, Psyche; He
Knew that this gnawing Draught would best befit
The dying King of Grief; and Prophesy
Had long ago for Him provided it:
From Heav'n's severe Decree at first 'twas wrung,
And drop'd into His mouth from David's tongue.

200

Besides: that Poison He remembred well
Which in th'enchanting Apple's sweetness grew:
By wholsom Bitterness He means to heal
Ev's licorish Luxury: His Palate now
Both expiates Her's, and nobly teacheth it
That Apple's fatal rellish to forget.

201

This done: the Tragedy began to know
Its End approach'd: For Jesus having by
Immortal Patience undergone the Law
And Curse, and grappled with the monstrous fry
Of all the World's Transgressions; lifts His head
In triumph up, and cries, 'Tis finished.

202

O that it were! said Mary who stood by:
So should my Soul still live with my dear Lord.
If He has found a way how not to die
In purchasing our life, His cheerful word
Now now may He make good! So sighed she:
But He made haste to His Catastrophe.

203

For Justice now had nothing more to say;
The Blood which down the Cross its torrents threw
All her Objections had wash'd away;
And every Page of her black Volume grew
Full as serene and fair as is the skies
Pure face when rescu'd from the Clouds' disguise.

204

Dismissing therefore all her horrid Train,
Her satisfied self she strait withdrew:
When Jesus looking up to Heav'n again,
Perceiv'd the Veil, which shadow'd had till now
His Father's Face, remov'd. O blessed Sight!
O cheerful Morning after heavy Night!

205

No absence of the Sun could now forbid
His bright and heav'nly Day of Joy to shine;
Such floods of purest Comfort issued
Out from the fountain of that most divine
Most tender Apparition, as drown'd
The streams and pains of every bleeding wound.

206

He saw His Sire's eternal Arms as wide
Stretch'd out, as His were on the Cross; He saw
His gracious ready open Bosom bid
Him to his Nest of Bliss return, and grow
His happy Self again; He saw His Eye
Flaming in pitying Love's extremity.

207

An everlasting Laurel in His hand
He saw, designed to confute the Shame
Wreath'd in His thorny Crown; He saw the grand
Cherubick Quire ambitious to proclaim
His Conquests in their Songs: And at the sight
Resolv'd to Die, He cries with hearty might:

208

Father, into Thy hands I here commit
My Spirit, which Thou woo'st to come to Thee:
Up flew that mighty Word, and after it
Towred His blessed Soul; whilst noble He
Bow'd down His head, submitting sweetly to
That Will He came by life and death to do.

209

Th'affected Temple heard His dying Cry,
And with deep horror tore its clothes; to all
The sober world the Veil proclaiming by
That rupture's mouth, th'approaching funeral
Of Jewish Rites, and Moses' resignation
Of mouldering Law to Gospel renovation.

210

Earth heard it too, and at the fra[n]gor quaked,
Her Rocks were rent, her Sepulchres flew ope;
And many sleeping Saints by it awaked,
Russled their Dust together and gat up:
Nature's commotion was so great and strange,
That in the sturdy Guard it wrought a Change.

211

The bold Centurion with the Earth did shake,
(So did the Soldiers with the Rocks,) and cry,
Surely the World slept in a deep Mistake,
Whilst it discern'd not Jesus's Deity:
His Father now has owned Him, and He
Dy'd when Himself was pleas'd in Bliss to be.

212

For still His Vitals in their strength remain'd,
Though plunder had so deeply rack'd his Veins;
Witness that final Blast of His, which strain'd
That thundring Cry: still in their lingring pains
These wretched Thieves we see, whilst He is gone
To rest Himself on His Celestial Throne.

213

Nay, even on salvage and obdurate Jews,
So far can guilty Fear prevail, that now
The Danger-stricken People could not chuse
But grant their Conscience felt this Terror's Blow;
For though their sullen Tongue would not, their Fist
Confess'd their Fright upon their beaten Breast.

214

Here, Psyche, whose soft Heart had come and gone
A thousand times, as he the story told,
Yielded her self to Grief's dominion;
For e'r her Guardian spy'd it, down she roll'd,
Joining her Passion to her Lord's, and trying
With Him who dy'd for her, to live by dying.

215

So when the Father of her Life and Joy,
His fair self plunges in th'Atlantick Main,
O'rpowr'd by sympathetick sweet annoy
The loyal Marigold makes haste to gain
Her West as well as He; her golden Eye
She shuts, and till he lives again, do's die.

216

But Phylax by his Heav'nly tender Art,
Her and her Spirits rais'd, and told her, She
Must hear the other seasonable part,
Which of this sadness made a Comedy.
She look'd, and sigh'd, and cry'd, All Joys are dead
When Jesus dies: and yet, dear Sir, proceed.

217

Know then, said he, this Passion and Death
Hath purchas'd all Life's Joys that Heav'n can breed
And cancell'd every fatal Bond of Wrath,
Which Sin had drawn against old Adam's Seed:
All Jesus's Wounds are open Gates, which in
To Paradise lead reconciled Men.

218

All pains and sorrows and reproaches, He,
Brave He, adventur'd to monopolize;
The spightful Cunning of Hell's Treachery
He vanquished by being made its Prize;
And yielding up His meritorious Breath,
Blew down the Powers ev'n of prevailing Death.

219

Which when fell Satan saw, it him repented
Of what he toil'd and sweat to bring about;
And at his Den in Paxis he lamented
His undermin'd Design, when crying out,
Great Pan is dead, he made confession how
He had projected his own Overthrow.

220

For this was Pan indeed, the God of Sheep;
Who held His tender Flock so dear, that He
From Wolves and Lyons it secure to keep,
Would to their rage Himself a booty be:
But made His Fold a rampart sure and stout,
When with His Blood He moated it about.

221

Yet Hell at length will prick on Mortal Wit
Against this Passion's Merit to dispute,
And all their syllogizing Batteries set,
In order their Redemption to confute.
Thus to their Reason must their Faith give way;
Though God be satisfy'd, yet will not they.

222

No; they'll account His Mercy injur'd by
Allowing Justice to be fully pay'd.
Ah learned fool! is Mercy's Majesty
Not here triumphant, when the Load is lay'd
On God's own Son, to bear what else would crack
Proud though you be, for evermore your back?

223

But now a Soldier, he whose only Heart
Was harder than those Rocks which Grief had burst,
To act accomplish'd Cruelty's last part,
His Spear into his Savior boldly thrust:
Deep in His Side the Iron div'd, and brought
The final Stream of Blood and Water out:

224

That Water which the Pericardium bound
About the Heart, that Blood which in it dwelt:
For Jesus all His store with most profound
And bounteous Love, to feast His Children spilt.
The Pelican so with her dearest Blood
Diets and fattens up her dearer Brood.

225

This done: the Sun unveil'd his clouded Eye,
And joy'd the new-redeemed World to see:
The monstrous shades forthwith made haste to fly
Down to the bottom of Night's hideous sea;
That now Sin's blackness chased was away,
Earth might behold a double glorious Day.

226

A Day, in which her Count'nance shin'd with more
Unspotted Grace, than when Heav'n tried by
A deluge of its Powers, to wash and scoure
The senior World's ingrained villany:
For 'tis not Heav'n it self can yield a Flood
So purgative as that of Jesus's Blood.

227

But will no Pity on the Body look,
Which now has tir'd the utmost spight of spight?
Yes; Arimathean Joseph undertook
Fairly to pay it its Sepulchral Right:
And by that courteous Loyalty, to prove
That he had a Disciple been of Love.

228

A true Disciple, though a secret one:
Witness his Fear, to generous Courage grown:
For though his Master now was dead and gone,
His Faith revives; nor shall the Highpriest's frown,
Or People's fury fright this Duty from
Yielding his Lord his own right costly Tomb.

229

Of Honor he a Person was, and fit
To wait on this Solemnity: his fair
Petition Pilate could not but admit
In common Courtship: to his pious care
He grants the Corps; and sighs to think that he
Had made it need that funeral charity.

230

With prouder joy his garland never did
Olympick Victor snatch, than Joseph now
This richer Prize: which he inveloped
In dainty Linen, white as driven-snow,
Fine as Arachne's web, and yet the Sheet
More delicacy learn'd by kissing it.

231

Right well he knew this Solemn Paschal-Feast
Forbad him all Pollution by the Dead:
And yet his loving Zeal durst not desist
Till he this votive Task had finished;
For by the Touch, though of Dead Purity,
Assur'd he was he could not stained be.

232

He being busied thus: another Friend
Appear'd, good Nicodemus, who by night,
On living Jesus did long time attend,
To gain for his obscured Judgment, Light;
He in his blacker Ev'n of Death will now
His grateful Piety on Him bestow.

233

Of precious Aromatick mixtures he
An hundred-weight brings in, to sacrifice
Unto this Body's service; so to be
Enobled, and enhanced in their price:
For as they touch the blessed Skin, they smil'd,
And felt themselves with richer sweetness fill'd.

234

Mean while the Instruments of Death (for this
The manner was,) were yonder buried:
Where sleep they must until a Queen shall rise
Out of thine Albion, from whose happy Bed
A Prince shall spring, who will exalt above
Rome's proudest Eagles meek Ecclesia's Dove.

235

Their dear Discovery is reserv'd for none
But Venerable Helen; who, when here,
Hot in her passionate Devotion,
Her Savior's sufferings she her self shall bear,
Transfiguring her Meditating Heart
Into the prey of every wound and smart.

236

These sacred Relicts shall revealed be
In guerdon of her gallant Love and Zeal:
There for the Jewels she shall dig, and see
At length, the rude but glorious Spectacle;
The Cross, and every Nail she there shall find
Which her Lord's Body pierc'd, and her own Mind.

237

Inestimable shall their Worth be held:
One Nail to her Imperial Son shall seem
Illustrious enough his Head to gild,
And sit enthroned on his Diadem:
Two in his Bridle shall triumph, when He
Rides through the World like King of Victory.

238

The Fourth shall tame the Adriatick Main,
And nail it fast to its still bottom, so
That on its polish'd pacified Plain
The gliding Barks may unmolested go:
Then by this Gem shall that enriched Sea
More Wealthy than the Eastern Ocean be.

239

But for the noble Cross; no Tongue shall tell
The wonders that shall spring from that dry Tree;
Which hew'd out by Devotion's edge, shall fill
The zealous world, and quit that Injury,
Which from the deadly Bough in Eden spread
Through all the fields e'r sown with Human seed.

240

Persia shall take it captive, yet not dare
To look upon its Pris'ner; Piety
Shall thence redeem it by a generous war,
And reinstate it in its Calvary;
When great Heraclius his own Royal Back
A willing Chariot for it shall make.

241

Nor shall his glorious Sign have less esteem
Attendant on it, but be always worn
On holy Foreheads as the only Gem,
Which knows both how to strengthen and adorn:
A Gem, whose lustre frights all Devils' Eyes,
And whose brave value Swine alone despise.

242

But, Psyche, here upon the western side
Of this now holy Mountain, thou mayst see
The precious Sepulchre of Him who dy'd
And who aforehand bury'd was for thee.
This Rock is it: Come let's into the Cave;
No Temple is more holy than this Grave.

243

Joseph bestow'd the reverend Treasure here:
Here lay the blessed Head, and here the Feet:
Hard was the Couch indeed, yet never were
Those of the daintiest Kings so purely sweet;
Not Solomon's, although Arabia did
With all her odorous Wealth, go there to bed.

244

The Phenix's balmy Grave could ne'r afford
Such sovereign powers of Perfumes, as here
Breath'd from the Body of thy breathless Lord;
Who soon the truer Phenix did appear.
O peerless Tomb! which buries all the Fame
Of Mausolean Sepulchres in shame.

245

The Monuments of Princes are but fair
Memorials of their putid Rottenness,
Whilst odious Worms and Dirt inshrined are
In specious Gold and Marble: But in this
Plain artless Vault both Putrifaction found
Her Hands were more than that dead Body's bound.

246

This is that Solemn Oratory, where
The choicest Souls ambitious are to pray;
Their Pilgrimages all determin here;
And prostrate here their zealous Vows they pay:
With their devoutest Tears they dew this Floor,
And in this Air their warmest sighs they pour.

247

Yet time's at hand, when strong Idolatry
This sacred Cave will venture to prophane,
To turn this Paradise into a Sty,
To plant in this sweet Bed the worst of Bane;
To rear Hell's sovereign Monster, odious Jove,
Upon this Monument of divinest Love.

248

But all in vain; for Christian Eagles still
Will to the dear life-giving Carcass fly;
And their inflam'd desire's impatience fill,
By Feasting on its precious Memory.
Jove, though the most impure of things, is not
So foul, as Purity's own shrine to blot.

249

That Idol's Pomp kick'd down into disgrace,
To free and undisturbed Piety,
Shall soon surrender its usurped place,
When Pagan Powers by mightier Faith shall be
Good Manners taught; and Crowns, and Scepters low
Before the Crucified King shall bow.

250

And here may'st thou (for I thy heats discover)
Sweet Psyche, stay, and ease thy burning Breast:
Thy Vows and Prayers, whose working-tide runs over,
Here may thou empty: do, thou welcome Guest,
Do, riot in thy zeal, and revel high
In meek Devotion's noble Luxury.

251

Psyche, who scarcely for this Cue could wait,
Fell on her face, and kiss'd the reverend Floor;
Where melted by her earnest fervour, strait
Her sighs and soul she labour'd forth to pour;
And by the strong embrace of Faith and Love,
Hug'd Him below, who was enthron'd above.

252

Through all His Pains and all His Wounds she went,
And in her Bosom printed every one;
Her Bowels with His woful Cry she rent;
Each Scoff she echoed by as sad a groan;
By bitter thoughts, His Nails, His Thorns, His Spear,
Anew she fram'd, by tears His Vinegar.

253

But coming to His Death, she fetch'd a sigh
Up from the bottom of her Soul, in hope
Her Life would out with it together fly,
And make her Passion too completely up;
Striving in meek ambitious Love to have
The ready Honor of her Savior's Grave.

254

Desire lay boiling in her ardent Breast;
A violent march her Aspirations beat,
Reaching with restless panting at that Rest,
To which her Lord was flown: and in the heat
Of this contention she was towr'd so high,
That scarce her Body upon Earth did lie.

255

(O blessed Boistrousness of loving Zeal,
How strange a thing seem'st thou to worldly Hearts,
Whose cold and dead Affections never feel
The flaming Wounds of these delicious Darts!
How gravely would they pity Psyche's state,
As womanish and fondly passionate?

256

And how, alas, stand I amazed at
These rare calcining Raptures, who am by
Dull Indevotion's frost benummed! yet
Their contemplation thaws me so, that I
Can drop a Verse, and must, to wait on Them;
So due Applause's Tribute I esteem.)

257

But when Life held her on this dainty Rack,
She in an Ocean of Inamorations
And new ecstatick Gulfs resolv'd to wrack
Her labouring Heart: and yet these machinations,
And dangerous Storms of Love's intestine war,
She by diviner Love's assistance bare.

CANTO XV. The Triumph of Love.

The ARGUMENT.

In his own Den Love binds the King of Hate,
Death and Corruption in the Grave subdues:
Turns back the bridled Stream of mortal Fate,
Himself alive to His Disciples shews:
In Triumph's bright Excess Ascends upon
A Cloud, and mounts His everlasting Throne.

1

Vicissitude, how doth thy welcome Change
Cheer up the world, which else would droop and faint!
Strange things thou long permit'st not to be strange,
Since with all Companies thou canst acquaint;
For thy Chamelion's skin no Colours meets
But with compliance fairly them it greets.

2

When Wisdom fram'd this World's vast fabrick, she
As Nature's noble Sport and Recreation
Firmly enacted thy Uncertainty
For ever certain in its Variation:
That as God knows no Change, so all Things else
May feel the motion of Mutation's pulse.

3

Night first was every Thing; then Day burst forth,
But soon the Ev'n restored night again;
Yet crept she in the Morn behind the Earth,
And suffer'd Light her full twelve hours to reign:
Thus have all Ages only been the Play
Of interwoven checker'd Night and Day.

4

Who seeth not how beauteous Generation
Fails not to tread on foul Corruption's heels;
And how Corruption by sure Circulation
Upon the back of Generation steals:
Whilst by this Trade of Interchange, from Wombs
Death takes its constant Rise, and Life from Tombs!

5

When peevish Winter's Blasts churlishly blow
His frozen Scythia all about the Earth,
Commanding Nature in a bed of Snow
To lie and sleep, and let no Bud peep forth;
What hopes would fancy She could break again
Out from the bondage of her icey Chain?

6

Yet when the Sun leaps in the lusty Ram,
Forthwith the Spring takes heart, embraved by
The neighbour-hood of his enlivening flame,
And clothes the World with fresh Fertility;
Cashiering Frost and Snow, and changing Queen
Tellus's white Mantle to a lovelyer green.

7

Sometimes the Winds conspire upon the Main
To plow the Deeps and throw them at the Sky
To let them thunder headlong down again,
And with new Wrath return them up as high;
Till all the Sea be on a foaming sweat,
And Rocks, and Ships, and Hearts of Sailers, split.

8

Yet when these Breaths their fury out have blown,
The Ocean slides into a polish'd Plain,
Mildly excusing every billowy frown
With smiling Looks: the Sirens play again;
The Seamen hoise their sails; the Halcyon lays
Her eggs, and gives her name to quiet Days.

9

When Empires stoop to more imperious Fate,
And Time's bold Sithe mows stoutest Scepters down;
Themselves those glorious Ruins congregate
Into the Circle of some other Crown;
And from the Dust that Seed of Honor springs
Into a golden Harvest of new Kings.

10

After the earnest Ploughman hath by Day
Worry'd himself, and earth, and water'd it
With his own sweat; cool night his head doth lay
Still on his crib, and teach him to forget
His toilsome work; whilst soft and gentle sleep
Yields him a crop of pleasant Dreams to reap.

11

Though pitch'd in Power's saddle far they ride,
And kick and trample all things in their way;
The insolent Vulgar find at length their Pride
Check'd by a sudden Fall; no Tigres may
For ever rage; nor can the Tyranny
Of blackest Parliaments immortal be.

12

When tedious Sickness by her rampant Fits
Has in the body her sad Revels kept;
Health takes her happy cue, and fairly quits
Her cheerly self; by Her the Veins are swept,
The Stomach purg'd, the Spirits, which 'gan to tire,
Rouz'd and incouraged by vivid Fire.

13

Though Grief sometimes, conspiring with the Night,
On wounded Hearts Disconsolation throws;
Yet Comfort, dawning with the morning Light,
Smootheth the sullen furrows of the brows,
And with its Virgin beams of sweetness dries
The briny moisture of the clouded eyes.

14

But that Vicissitude still wins the Bay
Of Pleasantness, which cures the worst of Gall;
Whose Rayes can chase the shades of Death away,
And kindle Solace in a Funeral;
Which to a Sepulchre dares say: Stand ope,
And let thy Pris'ner into Life get up.

15

Indeed some glimpses of this blessed Change
Had glanced on the World before; yet they
Were faint Preludiums of that full and strange
Mutation which shin'd on Easterday:
For they atchieved were by borrow'd Might,
This dawn'd and rose by none but its own Light.

16

In truly sovereign Jesus's only Hand
Dwelt that authentick power, which knew both how
To give His mortal Fate a Countermand,
And make His stubborn Grave repent; to throw
Aside His useless Shroud, and cleerly turn
His own Death's Night into a living Morn.

17

And since the present Scene now prompts him to
The glorious Story, Phylax means to paint
Its quickning wonders unto Psyche, who
Under her holy Passion strove to faint:
He takes her up, and sweetly cries, My Dear,
Life's Monument, as well as Death's, is hear.

18

And 'tis the same; this Grave proclaimeth now
With open mouth the famous Death of Death:
Come sit thee down, and I will tell thee how
Thy noble Lord by being vanquish'd, hath
Victorious prov'd, and reap'd such Palms of Glory
As ne'r till now adorned Conqueror's Story.

19

When in this Casket pious Joseph had
The precious Jewel laid; a massy Stone
Upon the Monument he pitch'd, and made
It safe from Injurie's invasion;
Still jealous of the Highpriest's tyranny,
Which with the Death of Jesus could not die.

20

It could not die; and was resolv'd that He
Should neither live, nor seem to live again,
Whom their flagitious Importunity
Had by faint-hearted Pilat's Sentence slain:
To him they crouch afresh, and fawning cry,
Long live great Cesar, and his Deputy.

21

Sir, in our God's, and in our Country's name,
Due thanks we tender for that Justice you
Have done on Jesus, blotting out the shame
His foul mouth on our Temple spew'd: and know
That Cesar too owes you applause, since He
Reigns by your Care from dangerous Tumults free.

22

What might this desperate Conjurer not have,
If He had vengeance scap'd and lived still;
Who by the Magick of His Death alone
Jerusalem doth with Amazement fill?
How many Fondlings stroke their breasts, and cry'd,
Sure He's the Son of God, ev'n when He dy'd!

23

Thus when some saucy Exhalation bears
Its earthborn self high in the yielding air,
And counterfeits possession of the Spheres;
The Silly Multitude in wonder glare
Upon th'illustrious Hypocrite, and call
That Fire a Star, although they see it fall.

24

There's danger therefore, least this Serpent's Blood
Rankle the Air, and taint our credulous Nation;
Indeed Himself right cunningly thought good
To pave the way to some such Perturbation;
Telling His Scholars that He must be slain,
But with the third Day up would rise again.

25

Now Sir, if sheltered by thievish Night,
Him from His grave they pilfer, and proclaim
That He is Risen by His heav'nly Might;
What Hazard might attend so strange a Fame!
How would the seeming Miracle entice
Seditious Multitudes with Him to Rise!

26

Then would the Mischief swell to bolder height
Than if the Traytor were indeed alive:
Against the Torrent of that new Deceit
Your Power in vain, in vain our Care should strive:
For how shall We attach Him who is dead,
Yet into new Life's reputation fled?

27

Say what we could, the mutinous Rabble still
By this His Grave's wide-open mouth would seal
Up ours, provoking to that Miracle
By which they'l count'nance their rebellious Zeal;
And with outragious Cheating bear us down
That Him they honor who to heav'n is flown.

28

Pilate, whose Conscience Grip'd him hard for what
His Fears before had done, no more would trade
In that uncomfortable Bus'ness; but
Them of their spightful Project Masters made.
Ye have a Watch; secure the Tomb, said he,
And satisfy your politick Jealousy.

29

Impowred thus, away fly They, to fix
And make God sure for ever stirring more:
Both Caiaphas and Annas sign their Wax
Upon the Stone which dammed up the Door;
Charging a double Guard, appointed well
With Swords and Spears, to wait on either Seal.

30

Ah politick Fools! your strong Conspiracy
Shall only undermine it self, and make
The Resurrection's glorious Mystery
With more unanswerable Lustre break
Forth in your Face; since both your Seals and Guard
Shall witness to the Miracle afford.

31

So when the Envy-blinded Median Peers
Had lodg'd great Daniel in the Sealed Den
Of hungry Death; their Jealousies and fears
They confidently laid asleep: but when
The Day awak'd, they saw their fell Design
Prov'd his Deliverance but the more divine.

32

Mean while the sacred Corps lay dormant here,
And jolly Death triumphed in the Grave;
For once she bids her ghastly count'nance wear
The guise of lusty Gladness, and gives leave
To her dire Tongue to change its baleful Tone,
And cheer into a Shout her wonted Groan.

33

Long had she vex'd and pin'd, remembring how
Brave Enoch and Elias rescu'd were
From her contagious Monarchy: but now
That feebler Pair she is content to spare,
And gluts her bloody heart with barbarous glee
In this grand Trophy of her Victory.

34

She never took such proud Delight to set
Her foot upon the vast Zamzummim's Tomb,
Or see all Anak's Sons in Ashes meet,
Or heav'n-commanding Joshua earth become,
Or steely Sampson turn to rotten Clay,
Or huge Goliah mouldering away.

35

She kiss'd her reeking Dart, and vow'd to build
An Ark of triumph to its conquest; high
In fierce disdain she all the World beheld,
Which now had no pretence but it must Die;
Since Life's own Champion became her Prey,
And tame and cold and dead before her lay.

36

There lay His Body: but His Soul mean time
Triumphed more than She; for down into
The kingdom of the hidden World, the Clime
Of unsuspecting Night, it march'd, and so
Surpris'd the Powers of Hell all napping in
The secret cloisters of their gloomy Den.

37

The Gates of sturdy brass it flung in sunder,
Shaking the bottom of the monstrous Deep;
The Porter frighted at the Ruin's thunder
Into the Gulf for shelter took his leap;
But equal Horror there he found, for all
The Pit was startled when the Gates did fall.

38

So when the mighty Son of Manoah, who
Presumed was the City's Pris'ner, tore
The Gates of Gaza, rending freedom to
His conquering March; the Neighbours' dreadful Roar
The Pillars' boistrous Crack rebounded, who
Thought both their Roofs and Sculs were spliting too.

39

This stubborn Fort by Storm thus taken; on
The noble Victor hasted to advance:
No Guard secur'd His passage, who alone
Army and General was, and whose sole Glance
Had power enough to make his Pris'ners know
Whose Justice kindled their Death's fire below.

40

But now imperial Lustre from His face
Streaming upon the eyes of hideous Night,
Pour'd on the swarthy flames of that foul place
So vast an Ocean of Immortal fright
That into every hole they crept aside
Seeking their everlasting shame to hide.

41

About the hollow bowels of the Cave
An universal Groan its sadness spread;
Whose Echo such a ruful answer gave
That Hell seem'd gasping on its dying bed:
Strait followed such Yellings, Shrieks, and Cries,
As truly spake Damnation's Miseries.

42

Imagin what the blear-ey'd Sons of Night,
Ravens, Scritchowls, Bats, and such foul things would do,
When in their black blind Nests by Highnoon Light
Suddenly seiz'd; O whether shall they go
Now their illustrious foe's bright arrows reach
The very entrails of their closest Pitch!

43

Incomparably direr was the Dread
Which shot it self quite through the heart of Hell.
For these commanding Raies maintain'd their speed
Through every dark and massy Obstacle
With such stout Brightness, that amidst the store
Of never-dying fires it quickned more.

44

The Lakes of Sulphure boiled with new heat;
Each Grief and Pang and Torment hotter grew;
Despair afresh at every bosom beat;
Upon the next feind's face each fury flew;
And every Devil scratch'd and tore his brother,
Wreaking their madness upon one another.

45

The Snakes their hisses and their poison spit,
And in a thousand knots ty'd and unty'd
Their woful selves: the frighted Gorgons split
Their raving Throats' hot furnace; and the wide
And fiery-mouthed Dragons howling loud
Whole torrents of their flaming venome spew'd.

46

The Peers of Hell curs'd their unhappy King
Whose Pride betray'd them to this Anguish; they
Had hopes the Light of Heav'n would never spring
In their black Clime, to pour on them Dismay:
But now they saw't in Jesus' eyes, it more
Vex'd them than when they fell from it before.

47

Their belking bosoms heaved high, and fain
They would have belched out ther working load
Of Blasphemy, which held their souls in pain;
But mighty Terror stopp'd the sulphury road
Of their rank breath, and forc'd their ready Sin
Only to split their hearts and rage within.

48

Black Avarice with desperate Treachery
And foul-mouth'd slander, who their parts had play'd
With fair Success in that Conspiracy
By which Life's Sovereign was to death betray'd;
With guilty horror quaked now, and found
Upon themselves their Mischiefs all rebound.

49

Though mad Confusion always reigned here,
She never sate so high upon her throne,
Nor such monarchick sway as now did bear
In all the Deep; whose strange Distraction
Outvy'd the Discords of that wallowing Mass
In whose rude Womb the World conceived was.

50

But yet the Dragon red in guiltless blood,
Great Belzebub, was more confounded than
All Hell besides: for well he understood
He now was deeplyer subdu'd, than when
Down from the pinacle of Heav'n he fell
Into the center of profoundest Hell.

51

That Jesus, for whose life he long ago
Fiercely a-hunting upon Bethlehem went
With Herod's pack of Hounds; that Jesus, who
When in the Desert all his Craft he bent
To cheat Him into Sin, his deep Design
Quite overturn'd by Wisdom's countermine:

52

Him whom he by the odious Wit of Scorn
Through Jews' blasphemous mouths had vilify'd;
Whom by hir'd Treason he had Pris'ner born
Unto his mortal Enemie's Bar, and try'd
By all th'impetuous lawless Laws of Cries,
Threatnings, broad Tumults, broader Calumnies:

53

Whom by the Petulance of his Miscreants he
Had spit upon, had scourg'd, had buffeted;
Whom through all Infamie's extremity
He to this mountain of His Death had led;
Whom on the Tree of Shame and Pain he nail'd,
And then with further blasphemies assail'd.

54

Whom of His blood he plunder'd, and at last
Of breath and life: whom having murder'd thus,
In marble lodg'd and watch'd he sealed fast,
And clearly then was thought victorious;
This very Jesus's Soul he seeth now
Marching with triumph in his Realm below.

55

He sees his deep-laid Projects turn'd into
Just Engines of their Master's overthrow:
He sees he was his own most deadly fo
When he to Jesus gave the mortal Blow;
That Death by which he hop'd to have supprest
The life of Life, now lives in his own breast.

56

He sees that his mistaken self alone
Condemned was in Jesus's Sentence; that
The Multitude's mad Exclamation
But prefac'd to his Groans; that Mary's Brat
(For so his scornful Pride had term'd Him,) now
Was Son to Him to whom all Angels bow.

57

He sees the Cross in goodly Banner spread,
And shining with imperial gallantry;
He sees that precious Blood which made it red,
Adorn it now with dreadful Majesty.
He sees it streaming in the swarthy air,
And at its awful motion melts for fear.

58

He sees the angry Thorns, and feels them pricking
His guilty Soul: he sees each cruel Nail,
And in his harder heart resents them sticking:
He shrinks; he winds about his woful Tail;
He starts, and finds that something more than Hell
Did now in his tormented bosom dwell.

59

Three times he clap'd his Pride upon the back,
And cheer'd his everlasting Stomach up;
But strait his swelling heart-strings 'gan to crack,
And fail'd the courage of his insolent Hope:
Three times his fury strove to check his fear,
Yet Terror still his Boldness overbare.

60

But Jesus marched on in conquering Might,
And pitch'd His foot full on the Monster's head:
All Thunder's throats did never yet affright
The Air with such a Roar as bellowed
From Satan's jaws, when by that crushing Load
He justly learn'd the weight of angry God.

61

For as the surly Lyon, wounded by
Some Hero in his own invaded Den,
Rends all the Cavern with impatient Cry,
And makes his frighted Neighbours further run:
So Belzebub's huge Shriek tore all his Deep,
And forc'd the Elves into their holes to creep.

62

Had all the World been heav'd upon his head,
And thousands more upon the back of this,
The Burden had not been so vastly sad;
For all the weight of Weight meer Lightness is
To that strange Pressure which the Rebel now
Felt sealed sure upon his squeazed Brow.

63

His squeazed Brow: for both his Horns were broke;
So was his Scull; from whence a Torrent burst
Of ranker Bane than e'r had power to choke
The soul of Sweets; a Torrent of accurst
Designs, of Rage, of Pride, of every thing
Which qualifies Hell's true accomplish'd King.

64

Thus did the first and noblest Promise prove
Compleatly good: thus did the Woman's Seed,
The Seed of blessed Mary, spring above,
And trample down the wiley Serpent's head,
Quite shattering it; so to revenge that spight
With which he us'd the heel of Man to bite,

65

This done; Learn now, the mighty Victor cry'd,
That as above, so I can reign below.
What you have gained by your Hate and Pride
Your fellow-Elves may read upon your Brow:
Deep have I grav'd the Lesson; yet I know
Not deep enough to mend or Them or you.

66

For deeper printed is your desperate Spight
On your obdurate hearts: and though by Me,
Their Head, you might be warned not to fight
Against my Members; yet had you the free
Reins of your Rage, you all your Nerves would join
To broach and quaff their blood, as you did Mine.

67

But Mine less precious is than theirs to Me,
And They less able to defend their own.
I Vindication owe; and Sympathy
Demands with speed to have it payed down.
Down will I pay't, and that upon thy neck,
To prove My self as strong as they are weak.

68

Which said: the King of Conquest threw about
The Dragon's neck an adamantine Chain:
A Chain, which though the Monster's teeth be stout
As hardest steel, he bites and gnaws in vain:
Fast Pris'ner now he lies, and only where
Jesus thinks fit to give him leave, can stir.

69

Black Judas, whom the next Oven's wrath did fry,
With unconceived anguish gnash'd his teeth,
Being deeper tortur'd by his Master's eye
Whom he so wretchedly had sold to death.
He sold his Master, but the Bargain on
Himself recoiled, and he dy'd alone.

70

He look'd the next Step on his woful Head
With equal Pressure surely fix'd should be;
His Head, which next to crushed Satan's did
Deserve preeminence in Misery.
But Jesus turn'd, and would not melt him by
The burning glass of His indignant Eye.

71

Him He reserved to his other Day
Of Triumph, when both Caiaphas, and he,
And all that cruel Rout, which made their Prey
Of patient innocent Humility,
Shall look on Him whom they have pierc'd, with Thorns
And Whips, and Spears, and Blasphemies, and Scorns.

72

Yet He an universal Prospect took
With princely Awfulness about the Gulf;
The radiant Dint of which majestick Look
Scorch'd every peeping Fire and sneaking Elf
With hotter torment then when He at first
Their brazen Gates at His arrival burst.

73

What glimpse of Hopes can cheer the Whelps when they
Have seen the Father Lyon trampled down?
Alas the head of every Devil lay
Brused in Satan's; and they count their own
No longer so, since he could not maintain
With all his strength and cunning his own Brain.

74

O how they wish with helpless desperation
That Hell were darker, or that Jesus's Eye
Less bright and piercing! Any new Damnation
Though further stretch'd than one Eternity,
They would embrace, so they release might gain
From this Hour's more than everlasting Pain.

75

But whilst themselves they with this Horror slew;
Jesus another Fo remembring, hither
March'd back again in equal state, a new
Laurel of Conquest in His Tomb to gather;
Where shivering and couching close lay Death
Astonish'd at the dismal Noise beneath.

76

She heard the Ruin of the brazen Door;
She heard the yelling of each frighted Feind;
She heard oppressed Satan's sovereign Roar;
And felt a sudden fatal Terror rend
Her late triumphant heart, now tortur'd by
Its sympathy with Hell's Calamity.

77

Arrived here, this Tyrant He descry'd
With more than deadly Paleness in her face,
Striving her guilty Head in vain to hide
From that dread Brightness which surpriz'd the place:
None of her wonted and beloved Shade
To muffle up her gastly self she had.

78

Such floods of living Light from Jesus's eyes
Broke forth, as with more splendor stuff'd the Grave
Than swells fair Phebus's globe: Death scalded flies
About, and hunts through all the dazell'd Cave
To scape, if possible, that Lustre's ire
Whose bus'ness seem'd to light her funeral fire.

79

When lo thy Spouse His foot already red
With Hell's best blood, upon her bosom set,
And cry'd, foul Monster, whom I never did
Create, but stubborn Insolence beget.
As I, and Mine have felt thy fury, so
'Tis time that now thou feel My Power too.

80

Due Vengeance hath thy cursed Mother Sin
Drunk from this righteous Hand; and thou her Brat
And rightful Heir, in vain dost nestle in
This gloomy Rock to scape thy Beldame's fate.
The whole World's Graves which by thy Tyranny
Alone are fill'd, proclaim one due to thee.

81

Ev'n from thy birth Destruction was thy Trade,
And long thou traffickedst the Earth about;
Upon all Generations didst thou feed,
And yet thy Stomach still new booties sought.
Hell, which I plum'd but now, less bottomless
Than that strange Gulf of thy lank belly is.

82

The noblest Kings no favour found with thee,
But at thy stinking feet thou mad'st them bow;
Thy shameless Worms thou gav'st authority
On Princes' royal breasts to crawle and gnaw;
Saucy Corruption thou command'st to tread
And trample upon every laureat Head.

83

My dearest Saints thou mingledst with thy Prey,
And stamp'dst them down into th'unworthy Dust.
Whether the Lives were vile or precious, they
Were equally devoured by thy Lust.
Thou mockedst Youth and Strength; both Physick and
Physitian stoop'd to thy destroying hand.

84

By this thine uncontrolled Cruelty
To Insolence's top thy Boldness rise,
And ventured to throw thy Dart at Me,
That Dart which in My slaughter'd Body lies.
And if I die, shalt thou exempted be!
Forbid it all My Might and Majesty.

85

At that stern Word, the Monster fetch'd a Groan
So great, that all the dying Cries which she
Throughout the World had scrued forth in one
Huge Ejulation crowded seem'd to be;
All deadly Agonies that ever were,
With just requital bounding now on her.

86

Strait Jesus tore in sunder every Chain
In which she us'd her conquer'd Preys to ty;
When lo, the fates were venturing to complain
That their grand Law groan'd under injury;
That Law which Heav'n it self enacted, and
Bid it in Paradise's Records stand.

87

Their breeding murmur quickly reach'd His ear,
Whom nothing scaped which He pleas'd to know:
Up looked He, and flash'd such potent fear
Upon their souls, as bow'd their heads as low
As loyal Meekness: in His Looks they saw
His royal Will, and knew their greater Law.

88

For what's most massy strong substantial fate
More than the shadow of His mighty Pleasure?
Vastest Impossibility do's at
His Beck melt into Easiness: no Measure
But His own Mind can of His Power be found;
Infinitude Infinitude must bound.

89

He then, as Death lay groaning, pluck'd the Dart
Out from His Body's side, and to the head
With potent vengeance plung'd it in her heart:
Whose Wound, though deep, made not the Weapon red,
For all the gore that at its mouth it spew'd
As black as Styx his inky puddle shew'd.

90

Thrice did the Monster gasp; and then belch'd forth
Her damned Ghost, which stole its way to hell.
Her Carcase stretch'd at length lay on the earth,
Her Chap fell down, her Teeth all star'd, her fell
And pois'nous Tongue hung dangling out: Thus She
Who reign'd o'r mortals felt mortality.

91

But this almighty Victor having slain
Her once by killing her, resolved now
To slay her by Restoring her again
To her accursed life; for from below
He beckned her pale Ghost, and bid it dwell
At home again, as in a fouler Hell.

92

Since I have taught thee now, said He, My Might,
Remember My Command, and live again;
Henceforth thou with thy Sting no more shalt fight,
Nor on thy Pris'ners clap a slavish chain:
Yet use thy Dart; for 'tis My royal Will
Though I forbid thy rage, to let thee Kill.

93

You who were their imperious Tyrant, now
Shall Servant to my mortal Brethren be,
And ope the Gate by which from life below
Their Souls shall fly to live and reign with Me:
But, till I them require, be sure you keep
Their Bodies safe in undisturbed sleep.

94

This double Conquest gain'd: He look'd aside
And sneaking in a corner of the Tomb,
Corruption with her Worms about her spy'd;
Who long had crawl'd and sprawl'd and scrambled some
Approach unto the sacred Corps to find,
And wonder'd what their wonted power did bind.

95

He spy'd them there, and charg'd them to be gone:
At which great Word, they into Nothing fled.
Forthwith He slipp'd His ready Body on
As easily as He some cloke had spread
Upon His shoulders, or into a fit
And graceful Ring His nimble finger put.

96

(Thus when an old and tryed fencer from
His bloody Scene of Prowess, with the Prize
His Virtue purchased, returneth home,
There to enjoy his glorious Victories;
He first revests his arms and breast, which by
Their naked valour did his foes defy.)

97

His Heart with Life and Joy strait 'gan to leap,
His Veins with new recover'd Heat grew hot,
His blessed Eyes threw off their triduan Sleep,
His thawed Joints their tedious frost forgot,
Afresh the Roses budded in His lip,
New smiles and Graces in His Cheeks did trip.

98

Off fell the Napkin and the Winding Sheet,
Not daring to conceal the Beauties which
Here in a confluence of Glory met
All Parts of His pure Body to inrich;
Which now no less it self outshined then
It had before the fairest Sons of Men.

99

For passing through the Seirce of Death, it there
Lost all the grosness of Mortality,
Becoming more illustrious and clear
Than silver Venus in the evening Sky:
What was but course and animal till now,
Purely refined and spiritual grew.

100

Nor must it longer like a Prison sit
Obscure and lumpish on the Soul, but light,
And quick and plyant and completely fit
For all her nimblest Bus'ness: as our bright
And ready Wings move with our Wills, so she
Finds that comply with her Activity.

101

For He who our brave sprightfulness could make
Of dull and sleepy nothing; easily may
Teach heavy flesh and Blood how to awake
Into Angelick Pureness, and array
It round with Splendors full as gorgeous as
Those which the Cherubs or the Seraphs grace.

102

But Jesus, now the promis'd Time was come
As early as the third Day meant to Rise:
For to His flesh remarry'd, from His Tomb
He leaps; not in the boistrous Lightning's guise,
Which tears the Clouds, but like that milder flash
We see quite through unbroken bodies rush.

103

Hast thou not mark'd the sprightful Image fly
Completely through a crystall Wall, which yet
Uncrack'd it leaves! So through that Marble thy
Much purer Lord Himself suddenly shot:
For still it kept the Tomb's mouth close, and still
Was trusty to the Priests' unmoved Seal.

104

Indeed the Mountains and the Rocks He rent
When out He blew His final Gasp; to show
That with His Blood His Power was not spent,
But flourish'd ev'n in's dying Hand: but now
His gallant Rising breaks no Stones but those
Whose stubborn mine in Human bosoms grows.

105

And what more fair Decorum, than that He
Who when at first into this World He came
Unbroken left the pure Virginity
Of His dear Mother; should renew the same
Illustrious Wonder now, and issue from
The untorn bowels of His virgin Tomb?

106

Thus Psyche, e'r the dull World was awake
Life rose for it, and Death's strong gates set ope;
The Passage clear aforehand so to make
For all His Brethren's Ashes to get up.
His Members risen are in Him their Head
Though yet in Death they never went to bed.

107

His Resurrection the Earnest is
Of theirs who ever dyed, or can die:
He only buried was the Grave to dress,
To purge, to sweeeten, and to sanctify:
That in that safe retiring Room His friends
May take their Rest, till back for them He sends.

108

Indeed all Joys seem'd slaughtered when He
Wrung out the dregs of deepest Bitterness,
And drunk His Death upon the fatal Tree:
But this dear Morning they reviv'd, like His
Arising Body grown spiritual, and
Subject no more to cruel Death's command.

109

No wonder this sweet Day's enthron'd so high
In pious Souls' esteem, and bears away
The reverend Glory and solemnity
Of old entailed on the Sabbath Day:
No wonder that upon this first Day's head
The Sev'nth's fair Diadem's established.

110

'Tis true; on that, God did His hand withdraw,
Which He through Six Days' Work had reached; and
To Jacob's seed at length into a Law
His own Example turn'd; that They might stand
Bound unto freedom's Feast, and since no way
They had His Work to copy, act His Play.

111

But greater Rest on this Day's shore He met:
For all His Life full hard He labour'd had;
He wept, He strugled, and His blood He sweat,
His strength, His life He spent; on Death He trode,
And trampled Hell; and now rose up again
In matchless triumph evermore to reign.

112

O nobler Sabbath! may all Glories swell
Each hour and minute of thy sacred light:
May Piety's best Exultations dwell
In thee alone: and cursed be the spight
Of any Heresy which e'r shall thy
Most hallowed Prerogative defy.

113

The other Sabbath was a shade of Thee;
And Thou the Copy art of that which shall
Amidst the triumphs of Immensity
Be all Heav'n's everlasting festival;
That Sabbath which no higher Name shall know
Than this, the Lord's Day; and that Day art Thou.

114

But is this mighty Savior quite forgot
By all His followers? will faithful Zeal
Endure to be interr'd with Him, and shut
Up in Oblivion? shall Death and Hell
Be roused thus, and Earth her dulness steep
In most ungrateful unregarding Sleep?

115

No: fervid Magd'lene could not rest in bed,
Because her Soul was sealed in the Tomb.
And though the Sabbath's statutes her forbad
Until it self expired were, to come
And seek it here; yet now she cannot stay
To be conducted by the Morning Ray.

116

She, and another love-inflamed friend,
On Speed's wings mounted, having purchas'd store
Of precious Ointment and of Spice, to spend
Upon the sacred Corps, set forth before
The Sun had op'd his east: yet as they came
Near to the Grave, he peeped forth on them.

117

He peeped forth; and little thought that Day
Was up before, and had prevented Him:
'Twas Jesus's Day; and well might scorn to stay
And be beholden to the tardy beam
Of glaring Phebus, having, of her own,
Glories enough to furnish out her crown.

118

So had the Corps of Sweets, if here it still
Had slept: but Risen 'twas: yet pious They
Find what was sent ingenuous faith to swell
With satisfaction, and in full repay
Their Odour's Price; for in the Tomb they see
An Angel cloth'd in glittering Majesty.

119

This was that noble Spirit who in haste
Flew down from Heav'n, just as thy Lord gat up;
And on no errand but away to cast
That Stone which did the Grave's confession stop;
That these religious Visitants might read
Their Lord's unfailing Word turn'd into Deed.

120

And gallantly his blessed work he did:
For at his Coming's dint the Earth did quake;
The Seal was startled and in pieces fled;
The trimbling Stone was ready too to break;
But courteous he vouchsaf'd to roll it by
And bid it for his service quietly.

121

When lo the Watch which at the Sepulchre
Guarded with swords and spears the High-priest's Sin;
Saw that they past their own protection were,
Being arrested by a Power divine:
The Hills' Commotion reached all their hearts,
Which, with the Seal, split in a thousand parts.

122

But chiefly at the Angel's Presence they
Were overwhelmed in a flood of fright:
His Robes were glorious as the morning's Ray,
And partners with the driven Snow in White;
For 'twas his Easter Suit, the Suit he had
To honour this bright feast on purpose made.

123

And yet the Lustre which kept Holyday
In his so pure so delicate Attire,
Could not such wealthy Seas of Light display
As streamed from his Aspect's mightier fire;
For in his dreadfully majestick face
A Spring of living Lightning bubling was.

124

In this celestial bravery his throne
Taking upon the Stone he rolled thence,
He his illustrious Terror darted on
Those Sons of Mars; which they too weak to fence,
Let fall their useless lamentable Steel,
And after it Themselves confounded fell.

125

All flat and tame upon the ground they lay:
For though they gladly would from thence have fled,
Alas no Power they had to run away,
Amazement having nail'd them there for dead.
Thus they who stood to keep Life's Master down
Sure in His Grave, were fitted for their own.

126

The Pair of Maries, when this Stranger there
They spy'd, and all the Soldiers slain with Dread;
In their sad Passion they began to share:
And had not Innocence its shelter spread
Over their hearts, this Apparition had
An equal Conquest on their Spirits made.

127

But when the Angel mark'd their agony,
He sweetly intercepted further fears:
The fright concerns not honest you, said he,
Which on those impious Watchmen domineers.
I know your Errand well, (and here he smil'd,
And all his face with gentler Lustre fill'd.)

128

You likewise come to Watch the Corps; but yet
To Pray withal: You Jesus come to Oint,
Although His Cross and Shame themselves have set
Full in your way your loyal Mind to daunt.
You bravely come, nor could the ruffian Guard
You knew was ranged there, your haste retard.

129

You come to make your pious Day arise
Here in this West in which your Titan set;
You come to poure your Souls out at your eyes,
And in Love's meekly-bold Profuseness wet
The dry bed of your new-sown Master, who
Charg'd all your Tears to wait on your own Wo.

130

Thus in couragious forgetfulness
Of your faint Sex, you venter to attend
Upon His body who forsaken is
By all His masculine Scholars. I commend
Your early valiant Zeal; although it be
Arrived here too late your Hopes to see.

131

For Jesus earlyer was up than you,
And unto slaughter'd Death bequeath'd His Tomb.
His royal Word you know He pass'd; and now
This Third prefixed Morning being come,
Impossible it was that longer He
In Death's cold region should frozen be.

132

If Doubts assault your faith, come in, and let
Your eyes convince your hearts: His empty Bed
You see, with all the Clothes and Sheets of it:
A cold dead Bed; yet hence He flourished
Into a sprightful Life, as noble He
Sprung at the first from dry Virginity.

133

The Angel's words the holy Women read
Plain in the Grave and in the Graveclothes; yet
So deeply were their Souls astonished
By these thick Wonders' Conflux, which beset
Their unprovided Thoughts, that they surmise
Some pleasing Error flattered their eyes.

134

So when old Jacob's unexpecting Ear
The happy News did suddenly receive;
What most would gratify his Wish to hear,
He durst not when he heard it first, believe.
In vain against the Tyding's stream he strives:
His Spirits die to hear his Joseph lives.

135

At this the Angel sweetly chode their Doubt,
Their jealous faintness, and dejected look;
Demanding why they in Death's Closet sought
Him who from thence to open Life was broke!
Yet cheer'd them strait, and told them They should be
The Angels of this News, as well as He.

136

Make haste to His Disciples, who, said He,
As anxious of this bus'ness are as You;
Bid them in pre-appointed Galilee
Meet Him who promis'd there the Interview:
And tell them, to anticipate their Doubt,
That you from Me this cheerly Message brought.

137

Out went the pious Women in a sweet
Distraction of loving fear and joy;
The glorious Miracle did fear beget,
The blessed News new Comfort did display:
With doubtful Certainty they trembling ran,
And made this sutable Relation:

138

Dear Sirs, O what, alas what shall we do!
The only Relict of our Hopes is gone;
But where our Lord's sweet Body is, or who
Hath born it from the Tomb, God knows alone.
We with these eyes the empty Grave beheld;
Which us with terrible Amazement fill'd.

139

Indeed an Angel, if our Fancy did
Not cheat our ears, pour'd Comfort on our Grief:
He told us that our Savior from His Bed
Of death was Risen; and to win belief,
Quoted His own Prediction: but whate'r
The matter is, our Hearts still beat with fear.

140

Us He commissioned to warn you All
To Galilee; the Place in which, He saith,
Your Risen Master's Apparition shall
Requite th'Attendance of your pious faith.
O that it might be so! though He had set
Earth's furthest End for us that Joy to meet.

141

So spake the Women: but the standers by,
Shak'd their wise heads at such unlikely News;
And see, said they, the wild Credulity
Of female Hearts, when fancies them abuse!
How fine a story they can forge and fashion
Of no Materials but Imagination!

142

Yet malgre this grim Censure; wiser John
Fir'd at the News, thought not of Galilee,
But in Love's loyal disobedience ran
Hither, the present Miracle to see:
The same spur prick'd on Peter's fervency,
Who though he Doubted, would no more Deny.

143

Unto their Prey no Eagles e'r could post
With speed more hearty; no Ambition make
To Crowns and Scepters more impatient haste;
No Spark to heav'n its venturous voyage take
With braver zeal; than this religious Pair
Flew to observe the empty Sepulchre.

144

But vivid John, in whose soft bosom reign'd
More flames of youth and more of gallant Love,
Quickly his Fellow-traveller outstrein'd
In Ardor's race: in vain old Peter strove;
For though his Tongue were always forward, yet
John had the nimbler Heart and fleeter feet.

145

John first arrives: but strait arrested here
With awful Reverence, only sends his eyes
Into the bottom of the Cavern, where
The Resurrection's Relicts he espies;
The Linen Clothes, which had the grace to kiss
The softer purer Skin of Daintiness.

146

But then his greedy panting follower, in
The wonted Boldness of his hasty Zeal,
Entred the Tomb, and made John's meekness win
Such courage that to this dear Spectacle
He ventur'd in, and with joint Wonder there
Gaz'd and examined the Sepulchre.

147

They gaz'd and found the Grave that News attest
Which Mary sighed had; their Lord was gone:
But all His Linen furniture confest
The bus'ness was in solemn order done;
For they observed all the pieces lie
Fairly disposed, and not tumbled by.

148

If Fraud or Rapin thence convey'd him, why
Prey'd they not on the precious Linen too?
Why lingred they to leave it orderly
Wrap'd up and plac'd? About this Riddle so
Demurr'd these puzzel'd Souls, forgetting that
Not Wit, but Faith ought to unty the Knot.

149

At length with blind and anxious tears dismay'd
They sigh'd, and scratch'd their heads, and home return'd.
But Magd'lene who had thither follow'd, stay'd
Still by the Tomb, to quench her heart which burn'd
In Love's vast furnace: all the Springs which slept
In both her Eyes, she bravely wak'd and wept.

150

She wept and pityed her prevented Spice,
Which now breath'd short, and panting lay to see
It came too late to be a Sacrifice
To Odour's sweeter Lord: She wept that she,
Her Tears' Drink-offring could present no more
Upon His Feet's dear Altar as before.

151

She wept, to think she could no longer thence
Sip Happiness by her adoring Kisses;
Nor tender to her most indeared Prince
The homage of her consecrated Tresses:
Her Lips, and Locks, and Self, no longer seem
Her own, because she cannot give them Him.

152

Had she the plenitude of whatsoe'r
Th'idolatrous World adores, she still would be
Poorer than naked Poverty, whilst here
She nothing findeth but Vacuity;
The Gem and Soul of her Content, which lay
Treasur'd up here, alas was born away,

153

For ever born away, for ought she knew:
And how can Mary live without her Life!
No Mourning e'r so lamentably slew
The Turtle's Joys in her disconsolate strife
Of Love and Grief, when she her Mate had lost,
As Mary's now a briney Tempest tost.

154

Yet having prefac'd by this flood; again
She look'd to read fresh cause of further Tears:
But in the Tomb she spy'd new Splendor reign.
Two Angels ready to outshine her Fears,
And dry her cheeks, had taken there their seat,
One at the Monument's head, one at the feet.

155

They gorgeous were in festival array
Round clothed in Joy's colour, milky White:
Woman, what groundless ground makes you, said they,
Becloud your brows in this fair scene of Light?
Alas, cry'd she, what Light can ever cheer
These eyes, whose Lord is laid I know not where!

156

Her Springs here gush'd a fresh, and back she turn'd
To give their crouding streams full liberty:
But Jesus's heart, which melted, as she mourn'd,
And answered every Tear by sympathy;
Could let her gentle Soul suspended be
No longer in this anxious Agony.

157

For hither He in nimble goodness stept,
That his dear Weeper's loyal eyes might see
Their earned Spectacle: and, why she wept
Was His soft Question, but blubber'd she,
Blinded wth grief, could not discover who
So courteously examined her Wo.

158

Thus Peter, when he was discharged by
His guardian Angel from the gloomy Jail;
Could neither apprehend the Courtesy,
Nor who vouchsaf'd to be his wondrous Bail;
But though himself his freedom did enjoy,
His Soul's and Body's eyes close Pris'ners lay.

159

She took Him for the Gardner of the Place,
And thus she sigh'd out her petition: Sir,
If you have hence remov'd the Corps which was
Interred here, O deign to tell me where
Your haste has thrown 't aside; and I will strait
For I at leisure am, upon it wait.

160

Mine, mine shall be the care and cost to lay
That Jewel in some comely cabinet.
Thus pleaded She: nor did her Error stray
Quite from the truth; though 'twere her Master, yet
It was that Gardner too, who planted all
That grows about this universal Ball.

161

That Gardner, who betimes a-weeding fell,
Ev'n in the virgin spring of His Creation:
Th'encroaching Weeds, which on the heav'nly Hill
Aspir'd to overgrow the new Plantation,
Up by the roots He pluck'd in righteous ire,
And threw them thence into eternal Fire.

162

That Gardner, who His lower Nursery,
Planted on earth, vouchsaf'd to visit; where
The pois'nous Sprouts of rank Impiety
He tore away; and, with most matchless care,
To make the Soil prove Fertile, every Bed
Both with His Sweat and Blood He watered.

163

That Gardner, who contented was to let
The Thorns upon His temples rather grow,
Than they should vex the Grafts which He had set
In His own bodie's Stock; that Gardner who
Indeed had taken up, and born away
What in the Tomb until this morning lay.

164

But pitying Magd'len's honest Sorrow, He
Whose single potent Word all Clouds can clear,
In Love's mild Tone,—the only Musick she
Could cordially relish,—treats her ear:
Yet His Salute was near as short as sweet,
For only by her Name He her did greet.

165

Mary in Mary's ear no sooner sounded
From Jesus's Lips, but to her breast it flew,
And with incomparable joy rebounded
Upon her wakened heart: She straitway knew
The blessed Voice, and clearlyer by her ear
Than by her eye she saw her Lord was there.

166

And sure her tender-temper'd Soul must now
Have split with swelling triumph, had not she
Unlockt it strait, and let it freely flow
In torrents of exultant Piety:
Her Love, her Life, her Heav'n, when least she thought,
Were all at once to her fruition brought.

167

Which sudden Onset of complete Delight
Most cruelly-delicious prov'd; for She
Gasped and panted, and in joyous fright
Staring upon her strange felicity,
Cry'd Master: but no more; ecstatick Passion
Quite stifeled all her following Oration.

168

Resolved therefore that her lips should now
Speak for her Tongue's Aposiopesis, she
Her self ambitiously prostrate threw
And aim'd her Kisses at His Feet: but He
Smiling reply'd, forbear to touch Me; I
Have other bus'ness for thy Piety.

169

No haste, sweet Mary; my Ascension is
At ample distance yet; and loving Thou
Hereafter may'st present thy zealous Kiss:
Go rather to My pensive-Brethren now,
And let their Sorrow know that I intend
Up to our common Father to Ascend.

170

At this Injunction Mary needs must go,
Who on the Angel's errand went before;
And yet her loyal Heart could not do so,
But still behind would linger, to adore
Her lost-found Lord: whom that she ne'r again
Might loose, her Soul she to His Feet did chain.

171

Thus with the News she went, which ravish'd she
A thousand times repeated by the way;
And looked back as oft the place to see
Where, when she left it, still she made her stay.
So Bargemen struggle with the Tide, and though
They one way look, yet they another row.

172

This Message startled His Disciples; but
The Hubbub of the City mov'd them more:
For by the Watchmen now the News had got
Into the Town, and knock'd at every door:
The Highpriests roused at the summons, call
A common Council and to plotting fall.

173

Their heads they beat, and boulted every way
How they their now endanger'd fame might save;
What Mist might damp the Resurrection's day,
And stop the open mouth of Jesus's Grave:
They mused long, but could no trick contrive
How He who lived might not seem to live.

174

For Belzebub, who us'd to have his Place
In all their Councels, tardy came that day;
His new-received Wound, and deep Disgrace
Upon his vanquish'd heart with terror lay;
Yet loth he was the Highpriests' Malice in
His own dear Trade of Spight should him outrun.

175

He rais'd his head, and wiped off the gore:
Three times he sighed, and three times he shook
His broken head and horns; and then he swore
By his own Might and Realm, that though the stroke
Took him at unawares, yet Jesus had
Howe'r He brav'd it out, no Conquest made.

176

And, had He been, said he, a generous fo,
He would have pitch'd the day, and pitch'd the field;
With trumpets' sound He would have marched to
The fight, and not His sly Design conceal'd:
He would have challeng'd Heav'n and Earth to be
Spectators of His noble chevalry.

177

But lying to His fellow-thief, that He
Would meet him strait in Paradise; by night
He hither stole, and by base burglary
Broke ope my doors: though We with open Might
In our brave battle gave Him fairer play,
Advancing in the face of Heav'n and Day.

178

'Twas at the best but a Surprise, and He
Can only brag He found me too secure.
A fault, I grant; but such a fault, as ye
Can spy in none but those whose hearts assure
Them that their Strength transcends the orb of fears.
Let me but know't, and come He when He dares.

179

Here finding he could stretch his Tether to
Jerusalem; lo all my fiends, he cry'd,
You by this token instantly shall know
How vain's that thievish Galilean's Pride.
The foolish Carpenter forgot His trade
When He this Chain to bind great Satan made.

180

This wretched Chain: which it shall serve to be
The Tool of my Revenge; for back will I
To Salem, where my ripened Victory
Attends my Coming; never credit my
Cunning or Power, if I these fetters lay
Not on His Subjects, and hale home my Prey.

181

His goodly Doctrine 'tis, that they must take
His yoke upon their necks; and for this once
I care not if I patience have to make
Them learn their Lesson; that the fools from hence
May be assured whether I, or He
Who said His yoke was light, most Lyar be.

182

Hell cheer'd by Belzebub's fresh courage, peep'd
Forth from its timerous holes: when lo, its King
To justify his lusty boasting, leap'd
Up from his Den, and through Earth's bowels flung:
But at his heels, besides his Tail's long train,
He drew the longer volumes of his Chain.

183

Then cloth'd in unsuspicious Air, into
The Sanhedrim he slips, and takes his seat
Next to the plotting Highpriest's elbow: who
Strait felt his brains with politick counsil beat.
He little knew his Prompter was so near,
Nor heard him when he whisper'd in his ear.

184

So well he lik'd the Plot he had conceiv'd,
That confidently smiling, Sirs, said he,
Think not this Cheater's Art has Us bereav'd
Of Council's safe Reserve: it must not be,
Whilst in this Consistory you assist,
Whilst God is God, and Caiaphas is Priest.

185

Are We the Men, and these our Brains, which have
So toss'd Him up and down; first to His Cross,
Then out of Life, and then into His Grave?
And should our wisdom now be at a loss!
Or shall ignoble Nazareth outvy
Our learned Salem's known Sagacity!

186

Full strange I grant the Soldiers' Story is,
As in their staring eyes and startled hair
Our selves too evidently read: but this
Doth only for our Policy prepare
More worthy matter, such as may befit
The reverend Sanhedrim's profoundest Wit.

187

To us this noble Task belongs: for why
Should We whose sacred honor 'tis to sit
In mighty Moses's Chair, not verify
Our Title to our Power, by proving it
On Jannes's and on Jambres's Heir, who thus
Affronteth Truth and Heavn's, in daring Us?

188

Indeed I hetherto believed that
Magicians' Power with themselves had dy'd;
But since this one Example tells me what
I ne'r could learn from all the World beside;
We must resolve, e'r it too rank be grown,
This Conjuration to conjure down.

189

If We to salve our Credit's Soar should find
No Cunning's Balme, the Romans would deride
That violent Zeal in which we all combin'd
To get this Galilean crucify'd;
And Pilate o'r our Guilt would triumph that
His hands he washed from this bloody Blot.

190

Nay our own Bandogs too, the wide-mouth'd Crew,
Whose shameless Bawling brought about our Plot,
May turn their boistrous Throats at Us who blew
Their Rage's coals: sure they will ne'r be got
To serve us with a Second Roar, if in
The first they learn that they have cheated been.

191

My final Counsil therefore is, that We
From our own Purses raise our last Recruit.
Believe it, Money's of that Potency
That Miracles themselves cannot confute.
Sure you have not forgot how strange a feat
Poor thirty silver pieces wrought of late.

192

And if that silly Sum so strongly wun
His own Disciple's heart; compute what may
By fair well-limbed and fat Bribes be done
Upon this mercenary Guard, since they
Have no Relation, nor no Reason why
They should be tender to maintain a Ly.

193

I say, a Lye: and if you scruple't, pray
Remember 'tis the way in which we went
When witness we suborn'd Him to destroy
Whom Truth could not impeach: but our Intent
You know, aim'd only to assert our Law,
And therefore then 'twas good; and may be now.

194

To you I speak who in our Sacred Writ
No Strangers are: you know what Abraham did,
And Jsaac too, when Need exacted it
In Gerar's Court; what David when he fled
To Nob, and Gath: and if the Saints may ly,
Who dares that Privilege to Us deny?

195

Yet let me say 't, Selfe's not so dear to me
That with the cost of one Untruth I 'd buy
My Life's reprieve: but now we clearly see
Our whole Religion at the stake doth lie;
Why should we by unthrifty Thrift be drawn
To loose God's Truth, that we may keep our own?

196

Fear not, sage Brethren, God Himself allows
These Dispensations: for otherwise
He in requital had not built an House
To shelter th'old Egyptian Midwives' Lyes.
Indeed to th'People Truth we preach; for why,
Dull Souls, they know not when 'tis fit to Ly.

197

Since then the Soldiers' Mouths no less are ope
Than Jesus's Grave, the surest course will be
Them with the thickest stiffest Clay to stop;
This is the only Bung and Seal which we
Can clap upon them: and you need not doubt
That Truth will ever through this Dam burst out.

198

We 'l bid them say, and if need urge them, swear,
That whilst their tedious Watching made them nod,
His Scholars, who in ready ambush were,
Favour'd by silent Night, the boldness had
To take their Master's Corps away by theft,
Though they the shrowd in craft behind them left.

199

To them our Promise too we 'l pawn, that we
Will blanche the bus'ness so with Pilate, as
To shield them from his frown: plain Equity
Indeed ingageth us to make their case
Our own, and with some forgery defend
Those who by Lyes our Laws and Us befriend.

200

When thus their cheating Oracle had spoke;
His Counsil highly pleas'd, and every one
Into Applause and Acclamation broke
In glad presumption that the Feat was done.
In were the Soldiers call'd again, and told
What they must do; and forthwith shew'd the Gold.

201

As when their Mirrours cunning Fowlers set,
Whose gaudy lustre plays about the air;
The silly Birds regardless of the Net,
Are suddenly inamor'd of those fair
But fatally-insidious Baits, and fly
With chirping joy to their captivity:

202

So by the Gold's inchanting splendor They
Tickled and ravish'd, gladly undertake
Their cursed Task; and snatching up their Pay,
Into the Streets with full-mouth'd Lyes they break,
Railing, and banning His Disciples for
Their stealing Jesus from His Sepulchre.

203

'Twas not one quarter of an hour, that we
Borrow'd to ease our heavy eyes; and yet
So dextrous were they in their Thievery,
They catch'd that very cue to compass it.
Let all, they cry'd, who long complete to be
In Pilfering, go to School in Galilee.

204

The credulous Vulgar, without more ado
Imbrac'd the News, and spread it all abroad,
And still that Slander has the luck to go
Current among the Jews; who though to God,
The God of Truth, they will no Credit give,
These hired Lyars readily believe.

205

And time may come, when Albion's woful eye
Shall see this Madness plainly copied out;
When Lyes alone shall be adored by
The strange wild Faith of its plebian Rout;
Who sooner will believe what Soldiers preach,
Than what ev'n Angels or Apostles teach.

206

But as the timorous Disciples now
In cautious Privacy's dark nest lay hid;
Their tender Master so contrived how
To manifest His Risen Self: indeed
In Galilee He promis'd to appear,
But He cannot their Joy so long defer.

207

He with His Company an holy Pair
Had at Emmaus entertain'd to day;
Where, as He brake the sacred Bread, He tare
From their beclouded eyes the veil away:
And with like favour now He hastes to cheer
His sad and thoughtful Friends assembled here.

208

Here, where the Doors all being made as fast
As locks and bars and fear could charm them; He
Whose sprightful Body through His tomb had past,
Entred the house with like facility.
They slander'd were abroad for stealing Him,
But now He truly steals at home on Them.

209

Yet, as excessive unexpected Bliss
Swallows up dazell'd Faith in Ravishment;
So His Disciples all amaz'd at this
Strange Apparition, mutually bent
Their frighted eyes, and held their hands on high,
Confounded in a silent Ecstasy.

210

But Comfort's King unlocking then His sweet
And gracious Lips, Peace be among you, said;
My Promise I in love prevent; O let
Not Love by being wing'd, make you afraid:
'Tis I, 'tis I; observe you not these wide
Tokens both in my Hands and Feet and Side?

211

Why fancy you, that you some Spirit see?
These Mouths proclaim as much as I profess:
You know a Spirit cannot wounded be,
Nor wear such Marks of humane Passiveness.
Come handle Me, and be assured well
If not of what you see, of what you feel.

212

But this Probation shin'd so fully, that
It struck their Apprehension blind: away
The mighty Torrent snatch'd their thoughts, and shot
Them all into the gulf of trembling Joy.
Thus those who gaze on Phebus, cannot see
Him for his too much Visibility.

213

So strange a thing's faint Hope, if unawares
It be surpris'd by full Fruition, that
In fond ambiguous Jealousy, it bars
Out what it do's possess; and aiming at
Some proofs of what is absolutely clear,
Transfigureth it self from Hope to Fear.

214

But Jesus, their amazement to allay,
Grew more familiar, and call'd for Meat:
And of a Fish and Honycomb, which they
Present Him with, disdaineth not to eat.
Though Paradise its Sweets for Him prepar'd,
He this plain Diet with His friends preferr'd.

215

('Tis not the costly Taste of far-fetch'd Fare,
Nor all the Kitchen's aromatick Art,
That can embrave the Rellish of the Cheer
To entertain the Palate of the Heart.
Friends friends alone make Feasts indeed; whose meats
Though coarse, their sauce flows with the soul of sweets.)

216

Then kindly angry He to Chiding fell
That all this while their Doubt would not repent,
Though of His Resurrection's Miracle
He by eye-witness frequent Proof had sent.
He Chode; but with such rare and dainty art,
That every Wound He made, was with Love's Dart.

217

This done; His Peace to them again He gave;
That Peace He purchas'd when He trampled down
Hell into Hell, and Death into the Grave:
When He seren'd His Father's gloomy Frown;
When Heav'n and Earth's wide Disagreement He
Clos'd up, and chang'd to blessed Amity.

218

Then breathing on Them with that noble Breath
Which kindled Life's first Spark in Humane Heart;
The dearest Gift, said He, which ever hath
To Man been deign'd, I here to you impart:
'Tis Heav'n's all-holy Spirit, which shall now
With mighty fervor in your bosoms glow.

219

Henceforth, whose Sins soever You Remit,
By this great Patent I My self Forgive;
And whom you Bind to Death's infernal Pit,
They from your Doom shall purchase no Reprieve.
As Me My Father sent, so send I you
To be My potent Deputies below.

220

This said; into Invisibility
He shut His Bodie's looks, and so withdrew.
Yet They on Love's wings Him persu'd, and by
Faith's Perspective still kept their Joy in view;
Ten thousand blessings powring on His Name
Who drown'd their Sorrow's flood in Comfort's stream.

221

But Thomas, who mean time was step'd aside,
Returning now; they met him at the door
Shouting into his ears the News's tide;
Their Lord's great Promises they o'r and o'r
With every Circumstance at large repeat,
And how He shew'd His Wounds, and how He Eat.

222

Thomas amaz'd at their Relation, stood
Staring a while, and musing what to say
In opposition of that swelling flood
Of most unanimous Confidence, which they
Stream'd forth upon his Incredulity;
At last he stamp'd, and cry'd, It cannot be.

223

Indeed the foul-mouth'd Souldiers rave, and cry
That We have stoll'n our Master from His Grave;
Perhaps, to shelter their own Theft, and by
Calumniating Us, Themselves to save.
But can bold Death repent, and free Him whom
She held close Pris'ner in a rocky Tomb?

224

I grant your Fancy may do much, and you
Perchance imagin all is true you say;
But Sirs, is 't reason my Belief should bow
To your Imaginations? you may
By Probabilities persuade me far;
But I no glimpse of them discover here.

225

I am not so much wiser now at Night
Than I was in the Morn, as to admit
What then to your own Prudence seem'd so slight
That you no less than I rejected it:
Why must it real prove in you, which all
Of Us in Magdelen judg'd Fantastical!

226

When with these Eyes those Wounds I have descry'd,
And div'd my Finger where the Nails went through:
When I have thrust my Hand into His Side,
And felt that in it no Impostures grow;
I of your mind may be: at present give
Me leave not at a venture to Believe.

227

At least let's sleep on't first; a good night's Rest
May wake and cheer up our Consideration:
We better may the Day, than Darkness trust
With so abstruse a Mystery's Probation.
Or if you be in haste, yet grant that They
Who would be sure, may soberly delay.

228

(Thus Heav'n in Love and Wisdom thought it fit
To let thick Clouds of Doubt objected be
Before the Resurrection's Truth, that it
Might fairer break from that Obscurity;
And pierce all Hearts of cold and faithless Stone
As it the Marble of the Tomb had done.)

229

Eight days in this imprudent Prudence he
Lay petrify'd: when lo, again their Lord
Through all their lock'd and bolted Privacy
To them His Presence pleased to afford:
Whose sprightful Coming, though it made them start,
Perplex'd not as at first their roused heart.

230

But Thomas, unto whom the Sight was new,
Afflicted stood with quaking Joy and Fear:
His Master's matchless Looks he plainly knew,
And yet his fancies odd and anxious were:
He blush'd, and then grew pale, and blush'd again,
And gave cross Passions at once the rein.

231

When Jesus saw him on this dainty rack
Tort'ring his shamed Soul; Draw near, He said,
And thine own Satisfaction freely take;
Lo here My Wounds before thine Eyes display:
Repierce thou them; 'twill not be so much grief,
As to be wounded by thy Unbelief.

232

This Condescent so conquer'd Thomas's heart,
That full Assurance threw him on his knees,
And thus he cry'd: My God and Lord Thou art;
Not only by those wide-mouth'd Witnesses
Thy Servant is convinc'd, but also by
The Heav'nly Sweetness of Thy Lenity.

233

I find that Thou eight days ago wert here
When foolish I so faithlesly was wise;
Thou heard'st my obstinate Distrust outdare
The pregnant Witness of my fellows' eyes.
Thou heard'st what bold Conditions I set
Before my faith their Story should admit.

234

O I believe dear Lord, and ready am
Thy Wounds to answer, and the like to bear
In spreading forth the glories of Thy Name
About the furthest Worlds as well as here:
Pardon my tardy faith; it doth suffice
That I have felt those Tokens with mine eyes.

235

I see, I see, and my Beatitude
Doth in this noble Vision consist:
see my God; and though my Thoughts were rude
Before, and stubborn; melted now, their best
And humblest Adoration, Jesu, they
At Thy dear feet most penitently lay.

236

His Lord reply'd: Thou build'st thy faith upon
Thine eyes; (and happy 'tis thou canst do so:)
But in how full a Stream shall Blessings run
Into their pliant docil Bosoms, who
Ne'r saw these deep-writ Characters, and yet
Shall to the Credit of their Truth submit!

237

This said, He stepp'd into His Secresy,
And vanish'd from their wondering sight; but yet
With frequent love returned to their eye
As His divinely-wisest self thought fit:
Yet with most eminence on Tabor's Hill,
A comely Scene for that high Spectacle.

238

But not transfigur'd, as before; for now
His proper shape was radiant Majesty:
From dull and mortal Dross refin'd, you know,
Out of His Tomb He sprang; nor needed He
That Heav'n should ope its mouth to trumpet forth
A Testimony of His splendid Worth.

239

This was that solemn Apparition He
On Easter Morn by Mary promised,
That this appointed Theatre might be
With plenty of Spectators furnished:
And so it was; for His Disciples thither
Five hundred trusty friends had brought together.

240

When lo their Hopes they met upon the Mount,
And more, much more, than their Ambition's aim:
For Jesus op'd His lips, and let the fount
Of potent Sweetness liberally stream;
Which in the chanel of these Words upon
The Heads and Hearts of His Disciples ran:

241

The Nerves and Sinews of all Power and Might
Which branch through Heav'n and Earth so far and wide,
Here in this single Hand of Mine unite,
And to My royal Will alone are ty'd;
By virtue of which Sovereignty I
Commit to you complete Authority.

242

Go take your Charge; whose noble bounds I make
Coequal with the World's: My Gospel preach
To every Soul, whose Bliss to reach them back,
I on the cursed Cross My self did stretch;
That in as large a Circle as the Sun
The more illustrious Beams of Grace may run.

243

Whoe'r despiseth your great News, and You,
Shall answer with his Life that high Disdain,
And find his flaming Punishment below
In Desperation's everburning Pain:
But He who to your faith his own shall give,
As long's that other Dying is, shall Live.

244

Live, and in Life's own dearest bosom, where
All Joys and Blisses have their habitation;
Where no intrusion of Storms can tear
The gentle Calm of absolute Salvation:
Where his fruition shall as far transcend
As here his faith, all he can comprehend.

245

Nor shall his Glory only future be;
Miraculous Power shall here on him attend;
Upon the stoutest boldest Devils he
Shall invocate My Name, and make them bend:
From humane breasts his Word shall them expel,
And force them howling home unto their Hell.

246

Babel's Confusion shall not him confound,
But every Tongue on his distinctly dwell
That he My Gospel freely may resound,
And every Ear with plain Salvation fill;
I who created it, as eas'ly can
With Words as Meat, supply the Mouth of Man.

247

In vain shall Scorpions bite him, and in vain
Shall Adders sting him; he as certainly
Over all Serpents here on earth shall gain
As over Hell's foul Dragon, victory:
By those mysterious Stings which I endured,
He from their dangerous dint shall be secured.

248

In vain shall Poison steal into his cup
An ambush for his life to lay; for he
Cannot, though Basilisks' galls he drinketh up,
Or Sodom's Lake, a prey to Venome be:
That Cup which on My Cross I drank shall make
Wholsome to him what ever Draughts he take.

249

More Virtue than in Plants could ever grow,
Shall flourish in his Hand; the World shall see
Those whom on desperate Beds Diseases throw,
Thence into Health rebound, if once they be
But touch'd by him whose faith on Me relies:
The grand Physician of all Maladies.

250

But his Initiation must be
By being washed in the potent Name
Of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; that He
His orthodox Devotion right may aim;
Remembring he by Baptism unto none
Was consecrated, but the triple One.

251

So spake their mighty Lord; and then withdrew
Himself to let them feed and feast upon
These Heav'nly Privileges He granted now
To Earth, by faithful Meditation.
Right dear He knew His Presence was, and yet
He by Retiring more endeared it.

252

The tender Lover thus with dainty art
From his more precious Self sometimes retires;
Alas not that he willing is to Part,
But that more near Conjunction he desires;
For love in Absence oft most Present is,
And her soft Knot by Distance closer ties.

253

But now the signal Time was come, when He
Who cheer'd the Earth for forty days with His
Bright Apparitions, meant that Heav'n should be
Embellish'd with His glorious Access;
That as Himself He nobly raised hither,
So He might reach His Resurrection thither.

254

His precious Consorts now again He met;
And then, as loth ev'n unto Heav'n to go
From their Society, to Olivet
He walk'd them on with kind Discourse: When lo,
Upon the mountain's top arrived, He
Began in Tone and Aspect chang'd to be.

255

Stir not, said He, from Salem, but attend
The Father's Promise pawn'd to you by Me:
That Baptism, whose strange Virtues far transcend
John's poor and frigid Institution; He
Baptiz'd with Water, but your Baptism shall
In Heav'n's sweet Spirit of fire immerge you all.

256

Erected at this solemn Item, They
Fancy'd no less than Crowns and Scepters: yet
Their erring Thoughts below the Promise lay,
Hankring in Earth's dull sphere, and reaching at
No more than what too worthless was for Him
Their great Ascendent Lord to leave to them.

257

We know, said they, that Israel's sacred Crown
Is due to Thy sole Head, most fit for it:
Is this the Time dear Lord when Thou wilt own
And make Thy Title good? Shall we now sit
On our inferior Thrones before Thy feet,
And to the Tribes of Israel judgment meet?

258

(Long Journeys thus when prudent Parents take,
Though they their shiftless Babes their Blessing leave,
And for their maint'nance fair provision make;
The fond dull-hearted Children further crave
Some silly trifling Boon, or baby Toy,
Follie's delight, and Wantonesses' joy.)

259

Jesus, who at His parting could not chide,
Passing their gross and secular fancies by,
With true parental Gentleness reply'd:
Those Times and Seasons which inshrined lie
In God's own cabinet, too mystick be
For you to dive into their Privacy.

260

Yet Courage, O my friends! for clearly you
Ten thousand other Mysteries shall see,
By that bright Spirit's light which down shall flow
On all your heads: Your Glory then shall be
To go as Heralds, and My royal Name
Through every Quarter of My World proclaim.

261

This said; to Heav'n three times His eyes He cast;
Which thence as oft recoiled back upon
His deep-amused Darlings: yet at last
Remembring He could both be here and gone,
His mighty voyage He resolv'd to make,
And His Disciples leave, but not forsake.

262

Hast thou not seen the glittering Spark Ascend
With natural Lightness to its proper sphere?
So glorious He, now having put an end
To all His sweet and blessed Business here;
Upon the Wings of His own Purity
Began to mount up to His native sky.

263

They started at the sight, and both with eyes
And hands flung up in sudden fearful Joy,
Labour'd to trace His wonderous Path, and rise
After their towring Lord, who flew away
With all their hearts: When lo they spy'd a Cloud
'Gin 'twixt their Ecstasy and Him to croud.

264

It crouded on apace, for fear to miss
That honor which its gloomy cheeks would gild
With more refin'd celestial Statelyness
That on Serenity's brisk forehead smil'd.
So fast it crouded, that the tired Wind
Which would have born it, puffing came behind.

265

All other Clouds which her Prerogative saw
Grew black with Grief, and melted into tears:
Forthwith the Welkin clear'd her dainty brow,
Whilst pleasant Day with open eyes prepares
Her Admiration to gaze upon
The motion of a fairer sweeter Sun.

266

But then this Meteor her soft shoulders bent,
And meekly stooped to her Maker's feet;
Her pliant Volumes gathered close, and went
Into the fashion of a Princely Seat;
That in a seemly Chariot Jesus might
Take to His Throne His most triumphant Flight.

267

The Golden Coach inchas'd with eastern Gems
And burnished with living Fire, wherein
Great Phebus in his brightest glory swims
Through Heav'n's high chanel, never yet could shine
With such clear credit, as this Chariot which
God's own enshrined Beauties here inrich.

268

All other Clouds at every busy Wind's
Shrill whistle, in this nether troubled sky
Are fain wildly to rove: this only finds
An undisturbed passage fair and high,
And strait to heav'n's illustrious Ceeling hastes
Without the helping wheels of any Blasts.

269

For since at first she by the courtesy
Of heav'n's less potent Sun impowred was
To rise from earth with towring levity;
No wonder She can now more briskly pass
Through all the Air's sublimest stories, when
She on her shoulders bears the Sun's own Sun.

270

Earth was indebted to those Clouds, till now
Which op'd Heav'n's Pantry, and rain'd Manna down;
But This full Pay doth to the Spheres allow,
Which to the Angels beareth home their own
Diviner Bread, and by restoring more
Than Earth received, nobly quits the score.

271

That Israel-conducting Cloud which through
The tedious Desert's windings mannaged
So patient a Pilgrimage, must bow
Its famous head to This: that only led
The way to earthly Canaan, but this
The gallant Convoy to the heav'nly is.

272

As Jesus thus soard through the Air, He saw
The Treasuries of every kind of Weather,
Of fair, of foul, of Rain, of Hail, of Snow;
Which did their homage to their Prince as thither
His coach arriv'd: He bad them gently fall
Upon His Earth, and kindly blest them all.

273

So did He too, that sweetly-loyal Quire
Of Larks, which with applauding Songs and Wings
In delicate attendance did aspire
After His mounting Train: Go gentle Things
Said He, go rest your weary pinions; I
My other Choristers approaching spy.

274

Lo, at the word, the winged Legions, who
Flutter about the everlasting Sphere,
And on the great Creator's errands go
Throughout His World, appeared hovering there:
Great was their number, and their glory great
If they with Jesus's lustre had not met.

275

Before His Feet their Heads made haste to bow,
Press'd down with sweet extremities of joy;
That they without a Vail's assistance now
His eyes' full Bliss might read, which till to day
Lay hid to them in too much light; but here
Dressed in humane mitigation were.

276

For though some of their Quire had long before
Enjoy'd the happy privilege to see
His theanthropick Face; though All did poure
Their high Applause on His Nativity;
This was the hour which Heav'n's whole Host at once
Freely to view their General did advance.

277

A dainty and long-study'd Song they had
Prepar'd and tuned to a gentle Key:
But this excessive Sight of Sweetness made
Their Acclamations correspondent be:
Their Wings and Hands aloud they clap'd, and rent
With louder Pæans all the Element.

278

But marking then His bright Retinue, which
About Him shin'd like His reflected Raies;
They hug'd their new Acquaintance, since in each
Ingenuous face they read their Sovereign's Praise;
For Gratitude had deep imprinted there
Their glorious Redemption's Character.

279

These were those holy Souls who long had lain
At anchor in great Abraham's Bay, and there
Looked and longed when their Lord would deign
Them to their final Port of rest to steer;
To chase their Mists and Shades with His own Ray,
And turn their doubtful Dawn to Highnoon Day.

280

Abraham himself march'd in the head of them,
And glittered with a choise and leading Grace;
Prophets were rank'd, and Patriarchs next to Him
Each in their proper dignity and place:
Then every Saint in order follow'd, who
Ventur'd in His hard Steps on earth to go.

281

Their Charges many Guardian Angels saw,
And highly triumph'd to behold them there:
So when the Bark which long hath labour'd through
The Sea's proud Anger, to the Hav'n draws near,
The Pilot's eyes and heart with joy are fill'd
No less than with the Winds his Sails are swell'd.

282

But all the Host beheld a fair Recruit
Of their own Regiments, which robbed were
When sullen Pride, presuming to dispute
With God, in heav'n's campania waged War,
And many Empyræan Tapers fell
From Blisse's Day into the Night of Hell.

283

Yet greater Torrents of Delight were they
Which through the æstuating bosoms ran
Of all those Saints, to see themselves to day
To Glory's Sovereign so near of kin.
They envy not the Angels' radiant Dresses,
Nor wish their silver Wings, or golden Tresses.

284

O no! they thank their mean Original,
And pour applause on their poor Dust and Clay:
Their Shame's their Honor; nor would they for all
The World not have been Worms, since mortal they
Have by their Vileness gain'd the best of Worth,
Affinity with Heav'n ev'n by their Earth.

285

And that their Triumph might be sweetned by
Harmonious Joy, amidst the Masculine Troop
Great David let his learned fingers fly
About his Harp, and beat those Accents up
Which Miriam's Timbril echoed from among
Her softer Company, the Female Throng.

286

But now the Brightness too excessive grew
For that faint Cloud its mighty flames to bear:
And nothing that did like a Shadow shew
In open Glory's Substance might appear:
As all the Types before were cleared, so
The Cloud must be content to vanish too.

287

Here Jesus her dismiss'd. When lo a Croud
Of Seraphs in ambition of her place
With humble pride su'd to His foot, and bow'd
Their youthful shoulders, that their Lord might pass
To heav'n upon the best of heav'n, and be
Drawn to His Throne in comely Majesty.

288

Then Michael flourishing the Standard, which
With conquer'd Death's and Hell's heart-blood was red,
And charged with the Cross, began to stretch
It toward heav'n, and forward fluttered.
In this Array the Triumph marched on,
Abashing Day, and dazelling the Sun.

289

Thus He who lately that Procession went
Where cruel Spight and Scorn did Him attend,
When He through Salem's streets was kick'd and rent,
And through a thousand Deaths hal'd to His End;
Is now requited by a March, whose Glory
Gilds those Disgraces of His Passion's Story.

290

As to the Confines of the spheres they drew,
His Harp and Voice their Chanter strein'd as high
That ancient Song of Honor to renew,
Which he had in prophetick Ecstasy
Turn'd to a special and illustrious Lay,
And sung aforehand to this noble Day.

291

Eternal Gates of heav'n, said he, lift up
Your cheerly heads, and know your Holyday;
As mine is now, so let your mouths be ope
To entertain our universal Joy:
'Tis Glory's, Glory's native King, who home
To bring That and the sweeter Heav'n is come.

292

'Tis War's approved Prince, whose matchless strength
Hath trode down our and your fell enemies:
Read but His Banner, where are writ at length
The ruby Tokens of His Victories.
Ope, ope, as wide's your heav'n can give you leave,
And Him much greater than all it, receive.

293

The crystal Doors no sooner heard the Song,
But in obedient gladness echoed it;
Their everlasting Bars aside they flung,
And their resplendent Portals open set:
Strait through the mighty Gap a Flood of Gold
Soft as the locks of Phebus downward roll'd.

294

With that the Musick of the Spheres burst out,
Pouring a Deluge of soul-ravishing Layes:
With which a while though David's fingers fought,
His mortal strings so high he could not raise;
My Harp must yield, he cry'd, but yet my Heart
Shall in your loftiest Accents bear her part.

295

Indeed those Airs are so refin'd, that none
But purest Hearts' spiritual Strings can be
Stretch'd to their chords' full compass: this alone
That Consort is, to which the Melody
You with the Name of Musick honor here,
Is only learned Gratings of the ear.

296

Thus to the silver Orbs they came: when lo
The Stars all trip'd about, and danc'd for joy;
And as his Sphere the Triumph enter'd, to
His Lord right meekly Sol resign'd the Day;
His brighter Lord, from whose original Beam
He takes his Light as all the Stars from Him.

297

But yet these gorgeous Stages only were
The fairly paved Way and Stairs, which led
Up to that fairer larger Palace, where
Dwells Light and Life, and Bliss, and Heav'n indeed:
And therefore Jesus through all these made haste,
And only blest and gilt them as He past.

298

When to the Crest of His Creation He
Was now arriv'd, and saw the World below;
The mighty Gate of pure Felicity
It self before its Sovereign open threw:
Of living Glories strait appear'd a Sea
Girt in no shoars but clear Immensity.

299

What pompous Powers of Ravishment were here,
What delicate Extremities of Pleasure!
Th'unworthy Parallel injurious were
By earthly Paradise if we should measure
These everlasting Sweets, of whose Abyss
All Eden's Dainties not the Shadow is.

300

For never did the sharpest pointed Eye
Which sparkled in the head or heart of Man
Such Miracles of Suavity descry,
As all about these splendid Regions ran;
Chanting those Tunes of Bliss no mortal ear
Hath any capability to hear.

301

And all these Gallantries enhanced now
Their Excellence in most excessive Joy;
That this great Hour was come which would allow
Them freedom their ambitious selves to lay
In His triumphant Path, and nobler be
By waiting on His sweeter Majesty.

302

But through these vast Expansions as He went,
Lo His Almighty Father came to meet Him:
O Psyche hadst thou seen that Complement
Of boundless Love with which He there did greet Him;
The Spectacle for ever thee had blest,
And more than heav'n diffused in thy breast.

303

Unfathomable Streams of Jubilation
Attended on Him, bearing up His Train;
A Flood of most excessive Gratulation
Before Him roll'd; but O how sovereign
Was that impatient Infinity
Of Complacence which issued from His Eye!

304

On's Son's bright neck his radiant Arms He threw,
And seal'd His lips with an enamor'd Kiss:
His yearning bosom then wide open flew
(That Home and Center of eternal Bliss;)
To bid Him welcome to that daintiest bed
In which He us'd of old to rest His head.

305

Come, come, said He, no more to part from hence;
My highest Will Thou hast completely done,
And by Perfection of Obedience
Approv'd Thy worthy Self My only Son.
Eternity shall entertain Thee, and
For Thy dear sake Those who about Thee stand.

306

Henceforth I can behold My World below
With comfort, which before displeas'd Mine eye;
For all its blots and stains, and horrors Thou
Hast nobly turned into Purity:
It shineth now, wash'd by the liberal Flood
Of Thine illustrious all-cleansing Blood.

307

I see Thy Wounds; and I observ'd the Shame
With which they were engrav'd on Thee; but now
With never-dying Lustre they shall flame,
And on their Gravers one day Terror throw;
When guilty they again shall view these Scars
Thou purchasedst in Love's and Mercy's Wars.

308

The Father so: But then the Holy Ghost
Who hand in hand along with Him was come,
Renewed His applauding Joy; whilst most
Mysterious Emanations issuing, from
His breast, Love's Living Spring, flow'd full upon
The welcome face of Heav'n's returned Son.

309

The surplusage of which Effusion, spread
Its aromatick preciousness about,
And with its bounteous Tide replenished
Th'enobled Hearts of Them whom Jesus brought
In triumph thither, evermore to be
The glorious Captives to Felicity.

310

This Salutation done: Heav'n's Trumpets sounded:
Whose gallant Noise, with equal Majesty
That Hill of all Sublimity rebounded,
To which this more than royal Company
Hastned their pompous March, and strait gat up
To clear Beatitude's and Honor's Top.

311

Three radiant Chairs of awful beauty there
Stand founded on secure Eternity;
Which with such mystick art united are
That 'tis intirely One, as well as Three;
Three equal and distinguish'd Seats, yet one
Essential and everlasting Throne.

312

Down in the midst the Father sate, and on
His left hand His all-quickning Spirit; but
He at His right enthron'd His mighty Son;
On whose fair Temples He rejoycing put
A Wreath of Glories, to requite those Scorns
And Pains they ware with their late Crown of Thorns.

313

The ignominy of His feeble Reed
With solid Dignity to recompence,
Into His right Hand He delivered
A Scepter temper'd of Omnipotence;
And then erected high before His face
His fairer Cross upon a diamond Base.

314

As thus He mounted sate on Triumph's Crown,
The Peers of that illustrious Kingdom came
And at His feet their Coronets threw down
In loyal homage, and themselves with them;
Begging His leave that their unworthy Tongues
Might with His royal Name enrich their Songs.

315

The gracious King (who knew no Praise could add
To His enthroned Self; but that the Bliss
Would be their own alone, who to their God
Offer'd encomiastick Sacrifice;)
To ease and crown their gravid Piety
Grants their Request by His assenting Eye.

316

Forthwith an Anthem of ecstatick Praise
Broke from their lips and Heav'n's roof nobly beat:
This brave Example spur'd the Saints to raise
Their highest Tunes, and mingle in that sweet
Deluge of Triumphs their Applauses, which
Must flow as far's Eternity can reach.

317

But His Disciples, Psyche, all this while
Follow'd Him with their eyes: for loth they were
To let the interposing Cloud beguile
Their Looks' sharp Hunger; nor could they forbear
Their Gazing still, in hopes their Sun might break
This Veil at length, and they free prospect take.

318

When lo, two Angels all array'd in Snow
A courteous check thus to their Error gave:
Your Eyes in vain why do you upward throw?
What mean your ignorant staring Hopes, to crave
A sight of Him who's towred higher far
Above the Cloud than you beneath it are?

319

He on His Heav'nly throne is pitch'd, and you
Must wait, till thence He thinks it fit to rise:
'Twill not be long e'er He vouchsafe to show
To yours and all the World's His royal Eyes;
And, as His journey hence He pleas'd to take,
So on the shoulders of a Cloud ride back.

320

Which said: the Angels posted home to share
In their new festival above: and they
Convinced by that Item, yielding were
Back to Jerusalem to take their way;
But as their eyes returned to the ground
The final footsteps of their Lord they found.

321

And so may thy Affection too, for lo
The precious Characters still here remain;
The trusty Earth would never let them go,
Nor durst desire to smooth her face again,
Which by these Prints was so embellish'd that
Her self to be the World's Base she forgot.

322

These dear Impressions his Disciples kisst,
And taking so their leave, to Salem went;
Full little thinking that the simple Dust
In keeping them would prove so diligent,
That neither Winds nor Storms should them deface,
Nor pious Pilgrims bear them from the place.

323

A thousand greedy Hands their zeal have fill'd
With this most privileg'd Earth, and held it more
Golden than all the glistering Sand which swell'd
The fame of Ganges or of Indus's shoar;
Yet still the faithful Dust with nimble care
Supply'd and kept intire each Character.

324

Nay when that Time shall come, as come it will,
When Christian Piety shall courage take
To rear a Temple on this sacred Hill;
Proof of their holyer Worth these Steps shall make.
Refusing to forget the Honor they
Were sealed with upon Ascension Day.

325

Back will they kick into the Workman's face
All his entrenching Stones, as oft as he
With pavement's smoothness strives to trim the place,
And injure with his earthly decency
Their Heav'nly beauty; yea though he with more
Than Gold, or Pearls, or Gems should court the floor.

326

Nor shall he with his strongest Roof forbid
Their prospect towards His celestial Seat
Who stamp'd them here: their Eyes will know no Lid,
But make the beams recoil, the spars retreat,
And never suffer bold Concameration
To dam the way of Jesus's Exaltation.

327

Thus Psyche, have I made thee trace thy Lord
To His last footsteps through a thousand ways
With Mercy strew'd, and justify'd my word.
Thou seest what Countermures He deign'd to raise
Against Sin's Batteries; nor need'st thou fear
Hell's Spight, now Heav'n thus arms thee for the War.

328

For surely it transcends all fancie's reach
To think ev'n what Desire could further do;
And these are those divine Exploits by which
His causeless foes thy Spouse contriv'd to woo:
Who signally deserves all Love, since He
Has prov'd His great Self nothing else to be.

329

Nor durst I doubt, but thine own heart will say
Thy Pilgrimage, though long, is well requited;
Since thou in it hast read a full Display
Of that with which all Angels are delighted.
Whose Souls then with sublimest triumph leap
When on these Mysteries of Love they peep.

330

Here Phylax on his Steeds their harness threw
Who all this while were grazing on the Hill:
The meaning of that Warning Psyche knew,
And pray'd him on her knee, to tarry till
Like other Pilgrims She had taken leave
The reins to her Devotion to give.

331

He smil'd and stay'd: when falling prostrate She
Innumerable Kisses heap'd upon
The venerable Steps; and amorously
Mingled with every Kiss a Tear and Grone.
At length her Bosom with the Dust she fill'd,
And cry'd Go thou and my foul body gild.

332

Then casting up to Heav'n her zealous eye,
After her Spouse a thousand thoughts she sent;
To whom her panting Soul strove hard to fly
Upon the wings of lofty Ravishment.
But when she felt her self stick still to Earth,
Her breast she struck, and beat this Out-cry forth.

333

Why may my heart not be, where most it is
O Thou my dearest Life! O Jesu, why
Since Thou art mounted to the Top of Bliss,
And leav'st Me dead, have I not leave to Die?
A Ghost so straitned was there ever found
As I, who am in my own body bound.

334

I by Thy Cross and Death was wholly slain,
And by Thy Resurrection's Life I grew
No less intirely vigorous again:
But Thy Ascension doth my Death renew,
Since nothing of my Life poor I can find
But these bare footsteps left Me here behind.

335

By these Thy Psyche cannot cannot live,
Though for Thy precious sake they 'r such to me:
O no! their Worth doth but more reason give
To long for most inestimable Thee.
If any footstep me can satisfy
It must be that which next Thy foot doth lie.

336

Hast not profess'd, that Earth Thy footstool is
As well as Heav'n Thy Throne? O mighty Lord
'Twill be Thy Handmaid's most accomplish'd Bliss
If thou to Me mak'st good Thy gracious Word:
Lo I, Thy Dust, the footstool crave to be
Of Thy now Heav'n-enthroned Majesty.

337

High my Petition is, and bold, I know;
And yet the worthless Dew must needs aspire
To Heav'n it self, when once it 'gins to glow
With Phebus's sprightful and attracting Fire;
Can Sparks in their dull Ashes sleeping lie,
And not take leave to venture at the sky?

338

Alas, what is this weary World to me?
What are the silver Spheres and golden Sun?
Though Queen I reign'd of Earth's vast Monarchy,
At my sole Nod though all Heav'n's wheels would run;
What were this Empire worth to Psyche's heart
Since Thou her only Treasure absent art?

339

'Tis not Thy upper Paradise, that I
Ambitious am to see, 'tis not Thy Court
Of Angels, though by Phylax's Company,
I guess their Worth; 'tis not the Pomp and Port
That magnifies Thy Throne; nor do I long
To dance to Thy sweet Quire's eternal Song.

340

To that soft Calm of never troubled Rest,
Which smiles in none but th'empyræan Bay,
My wishes are not bound: To be possest
Of Glory's Realm, and sleep in beds of Joy;
Are lofty things; but yet, alas, too low
For me and my Desires to aim at now.

341

My bosom pants for Thee, and only Thee:
And couldst Thou be in Hell, I never more
Would loose a looking up to Heav'n, but be
Inamored of that Abyss, and poure
My longing Aspirations downward, till
I at Thy feet my Vows and Soul could spill.

342

Why art Thou gone, and yet so strongly here!
Why art Thou here, yet to such distance gone!
Why dost Thou draw Thy ravish'd Worm so near,
Yet banish her by Thy Ascension!
Why must my Soul be kindled to a pitch
Which she cannot permitted be to reach!

343

O why art Thou so infinitely sweet?
Or rather, why must We that sweetness know
If Thou dear Jesu, wilt not think it meet
To these our Fires their Fuel to allow?
Away Thou flyest, and forsaken We
Tormented lie ev'n by Thy Suavity.

344

How shall I help this my excessive Passion,
Or how can it this torture merit? since
Thine own strange Love profest Immoderation,
And guilty was of boundless influence:
In which soft Sea of Fire whilst drown'd I am,
What can I do but burn with answering flame?

345

Ah blame me not, great Lord; it is not I,
But Thou Thy Self rebounding from my Heart,
Who beat'st heav'n with this Importunity,
And call'st for Ease for my mysterious Smart:
Hadst Thou by Love not stamp'd Thy Self upon
My Soul, Thy Worm had now let Thee alone.

346

Remember what deep Anguish 'tis to be
Forsaken; O remember Thine own Cry,
Which in Thy Desolation on the Tree
Challeng'd Thy Sire's Retirement: May not I
Resume Thy Plea? My God, My God, why now
Hast Thou abandon'd Psyche left below?

347

Upon this Olivet my Calvary
I find, and to my Cross am nailed here:
Ten thousand pangs are revelling in me;
And full as many Thorns as planted were
Upon Thy Temples, in my Bosom stick,
There all the bowels of my Soul they prick.

348

O Love! why must thine only Tyranny
The bounds of other Cruelties exceed?
Why will it not allow the Courtesy
Of Death to thy poor Vassals who are dead
By its reviving Slaughters, and desire
Free Holocausts to be in thy sweet Fire?

349

Her Passion here above Expression towr'd,
And left her flagging Tongue in Silence seal'd:
Yet with resolved Eyes to Heav'n she soar'd,
And by a long Oration there appeal'd;
Both long, and fluent, in th'exuberance
Of Tears, the streams of strongest Eloquence.

350

But Phylax having to her boiling Heart
Thus far indulg'd, thought fit to cool it here:
Psyche, said he, imagin not thou art
Inamor'd deeper than His Scholars were
Of their Ascended Lord: yet desolate they
Warn'd by the Angels, meekly went away.

351

Do Thou like Warning now receive from Me:
On heav'n why nailest Thou thine eyes in vain?
Thy Savior's flown too high for them to see,
Till on a Cloud He posteth back again;
Then shalt thou look thy fill of Bliss, and be
To all thy Love's Extremities let free.

352

Mean while thine Adorations and Embraces
Thou on His Name and Memory may'st pour,
Why should these bitterly-delightful Places
Of Mercie's Triumphs longer rub the Soar
Of thy soft heart? Here on Her hand he laid
His own, and raised up the heavy Maid.

353

Then in his Chariot gently her he set,
Who on the Footsteps kept her hankering eye.
But instantly he mov'd his Reins, to let
His sprightful Coursers know their liberty:
Forthwith their Mains' luxuriant Volumes they
Shook in proud haste, and galloped away.

CANTO XVI. The Supply.

The ARGUMENT.

That Absent Love might here be Present still,
He on His dear Disciples' Heads His own
Coequal Spirit from heav'n's lofty Hill
Pours in a Wind's loud-rushing Torrent down;
And Pentecost in solemn State transfers
From Jewish, to the Christian Calendars.

1

Ye gentle Souls, whose ravish'd bosoms are
Tun'd to the sweet and lofty Key of Love;
Whose flaming Thoughts can in the answering sphere
Of pure and mystick Fire securely move;
Whose stoutly-paradoxick Essence founds
Its dearest Health upon its deepest wounds;

2

Ye whose brave Strength in Languishments can reign,
Whose calmest Solace in Disquiet rests,
Whose resolute Joy's inhanc'd by cruel Pain,
Whose daintiest life by daily Deaths subsists;
Ye who by Loss your secret Gains improve,
And are not what you are, but what you love:

3

To You, most apprehensive you alone
This Preface her abstruser self presents;
For though the Stoicism of Ice and Stone
Which stupifies ignoble Hearts, prevents
Her entertainment there: yet you can well
And truly understand the Truths you feel.

4

Those torturing Truths, which too-too Present are
And Near, in Abscence and sad Separation:
O cruel Names, which on a Lover's ear
Beat more unsufferable Perturbation
Than ever from the angriest Thunder's Roar
Down on the soul of frighted Guilt could pour.

5

For what is Love, but that mysterious Glue
Which joins—O no! which more can do than join:
Which makes Two Hearts disdain themselves to view
Longer as Two, and generously combine
Into an Union so severely close
That in the knot ev'n Self it self doth lose.

6

No such cold Things remain as I and Thou,
No such loose-laced Words as Mine and Thine:
Thou into I, I into Thou doth grow,
Or rather Thou and I in I intwine.
Both Here and There together strangely shut,
I in this bosom, I the same in that.

7

Mine hates it self, until it self it feel
Daintily nestling in Thine's dearer breast:
And Thine is not at home till it can steal
Its property into Mine's sweeter nest:
Thus Mine and Thine into one Mine are run,
Nor will Love know more Possessives than One.

8

Is 't for my Friend? it is not mine to give;
O let him freely take what is his own:
His wants must needs my Interess derive
Unto himself: then let it be my Crown,
My Fame, my Life; I cannot lose, nor miss
What will be more mine own in being His.

9

Doth golden Plenty wait upon His Pleasures?
I dare Misfortune's spight to make me Poor:
For my Estate's ensured in his Treasures;
Kept in his bank are my Accounts: the more
I need, the more must He disburse, and be
Malgre Disasters Envy, Me to Me.

10

Doth spightful Mirth smile in my pleased eyes?
He by those Mirrours dresses his Delight.
Do Sorrow's clouds in his horizon rise?
The same envelope mine in doleful night.
No different things are such to Us, but We
As willingly in Griefs as Joys agree.

11

I by His Wisdom sage and learned am;
He by my Beauty gracefully doth shine;
He my Dishonor owns, and I His Fame;
My Health is his, and his Diseases Mine:
Abroad He always in my Journeys is,
In his Retirement I my Home possess.

12

Mine are his Thoughts, and His are my desires:
Alike our faithful Bosoms pant and heave;
One equal Fervor all our Motions fires;
Heart doth with Heart embraces interweave:
What Words can ne'r express, emphatick Sighs
Speak plain, and most intelligible Eyes.

13

We sigh for joy our happy selves to find
More closly soder'd than our Tongues can tell:
We glance our Rhetorick, and look our mind
To one another; till the Spectacle
So equally reflects us both, that He
As I in Him, beholds himself in Me.

14

Yet though the Soul of Sweetness thrilling be
In this dear Riddle; still it doth create
New Thirst of more Content amidst this Sea
Of Satisfaction; still our Bosoms beat
In strong ambition to be nearer yet,
Though they in straitest Union be knit.

15

In everlasting Discord they agree,
Still fighting which should with the best Embrace
Hug his most-nearly-precious Enemy,
And higher strein what most excessive was:
O noble Strife, whose venturous Ardors prove
There's no end of Superlatives in Love!

16

Since then the Marriage of souls, which are
Espous'd by true and genuine Affection,
Reigns in Delight's supremest purest Sphere;
What reach of fancy, or Poetick fiction
Can with due horror paint that strange Vexation
Which boils in Absence and in Separation.

17

Disrobe me of my Beauty, and unty
My closest veins; undress me, of my skin;
Unclasp my Joints; unlace my nerves; and try
My finest tenderest membranes to unpin:
Yet something still you leave me since I find
My Heart at home, and in my Heart my Mind.

18

But if you snatch my friend, my friend away,
Of all my dearest All you quite devest me;
Upon my Heart, my mind; my Life, you prey:
And in this loss what Comfort can assist me!
My Soul you split, you cleave my Bowels, and
My Sweetest Essence quite in sunder rend.

19

Mistake me not: though here I now appear,
O I am nothing less than here; for I
Intirely am confin'd and chained there
Where e'r it be that My most Mine doth lie.
Trust, trust sad Truth: 'tis but my shadow this;
With Him, with precious Him my Substance is.

20

Feel not my Pulse, nor ask me How I do;
Such Questions only mock my Loss and Me:
Go where I am; to my Soul's Jewel go,
Where your Demand can clearlyest answer'd be:
By his Disease or Health you best shall tell
Whether unhappy I be Sick or Well.

21

Nay lose no grave Discourses on my Pain,
Which no Philosophy has wit to cure:
Wisely you preach, but that you preach in vain;
Nor can my wedded loyal Ear endure
New Counsels to embrace, since He is gone,
Whom I espous'd for Oracle alone.

22

Peace idle Musick; thy concording Strings
With jarring discord grate my widdow'd Heart.
No harmony, say I, whoever sings,
Unless my dearest Solace bears his part.
Airs are cold Wind, but where soul-charming He
Inflames the Tune with cordial Suavity.

23

Remove that Banquet, whose choise Dainties be
But bitter Memorandums of my Wo;
Whilst every Viand feeds my Memory
With thoughts of how much sweeter sweets I now
Bereaved am, and left to famish here
Far far from Him my heart's sustaining Cheer.

24

Walk if you will; I no Delights can gather
In all that thickset Garden of Content:
Those spicy Beds whose smiles invite you thither,
Choke my Approach ev'n with their odorous sent:
He He's my Paradise; whence being thrown,
All Earth to me with Thorns is overgrown.

25

Y' are out again: nor will the Theatre
Find me more Company than yon dark Grove:
Though rivited in thickest Throngs I were,
I still through woful Solitude should rove:
Still I'm alone, yea singler than alone;
In Absent Him I from my self am gone.

26

When Titan's wheels have roll'd him under Night,
Her Widdowhood so sadly sits upon
The loyal Marygold, that from the sight
Of all the World she willing is to run:
She shuts her curtains, down she hangs her head
And leaves her self so long['s] her spouse is fled.

27

My friend's my Sun; and what's this World to me
But Night and Blackness, seeing He is set?
Wonder not then my hanging head to see,
My senses' windows clos'd, my Spirit's put
To bed; alas, but not to rest! and this
My house of flesh and bone grown Tenantless.

28

Kind Brothers, gentle Sisters, O how fain
My Arms would meet and hug your Courtesy!
But strange Impossibility's great Chain
Forbids me that Delight, since dearest He
In whose embrace alone I sweetness taste
Beyond my vainly-panting reach is plac'd.

29

Brothers and Sisters are no more to me
Than empty Names and handsome Skins of Joy:
Talk not of Blood; of all Affinity
Love's is the nearest: and now He's away,
All all my Kinred's lost, and you to me
Are strangers by meer Consanguinity.

30

Tell me no more that my arrived Ships
Have brought the East to make my Riches rise
Fuller and fairer; for His Absence nips
That springing Wealth; His West seals up mine eyes
To eastern Joys, and no Returns can be
Gainful, but that which brings Him back to me.

31

I grant my Crop is fair, and well content
Is Ceres to lie crouded in my Barn:
But ah, what pleasure can I thence resent
Who famish'd am amidst my plenteous Corn!
That swelling store but mocketh my Distress;
My Barn is full, my Bosom empty is.

32

Do, if you please, think me and call me Mad;
For I alas, find I am more than so:
Madmen lose nothing but their wits; and had
My Loss no further reach'd, my present wo
Had not been infinite; but wretched I
Of Head and Heart and all deprived lie.

33

Never was lunatick lymphatick Wight
So cruelly Distracted, as poor I,
Who thus am torn and flung far from the light
Of mine own eyes; far from the Kiss of my
Own lips; far far from Him who needs must be
In spight of Distance Nearest still to me.

34

Discredit not the Strangeness of my Pain
By bowing it to any Parallel;
Nor let the rack'd dismembred Men complain
That they on Earth are damn'd to such an Hell:
There, only Composition's rent, but I
This sad Division find in Unity.

35

I am not I; nor know I what I am:
A monstrous Nothing for my self I find.
O how comes Emptiness so full of flame,
Which scorches and devours my absent mind!
O Me, not Me! Why may my Pangs not end
In mine own Inanition! O my friend!

36

This is the fury of the sober Lover
Whene'r the fuel of his fire's away;
In this impatient Phrensy he boils over
The brim of whatsoe'r strives to allay
His Desolation; nor dares he be
Content, till his more precious Self he see.

37

Let not Amazement then on Psyche gaze;
Her Passion's violence no more then suits
With Love's Decorum: Love enacted has
This brave Self-torture, whose excess confutes
All Comforts in that Bosom, which is left
Quite of her Soul's intirest Soul bereft.

38

For 'twas not after any Mortal friend
That now her labouring heart did pant and reach:
O no! her restless Aim was to ascend
After Ascended Jesus; who with such
Infinitude of Sweetness drew that she
Could not in this contention finite be.

39

This swell'd the Billows of her sighs so high,
That soon they overwhelmed Phylax's Haste;
Drown'd all the Nighings of the Coursers by
A louder Tempest; a new Bridle cast
On their loose Reins: and by a mighty Shock
Broke the Wheels' Speed, and blew the Chariot back.

40

For now the tender-hearted Angel grew
So deep a sharer in the Virgin's Pain;
That to aswage his own in hers, he flew
To Salem's cordial Spectacle again;
Steering his smoaking Steeds' cloud-cutting feet
Into Content's dear Harbor, Olivet.

41

Psyche forthwith levell'd her hasty Eye
Against the venerable footsteps, and
Shot her heart thither fether'd with a sigh
Of pious Joy: then darting out her hand
And Head, her fervor hug'd and kissed what
(Being distant still) she hug'd and kissed not.

42

When Philax thus: sweetly-afflicted Dear,
Disparage not thy Lord's Magnificence
By deeming that those empty footsteps there
Are all the Tokens Love's triumphant Prince
Did on the Spouse's loyal hearts bestow,
Whom, though on earth, He would not leave below.

43

No: His most bounteous Wisdom found a way
To make them be in Heav'n e'r they come thither,
By not enduring that His Heav'n should stay
For them above, but come aforehand hither:
It came, and taught Beneath to be on High;
It came, His Absence fully to SUPPLY.

44

Sit then soft Soul, sit down; for Rest may here
Be reap'd, ev'n in this World of Restlesness.
Sit down, and I to entertain thine ear
Will such a feast of royal Comfort dress,
As shall compel thy hungry heart to say
All Dainties are not with thy Lord away.

45

Mark that bare head of yonder Mountain: 'twas
Once cover'd with a House; until the Broom
Of Vengeance swept away proud Salem's grace,
And made for righteous Desolation room:
That scene it was Jesus's bounty chose
The Comedy of Comfort to expose.

46

For His Disciples, though no longer they
Could hold Himself, yet kept they His Command;
Not dreading in that Town to fix their stay
Where thousand foes their Valour did attend.
What Dangers could afflict their stay with fear,
Who waited for the Promis'd Comforter.

47

And yet they challeng'd not the Wrath of Spight
With broad defiance; but in sober Care
Array'd their Resolution to fight
If to the battle they inforc'd were.
As valour's stain it is, and shame, to fly;
So, needlesly to seek an Enemy.

48

Into that House they manag'd their Retreat,
And gallantly their Hold they fortify'd
With Unanimity: strong Guards they set
Of Prayers and Watchings; and on every side
Themselves secured with a moat of Brine
Fed by no other Springs but their own Eyn.

49

Well-furnished they were with Ammunition,
With shields of faith, with fiery darts of Love:
Besides a plenteous Stock of sound Provision
To dare all Perils' siege; for from above
Being at first with Hope supplyed, they
Fed on that hearty Diet Night and Day.

50

Hearty it was, and able to maintain
The fortress of their Life and Health: but yet
Their breeding Solace in its birth was slain,
Because the Promise which had fir'd their great
Zeal's Expectation, cold delays did make,
And now the ninth Day held them on the rack.

51

Alas how shall their wearied Anchor bear
The Tempest of the Tenth; which with more sadness
Will on their Patience beat, because they are
Summon'd by it to publick solemn Gladness:
To pensive Them the joyous Pentecost
Its own renown'd festivity hath lost.

52

O how the most unseasonable feast
Insults and laugheth at their Desolation!
For since the Bridegroom of their Souls, who blest
The Palate of their hearts with Contentation,
Away is flown; fast, fast they must, though they
At Plenty's proudest board sit down to day.

53

And fast they will, now He would have them fast,
Whose Pleasure feasts them when they most abstain:
His Will their Banquet is; nor dares their Taste
But please its loyal self in any Pain
His wholsome Love provides; like bitter sauce
The sweetness of His sweets the more to grace.

54

Resolved thus; with cheerful Sadness they
Look'd up, and faced Pentecost's fair Dawn:
When Jesus, weary of His own delay
A brighter festival hastes to pour down;
A festival which by the sacred power
Of fuller sweets that other might devour.

55

The Angels started at the wondrous sight;
All Heav'n was mov'd and quak'd with mighty joy;
In sunder shivered with sacred fright
The spheres laid open an Illustrious way,
And fain through their own gap would have descended
And on the progress of their King attended.

56

For leaping out of His eternal throne,
Where He with equal Majesty did shine
Together with the Father and the Son,
Th'almighty Spirit bowed His divine
Highness to this low journey; for He went
Though sent by Them, yet, by His own Consent.

57

And that His Progress might embraved be
By all the Port of bright Magnificence;
Master of His own Ceremonies He
Himself contriv'd the way how to advance
His Coming down; since He descended now
Not to Descend, but Rule and Reign below.

58

Through that soft Air which fills the boundless Sea
Of highest Heav'n, though no rude Tempests roar,
Yet dainty Gales of potent Suavity
Their storms of everlasting Odours pour;
Which Blisse's Calms more calm and gentle make,
And in deep Joy the Souls of Angels wrack.

59

All these He summon'd to attend His Eye
By an imperious Beck; and nimble They
By Prest Obedience making their reply,
Flew to His glorious foot, and panting lay
In greedy expectation to know
How by His service they might nobler grow:

60

When Sovereign He from their delicious Throng
Cull'd all the choisest Breaths He saw excel
In Pleasure's wealth, or Speed's impatient wing,
Or Power's nerves: which as they 'gan to swell
To goodly Multitudes, He into one
Conspiracy of Closeness bad them run.

61

Forthwith their yielding Essences they clung
Into such strait submission, that now
They find their various selves quite lost among
Themselves; nor can they any longer blow
Their several ways, but fitted are to fly
About no bus'ness but of Unity.

62

Which when their Lord observ'd, you now, said He,
Shall learn, that 'tis not Height that maketh Heav'n;
To My celestial Realm beneath, with Me
You shall the honor have to stoop: for ev'n
On lowest earth I mean My Throne to found,
And spread My Empyreum on the Ground.

63

This said; full in the lap of that fair Wind
He pitch'd Him down, and there His Chariot took:
To which He meant no Coursers' help to bind,
Which through the mighty Road away might smoke:
A Coach of Wind no borrow'd Swiftness needs,
Being it self its own most speedy Steeds.

64

But yet e'r this Almighty Traveller
Set forth, much more of Heav'n He pleas'd to take:
A glorious Altar its four horns doth rear
Before th'eternal Throne, and holier make
The sacred Hecatombs it beareth, by
Its own inestimable Purity.

65

For all its radiant Metal temper'd was
Of Claritude's own thrice-refined Soul:
But since the poverty of Language has
No richer Word, we are constrain'd to foul
Its gallant Beauties, and its Splendors fold
Up in the dim unworthy name of Gold.

66

Yet though the golden Pile with fairer beams
Than horns did flame, the Coals enthron'd on it,
Pour'd out a flood of more Illustrious streams,
Dazeling the metal'd Eyes of their own Seat.
Strong was the fire, yet amorously mild;
Deeply it burnt, yet harmlesly it smil'd.

67

For with a Ray, shot from His quickning Eye,
LOVE kindled it at first; and ever since
It gratefully maintains the gallantry
Of its most blessed birth: the Excellence
Of sweetest Vigor in the Bonfire keeps
Its court; in every Spark Life's fervor leaps.

68

Let any of these Coals bestow a kiss
On mortal lips, the ardent Complement
With Heav'nly Eloquence will stigmatize
The blessed Mouth; nor shall the stout Consent
Of Learning's opposition break the force
Of that inflamed Tongue's sublime Discourse.

69

But if it burns its passage through the breast,
The Heart with nature's pulse no longer beats;
But with the fulness of new Life opprest,
Lab'reth and panteth with immortal Heats;
Yielding bright proofs, that Heav'n's high fire's no less
Unquenchable than that of Hell's Abyss.

70

The Sovereign Spirit from this fair Altar's sphere
Listing two Troops of choise serenest flames,
Together coupled them all pair by pair;
Then severing by a Cleft their upper beams,
Their radiant roots into one stock he clung,
And form'd each Two like One divided Tongue.

71

In splendid equipage He mustered
All these before His sprightful Coach, that they
Might graceful Tapers be to light and lead
His great Procession's Pomp; which to the Ray
Of far inferior Titan for a golden
And flaming Convoy, scorn'd to be beholden.

72

Appointed thus, His royal March He 'gan,
Needing no Trumpets' throats the News to tell;
The gallant Pæans of His vocal Van
To all the Orbs proclaim'd the Spectacle:
Heav'n summon'd by the strong Alarm, awoke,
And all its twinckling Eyes did thither look.

73

Into Amazement's Deep old Nature started,
And there stood staring on the wonderous sight
In which She read her own great Statutes thwarted
By Him whose Mandate first had set them right;
Seeing brisk Lightness its strange Progress rending
Through weight's dull road, and wind and fire descending.

74

As in the speed of furious Sweetness this
Greedy Procession down it self did croud;
By sudden fragor's vast Impetuousness
The Air's calm Ocean all was overflow'd:
Which Noise's flood broke ope that House, and there
Thy Lord's Disciples overwhelm'd with fear.

75

Not with that slavish fear which strikes the stroke
Of Vengeance upon guilty Hearts before
The whip can touch them; but with Dread whose Look
Starts into joyouse Hope; a Dread which more
Afflicts with piercing Comfort than with Pain;
Which pinches, but by breaking of the Rein.

76

The blustering Language of the Coach they heard,
And fully understood from whence it came;
By which their Expectation's Bliss appear'd
Before its Apparition: had no flame
Lighted the noble Truth, yet plain the case
They found, that Heav'n upon them rushing was.

77

But as their eyes they lifted up to meet
Their glorious Hopes, th'authentick Attestation
On their brave faith its radiant signet set:
In broke the mighty Wind of Consolation,
With all the Lightning's graceful Troop, and on
Their Heads each flaming Tongue strait took its throne.

78

The blessed Breath its vigor roll'd about
The wondering House, and every corner fill'd;
Yet suffered no Blasts to straggle out,
And blow on Jewish, or on Pagan field:
Heav'n's Spirit hither deigned to resort,
And only here He means to keep His Court.

79

What though its Walls be poor; what though the Room
As yet be scant? the simple fabrick is
His Holy Church, His sublunary Home,
His sweet though but His earthly Paradise:
Though other Piles be fair, God chooseth none
To be His Temple, but His Church alone.

80

The fond Schismatick and Heretick fry
Flatter their conventicling Cells in vain,
As if the sneaking Arms of Privacy
The great and Catholick Spirit could contain;
Or He in snarling several Sects could dwell
Who Union's is and Peace's closest Seal.

81

Indeed with Wind their Houses filled are;
But empty Wind, or full of baneful breath;
Breath much of kin to that contagious Air
Whose bosom stuffed is with gales of Death:
Breath of immortal Plagues, which pierceth through
The breast and heart, till Souls to hell it blow.

82

Nay several Breaths together bluster there,
And all the Card of Winds in battle meet:
Whence by the Tempest of their monstrous War
They upon Cities, Churches, Kingdoms beat,
Till into mad Confusion's gulf at last
Wrack'd friends and foes, and their own selves they cast.

83

O that the foolish World so far would learn
Its own felicity as but to know
The soil that bears it! could they once discern
That in the Church's mount it groweth, how
Could madness be so mad as once to think
To find it in a conventicle's sink?

84

But to display the Plenitude with which
The Spirit's vast Magnificence did store
His dear Ecclesiastick House, the reach
Of Seraph's largest Eloquence, nay more,
The glorious Compass of the Tongues which thus
Attended it, too scant and narrow is.

85

Yet noble were those Tongues: whose cloven fashion
Their temples crown'd with due Significance,
Who were by this sublime Inauguration
Made sacred Princes of all Lands. Not chance,
But just and Heav'nly Reason did bestow
These flaming Miters on the Churche's brow.

86

Mitres, whose bright Prerogative as far
Outshines old Aaron's golden Coronet,
As purest Evangelick Glories are
Above the sphere of Legal Beauties set:
Most reverend Miters, which ingraved were
With greater Holyness than triumph'd there.

87

This shape's fair Points right gloriously maintain
Due opposition to Hell's ugly King:
These Princes destin'd were above to reign,
For ever, He beneath: and answering
In head and feet their several Kingdoms, now
They Cloven are above, and He below.

88

Nor must th'Ambition of the forked Hill
Which higher than it self proud Greece doth lift,
By Cirrha or by Nissa parallel
The loftier Honor of this splended Cleft:
Here here in multiplicity the true
Parnassus his most learned Top doth shew.

89

Here dwels not that thin family of Nine
Fictitious Sisters, whom kind Poets first
Devoutly fixing in their fancie's shrine,
With Praises and quaint Admirations nurst
Into fond Deities; and then desir'd
By what themselves had made, to be inspir'd.

90

O no! a Brood of Graces numberless
And really divine, which hatched were
By th'everlasting Dove's pure warmth, in this
Illustrious habitation Tenants are:
Graces with whose enthusiastick Heat
Both breasts of Poets and of Preachers beat.

91

For these fire-crowned Saints conveened here
Where Heav'n's grand Trumpets, chosen to proclaim
Round Phebus's circle unto every ear
The glories of a fairer Titan's Name:
And now Heav'n's Breath was ready come to teach
The World-alarming Trumpets, how to Preach.

92

And this unclouds thy doubting, Psyche, why
On these Disciples' heads this Embleme sate:
No Badge so truly proper to imply
The signal Glory of their Charge, as that:
Talk not of Beauty, Wealth or Pedegree;
What but a Tongue the Preacher's Crown can be?

93

This with meet emphasis declares that they
Are His Embassadors who is the Word:
Their Errand's Peace; nor seek they to array
Themselves in Steel, or trust to spear and sword;
Compounded all of Sweetness is their might,
As being sent to Treat, and not to Fight.

94

Religion knows no stern Artillery,
But in her Tongue her gentle Powers reign;
Prayers and Persuasions her Engins be,
Prepared pure unbloody Bays to gain:
Her Master's Death suffices her, and she
No other Wounds desires to make or see.

95

Her own dear Veins She rather will expose
To quench the barbarous Thirst of any steel,
Than broach and quaff in others; with her foes
More kindly She than with her self will deal,
And struggles at her own Life's price to give
Them happy power eternally to live.

96

Shame then, the dregs of shame all poured be
On their bold Souls, who shall hereafter by
The Ammunition of Barbarity
Religion's peaceful Quarrel fortify;
Who not by Prayers, but Armies shall beseech,
Who not by Tongues, but Canons' Roar shall preach.

97

Whose Church shall grow so Militant indeed,
That it by nothing but by War can stand;
The flames of whose hell-kindled Zeal shall feed
Upon and quite devour the Altar; and
Its wild Combustion spread to Court and Bar,
Till Throne and Laws in Ashes buried are.

98

'Tis true, these Tongues of Pentecosts were all
Compos'd of fire, but fire serene and mild;
Which corresponding to the festival,
With harmless fervor on these Preachers smil'd:
Bright were the flames, yet did not scorch but gild,
Covering their Temples with a radiant Shield.

99

Resolv'd to sport it in a Summer's Eve
Thus did of late the merry Lambent fire
An innocent Kiss to thine own Tresses give;
A Kiss which still thy ravish'd thoughts admire,
Being so tender that it could not by
Thy touch be felt, but only by thine Eye.

100

Yet though those flames on this Assembly sate
With unconsuming delicacy; They
Approv'd themselves victoriously hot,
When through the World their might rent ope its way
And burnt so bright from East to West, that it
On a-light fire with Zeal all Nations set.

101

With sacred Zeal, which made all Dross its Prey,
All Dross of Ignorance, of Superstition,
Of atheous Grossness; and refin'd the Clay
Of humane Nature into a condition
So richly pure, that on its holy face
Splendidly legible God's Image was.

102

Nor prov'd their Heat less useful than their Light,
Which poured out meridian Grace's Day
Upon the Depth of that Soul-blinding Night
Of Sin in which all Countries groping lay:
For Piety forthwith awoke, and read
Heav'n clear and plain, and what way thither led.

103

Has holy Fame not acted to thine ear
That old Exploit which graved Shinar's Plain
On Memorie's eternal pillars? where
The deep and dreadful Item stands, to rein
All mortal Pride's bold speed, and fright Ambition
Into remembrance of its frail Condition.

104

All several Tongues as yet were One, nor did
Distinction of cross Dialects estrange
This Colony from that; no Sense lay hid
In an exotick Dress; no Climate's change
Created need of an Interpreter
To speak again what once was spoken there.

105

When humane Race, who freely now could trade
With one another's Minds, together laid
Their heads and plots, and politickly mad
Consulted how to make their fears afraid,
To fortify their Strength, to teach their Pride
To rise, and Union not to divide.

106

The drowned World so deep had sunk into
Their jealous hearts, that though the King of Fate
Shot them Assurance from his splendid Bow,
On their own Counsil's anvil still they beat,
And hop'd to hammer by their Wisdom's work
Some surer larger Refuge than an Ark.

107

For all in Parliament most gravely met,
And having popular Nimrod chose to be
Their learned Speaker; cunning he, to get
By his sly Bait of outside Honesty.
Power's prize his proud-hearted-burning thirst to slake,
With looks demure the wild House thus bespake:

108

Henceforth all private Thoughts farewel, adieu
Mine own Estate, my Fame, my Liberty;
Nimrod must have no more to do with you
Than with the Publick you the same can be:
My Life's without me now, nor can I feel
My proper Health but in the Common-weal.

109

How miserable were my Gains, could I
Shift for my Self alone, when all my dear
And rational Kinred must exposed lie
To cruel Chance's insolent carreer?
How could my Life its Name to me maintain
Who must in every one of them be slain!

110

That therfore no Dispersion may unty
Our Common Bodies' joints, and ope a way
To Disolation's full-tide injury;
I here propound, what I will first obey;
Let it enacted be, that All combine
Their Purses and their Hands in one Design.

111

In one Design, to build a City, where
Against all fears we may our selves immure:
And in that City's heart a Tower to rear
Whose chance-defying Top shall not endure
To be o'rlooked and controlled by
Proud Clouds, or at the Thunder's mercy lie.

112

A Tower whose head amidst the Spheres shall dwell,
And with a starry Crown imbellish'd be;
A Tower which may befriend the Heav'ns as well
As Earth, with bravely firm Security;
And higher than Rain's empire, scorn the froth
Of any Deluge's impatient Wrath.

113

Bold Nimrod so. The silly Senate all
Voted his Motion strait into a Law,
And then about their insolent Work they fall,
And mounts of Slime and Brick together draw;
Unto a barbarous depth they dig, and set
In hell their heav'n-aspiring Fabrick's feet.

114

That Expedition then their Work might crown,
They with their Morter mix'd their willing Sweat;
The long-breath'd Sun was tir'd, and laid him down
Before their daily Task would Rest admit;
Nor could he out of bed so early be
As they, who higher vow'd to climb than He.

115

O how much easier might they have ascended
To heav'n's fair Hill, would they have gone the way
Which Heav'n it self had oft to them commended!
The possible and ready way, which lay
Not o'r the dangerous tops of highlook'd Towers,
But through Humility's safe shady bowers.

116

As now the monstrous Pile began to rise,
One story climbing on another's back;
The Workmen's swelling Joy first through their eyes,
Then through their lips in haughty triumph brake:
Loud were their Acclamations, and beat
The Stars, which now their Tower presum'd to threat.

117

God heard the saucy Noise, and challeng'd by
Its importunity, came down to see
How far the Madness of Impiety,
To her own ruin clambering would be:
He came, and saw th'outrageous Work, and how
Proud Dust above its Earth aspir'd to grow.

118

This made Him His just Indignation seal
Sure on their Tongues which call'd His Vengeance down:
The troubled Builders strait a-staring fell,
Deeming all Ears were deaf except their own,
Or that their Fellows' wits grew dizzy by
Their rearing up this Edifice so high.

119

This man gives Brick, when that for Morter calls,
This cries, a Hammer, that a Ladder brings;
A-swearing this, and that a-Laughing falls
To hear his Neighbours thus miscalling Things:
This Prays, that Curses his Commanding; and
This Rails, and that his Praises doth commend.

120

A hideous Combustion of Voice
Amaz'd the Air; and each one wonder'd why
He spake so loud, and yet could make no noise
To any of the gaping Standers by;
Whose Senses equally astonish'd were
To find they heard not what they still did hear.

121

Confounded thus, away their Tools they threw,
And all their Hopes which with their Tower had swell'd;
Being inforc'd to study out a new
Manner of Architecture, which might build
More useful Castles in the Air than this,
And raise of Words a various Edifice.

122

For in this clamorous hurliburly tost,
They saw their Language which till now had run
In one smooth chanel, miserably lost
Into a maze of more than seven times ten
Ragged Meanders, where the vexed Sound
Alas, an harsh and troubled passage found.

123

This fatal Curse made every Country be
Barbarian to one another, and
To mighty cost put Humane Industry
Their sillyest Neighbours how to understand:
On sprucest Wit this stampt the name of fool,
And sent profoundest Learning's self to School.

124

This forc'd through many tedious sweating Years
The patience of the earnest Student; who
Consumed with a thousand pallid Cares,
Amidst his painful Work could nothing do.
For to inrich his Tongue, his Brains he brake,
And aged grew e'r he had learn'd to speak.

125

Strange scrambling Alphabets this multiply'd,
And to an Art improv'd Necessity;
Each parted Tongue this did again divide
Into Eight several Stations, and by
Unworthy Grammar's busy Niceties
All generous Apprehensions exercise.

126

Yea Grammar too found all her Laws too weak
To govern Language's extravagance;
Such odd and unruly Idioms did kick
Against her setled Discipline, and prance
So wildly through Expression's fields, that Art
Was fain to play the child, and conne by heart.

127

But Pentecost's miraculous Virtue now
By cloven Tongues did Tongues' Division heal,
And teach all different Languages to flow
From single mouths; which happily repeal
The fate of Bable, and can fully rear
A loftier Tower then was designed there.

128

For these brave Architects impowred were
The royal fabrick of the Church to raise:
A fabrick which though its foundation here
In low and scorn'd Humility it lays,
It mounts above the Clouds in sacred pride
And in the Heav'n of Heav'ns its head doth hide.

129

A fabrick whose Materials scatter'd lay
Both in the East and West, the South and North;
Which though no more than simple Dust and Clay,
Yet far excell'd the Parian Marble's worth,
And those fair Stones whose sparkling eyes with sweet
And bright Good Morrows rising Titan meet.

130

These all both live and breath, and are endow'd
With vigor which on Time's proud Sithe can tread:
For in the bosom of this dusty cloud
Are pure immortal Souls inveloped;
Which, since the Church's Pile Spiritual is,
Suit fairest with the glorious Edifice.

131

And O, what power of Art's requir'd to hew
And square and polish Spirits! Psyche this
High Workmanship's rare difficulties shew
That more than Man the Master-builder is.
He is indeed; and these Disciples now
Felt with no less than God their bosoms glow.

132

Though flaming Tongues perch'd on their heads, yet in
Their breasts the mighty fire its furnace chose:
There, there th'eternal Spirit his divine
All-quickning fervor's plenitude let loose;
Which swell'd its Dwelling with impatient Bliss,
And strain'd their heart-strings to Delight's excess.

133

As when the Harvest with a plenteous Crop
Of smiling streams augments his teeming store,
Jordan grown bigger than himself, flings ope
The bounty of his Arms on either shore;
And deluges of kind Embraces spreads
Over the beauties of his neighbour Meads.

134

So in this time of Grace's Harvest now
These sacred Souls were stuff'd and stretch'd so high
That all their bosoms' banks proved much too low
To bridle in their floods' immensity:
The working Torrent broke their lips in sunder,
And drown'd all Salem's ears in holy wonder.

135

(For sooner shall the fire refuse to burn,
The golden Sun to chase out leaden Night,
Earth's Lump to stand, Heav'n's nimble Wheels to turn,
Th'inamor'd Needle to affect the sight
Of her dear North; than all the World shall slake
Their Tongues' carreer whom Heav'n inspires to speak.)

136

They Spake; but hampered and scanted now
No longer in the Syrian Speeches' pale:
All Sounds to them in champagne lay; and through
That open Race they scoured, to forestal
Bold Ignorance's Plea, and make't appear
That All might learn, who would not stop their ear.

137

Nor were they common murmuring Rils which broke
From their Lips' fount, but highest floods of Praise:
Heav'n's mighty King they for their Subject took,
And bravely ventured their first Essays
On Love's Omnipotence, whose Wonders they
In most courageous faith and Zeal display.

138

Forthwith a noble Auditory on
These all-tongu'd Preachers thronged to attend;
For from the rising to the setting Sun
Devotion's bus'ness did to Salem send
All pious hungry Hearts to feast it here,
With sacred Pentecost's most solemn cheer.

139

Here Lybia with Cappadocia met;
Ægypt and Media saw Pamphilia here;
Here Parthia and Pontus crowded Creet;
With Elamites here Jews surrounded were;
Mesopotamia here kiss'd Phrygia, and
Arabia here took Asia by the hand.

140

Had any been too great and proud to come,
Imperial Rome on those high terms had stood;
Yet she disdained not to travel from
Her Pomp and mingle with this common flood:
All which were welcom'd by a nobler feast
Than by Mosaick Rites was ever drest.

141

A Feast so strangely sumptuous, that they
Can nothing but their deep Amazement feed;
The Elamite his wonder doth bewray
Unto the Jew, the Lybian to the Mede.
All loose themselves in dubious fancies, and
Astonish'd are because they Understand.

142

The Babylonian Workmen wracked were
In less devouring Deeps of Ecstasy
Those unintelligible Sounds to hear
Whose breath blew down their bold Conspiracy;
Than these admiring Nations, now they know
Plainly what spoken is, yet know not how.

143

Up fly their puzzell'd hands and eyes and voice,
And thus they cry: What, O what do we hear!
Did e'r from any single fountain choise
Of every Liquor flow! what Root can bare
All tribes and kinds of Herbs and flowers, and make,
A goodly Garden grow on one poor Stalk!

144

Yet lo, those numerous Varieties
Of disagreeing Languages, by which
Each Country shut from one another lies
Beyond Communication's friendly reach,
All flourishing in reconcilement here
Upon the tips of single Tongues appear.

145

And were not these strange Orators all bred
In dull and simple Galilee? Yet we
Find more then learned Athens' treasured
In Ignorance's clownish Proginy;
Which them both Linguists doth and Doctors make,
For they as marvelously Teach as spake.

146

Home to our hearts they piercing come in our
Own Dialects, and print their Sermons there,
Leaving our most convinced Souls no power
Of contradiction: O how Heav'nly-rare
Is that Magnificence of Mercy they
Like God's own Trumpets royally display!

147

What Miracles of News; what Oracles
Of bliss-begetting Truths are these, by which
We learn how bright Divinity a Dress
Of Clouds put on; how God was pleas'd to pitch
His Tent on Earth; and how Immensity
Shrunk into Dust, and deign'd a Babe to be.

148

How mighty Jesus shin'd so fair, ev'n by
His dim Condition, as away to chase
Each misty Type and shady Prophesy
Which muffled up till now Religion's face:
How most oppressed He triumph'd, and though
Both poor and scorn'd, Heav'n's Kingdom rais'd below.

149

What sacred Laws He for that Realm enacted;
In what stupendous Deeds His Power did reign;
How He His twice six Deputies elected;
How He His Spirit promis'd to sustain
Their faint frail flesh in that grand Office, and
Their Patience arm'd that Promise to attend.

150

How by His dying Breath He blew down Death
And undermin'd Corruption in His Grave;
How Hell He lower trode, when's foot's brave Wrath
Into the Dragon's brains due Vengeance drave;
How He the third Day cancell'd mortal fate,
And to the World op'd Resurrection's gate.

151

How gloriously besmear'd with Conquests, He
Encoached in a thriambeutick Cloud
Returned home; how Heav'n's sublimity
In loyal reverence to His Coming bow'd;
How He resum'd His Sovereign Throne, and there
Honor's own earned Crown on's Temples ware.

152

The pious Strangers by these Admirations
Eas'd their oppressed hearts. When Hell's black King
Whose ever-jealous ear caught all Mutations
Which through the coasts of startled Nature run,
Rous'd his mad head, and shook the snaky hair
And fiery horns which sadly stared there.

153

The fragor of the Heav'nly Wind he heard,
Which rent his sturdy throne and stouter heart
Into suspition that some stronger Lord
Had seized on his Realm's superior part,
And blown away his power to maintain
His dearest Title of Air's Sovereign.

154

This fir'd his speed, and he to Salem flew
To see what most he fear'd and hated most:
Where those fair troops of flaming Tongues through new
Terrors and Doubts his dazell'd fancy tost,
And fry'd his brains in pangs, because they did
Not burn but burnish this Assemblie's head.

155

Not all the seizings, shrieks, grones, yellings, which
To damned ears his hideous Hell apply,
Had ever jarr'd upon his Soul with such
Sad harshness, as that blessed Melody
Of all-agreeing Languages, which through
Th'Apostles' Heav'n-tun'd lips distilled now.

156

Nor was the Theme of their most sweet Discourse
Less bitter to his fell malicious Taste;
For by divine Love's wonderworking force
He into fetters felt his fury cast,
And those Exploits he heard proclamed here
The History of his own Ruins were.

157

But that which with more cruel anguish tore
His venomous Soul, was to observe how all
This Conflux in astonishment before
This Miracle's bright face made haste to fall;
Ne'r strugling by fond prejudice to slight
What they could not resist by Reason's Might.

158

His breast he smote, he stamp'd, his lips he bit;
Three desperate sighs he fetch'd; three times he try'd
His tortured impatience forth to spit;
But was as oft repulsed by the Tide
Of gloriously-convincing power which he
Saw shining in this sacred Prodigy.

159

Recoiling then into his belking heart
Thus his indignant Fury there he chewed:
Fy Belzebub; shall thine immortal Art
Of Spight and Wrath so poorly be subdued,
That silly Fishermen should catch thy Prey,
And empty send thy Plots and Thee away!

160

Shall Galilean Tongues the credit wrest
From thy renowned Oracles, and draw
Astonish'd Nations to adore that Christ
Who galls his Subjects with an iron Law;
Whilst fooled Thou ingrateful Man to please
Lin'st thy Commands with silken downy Ease?

161

What boots it Thee Damnation's King to be,
If thy vast Realms depopulated lie;
If thy presumed Slaves revolt from Thee
And to thy hated Rival's standard fly;
If Emptiness must fill thy Jails of Pain;
If all thy sulphury Gulfs must flame in vain!

162

Canst thou with patience be a Devil, and yet
Behold how in this new converted Rout,
(Who for his Churche's Pile, themselves as fit
Materials, to the Carpenter have brought,)
Thy heedless Earth is tainted by the strong
Christ-bred Contagion, swelling every Tongue!

163

Thus murmuring in his fretful self; at length
His Wrath and Craft trode down his fear; and He
Vowed to tenter Desperation's strength,
And deepest Hell's profounder Policy,
Rather than any of those Tongues should grow
Famous by preaching his Pride's Overthrow.

164

Wind is but Wind, though puff'd from Heav'n, said He,
And what care I for what was with it blown?
Great Satan's Tongue is full as fiery
As those which now these Galileans crown:
Yea and from Heav'n it fell as well as They,
Why then, why should it fear what those can Say?

165

'Tis true, their Might is mightier than their own;
For Heav'n's grand Spirit nestles in their breast;
(Though with more credit, sure, He might have shown
Himself abroad, and chose fair Honor's List.)
But am not I, brave I, a Spirit too?
Yes; and will make my Rival find it so.

166

And since in ambush He His strength hath laid,
(Whether in fear to pitch a field, or no,
Let others judge:) it never shall be said
But I at His own play will meet my Fo.
I'd rather win by open battel; yet
Rather than loose, I'l fight by secret Wit.

167

He to His cost shall quickly find, that I
Can my Disciples too inspire; nor shall
His Tongue's admired Multiplicity
Outpreach my Orators. Shall Words appall
Me, who ne'r stoop'd to Deeds? forbid it my
Immortally-rebellious Gallantry.

168

Well beat my Pulse; well belk'd my noble Brain;
Brave Triumph's March in my own heart I feel:
My Plot's as sure and safe, as my Disdain
And Wrath are just: all foolish Doubts farewel.
Thus having brag'd his Blasphemies, the Feind
With hideous gladness smiled in his mind.

169

Then having spy'd out an unhappy Knot
Of unbelieving Souls, who stared there
And scratch'd their musing heads; himself he shot
Deep into their unguarded bosoms, where
He tainted to such rampant strength their Doubt
That from their lips the raging Venom wrought.

170

O fond Mistake! cry'd they: where are your eyes,
Your Reason's eyes, ye blind Admirers! Why
Must all the world by your rash Ecstasies
Run headlong into credulous Foolery?
Shall every Country else besotted be
By,—which of all's the sillyest,—Galilee?

171

Is't such a tame and sober Age, that you
A pack of Drunkards never saw but here!
Alas poor Fishers; they have only now
Taken too great a Draught: their Brains which were
With Water more than Wine acquainted, feel
What 'tis with new strange Elements to deal.

172

Perhaps 'twas Pentecost's Festivity
Which tempted them into this jovial Fit:
But they began the Feast too soon; or by
Rude headlong Joy outran their Wits, and it.
By this, had they a Temple there, you see
What goodly Feasts they'd keep in Galilee.

173

The Wine was new, and news, and woo'd their Taste
With such strong complement, that yielding They
The pleasant smiling sparkling Nymph embrac't
With wanton greediness; and threw away
The tedious thoughts of their old Nets and Pains
When once imprison'd in her dainty chains.

174

What cause of Marvel is it then, that they
Who thus were stuff'd and stretch'd, at length run over;
That working Must would not the bung obey,
But on the Vessel's brim its strength discover!
That brim's their lips, on which the surplusage
Of their mad fulness foams its drunken rage.

175

What wonder e'r fool'd sober hearts, to see
The Menades rapt into Ecstasies
When ravish'd by their raging Deity
They lost their virgin sense? And do not these
Intoxicated Priests of Wildernes now
With Bacchus's vitious virtue overflow?

176

What though their Legs no staggering betray?
This drunken Fit works only upwards; and
What gross and fuming burdens oversway
Their Brains, you by their mouths may understand:
For their unweildy Tongues reel to and fro,
And stumbling through a thousand Dialects go.

177

Or if Wine's Spirit too unlearned seem
To prompt so many Languages; why may
That other Spirit not have tutor'd them
Who taught their Master strength! 'tis less to Say
Than Do: If He by Belzebub could break
Hell's Laws, against them why may These not Speak?

178

Old Satan's cunning and hath often found
The way his great Creator's steps to trace;
A gainful Trick, and which hath fairly crown'd
His hellish Projects with an heavenly Grace.
If God once preach'd by Balaam's Ass, why may
Not Satan do as much by These to-day?

179

But clearly to uncloud your Stupor, let
A little Sleep but cool these Linguists' brain;
And they from their evaporated Wit
Will wake into their silly selves again:
These Fishers then will all as silent be
As their mute Preys they hunted in the Sea.

180

Thus rail'd this slanderous Crew: and Satan, who
Had roared through their throats this Calumny,
Presum'd to hope the Miracle was so
Smitten and blasted, that it needs must die.
Fond Devil! who though beat from heav'n to hell,
Will still conceit he with his God can deal.

181

As when bold Malice contumely spits
Upon th'Embassage of some glorious Prince,
The generous Embassador forgets
His own, and putteth on his Sovereign's sense;
Whom stoutly he asserts, and from the face
Of his great Interess wipes all Disgrace:

182

So Heav'n's twelve Legers now affronted by
This foul Reproach which on their God did bound;
Pluck'd up their loyal Zeal, and lifting high
Their most undaunted heads, dispensed round
About their railing Foes an awful Look,
Which to their Lye, resolv'd Defiance spoke.

183

Their Captain then, He whose faint Tongue of late
Into Apostasie's base safety sneaked;
That cowardly Retreat to expiate,
The powers of faithful Bravery awaked,
And full in Slander's face led up the Van
Of strong though naked Truth; and thus began:

184

O most mistaken Jews, lend me your ears,
And fill'd with Bliss I 'l pay them back again:
Wer't Wine's wild Energy which domineers
In our O how unjustly slander'd brain;
Yet would it quit your cost to hear us speak
Since Verity from Wine's free lips doth break.

185

But ask your eyes, and they will tell you Day
Is young and has but crawl'd three steps as yet:
And can Suspition dream We would betray
Our early hours to Night's foul bus'ness? let
All Histories of Monsters ransack'd be,
No morning Drunkards you inroll'd shall see.

186

Yet if you wash from Drunkenness's Name
The guilty blot of carnal Luxury;
We own the Word, and fear not any shame
That can attend on such Ebriety,
That Drunk we are, we willingly profess,
But not, as you suppose, by Wine's excess.

187

'Tis not the blood of Grapes which swells our veins
And makes our tongues so glib: O no, the Wine
Whose sprightful vigor in our bosoms reigns,
The gallant issue is of th'heav'nly Vine;
Whence pressed but this Morning, down upon
Our heads and hearts in living streams it ran.

188

Long since, your reverend Joel's piercing eye
Discover'd this intoxicating Day;
When drunk with sympathetick ecstasy
This sacred Rage of ours he did display.
O blame not then our Tongues nor Brains, since We
Are thus distemper'd ev'n by Prophesy.

189

He, noble He, foretold, how in the dry
Old age of Time, his God abroach would set
Th'alquickning Fountain of Immensity
To cure the languishing World's Drought, and let
The Deluge of his mighty Spirit flow
Down on parch'd gasping bosoms here below:

190

How this most cleansing Flood should wash the eye
Of every Age and Sex so bright, that they
Through gloomy Closets of futurity
Should light themselves by their own searching Ray;
And traffick in the deepest Mysteries
Of holy Visions, Dreams, and Prophesies.

191

This, this, that strange Effusion is which now
Our blind illiterate Ignorance hath drown'd;
This from our heav'n-instructed tongues doth flow
In every Dialect's right-tuned Sound.
Our Souls this Wine enflames; and thus are We
Drunk with mysterious Sobriety.

192

When Slander at this high Apology
Chain'd in inevitable Muteness stood:
Further to reach his blessed Victory,
The conquering Saint on in's Oration rode,
And on his now ingaged Auditory
Full volleys poured of his Master's Story.

193

Which Charge so smartly wounded them, that they
Fling up their Arms, and Quarter, Quarter cry;
No longer they dispute, but meekly pray
For life and pardon: nor could all the sly
Recruits which Satan stole into their breast,
The sense of this their Overthrow resist.

194

Three thousand Souls thus at one single Cast
This lately-vilified Fisher caught;
Whom from their Unbelief's rough Deep, to most
Serene and happy Baptism's streams he brought;
And sent back frighted Belzebub to quake
Ev'n in the bottom of his burning Lake.

195

This early Conquest's grand Experiment
Doubled their Privilege's former sense
On these Disciples' hearts: the full extent
Of that dear Promise their ascending Prince
Pawn'd to their Widdowhood, perform'd they see:
Now they invested are in Potency.

196

In Potency; and in such pure Delight
That Joy's own Soul's not more content than they:
Indeed all Pleasures seem'd to take their flight
On Jesus's wings, when hence He towr'd away.
But now in their own ravish'd breasts they find
Heav'n's and Earth's Comforter Himself inshrin'd.

197

Whole Oceans of Jubilations beat
And foam'd upon their bosoms' swelled shore:
Their former selves they sought amongst those sweet
Extremities, but found themselves no more:
The Men were lost in joyous Perturbation,
And all their Essence turn'd to Exultation.

198

This Solace's divine Contagion spread
Upon all Contraries its conquering might;
With Honor, this disgrace imbellished;
This candied bitterest Tortures with Delight;
This sow'd the Smiles of Life and pleasant Grace
Thick in the furrows of Death's frowning face.

199

Nor could all Persecution's Troops forbid
These Heros' March, whose valiant Jollity
Through all Distress, and Straits and Anguish rid;
Which muster'd stood to stop their Victory.
Their Heav'n they sweetly antidated here,
Whilst from their eyes was wiped every Tear.

200

Great was this glorious Bliss. But, Psyche, know
A royaler Prerogative than this
On their selected Souls was sealed now:
As wide's Heav'n's Kingdom their Dominion is;
Both East and West's their Jurisdiction, and
They sacred Princes are in every Land.

201

On twelve fair Thrones they sit in heav'nly state,
Judging the Tribes not of that Israel which
Is scanted in poor Canaan, but that
Whose equal bounds the World's wide margin reach;
Spiritual Israel, link'd to Abraham by
The surest bands of Faith's Affinity.

202

So absolute's their Legislative Right,
That what they once establish for a Law,
Not all the Votes of Hell, not all the Might
Of contradicting Earth can overthrow:
For in this style run their great Statutes, Thus
It seems good to the Holy Ghost and Us.

203

And little thinks Heretick madness, she
At God Himself lifts up her desperate heels,
Whene'r her proud Opiniastrete
Against Ecclesiastick Sanctions swells:
For this almighty Spirit came not now
To visit, but inhabit here below.

204

T'inhabit here, as long as Here is here,
Till Dissolution's gulf this World devours:
Although this royal Twelve have chang'd their sphere,
And in a higher heav'n are fix'd than yours;
Amongst their Successors He still abides,
And always at their Council-Board Presides.

205

But as these Wonders with ecstatick joy
Embrav'd and feasted these Disciples' hearts;
Behold another Miracle's bright Ray
Fresh Delicacies of Amazement darts:
Their heads' dim region they enlightned find
No less than was th'horizon of their mind.

206

For their faint Memories' low-seated Cells,
Which fogs and mists had dammed up before,
This searching Spirit with pure Brightness fills;
And rouses their Astonishment the more
To see how in their Brains' unlikely West
That Claritude vouchsaf'd to choose its East.

207

Hast thou not seen, when courteous Titan's beams
Pour his bright bounty through the Summer air,
How in the golden bosom of his streams
Thick shoals of Atoms swim? About this fair
Irradiation's Scene thus scudding here
Millions of Memorative Figures were.

208

And those not thin and starv'd, not blind, or lame;
Not crude and embryo Notions; no shreds
Of half-lost Things; no open-eyed Dream;
No slow-pac'd Topicks, whose dull tedium leads
Poor Recollection long long ways about,
And often seeks what needed not be sought:

209

But fair and full Ideas; which were all
Muster'd in Method's rational array;
Off'ring their ripe and perfect selves to fall
Into the gatherer's eye without delay;
And telling brisk Anamnesis that she
And all her pains henceforth might spared be.

210

Drawn up in fairly-ranged Bodies here
Appear'd those mighty Precepts which of late
Preach'd in the Mountain's awful Pulpit were
When Truth's and Power's grand Prince the Doctor sate.
Precepts which far outshined those which broke
From thundering Sina's head in fire and smoke.

211

Here in their several Troops and Squadrons all
Those Sayings and Expressions marshall'd were,
Which from His venerable Lips did fall,
Whether He taught, or prais'd or chode, or tare
Out Devils and Diseases, or with smart
Threatnings, alarm'd the dull obdurate Heart.

212

Here in a sweet Reserve all smiling stood
His Promises and Benedictions: from
His Baptism's streams down to His own Side's flood
Whate'r He spake, found here its proper room:
So did His new-rais'd Tongue's Discourse, which now
Reviv'd again and march'd in open view.

213

The smallest Syllable, and lesser Point
Fail'd not their due appearence here to make:
The massy bulk of heav'n and earth shall faint
And fade to nothing; but no Words that break
From His dear mouth who is th'almighty Word
In black Oblivion's pit can lie interr'd.

214

Thus, thus the Gospel first was writ, and in
Thus many Copies: which soon after by
The same great Spirit's providential Pen
Transcrib'd in quadruple Epitomy,
Sure to perpetual Memory treasur'd are
In Piety's authentick Register.

215

Wonder not then, that no Conspiracy
Of Earth's bold envy, or Hell's madder spight
Could blast the growth of Christianity;
Which flourish'd by no mortal Vigour's might,
But by th'eternal Spirit, who power can give
(And who alone,) to Life it self to live.

216

He potent He's her Soul, and fortifies
Her heart's inexpugnable garrison:
Whence He to every Part sends due supplies
Of vivid heat and chearful Motion:
No Members so remote, but still He warms
And hugs them in His Influence's arms.

217

He warms and hugs them, if they kick and fight
Not with His Favour's patience; nor by
Sin's black cold puddle strive to quench the bright
Flames of His Grace's Importunity:
If by rebellious spight they grieve not Him
Whose sweetness works to solace worthless Them.

218

Retort thine eyes into thy Self, my Dear,
(For thou a Member of this Body art,)
And mark by strict examination there
How matters tuned are in thine own heart:
Thy heart, I know, will answer, that it beats
Less by its own than by this Spirit's heats.

219

Those Heats of His are they to which thou owest
The speed of this thy sacred Pilgrimage,
Far more than to these fiery Steeds: nor knowest
Thou how to travel to the final Stage
Of thy celestial Hopes, unless the blast
Of this great Spirit help thy zealous haste.

220

Forget not then how happy is the debt
Which thy best Thanks to Pentecost ingages:
The royal Feast is not expired yet,
Nor has long Time cool'd its heav'n-kindled Rages,
Which here will surely flame till all this All
By fatal fire into its ashes fall.

221

The Angel ceased here, in hopes that he
Had quenched now his Pupil's sacred thirst:
When with exultant tears bedewed, She
Into her wonted Zeal's impatience burst,
Crying, O Love, how how shall finite I
Contain thy ravishing Immensity!

222

Was 't not enough that thy Magnificence
Sent Phylax down from heav'n to Comfort me;
But thou must pour a greater Spirit thence
Than any of the winged Hierarchy;
That Spirit which enlivens heav'n with bliss,
And all our guardian Angels Phylax is!

223

Was't not enough, O matchless Sovereign
Of most inestimable Bounty, that
Thou climb'st Thy Cross in valiant disdain
Of Shame and Torment, and refusedst not
To give Thine utmost Blood for me, but Thou
Must thus Thy mighty Spirit too bestow!

224

Do, sweetest Conqueror, if Thou canst, do more
To triumph over Thy thrice-vanquish'd Slave:
Lo here most potent Thee I challenge, for
I fear no heavier Chains than these I have:
Under Thy Love's whole Tyranny I groan,
Nor could Omnipotence do more than's done.

225

Yet shall not this profoundest Project prove
Sufficient thy poor Vassal to deceive;
Nor must the greatest Tokens of thy Love
Seduce my Loyal Languishment to leave
Thirsting and panting after precious Thee,
And drink full Solace from their Suavity.

226

How cowardly is his Affection's Heat
Which can by any Present from his Friend
Be tam'd and pacify'd, and fail to beat
With ferventer Desire! Let Jesus send
Me what He will, or can, His Gift shall but
Whet and enrage my soul Himself to get.

227

Because this Paraclete the Fountain is
Of sacred Comfort, therefore dare not I
Pitch my Contentment's final rest in His
Divinely-satisfying Company:
He but augments my Debt, dear Lord, to Thee,
And makes my love's impatience fiercer be.

228

Poor Psyche's heart why draw'st Thou by so great
And irresistible a Cord as He.
Yet strangely still averse, wilt not permit
This violence to hale me home to Thee?
Why must the Giver of mysterious Ease
The Comforter Himself my pains increase?

229

Not for the price of thousand heav'ns would I
A stranger to His blessed Influence be:
Yet in Desire's deep furnace this doth fry
My soul together, Him and Thee to see.
Art Thou not one with Him? this then I crave,
That Thee I may not want whilst Him I have.

230

O pardon my Unsatiableness,
Since Thou thy self alone art cause of it:
Though Pentecost's vast Plentitude should press
Its feast of Joyes into my bosom, yet
I should but famish'd be the more until
I my Desires might at thy fountain fill.

231

As long's this cruel Distance puts a bar
'Twixt Psyche and her Jesus, woful she
Is torn and sever'd from her self as far
As groveling Earth from Heav'n's sublimity.
O most prodigious Rack, which thus canst spare
My life, and yet my heart in sunder tear!

232

Might I but die, how would I thank my pain!
But I am that strangely-massacred She,
Who sport for Death to make, must still be slain,
Yet still survive, destroy'd afresh to be.
Help, help, dear Phylax, for my Lord is deaf;
Unriddle thou my Smart by some Relief.

233

Thus groaned she. But her wise Guardian now
Seeing her Passion's Cunning drew Dismay
From Comfort's purest Spring, forbore to throw
Forestalled Counsil in her headlong way.
'Twas now too late to stop the Torrent's rage,
Which yet Diversion might perhaps aswage.

234

He therefore to her ear made no reply,
But seal'd his silent Answer on her lip:
Which Kiss she welcom'd with a loving sigh,
And hopes of something more in it did sip.
But soon she saw that what her Expectation
Took for the Preface, prov'd the whole Oration.

235

For nimble He strait by his shaked Rein
Unto his Coursers signifies his mind;
And they, whose fierceness all this while in pain
Had stood and stamp'd, now snuff'd the scorned Wind;
Louder and swifter than whose stoutest wing,
In neighing triumph through the clouds they fling.

CANTO XVII. The Cheat.

The ARGUMENT.

Leaving his Psyche, careful Phylax arms
With wholesome sage Advice her tender breast;
Yet by the Venom of Heretick Charms
Demurely baited, down She sits a guest
At Error's board; and by the treacherous Cheer
It quite devoured, which She swallow'd there.

1

Thus snatched from her Paradise, where She
No interdicted Fruit as yet had tasted;
Poor Psyche groans, and counts her self to be
Exil'd to woful Thorns and Bryars: blasted
Were her late florid Joys, which knew not how
On any ground but Palestine to grow.

2

And sits the Holy Land so high and dear
In pious Souls' esteem? What Tongue can then
Thunder sufficient Vengeance out, to tear
Th'ignoble Sloth of those unmanly Men
With equal indignation, who have let
Vile Pagan Powers from Christians ravish it.

3

O who can patient be to see the grand
Memorials of th'adored Incarnation
Basely inslav'd to barbarous Rudeness, and
Faith's Soil become an Infidel Plantation:
Whilst Palestine is now no longer known
By our Redeemer's Footsteps, or our own!

4

Could this prodigious Shame digested be
By Roman Hearts, when on their Empire's throne
No other Prince was culminant but He
Whom all the best of Bayes attended on;
Who like a Bank against the Torrent stood
And turn'd the Gyant into Sarus's flood:

5

Whose mighty Hand sent bold Razates down
To his eternal Night: who from the brow
Of stern Cosrhoes shaked off his Crown;
Before Syrhoes cancell'd nature's Law,
Improving Vengeance, that the Tyrant by
A Parricide dispatch'd, might double die:

6

Who wip'd the Roman Ignominy out,
When he three hundred Eagles, which had long
Been mew'd in Persian cages, nobly brought
In triumph back, and bad them fly among
Their fellow Ensigns, and as freely gaze
As any of the brood, on Phebus's face:

7

Who not these Banners only did redeem,
But ev'n Redemption's royal Standard too;
Which he could then so preciously esteem
That he himself its Porter turn'd, and so
Made all his Empire stoop to that which He
Upon His shoulders bore to Calvary.

8

Alas Heraclius, how has Heresy
Atchieved what all Persia could not do!
How has it made thine Eagles' pinions be
Only of use to flie before thy Fo!
Whilst one of Christ's great Wills thou tak'st away,
In vain thine own thou hopest to injoy.

9

Lo how the Monster Mahomet's black Fry
Like numerous Locusts from the pit of Night
Crawle into Palestine, and there defy
The blasted Powers of this Monothelite:
Lo, they are to the holy City come,
And Haumar robs him of his Savior's Tomb.

10

This rais'd in reverend Sophronius's breast
A mighty Storm of Agonies, to see
His venerable Salem's walls possest
By Saracenical Impiety;
And James his sacred Seat become the throne
For curs'd Apostasy to reign upon.

11

He sigh'd and weep'd, and finding no Relief
From Heav'n or Earth to slake his Lamentation,
Resign'd himself to his victorious Grief,
And drown'd in his own Tears, fulfill'd his Passion:
For why should I live longer here, said he,
Still to be slain by what mine eyes must see!

12

And now the Land of Milk and Honey lay
For more than four long Ages overflown
With Mahumetick Poison: till a Ray
Of vigorous Christian Gallantry shot down
From heav'n, and by the Ermite Peter's breath
Blown to a Bonfire, flam'd with holy Wrath.

13

With holy Wrath it flam'd in many a Breast,
But most in brave Bolonian Godfrey's, who
In steel, and stronger Resolution, drest,
Burnt with desire to meet his Pagan Fo:
His Lorain can no longer hold him, He
Has vow'd another kind of Duke to be.

14

His consecrated Legions he leads;
And in their eyes their Quarrel to display,
Fair in his goodly streaming Standard spreads
The bloody Cross: whose dreadful beauty They
Beheld with reverend Joy, and cryed, We
Though in thy tincture, ne'r will shrink from Thee.

15

The Turkish Moon grew paler than before,
And in a cowardly eclipse drew back,
When this bright Banner Terrors 'gan to pour
Upon her dazel'd face, and passage make
To Victory, who always waited there,
And never fail'd to bring up Godfrey's Rear.

16

To Christ's soft yoke from Turkish galling Lore
Thus lesser Asia was reduc'd; and now
The only Cries of Salem's Woes implore
Great Godfry's Sword Fame's final crop to mow:
Nor must those other Jebuseans hope
This David's conquest by their Fort to stop.

17

Brave Indignation Him forbad to see
That Theatre in barbarous bondage, where
The World's Redemption acted was: for He
Soon rescu'd it, and taught the Pagans there
What Occidental Arms could do, whose eyes
Beheld their own East set, his West arise.

18

Right Christian Hero, O how due to Thee
Was sacred Salem's Crown, and more than this?
How justly wears thy pious Victory
Both Martial and Poetick Laurels' dress;
Whilst thy illustrious Name and Glory reigns
Both in the World's Applause, and Tasso's Streins!

19

Those Streins in which thy heightned Valour takes
Not Salem only, but Eternity;
In which with louder life thy Trumpet speaks,
Because blown by a Muse whose Blast can fly
Beyond Judea's bounds, and nobly dares
Alarm the Admiration of all ears.

20

But when by Death Heav'n sent for Godfrey home;
Baldwin, his brother both in Piety,
And Blood, and Might, supply'd his royal Room.
Sidon and Ptolemais felt what He
Could in Religion's heav'nly Quarrel do,
And so did Egypt's sturdy Caliph too.

21

He to his cousin Baldwin left his Crown,
And his entailed Gallantry with it:
Witness the routed Turks, and Antioch thrown
In flat submission at his conquering feet.
What though to Persia some renown he lost;
His gains upon Damascus bare that cost.

22

Then Turine Fulco to this Scepter rose,
But by's unhappy Fall drop'd it upon
His unripe Son, his Baldwin; over whose
Surprised Powers stern Noradine began
Proudly to triumph, but was soon compel'd
His stollen Laurel back again to yield.

23

Brother, and heir both of his Throne and Praise
Was Almerick, a Prince of active Might;
Whose sword grew fertile in triumphant Bays,
And glittered with Glorie's awful light.
All Ascalon beheld its noble flame
When he from conquer'd Alexandria came.

24

Baldwin, his worthy Son, succeeded, and
A long tough war with Saladine maintain'd;
Till Leprosy subdu'd his martial Hand,
And what force vainly tugg'd for, Weakness gain'd.
Then chose he for his trusty Deputy
Since Fate would have him choose, Joppean Guy.

25

Next him, his nephew Baldwin climb'd the throne,
But quickly tumbled from his royal sphere;
For undermining Guy's ambition
Had vowed no Superior to bear:
Which stung the Earl of Tripoly so deep,
That he in desperate Plots his Wrath did steep.

26

With Saladine he deals, and wins so far
On his proud hopes, that he persuades him to
Conjure against the Christians in a War
Which soon atchiev'd their total Overthrow.
Just Heav'n this 'Taliation did decree,
That Treason Treason's deadly Scourge should be.

27

In Piety's Metropolis anew
Thus Barbarism came to domineer:
Which rous'd the Western Emperor, and drew
Devoted Legions to attend his War.
Surprised Syria at his presence quak'd;
'Twixt fears and hopes the startled Turks were rack'd.

28

But as this generous Frederick in his Might
Rode fairly on, his Courser's fatal Fall
Flung down his Lord into the sudden night
Of Death. When lo his noble Son, by all
The Army chosen General, persued
His Father's steps, and where he went, subdued.

29

But what can Virtue do, when Fates oppose!
Against this hopeful Son of Valour, who
Had taught the stoutest of his Pagan Foes
How hopelesly they Him assailed, lo
The Plague took arms, and in his warlike heart
Fixt her unseen and most untimely dart.

30

French Philip then, and English Richard came,
And with new Western Bravery made good
That mighty Loss: the Lightning of their fame
Flashed before their Swords; for like a Flood
Incourag'd by two Torrents meeting, They
Swallow'd up their Resisters, and their Way.

31

But Discord, that avow'd eternal Fo
Of high Designs, turn'd Philip back again;
Yet Richard still for Salem means; where though
He had with Cyprus bought his right to reign;
Home was he summon'd from his foreign Wars
Timely to still his Albion's loud Jars.

32

To Salem then new Western Heros sped,
By Saladine's decease invited thither.
Fair smiling Hopes their Landing flattered,
But strait their Sunshine turn'd to lowry weather:
For lo, the Austrian Duke, and Saxon, by
Their own deaths caus'd their Partie's hopes to die.

33

And yet undaunted Montfort with his brave
Selected French, disdained back to start;
Till he good reason to the Panims gave
To grow so tame and kind as to impart
Peace to the Christians, granting their desire
Of freely holding Ptolemais and Tyre.

34

Mean while a glorious Conspiracy
Of new-fir'd Princes to their Standards stream:
Henry, Count of Saint Paul: of Campany
Theobald; of Flanders Baldwin; and of Breme,
Gualter: of Lovane, Henry; Boniface
Of Monferrat: all cloth'd in steel and brass.

35

And these their march strait toward Salem bent,
Till, by the Grecian Quarrels turn'd aside
On Ducas they their holy Zeal mis-spent;
And finding then fit fuel for their Pride,
Forgot the Butt of their devout Design,
And took no longer aim at Palestine.

36

The mighty Plunder of the Eastern Throne
Takes up their care to try who most could snatch:
Of Islands some, some the Dominion
Of Cities, Provinces, or Countries catch:
Yet Fortune's and the Armie's love bestow
The vanquish'd Empire's crown on Baldwin's brow.

37

But Montfort's Truce expir'd: Germany
Conjur'd again into the Holy War,
Of which stout Brennus had the conduct: He,
Whose Coming through the Pagans shot such fear,
That they to buy it off agreed to yield
Up whatsoe'r in Palestine they held.

38

But vain Ambition lost this offer'd Prize,
Whilst sudden Hope of conquering Egypt throws
So thick a mist before the Christians' eyes,
That unto Cair the blinded Army goes;
Where they with Nilus's Floods besieged round,
Their sacred Enterprize untimely drown'd.

39

Yet Frederick his German Eagles spread,
With which again he into Syria flew.
The royal Birds no sooner fluttered
About the Sultan, but his Trust they slew:
He hast's to yield, and totally resign
Unto the Christians their dear Palestine.

40

Thus when to his Imperial Diadem
This conquering Prince had wedded Salem's Crown;
He Raynold honors with his Vice-roy's Name,
And brings his Triumph home. But soon the frown
Of Fortune, or of Fate, blasted what He
Had nobly brought to such maturity.

41

For when the heav'ns had roll'd five years about,
Lo Raynold dies, and Salem's Bliss with Him;
The Templer's Insolence such Falsehood wrought
As Christians' Faith doth worst of all beseem:
Their Breach of truce their punish'd selves deceives,
And Salem unto Egypt's Sultan gives.

42

Yet holy Lewis with his Frenchmen strook
New fright into the Panims' souls; for they
At his illustrious Oriflambe's look
Unto his Victories gave ample way;
Offring him Salem, Palestine, and more
Than Christians own'd in Syria long before.

43

But fatal Counsel (and which ill became
Th'ecclesiastick Oracle to give)
Inveigled him against the glorious stream
Of his own willing Happiness to strive:
And thus refusing what he came to gain,
Himself he lost, and only found a Chain.

44

For overborn by Egypt's armed Tide
He to the Sultan prov'd a captive Prey.
Yea when set free again in vain he try'd
His new Adventure's strength; for by the way
Both on his Army, and Himself, a dire
Contagion empty'd out its deadly ire.

45

His Quarrel Edward, England's sprightful Prince
Took up and lost none of the English fame:
What Palms had this stout Hero pluck'd from thence,
Had his confederate Princes timely came!
But whilst unworthily they lingred, He
Return'd, and left behind ripe victory.

46

To gather which, imperial Rodolf sent
The forward Prince of Megalopolis:
A noble General He, and bravely bent;
But yet against the bold impetuousness
Of stern-fac'd Mamalukes too weak to stand,
He yields his neck to wear a Captive's band.

47

These unsuccessful Expeditions' shame
Awak'd the Christians' utmost indignations;
Who in religious Throngs to Syria came
With hopes as high as were their Preparations;
Yet both by baneful Pride invenom'd were,
Which soon atchiev'd more than the Turks could dare.

48

For as fond Huntsmen, riding to the chase,
Wrangle and quarrel for the Lyon's skin
As yet uncaught, until their Strife increase
To such Intemperance, that their whole Design
It undermines, and makes them readier to
Chase one another, than that common fo.

49

So here the Christians, who all hunting went
For Salem's Crown; before the Prize they gain,
Into disputing factions are rent
About their right and title there to reign.
Not one but thought his Plea the best, and each
Eagerly caught that which was still to catch.

50

The Kings of England, Cyprus, Sicily,
And France; the Pisans, Florentines, and Pope;
The Prince of Antioch, Count of Tripoly,
The Genovese, and the Venetian's hope,
So did the Hospitals, and Templers too;
That Justice could not, durst not, say them No.

51

Thus while this cursed War of Contestation
Protracts the Holy one; the Soldiers, who
Grow, like their Weapons, rusty by Cessation,
No other business finding now to do
But to be Wicked, through each neighbour town
Run havocking and plundering up and down.

52

At these unmanly Wrongs the Pagans grew
Both in their Rage and in their Courage high;
And Vengeance joining with their Legions, flew
Upon their quarreling foes' Impiety,
Till by a quick and general Defeat
All Christians out of Syria they beat.

53

They beat them out of Syria, and out
Of all that fertile Bravery, whereby
Their frequent Armies they to Salem brought
With fresh Recruits of zealous Piety:
Their Courage now lies dead and cold at home,
Which us'd to live about their Savior's Tomb.

54

Yet not so dead, but it revives again
Into a Life much worse than Death; since They
With most unchristian Rage have learn'd to stain
Their Swords in one another's blood, and play
The Turks among themselves, whom they were wont
More nobly from their Syrian Dens to hunt.

55

The Cross must now against the Cross be spred,
(Blush Heav'n and Earth at this!) and they who are
To Peace's King in strict allegiance bred
Be barbarized by a mutual War;
Tearing that gentle Legacy which He
Dearly bequeathed to their custody.

56

They who are in one sacred Body knit
By mystick Union, no foes will seek
But their fraternal Members; and forget
That whilst on them their salvage spight they wreak,
The tender Head feels every Wound and will
Score up each drop, which of his Blood they spill.

57

Weep all good eyes which see this horrid shame
Of Christians digging christian bowels up.
With what pretence can we the Pagans blame!
Our Wars, our own dire Wars, our mouths will stop.
We tutor them, and shew their Rage the way:
If we suck Christian blood, why may not they!

58

Had but the thousand part of those dear veins
Adventur'd to be broach'd in Palestine,
'T had wash'd out both our Cowardize's stains,
And black Mahometism: yea Greece had been
Redeemed also, and no longer lain
A groaning slave under a pagan chain.

59

Or had that Power of Policy, of Wrath,
Of Arms, of Horse, of Men, and stronger Gold,
Which in our self-destroying Britain hath
Of late been lavish'd out, when England sold
Her Bliss to Misery, with provident
And pious Ardor been in Syria spent:

60

Had that blind Madness of our costly Zeal
Which joined in a Covenant to destroy
The Churche's and the Kingdom's glorious weal,
But chose its venturous fervor to imploy
Against true Tyrants, and been christened
Into a just and holy League indeed;

61

Our guilty Swords had now not blushed in
Fraternal blood: nor had our wretched Bays
Deflour'd with English Sighs and Curses bin;
But Salem's face had shin'd in freedom's rays,
And from her long-press'd neck th'unworthy Yoke
Of Ottomanick Barbarism been broke.

62

As loth was Psyche Salem to forsake
As are our Banners thither to advance:
She oft look'd back her long Adieu to take
With weeping eyes and blubber'd countenance;
But when the Hills she could no longer spy
Let Blindness now, say'd She, lock up mine eye.

63

And with such potent passion did she breath
That sigh-clogg'd Word, as made her Phylax start;
For lo, the pallid characters of Death
Star'd in her daunted face, and every Part
Ghastly proclaim'd her soul was thither fled
From whence her Body now was hurried.

64

In application of his cordial Powers
Had not her dextrous Guardian nimble been,
His Psyche's eyes in these their amorous showers
Had their own final deluge found, and seen
No more for ever: with such boundless rage
Acts Love, when female bosoms are his stage.

65

(And ask me not, What makes this Passion prove
So bravely stubborn in the softest hearts?
Thy self the Answer feel'st, if genuine Love
On thee e'r tryed his mysterious darts.
If not; 'tis vain to tell thee Riddles which
Pose all but deep Experience's reach.)

66

But quick as is the influence of Light,
New vigorous Spirits he breaths into her breast;
Which thrilling through her veins, chas'd out the night
Of languid Cold from its congealed Nest;
And wak'd her blood, bidding it rise, and thaw
Her cheeks, and lips, and forehead's frozen snow.

67

Psyche look'd up; but toward Salem bent
Her fruitless eye, and then she groan'd anew.
Courage my Dear, said Phylax, be content,
Thou all hast seen in Salem worth thy view.
'Tis time that to thine Albion thou thy great
And holy Pilgrimages now relate.

68

'Tis time to check those Distances which make
Britain a stranger unto Salem; time
That thy narration others teach to break
Though still at home, through all this foreign Clime;
Whilst they, attending what thy tongue declares,
Travel not by their feet, but by their ears.

69

As when a friend unwelcome things propounds,
His other Self (who has no power to be
Right-down displeas'd at whatsoever sounds
From those beloved lips, which faithful He
Holds dearer than his own,) displays the smart
In his Eye's mirror, of his wounded heart:

70

The dainty anguish of her loving Look
Thus Psyche open lays to Phylax view;
That he might read in that pathetick book
How this Return's Alarm her Comforts slew.
But when he seem'd that language not to ken,
Her lips thus to interpret it began:

100

71

Between two Deaths, which shall poor Psyche choose!
'Tis death my Guardian's motions to resist;
And death, religious Salem's sweets to loose:
And but of one poor Life am I possest.
Yet had I more, my straits were still the same;
For all were due to Thee, and all to Them.

72

O dear Protector of my Joys, and Me,
Divide not now thy Charge: Had I not been
Conducted hither by thy Piety,
Mine eyes had ne'r adored Palestine,
Nor been enchanted by the precious Graces
Which have indear'd these consecrated Places.

73

I had not now forgot, or scorned all
The World beside; which is but Dirt indeed
To this pure Soil; whose Riches justly call
Tagus and Ganges poor; as being bred
By his prolifick Heav'nly rays alone
Whom Righteousness owns for her Sovereign Sun.

74

And of these Jewels must I robbed be
By none but dearest Thee! Had open foes
Thus absolutely wrack'd and ruin'd me,
I might have grapled with my single Woes;
But springing now from unsuspected Thee
Much more than double all my losses be.

75

Ah what has Albion that can entertain
A soul from Salem snatch'd, from Salem, which
Queen in the World's heart chosen was to reign;
Whilst Albion's Clime doth us her Vileness teach:
Whom nature threw into the West and sought
How from the Universe to kick her out.

76

Arimathean Joseph's Tomb indeed
Is there, that something that poor Isle might have:
But O, the sight of that, will only feed
The fire which burns me for his other Grave,
His other Grave in which my Spouse did lie
Far far from Britain whither thou wouldst fly.

77

When in the loftiest Air the Whale can live,
When in the bottom of the Sea the Lark,
When Cancer can to Winter welcome give,
When Highnoon can inhabit in the Dark,
When Britain can to Salem shipped be,
Then may it prove a fitting Home for me.

78

But until then, I only thither go
Bearing my woful Carcase to my tomb,
Since thou sweet-bitter friend wilt have it so,
And not vouchsafe in Palestine a Home
For now most-banish'd Psyche. Here a stream
Of tears flow'd down from her, and softned Him.

79

Nay I am not so hard says he, but I
Can melt by fewer drops of thine than those:
Come, wipe thine eyes, for thou shalt instantly
Live in those Joys thou hold'st it death to loose.
With that, he slop'd the Rein, and wheel'd about
And smiling Psyche back to Salem brought.

80

She smil'd; but sober He confess'd no signs
Of jollity at this Returning; for
By his profounder judgment he divines
That Land, however holy, would to her
Scarce prove a trusty Sanctuary, since
His and her Master's summons call'd her thence.

81

Yet He, still true to his own guardian Care,
A fitting Mansion for the Virgin sought;
A mean and private House, retired far
Both from Temptation's and from Tumult's rout:
Which he replenished with plain, but pure
And Piety-becoming furniture.

82

But when the sweetness of his Court'sy here
Had settled her; his brows he sadly knit,
And cry'd, with earnest awful Looks, my Dear,
Thou seest what order I have took to fit
Thy longing and thy Lodging too; but now
A gift more useful I 'l on Thee bestow.

83

'Tis my Advice; of which th'hast greater need
Than here to sojourn; for thy fixing here
Doth all that mystick mighty danger breed,
Which by thy life I thee conjure to fear.
Thy life at Salem is in peril, which
Had been in Albion out of Danger's reach.

84

Where Waters fairlyest smile, and smoothest flow,
The deepest Gulfs beneath in ambush lie;
Where in their briskest beauties Roses grow,
Of Thorns springs up a thick Conspiracy;
All Poisons then most active are and bold
When they are lodg'd in pompous Pearl and Gold.

85

Sweet Paradise was not so safe, but there
The worst of Serpents in its Sweets could dwell:
And though to Thee Heav'n seems descended here,
Yet even in Salem thou may'st meet with Hell.
I grant the Serpent here was slain, but yet
Their fragments Snakes know how again to knit.

101

86

Trust not their glittering skins, which wooe the eye
With gorgeous baits; for thick Enchantments are
Enammel'd in their out-side Bravery,
And holy Traps and Treacheries they wear;
With wiley art they wind about, and glide,
And into unsuspecting holes they slide.

87

Trust not their Tongue (which is indeed a Sting,)
Though fairly tipp'd with golden Courtesy
All Heav'n roll'd up in Promises it bring,
And Wisdom's winning Sweetness. Was not, ye
Shall be as Gods, discerning good and evil,
A gallant word? yet minted by the Devil.

88

Let it thy Wisdom be to take due heed
Of being wiser than thy faith; beware
That no capricious Longing make thee feed
On outside Learning's baits; but wiselyer fear
The lurking holes of Heresy, least thou
Besotted prov'st by Coveting to know.

89

Remember, here thy Spouse was once betray'd;
Remember, here three times he was deny'd;
Remember, well thy self a feeble Maid;
Remember, thy Agenor, and thy Pride;
Remember, what Rebellion fir'd thy Passions;
Remember, Aphrodisius's Protestations.

90

Remember, what from Charis, and from Me,
Thy Soul receiv'd; and let no Siren's song
Bewitch those ears with killing harmony
In which the blessed Tunes of Heav'n have rung.
Watch well this Humor of thy Zeal which may
Its overweening self and Thee betray.

91

Lock up these Counsels in thine heart, and there
Safe let them lie for me till I come back.
Thy Trust and Love shall hence to me appear
If of these Pawns thou faithful care shalt take;
These Pawns, which will my guardian Wings supply
Though from thy presence far away I fly.

92

Away I must; for this Heav'n's pleasure is,
And therefore must be mine, and should be thine.
I business have abroad; but by this Kiss,
(And here he took his leave,) the truth of mine
Affection, Psyche, on thy lip I seal:
Keep this Impression safe, and so farewel.

93

Away this Word, and He, together flew:
For now the King of Souls thought fit to teach
Psyche how little of her heart she knew,
Who thought it raised past Delusion's reach.
To her own strength she now was left, that she
How short it fell of that stout Name might see.

94

But when her Guardian thus outflew her view,
On her most sudden Desolation she
Star'd round about, and 'gan her cheeks to dew.
But strait revolving that her heart was free
With her obtain'd Abode to satisfy
Its curious fervency, she ceas'd to sigh.

95

Then in a modest Veil her face she hid,
Leaving her eyes but room her way to see;
Zeal furnished her feet with wings of Speed,
And on she made amain to Calvary,
Afresh her Savior's Tortures to lament;
Not thinking that to her own Cross she went.

96

Thus Peter with too venturous Piety
Crouded into the Highpriest's dangerous hall,
To view and to bewail the Tragedy
Of Jesus's injur'd Innocence: but all
The fruit his Boldness reap'd him, was, that he
Deny'd Him whom he took such pains to see:

97

Mean while, all pious Hearts' eternal Fo,
Who to intrap them keeps perpetual watch,
Observing her without her Guardian go,
Judg'd this his only time his prey to catch:
He posted to a special Fury's den,
Whose Snakes all started up as He rush'd in.

98

But whilst rouz'd She in thousand hisses spoke
Her Sovereign's welcom: Peace my Child, say'd He,
Part of my Errand's Haste, and cannot brook
These Complements' delay: I have for thee
A piece of service, which will better prove
How much thy Father Satan thou dost love.

99

Psyche, a thing to Jesus's wonderous dear,
(And therefore full as odious to Me,
Who by his Love am always pointed where
I ought to shoot my Spight,) is that coy She
Whom though my Craft hath often baited, yet
Back in my face the poison still she spit.

100

I Aphrodisius and Agenor sent,
And genuine Feinds they prov'd themselves to be;
About their hellish work they wisely went,
And faithfully they ply'd their Treachery:
But yet, good Devils, their fair-driven Plot,
So cunning was that Wench, they finish'd not.

102

101

And yet this Art in her poor silly brain
Was never bred; O no, abus'd we are;
And Heav'n, though We to it give fair and plain
Defiance, underhand maintain's this War.
There thou long since had Psyche drowned seen
In sulphure, had it not for Phylax been.

102

He, base unworthy Spirit as he is,
Not only stoops to Christ (which gallant We
Of old disdain'd, and still that Scorn profess)
But with intolerable flattery
Turns Page to Dust, and blusheth not to bow
From heav'n to wait on this vile Worm below.

103

Had he not better nobly Fall'n with Us,
And kept the Credit of his highborn Mind;
Than crouch, and sneak, and curry favor thus
Of that proud Tyrant? Can an Angel find
Christ's love and smile, worth being hackny'd down
Far more below himself than we are thrown!

104

For my part, were I freely now to choose,
I would accept the bottom of my Hell
And hug Damnation; rather than with those
Ignoble Sons of Earth a Servant dwell.
Those guardian Angels think We cursed be:
Fools, who perceive not their own Slavery!

105

They boast, Heav'n's King's their Sovereign; and I
Take these confessing Vassals at their word:
But, I 'l maintain 't, 'tis greater Dignity
To have him for my Fo, than for my Lord.
They brag that Heav'n's their own, and Blisses Hill;
Why I have more than so, I have my Will.

106

And so have they, if you 'l the Fools believe,
Who say Their Master's Pleasure is their own.
But may not any Slaves say so, and give
Their Angel-ships the Lie? By my dread Crown
I swear, it is my bitterest agony
To think such Dastards are of kin to Me.

107

But now, my Daughter, Phylax is away;
His servile Deligence thou need'st not fear;
Left to her Self his Pupil is to day,
And therefore left to us, if with due care
Thou play'st thy part; for on thine Industry
Alone I build thy hopes of Victory.

108

She now is crawling up to Calvary,
The hill which more than Heav'n it self I hate;
And therefore scorn in person to come nigh
That cursed Place. It stands not with the state
Of royal and immortal Lucifer
To smell the stink of Jesus's Sepulchre.

109

But for thy Father's sake and service Thou
This once shalt stop thy nose and venture thither:
Where thou a subtile chain of Snakes shalt throw
About that peevish Wench, and hale her hither.
So at her cheated Spouse, and Her, both I
And Thou will laugh out our Eternity.

110

His foaming lips he closed here, which beat
The flood of flaming sulphure back into
His monstrous throat. Strait at his burning feet
His damned Daughter took her leave; and so
With headlong fury rushed through the Earth,
And mingled with the Air in breaking forth.

111

In this she flew above suspition's eye,
And shot her unseen self into the breasts
Of divers Mortals, where she formerly
Had entertainment found: but now her Nests
She feathered anew with greater store
Of treacherous Powers than there she left before.

112

Her Policy was so profound, that She
For Psyche laid her Nets in others' hearts;
Which she imbellish'd by the bravery
Of most refined sublimated Arts.
To cheat poor Birds, by craftiest Fowler's wit
Such dangerous Decoys were never set.

113

For though She were the nasty Center, where
All Lines of ugliness and Horror met;
The looks of Beauty she knew how to wear,
Making dissembled Faith appear so sweet
That she the wisest and most piercing Eyes
Had often blinded by quaint Fallacies.

114

Oft has she forc'd such Graces to unite
In her Attire, that Truth's inamoring face
Hath shin'd with less Command; oft has the sight
Of her bewitching Mirror, from the Glass
Of Heav'n the credit won, and made her be
Or God, or more at least Believ'd than He.

115

But now the Virgin at the doleful Mount
Arrived was, resolving at her dear
Redeemer's Crosse's foot to ease the fount
Of her impatient gravid Eyes: but there
A strange Devoto prepossest her room,
Who yet of her own Errand seem'd to come.

103

116

His Looks, though guilty of few years, were yet
Grown pale and old with pious Gravity;
His sober garb was sutable, and fit
For one who would not brave, but clothed be:
His body thin, but thick his hair, which grown
To uncontroll'd length, on his back flow'd down.

117

Upon the ground he lay, and beat his breast,
Which echoed back the Blows with groans and sighs:
At length by thick importunate Knocking prest
It yielded forth these correspondent Cries:
O Griefs and Pains, had you no other Heart
But His, to make the sink of all your Smart!

118

That Heart! the fountain of all sweetest Grace,
That Heart! to which the best of Joyes were due;
That Heart! where not the least Demerit was
To waken Justice, and to call for you;
The Heart of Jesus! here a boistrous Groan
Would needs break off his Lamentation.

119

But then recovering his sad tongue again,
Alas, said he, and why are you unjust?
Why from this breast of mine do you refrain,
Which all your utmost Stings deserveth? Must
Dear He, who more than Heav'n's delights did merit
Alone the dregs of Passion inherit?

120

Are there no Whips, no Thorns, no Nails for Me?
For this young fitter back of mine no Cross?
No shame; no remnant of Calamity
Left for my due reward? Did he engross
What sinful I had better title to?
Surely this Want of Woes shall be my Wo.

121

As when the hollow Winds have drove together
Black lagging clouds, the gravid Vapor breaks
With its own weight, and pours the sousing weather
Down through the gloomy air: so on his cheeks
His labouring eyes let loose their flood, and leave
To Sorrow's most tempestuous deluge gave.

122

And now his Lips no more had power to speak
In zealous Kisses he their strength employ'd:
He kiss'd the Soil, where once that Blood did reek
Which all the Earth's redemption fully pay'd.
And every Kiss did new desire beget
Of more affectionate embracing it.

123

Psyche observing his strong Passion swell
With such Devotion, soon forgot her own;
And with the Stranger in such love she fell
That at his honored feet she bowed down:
She bowed down, and little thought that then
She stoop'd to enter her forbidden Gin.

124

But as the warey Seaman, when he spies
The amiable Mermaid floating nigh,
Turns from the dangerous Bait his jealous eyes,
Hoiseth his Sail, makes haste his oars to ply:
So this Devoto seeing Psyche there
Confess'd and fortify'd his holy Fear.

125

For starting at the unexpected sight,
Shield me, my blessed Guardian, said he:
Satan, whose Craft with everlasting spight
Disturbs the course of zealous Piety,
Hath, to facilitate my Molestation
In this fair Damsel sent me my Temptation.

126

Ill hast thou chose thy scene, mistaken Maid,
For this is Purity's own Theatre.
In vain hath all inamoring Grace array'd
Thy cheeks and eyes to court Desire; for here
No Love can live, but unto Him who hath
Quickned it by His dear and potent Death.

127

Hence therefore, hence, and seek thy putid Prey
Where rampant Lust in furious bonfires reigns:
Thy Beauty's Lustre must not thaw its way
Thorough my tame and now long-cooled veins.
How know I but thou art some fair-dress'd Feind
To make me foul? and here himself he sign'd.

128

Ravish'd with this religious Jealousy
Thy Handmaid, Sir, said Psyche, hither came
Upon that Errand which thy Piety
Hath here dispatched; in that very room
I purpos'd my devoted Sighs to blow
And make mine Eyes their liquid duty know.

129

My bounteous Lord took my Intent, I see,
For actual Deed; and hath rewarded it:
He knew no Blessing could more welcome be
Unto my heart, than this which here I meet:
For this art Thou, in whom I plainly read
The love of Him who of my soul is head.

130

I heard thy holy Sighs and hearty Groans
As up to heav'n from thy sweet breast they flew;
I heard thy generous Lamentations;
And by those genuine characters I knew
That Jesus had by his soul-conquering Dart
Engrav'd Heav'n's best Impression on thy heart.

104

131

I thank thee that thou wert of me afraid;
Such pious fear I reverently admire:
Yet be assured Thou hast met a Maid
In whom there glows no embers of black fire.
No, no: my heart abhors such guests as those
Since she tricks of Aphrodisius knows.

132

I might indeed have been, what you suspected,
Foul Satan's Agent, and a Feind of hell;
Had our dear Lord His worthless Worm neglected,
And not seal'd sure on Mine His blessed Will.
And so might'st Thou, had He not spread above
Thy helpless head the banner of His Love.

133

That Love, which wheresoe'r I find it shine
Must humblest reverence from my heart command.
Wonder not at my Case, but make it thine,
And think how thou could'st possibly withstand
Thy charming Self: if I immodest be,
Like Love will pardon Love's immodesty.

134

Yet 'tis no Boldness with th'attractive Sun
To fall in love; or with, what lovelyer is,
Pure Virtue's face: what ravish'd I have done,
To Thee, great Jesus gave me leave to His
Own self to do; O then no more admire
That I grow warm, now I come near thy fire.

135

My Warmth is pure, as is its Spring in Thee,
And doth as much adulterous Heats detest:
For only on thy zealous Piety
The hunger of my chaste Desires I feast.
I am a Stranger here, and hither come
Religion's Merchant from my British home.

136

But in this Land of Holiness I meet
Such rare, such price-transcending Wares, that I
Desire my native Albion to forget,
And where my Savior did, both live and die.
Me thinks I here am nearest Him, who is
Whither I live or die, mine only Bliss.

137

Yet not so near, but mighty Distance still
Doth interpose, and Him divide from Me:
Witness the sacred Marks on yonder Hill
Engrav'd to His Ascension's memory.
And how shall Psyche meet Him now, but in
Some Saint in whom His Image here doth shine?

138

Wherefore some heav'n-inflam'd Companion I
Would gladly gain, with whom my Soul might live
In holy Friendship's sweet society,
And mutual Heats of Zeal from him receive.
And since Heav'n puts you in my way, O be
True to your self, and you 'l be kind to me.

139

This said: sometimes to Him her pleading Eye,
Somtimes to Heav'n she turn'd; and by that mute
But most mysterious Importunity
Solicited her earnest-bashful Sute;
By yielding Silence wisely urging more
Strong arguments than she had spoke before.

140

Mov'd with her soft Expressions and her Tears
(For these flow'd out as thick and fast as they,)
The Man gives credit unto both, and cheers
His clouded looks, and cries, O happy day
Which to my admiration shew'st a Breast
Of heav'n's pure Dove the chaste and comely Nest.

141

Pardon dear Stranger, pardon my Mistake,
And be no longer in that Name to me.
The best amends I can, I vow to make
To my misprised slander'd Piety.
I at thy bounteous Offer catch, and will
Both thy Desires and mine own Joyes fulfil.

142

Rare are those Friends as Birds of Paradise
But seldom seen in this unworthy Earth,
Whose hearts in one no other Cement ties
But heav'nly Zeal and Love. O were my Worth
As great's my Vileness, that thy Servant might
With equal Court'sy this of thine requite!

143

If by the royal Law of Love's great Lord
Precious in our esteem our Foes must be;
What what Embraces must we then afford
To them who us outvy in Charity!
Come gentle Soul, and this chaste token take
That to thy Wish my heart I pliant make.

144

Here by an holy Kiss (for that of old
The Symbole was of Christian Consent,)
He seal'd his words: then taking reverent hold
Of her right hand, he down the Mountain went,
Leading her to his Dwelling; whither she
Trip'd cheerly on, and fear'd no Treachery.

145

(Into the Vulture's Nest thus flies the Dove;
Thus to the smiling Shelfs the Ship doth run;
The Stranger thus into th'enchanted Grove
Hastes for delight; Thus to the fatal den
Of fairest-tongu'd Hyenas skips the Lamb;
The Child thus leaps into the playing Flame.)

105

146

Arrived there; Authades (such his Name,
And such his Nature was,) prays her that since
She in a busy season thither came,
She would attend with friendly patience
What might not be deferred: but, said he,
The Work though great, will soon dispatched be.

147

In his eighth journey now fair Phebus ran
Since his Firstborn Authades did enjoy;
Who by the Rule of his Religion
Was bound to Circumcise the Child that day:
Which with a consecrated knife of stone
He did, and gave his own Name to his Son.

148

The Infant's wound the softer heart did lance
Of Psyche, who strait wept, and knock'd her breast,
And testify'd her sad Impatience.
But watchful He perceiving how his Guest
Disrelished her Welcome, to her stept,
And, weeping first, demanded why she wept?

149

So when the bleating Sheep in Samuel's ear
Proclaim'd the Sin of his rapacious Prince:
At which the pious Prophet, vext to hear
What heav'n and He did hate, took just offence;
Remorsless Saul pretended still that he
Admired why the Saint displeas'd should be.

150

She made in sullen silence her Reply
Compos'd of Frowns and of complete Disdain;
Till forc'd by his mild Importunity
She gave her angry Tongue a liberal rein:
Shame on my credulous Love, which thus, said she,
Bewitch'd me to the Den of Heresy.

151

Are you the Man who crouched to the Place
Of Jesus's Cross with such profound regret?
How come you now to wear a Jewish face,
And with your Circumcision Whittle cut
Your Christian mask in pieces? Blind were I,
As was your Zeal, this Fraud could I not spy.

152

Had you believ'd that Jesus's blood was shed
To wash the stains of all the World away,
Your cruel Heresy had not made red
Your Infant in his needless blood to day;
Who had been purer, in the gentler stream
Of holy Baptism had you drenched him.

153

Upon the Christian's God you faun in vain
Whilst thus you mock His Merits, and prevent
Those high Prerogatives of Power which reign
In His all-clean all-cleansing Sacrament:
For how can you be to His service true,
Yet dare to consecrate your Son a Jew?

154

I see what reason my wise Guardian had
To be so jealous of my Staying here;
Why he so solemnly appeared sad
When I was merry and refus'd to fear.
He knew black Satan would himself array
In Light, my too soft Softness to betray.

155

Here she was flinging out. But flattering He
By Christ's great Cross, and by His greater Name
Pray'd and conjur'd her pious Charity
His unexamin'd Action not to blame;
But to defer her Censure, and to hear
With patience, how he could his Cause declare.

156

Such power breath'd from that high Contestation
On Psyche's tender heart, that she relented:
When expert He, with crafty commendation
Of her mild Candor, told her he repented
That by a Declaration's Preface He
Had not made way to that Solemnity.

157

Her to a private chamber then he brought,
That no Disturbance might his Ends prevent;
And by all ceremonious Service sought
To calm her angry thoughts with kind content;
For, on a silken couch when she was set,
With softer language thus he 'gan the feat:

158

Sure now dear Stranger, thou art quit with me,
And hast repaid me in my proper Coin:
For Hell's foul Agent I suspected Thee,
Thou for an Heretick dost me define.
But I recanted; and if Thou do so,
Quit on the other side we may be too.

159

If headlong Jealousy for Proof should pass,
What thing so perilous were as Innocence?
How deplorable was our Saviour's Case
When God, a Devil deemed was? and whence
Shall we acquit His wise Apostles, who
In this fond World's esteem for Fools did go?

160

Thou prov'dst not what my sudden fear did speak,
Nor am I such as thine did me present,
Truth can, if heard, her self transparent make,
And never fail'd to yield compleat content
To those whom Prejudice's poison had
Not first envenomed and partial made.

106

161

Know then, that I am one of those whose breasts
Are consecrated to that Lord whom Thou
Alone adorest; and permit no guests
To thrust in thither, who will not allow
That gentle Sovereign His throne to rear
And reign without all contradiction there.

162

The poor contemptuous Place whence glorious He
Vouchsaf'd His Surname to assume, is that
Whence, imitating His humility,
We draw our common Title: wonder not
That Christian, we forbear; too high it is;
Plain Nazareen, our Ambition doth suffice.

163

Before the Dictates of His royal Law
With universal Meekness we submit;
Whilst others but by halfes will deign to bow,
As Umpiers, not as Subjects unto it.
All hard and costly Precepts they refuse,
And leave that burden for the slavish Jews.

164

They tell the World, that they a Patent have
Writ in the stile of Christian Liberty,
By which heav'n's King to them Commission gave
To break the bonds of Legal Slavery.
A wise King sure the while they make Him, who
Allows them what His Law forbids to do.

165

And is not this a choise Religion, where
No more is left for any Charge or Pains?
Cunning and thrifty its Professors are,
Who in their own hands moderate the Reins
Which on their necks should lie; who, as they please
Dispose their Discipline to their own ease.

166

And yet 'twere well, would they their Charter show
Which constituted them Free States; or but
Declare what in the new-delivered Law
Doth check and disannul the Old one; that
The World might satisfaction gain, and We
Be made Partakers of their Liberty.

167

For we know no such thing: but this we know
That Jesus, who is Author of the New,
Was Institutor of the Ancient Law;
And upon Sinai's head His trumpet blew
To wake the drowsy World's obedient ear
Unto the Precepts which He thundred there.

168

And did He then Retract the Rite He had
Before ordain'd? was Circumcision there
Repeal'd, and Abraham's Badge decre'd too sad
A load for Abraham's faithful Sons to bear?
O no! such Changings inconsistant be
With wisest God's Immutability.

169

Like His pure Self, His Laws eternal are,
And need no Reformation or Corrections:
Our inconsiderate Lawgivers here
Infect their Laws with their own Imperfections,
And both may mended be: Which surely 'tis
Blasphemous pride to say of Him, or His.

170

But of His Laws the surest Explication
Is His Example: What did righteous He
When fitted by His blessed Incarnation
He could, like Us, to them a Subject be?
Did He not set the seal of His own Blood
To Circumcision that this Law was good?

171

His Presentation in the Temple shews
His clear Submission to that Statute there;
No less exactly than the strictest Jews
He solemniz'd the Festivals which were
Legally sacred; and though Death drew near,
Still spar'd He time to keep the Passover.

172

Let Error cast the blustering scare-crow Name
Of Heresy on this our genuine Zeal;
We trust we never shall repute it shame
His steps to tread who is our King: nor shall
The proud World beat our Resolution down,
Since Christ will His own Followers surely own.

173

The Gospel Laws we equally embrace:
And though my Son I circumcised, yet
Him off I cut not from Baptismal Grace:
We in that Laver too our Children wet,
That in this double Sacramental stream
Of blood and water they to God may swim.

174

We grant, that where the Circumcision Blood
Blusheth not to oppose and useless make
That venerable World-redeeming Flood
Which from the precious Veins of Jesus brake,
The Sacrament's heretical: but we
Teach it more meek and mannerly to be.

175

We bring it home, and tutor it to do
Its homage nearer than it did of old:
We use it as th'officious Usher to
The Mystery which it at first foretold:
We teach it to fore-run, but not prevent
The nobler Stream of Baptism's Sacrament.

107

176

If of too much Obedience now We seem
Guilty to Thee, convince us of our sin:
'Tis plain thou hast an hopeful pleasant Theme,
And easily upon our hearts may'st win,
If Truth fight with thee; for what Mortal's He
Who by just Licence would not conquer'd be?

177

He ceased here. But as the loathing Vine
Though in the Coleworts she can plainly read
No hostile humor; cannot but decline
Their touch, and any pois'nous Shrub or Weed
Will rather hug with all her Arms, than by
The least Embrace accept that Company:

178

So Psyche, though she could not easily show
The venome of Authades' Sophistry;
Yet her reluctant heart could not allow
What she could not confute: Much rather she
Can with fell Adders' hisses fall in love
Than his Discourse's dire design approve.

179

For Discontent still gather'd up her brow,
Still nauseous Neglect stream'd from her eye,
Still on her Guardian's Word she chew'd; and now
The Serpent had his pois'nous Suavity
Display'd, with scornful silence She reply'd,
And wav'd her hand, and turn'd her head aside.

180

But Logos (as with Thelema he lay
Close in her breast,) prickt up his jolly ear,
And drunk in all Authades had to say
With such delight, that he could not forbear
Now Psyche seem'd unsatisfy'd, to break
His itching mind; and thus he freely spake:

181

Madam, although the Jewish Law to you
Expired seems, yet that of Courtesy
You needs must still to be in date allow:
And why will then your Looks transgressors be?
Why with such glances of Disdain must they
Your gentle Entertainment here repay?

182

It was his Goodness mildly to digest
The Scorn which you at first upon him threw;
And this new Kindness might deserve at least
Civil acceptance. Whether false, or true
You find his Arguments, you must confess
His Love unfain'd, his Carriage Christian is.

183

And yet if Logos ever understood
What firm perspicuous Probations meant,
What Reasons solid were, what Topicks good,
What Demonstrations sound; I must consent
That he hath none but such Materials chose
His strong Discourse's fabrick to compose.

184

And, let me tell you, Reason is a Law
By God's own hand ingrav'd in every breast,
Which must no Change nor Antiquation know;
A Law, which whosoever dares resist,
Rebels against himself, whom stamping under
His obstinate feet, he Nature tears in sunder.

185

O strive not then more wise to be, than what
Is Wisdom's only Rule: Authades now
By Reason's genuine lustre shews you that
He walks in highnoon Light; and why will you
Be groping still in Darkness, when you may
By his fair Pharus's conduct sail to Day?

186

Stung by this Check, Psyche began to groan:
When lo, her Thelema took courage, and
With most resolved count'nance, fastned on
Logos his shoulder her imperious hand;
Which shak'd him from his boldness into fear,
And summon'd to her words his humbler ear.

187

Pert Sir, said she, do's it to you belong
The golden reins of Psyche's heart to guide,
That thus you stretch your magisterial tongue
To twit your Sovereign? To compleat your pride,
Y' had best e'n take her throne, and make both me
And Her, attend your upstart Majesty.

188

His soft smug words tickle your wanton ear;
But to such easy Charms we must not yield:
Both Psyche's stomach is too weak to bear,
And so is mine, his gilded Dose, though fill'd
With sugard blandishments. Yet ask not, Why:
It is enough for Us but to Deny.

189

This peremtory sentence, at her feet
Threw Logos down, and held him quaking there:
Much wrong'd he thought himself, yet durst not beat
With vain Complaints his angred Prince's ear.
Themselves thus Rebels always injur'd deem
Because their Kings refuse to bow to them.

190

Authades marking how his dainty Bait
Disgusted was, to heav'n lift up his eye,
And cry'd, Alass that dangerous Deceit
Should be suspected in Truth's arms to lie!
Yet, Psyche, dare not I disprove thy fear:
The wisest Souls, most jealous always are.

108

191

And this thy pious Jealousy to me
So precious is, that it inflames my heart
With higher estimation of Thee
Who in Faith's bus'ness shie and tender art.
They who with headlong haste such Points receive;
In truth do only Fancy, not Believe.

192

I grant 'twas thy Unhappiness that Thou
Met'st with so faint a Disputant as I:
And sure our Cause were feeble, could it show
No better Pillars of its verity
Than my Abilities, which I confess
Are full as slender as That solid is.

193

Yet why should Truth for my unworthy sake
Fail of her welcome in thy precious breast?
Why should'st Thou pay so dearly for my Lack
Of Eloquence or Logick, as to rest
In that unfortunate Mistake content,
Which though I cannot help, I must lament.

194

That word broke ope the fountain of his eyes,
Which in deceitful pity flowed down:
But smiting then his crafty breast, he cries,
Yet should I think just Heav'n on Thee hath thrown
The Punishment of this my Weakness, and
Because I'm dull, not let Thee understand!

195

O no! would'st thou to yonder house with me
But condescend to step, Thou clearly there
The Looks of living Piety should'st see,
And from an Oracle Resolutions hear.
If thou repent thee (which can never be)
Heap all the blame, I am content, on me.

196

Blame me and rank me in the vilest list
Of toads and spiders: publish me to be
What most I hate, an Enemy to Christ,
To Truth, to Goodness, and to gracious Thee,
If Satisfaction stands not ready there
With heav'nly Light thy misty Doubts to clear.

197

The solemn guise of this prest Kindness was
So potent that soft Psyche yields, and goes
With her fair-tongu'd Companion: Alas,
That facil Hearts should to themselves be foes
Whilst others they with facilness befriend;
That pliant Twigs should break, because they bend.

198

But in that House, they at his Prayers find
A Man whom Age had covered with snow:
Yet noble fervor in his zealous Mind
With more than youthful Vigor seem'd to glow;
So strong was his Devotion, and so high
In all expressions of Love's ecstasy.

199

Authades at his back strait kneeled down,
And so did Psyche, much amaz'd to see
How far that old Devoto had outflown
The flagging pitch of her young Piety.
Such flaming prayers she never heard before,
Nor such impetuous Knocks at th'heav'nly door.

200

Still still she looked when the spheres should ope
And to the longing Saint his Lord disclose.
She wonder'd that his Body flew not up
Whose towring Soul on such stout pinions rose.
It pos'd her thoughts to see his working Heart.
Stretching so high, did not in sunder start.

201

With secret checks her languid Soul she chid
Which with such violence never yet did flame;
Her Eyes hung down; her Cheeks were overspred
With blushing (but with O how guiltless) shame.
Nor ravish'd less was Thelema, although
The Nazareens she had abhorr'd till now.

202

But with confessing looks she here forgave
And praised Logos whom she chode before,
And jolly He grown insolently brave,
To see how Fortune her consent did pour
Upon his Verdict, hop'd that thenceforth He
In Thelema's own realm supreme should be.

203

O Looks, and outside Things, how mighty are
And how substantial your Impostures, on
Unwarey Mortals, who their judgment square
By ear and eye, and those vain Rules alone
They borrow from the Senses' school, wherein
How many Beasts more learned are than Men!

204

Pseudagius now three times bow'd down his face
In mystick Adoration, and arose.
Authades strait in Reverence's pace
Step'd forward his sly bus'ness to disclose:
But Psyche pluck'd him back, and told him, He
So bold on her account now need not be.

205

Pardon me Sir, said she; my vanquish'd Mind
Convinc'd by how much more than Reason is!
In Him I such commanding Goodness find
That, though I would not, yet I must profess
That Faith which nobly authoriz'd I see
By such irrefragable Piety.

109

206

The crest of my Desires, (if yet it be
Not pride to reach at such transcendent bliss,)
Is, that his Leave would dignify poor Me
With his religious Acquaintance: This
Perhaps may be inable to repay
The Debt your Love hath laid on me to day.

207

Authades glad and proud that he had thus
This conquest gained, bad her be secure.
Then meekly bowing to Pseudagius,
Regard most holy Sir, said he, the pure
And pious sute of this right virtuous Maid,
Which modest she upon my tongue hath laid.

208

Heav'n's love hath kindled in her pliant breast
Full Approbation of whatever she
Beholds amongst us Nazareens profest,
And she our Proselite resolves to be.
Only she begs that you would not disdain
Her, as your lowlyest friend to entertain.

209

His solemn eye to Heav'n Pseudagius cast,
And cry'd, forbid it blessed Jesu, I
Should not be kind to any whom Thou hast
In thine own Favour deignd to raise so high.
In Thee, a Condescent, but nothing less
In me a Worm who crawle below, is this.

210

Which said; in sober pleasantness he came,
And grave acquaintance took of Psyche's lip,
She, big with humble thanks, cry'd out, Who am
Unworthy I, such holy Sweets to sip!
Hadst Thou vouchsaf'd me but thy feet to kiss,
That favour I had hugged as my Bliss.

211

Thus cheated She her Misery admires,
As doth the silly Fly the beauteous flame;
Little surmising what outrageous fires
Reign'd in that Bait which look'd so mild and tame.
Ne'r did she stand on such a Brink as this,
And never feared less a Precipice.

110

CANTO XVIII. The Poyson.

The ARGUMENT.

The rankling Bane of Error on the heart
Of heedless Psyche greater strength doth get:
Fond Logos plyeth his capricious part,
And slie Agyrtes works the deadly Feat.
Phylax returns, and in his Pupil's eye
Rakes up the nasty Sink of Heresy.

1

No more did wretched I; who lately thought
My self pitch'd safe on Happiness's throne:
Ah slippery Throne! how sadly hast thou taught
My credulous Joys no more to build upon
A mortal bottom, nor my Solace trust
On what so soon falls into mouldring Dust.

2

O where shall I my just Complaint begin,
Which must no Ending know! How am I lost
In Sorrow's Maze! fain would my mourning Pen
Vie with mine Eyes, and drop my Grief as fast:
Fain would my Muse, to complement my Smart,
Indite the funeral Elegy of my Heart.

3

But by the Ruins of my high Delight
Such vast Confusion overwhelms my Mind,
That it can prompt me nothing now to write
But meer Perplexity. Thy pardon, kind
Reader, thy pardon then: since 'tis not I
Abuse thy patience, but Necessity.

4

I am not I; O no, my I is gone,
That precious Self who mighty value gave
To worthless Me. What 'tis to be Undone
None more profoundly knows than I, who live
Torn and in sunder cleft, whilst lost I see
That Half which was more than the Whole to me.

5

Sweet Soul how goodly was the Temple which
Heav'n pleas'd to make thy earthly Habitation!
Built all of graceful Delicacy, rich
In Symmetry; and of a dangerous fashion
For youthful eyes, had not the Saint within
Govern'd the Charms of her inamoring Shrine.

6

How happily compendious didst Thou make
My study when I was the Lines to draw
Of genuine Beauty! never put to take
Long journies was my fancy; still I saw
At home my Copy, and I knew 'twould be
But Beauty's wrong further to seek than Thee.

7

Full little knew the World (for I as yet
In studied silence hugg'd my secret Bliss,)
How facil was my Muse's task, when set
Virtue's and Grace's features to express!
For whilst accomplish'd Thou wert in my sight
I nothing had to do, but Look and Write.

8

How sadly parted are those words; since I
Must now be Writing, but no more can Look!
Yet in my Heart thy precious Memory
So deep is grav'd, that from this faithful Book
Truly transcrib'd, thy Character shall shine;
Nor shall thy Death devour what was divine.

9

Hear then, O all soft-hearted Turtles, hear
What you alone profoundly will resent:
A Bird of your pure feather 'tis, whom here
Her desolate Mate remaineth to lament,
Whilst She is flown to meet her dearer Love,
And sing among the winged Quire above.

10

Twelve times the glorious Sovereign of Day
Had made his progress, and in every Inn
Whose golden Signs through all his radiant way
So high are hung, as often lodged been;
Since in the sacred Knot this noble She
Deign'd to be ty'd to (then how happy) me.

111

11

Ty'd, ty'd we were so intimately, that
We strait were sweetly lost in one another.
Thus when two Notes in Musick's wedlock knit
They in one Concord blended are together:
For nothing now our life but musick was,
Her Soul the Treble made, and mine, the Base.

12

How at the needless Question would she smile
When ask'd, what she desir'd or counted fit?
Still bidding me examine mine own will,
And read the surest answer ready writ.
So center'd was her heart in mine, that She
Would own no wish if first not wish'd by Me.

13

Delight was no such thing to her; if I
Relish'd it not: the Palate of her Pleasure
Carefully watch'd what mine could taste, and by
That standard her content resolv'd to measure.
By this rare art of sweetness did she prove
That though she joy'd, yet all her Joy was Love.

14

So was her Grief: for wrong'd her self she held
If I were sad alone; her share, alas,
And more than so, in all my Sorrow's field
She duly reap'd: and here alone she was
Unjust to me. Ah dear injustice, which
Mak'st me complain That I was lov'd too much!

15

Yet tenderest she, was no less stiff and stout
In Virtue's service: from our nuptial Bed
A lovely flower no sooner peeped out,
But it into the grave withdrew its head.
And let it go; the Method's just, cry'd She,
My firstfruits are for Heav'n and not for Me.

16

A second sprouted then; who for a while
Flatter'd our Joys; but withering in his bud,
Did only them the deeplyer beguile.
When lo, my valiant Dear discretely shed
Such moderate Tears as testify'd that she
Would Mother here and yet not Woman be.

17

To loose the fruit, said she, shall not dismay
My heart, so long as it enjoys the Tree:
I am content the streams should slip away,
Since still the Spring, the Spring, remains with me;
Whilst I th'Original at large possess,
Of two small Copies little is the loss.

18

What wonder now that Heav'n was pleased this
Twice-tryed Patience doubly to requite;
And for one Pair it snatch'd away, to bliss
Her afterward with two, on whom she might
Transcribe her virtuous self, and make them be
Her Soul's as well's her Body's Progeny.

19

And to this welcome task betimes she fell,
Moulding the soft and tender Wax; on which
Of Discipline she clapt the early seal,
That it not Art might seem, but Nature: such
Was her Indulgencie's sagacity
That on the future still she kept her Eye.

20

Her tender Twigs, whilst fitted any way
To bend, she wisely bended to the best;
And this was Upward, that thus thriving They
Might grow to Heav'n. How oft has she profest
'Twas not th'ambition of her prime endeavour
To have them live, but have them live for ever.

21

Nor could her Servants scape her pious care,
Whom she more truly serv'd than they did Her,
Watching to keep them in religious fear
And in the bounds of sober Order: for
Unless their God they learn to serve, said she,
How can they faithful service do to me?

22

But o'r her self her watch was most severe,
Jealous of nothing more than of her heart.
Her richest Virtues, which admired were
By others' eyes, her own suspected: Art,
Art still she fear'd, and right profoundly wise
Judg'd artificial Virtue real Vice.

23

And this such deep and bitter quarrels bred
Between her Soul and Her, that often I
Ran in to part the fray, and help her read
The Error of her Zeal: and though she by
Mine eyes resolved were to see, yet ne'r
So lothly kept She that resolve as here.

24

For in her self meek She so much below
Her self was sunk, that all her high Deserts
From her own prospect vanished; and though
Those Graces which imbellish'd others' hearts
Were to her reverent observation known,
Her own were not, because they were her own.

25

To Heav'nward open'd She her morning eyes,
And darted her Devotion's preface thither:
Before she rose, thus did she duly rise;
And then gat up, and call'd her thoughts together,
Her Matin's sacrifice to kindle; for
All Offrings but by fire did she abhor.

112

26

Then for her morning's Draught, unto the spring
Of life and bliss, the Book of books, she flew;
Which her with various Nectar furnishing,
Sometimes she quaff'd the Old, sometimes the New:
And knew both Tastes so fully, that 'twas clear
The New at length was not the New to her.

27

All David fairly she transcribed on
The tables of her faithful Memory;
There likewise wrote she Soul-inamoring John;
Nor e'r was more exact Orthography.
That from Love's Laws her Soul might never start,
She thus had Piety it self by heart.

28

But that her time might in the Chanel run
Of pure Devotion, she for every day
Cut out her holy work, by which alone
She knew how Weeks both came and went away.
Right Christian Account, which thus could make
Her dearest Jesus be her Almanack.

29

For by the Wonders of His Love did she
Distinguish all the Week: She first descended
With Him from Heav'n, and His Humility
Traced to Bethlehem; where she attended
His simple Cratch, and learn'd those Pomps to scorn
In which true Glory's Prince would not be born.

30

The next Day led her to that Desert where
Grapling with Hunger and with Satan, she
Beheld her Lord. The Third invited her
To meditate His scorn and Injury
When by His Scholar at a sordid price
Sold and betray'd to bloody Enemies.

31

Her thoughts were highly entertained by
The fourth at that dear Board of purest Bliss,
Which Jesus furnish'd with the Mystery
Of His own Blood's and Bodie's Sacrifice.
Deep in her heart, upon the fifth she strove
To print the sacred Wounds and Death of Love.

32

The Sixth, as duly found her at His Grave
Embalming Him with sweet Devotion's spice.
But on the Seventh, His Resurrection gave
Her cheerlyest Contemplation leave to rise;
Nor could the Clouds convey Him from its view,
For after His Ascension too she flew.

33

And by this bless'd hebdomadary Round
(The Heav'nly Orb which she on Earth contriv'd)
Weaned from our Worldly motions, she found
Her circled self in solid Rest, and liv'd
Above that Cheat which makes fond Mortals prize
For true Content, heart-vexing Vanities.

34

Her Soul resolv'd to keep its home within,
And not dwell fluttering in her outward Tire:
Her Rule was, what was fit, not, what was fine;
Not to be sold, but cloth'd, was her desire.
Miscall it not; it is, said she to me
No Suit, unless it suits with my Degree.

35

Preposterousness she counted it, to wear
Her purse upon her back: yet with no less
Abhorrence look'd she on that sordid Care
Which blush'd not to appear in open Dress.
Right prudently she cut her way between,
Approving nothing Golden, but the mean.

36

She ne'r took post to keep an equal pace
Still with the newest Modes, which swiftly run:
She never was perplex'd to hear her Lace
Accus'd for six months old, when first put on:
She laid no watchful Leigers, costly-vain
Intelligence with fashions to maintain.

37

On a Pin's point she ne'r held consultation,
Nor at her Glass's strict tribunal brought
Each Pleit to scrupulous examination:
Asham'd she was that Titan's coach about
Half Heav'n should sooner wheel, than she could pass
Through all the petty stages of her Dress.

38

No gadding Itch e'r spurr'd her to delight
In needless Sallies; none but civil care
Of friendly correspondence could invite
Her out of doors; unless she pointed were
By Visitations from Heav'n's hand, where she
Might make her own in tender sympathy.

39

Abroad, she counted but her Prison: Home,
Home was the region of her Liberty.
Abroad Diversion throng'd, and left no room
For Zeal's set task, and virtue's bus'ness free:
Home was her less incumbred Scene, though there
Angels and God she knew Spectators were.

40

Yet this Retirement's cloud ne'r overcast
Those beams of leggiadrous Courtesy
Which smil'd in her Deportment; and exprest
Full confutation of their Calumny,
Who lumpish, sullen, and the source of all
Affected Soureness, strict Devotion call.

113

41

Nor was this sweetness partial, and design'd
In complemental Gracefulness to vy;
But full as facil to the plainest Hind
As to the courtlyest Gallant: Poverty
She ne'r could count a reason of neglect,
Who did so oft on Bethlehem Cratch reflect.

42

This made her trade with such sincere delight
In frequent Alms: her self she satisfy'd
When she the Needy fill'd; and that she might
As ready be as was their want, she ty'd
Her self to spare a weekly sum, and be
Provided of a Bank of Charity.

43

Nor did her sympathetick Soul with less
Tenderness yearn the publick Woes to see,
When bolster'd up with long-abus'd Success
Sedition, Rapin, Murder, Perjury,
Schism, Heresy, Rebellion, Usurpation
Reign'd on the stage of this distracted Nation.

44

But when the monstrous Tempest tam'd she saw
To Peace's Calm; when glorious Charles ascended
His rightful throne, restoring both the Law
Of Earth and Heav'n; when Truth no more was branded
For Superstition; when the Church had to
The Temple liberty again to go:

45

Such was her Joy, as if the total Bliss
Had been her own: for by the common Good,
On her Particular she set the price;
And not contented with the vulgar Mode,
Besides what flaming at her gate she had,
True Triumph's Bonfire in her heart she made.

46

Yet sadly cool'd that Fervor was, when she
Observ'd how those who deeplyest were ingaged
To flie the Crimes whose importunity
Had lately Vengeance rous'd, and Heav'n enraged,
Back to their Vomit turn'd, as if their Peace
Had only come to let them Sin at ease.

47

How did she sigh! to see fantastick Pride,
Restless Ambition, studied Luxury,
All in a fresh carreer eagerly ride;
Forgeting quite that injur'd Lenity
To Fury boils; that Justice, when constrain'd,
New Covenants and new Presbiters can find.

48

Oft did she chew this heavy Meditation,
Crying, Are these the thanks and praise we pay
To Him who from the jaws of Desolation
Snatch'd us! did He the Rebels' powers destroy
To make free room for our Contempt to swell
And shamelesly against Himself rebel!

49

This wean'd her weary heart from things below,
And kindled it with strong desire to gain
Her Hopes' high Aim. Life could no longer now
Flatter her love, or make her prayers refrain
From begging (yet with humble resignation)
To be dismissed from her mortal station.

50

Long in this earnest fervour did she fry,
Until a Fever's mighty flame begun
To cool it, and incourage her with high
Expectance that she had not far to run
Before her tedious Race would ended be
In never-ending Rest's felicity.

51

O how she welcomed her courteous Pain,
And languished with most serene Content!
No Paroxysms could make her once complain,
Nor suffer'd she her Patience to be spent
Before her Life; contriving thus to yield
To her disease, and yet not loose the field.

52

This trying furnace wasted day by day
(What she her self had always counted Dross,)
Her mortal Mansion, which so ruin'd lay
That of the goodly fabrick nothing was
Remaining now but skin and bone; refin'd
Together were her Body and her Mind,

53

At length the final hour (sad hour to me!)
Releas'd the longing Soul: no Ejulation
Tolled her knell; no dying Agony
Frown'd in her death; but in that lamb-like fashion
In which she liv'd (O righteous Heav'n, said I
Who clos'd her dear eyes,) she had leave to die.

54

She dy'd; but to that Life's possession flew
In hopes of which alone before she lived.
Alas, I only perish'd, who in shew
Was left alive; and she who dy'd, survived.
None, none this woful Riddle feels but I;
Hers was the Death, but mine the Tragedy.

55

O ever-precious Soul, yet shall that flight
Of thine, not snatch thee from thy wonted Nest:
Here shalt thou dwell, here shalt thou live in spight
Of any death, here in this faithful Breast.
Unworthy 'tis, I know, by being Mine;
Yet nothing less, since long it has been Thine.

114

56

Accept thy dearer Pourtraiture, which I
Have on my other Psyche fixed here;
Since her ideal Beauties signify
The truth of thine: as for her spots, they are
Thy useful foil, and shall inservient be
But to inhance and more illustrate Thee.

57

Pseudagius, whose fairfaced Piety
Possession of the Virgin's heart had won,
Now fully feasts his hungry Tyranny
Upon his tender yielding Prey; and soon
Instils his Poisons with such holy art
That their contagion rul'd in every part.

58

Both in the Suburbs of her Soul, and in
The Capitol she found it domineer;
And quickly grown completely Nazaren,
She fondly joy'd that slavish yoke to wear;
Esteeming it to be his gentle Lore
Whom as her only Lord she did adore.

59

Satan, who lurk'd in ambush to espy
His slie Designs' effect; triumph'd to see
That Psyche by this moderate Heresy
Was so extreamly charm'd: for crafty He
When but a little Leven had crept in,
The whole Lump's body oft had tainted seen.

60

He knew a petty Gap might quickly turn
A mighty Chasme: he knew one Spark might thrive
Into a fulgrown Flame, and serve to burn
The strongest Fort: he knew one Wheel might drive
A thousand more: he knew a careless Slip
Might cause a Fall, as well's a wilful Skip.

61

He knew that they who once a foot had set
In Error's labyrinth, would easily be
Allured further to proceed in it
By their own tickling Curiosity;
And having turn'd from Truth's meridian light,
Might soon inamored be of blackest Night.

62

Yet to secure his Plot, he Logos fill'd
With greater Pride and Confidence, since he
Saw Thelema and Psyche forc'd to yield
At last, to what he did at first agree;
And they abashed with unhappy shame
His domineering carriage durst not blame.

63

By this unbrideled Impudence he grew
So vainly bigger than himself, that he
Presum'd far more than all the World he knew
In Truth's judicious discovery.
Thus foolish Dreamers think they view the skies
When dusky Sleep has sealed up their eyes.

64

O miserable Soul, whose Blindness is
The argument by which she thinks her Sight
Acute and pure! who, 'cause she once did miss,
Her way, is confident of going right!
Who on her Fall doth build her Arrogance,
And counts her Knowledge by her Ignorance.

65

For when the Morn call'd early Psyche out,
And led her to the sacred Sepulchre;
Full in her way the watchful Tempter brought
One who no common Mortal's aspect wore:
Grave was his garb, but graver far his look:
And him for some deep-learned Man she took.

66

Capricious Logos could not rest content
Till he had sounded what the Man could say:
Big with a spruce and eloquent Complement,
He brings it forth and strews it in his way,
And bowed to the ground with it: which done,
Agyrtes stay'd, and Logos thus went on:

67

Sir, if your Soul be to your Body true
It must be Science's vast Treasury;
And those spiritual Riches never knew
What Loss or Diminution meant, when by
Ingenuous Impartment they were sown
In other's breasts, yet not plucked from their own.

68

For though his radiant Largise on the Moon,
And every Star, and all the World besides
He poureth out; yet still the copious Sun
On in his undiminish'd Glory rides.
Though thousand Brooks it grudges not to fill,
The teeming Fountain lives in fulness still.

69

A portion of your Streams, and of your Light,
Which by this spending are the more to you
Increas'd, is that we beg: Our stupid Night
To knowing Day may by your Influence grow:
Our arid barren Intellect may be
By your Effusions taught Fertility.

70

That natural Desire which did inflame
Your Industry to reach at Knowledge, is
Common to Us; nor will your Wisdom blame
Our free and bold Obedience to this
Potent Instinct, by following which have You
Attain'd that Blessing which we sue for now.

115

71

So Logos spake; and bowing down again
Press'd his Petition by his fauning gesture:
Nor could his ceremonious Lips refrain,
But kiss'd the margin of the Stranger's vesture;
Thus craving with his closed mouth, and wooing
With all his courtlyest Art his own Vndoing.

72

When by a gravely graceful Pause the Man
More reverence had won, with friendly eye
He first their Welcome look'd; then thus began
To speak it: though safe silence suits with my
Devout Profession, more than Words, yet now
To Courtesie's strong Law my tongue must bow.

73

If I to Strangers should not Kindness show
I should affront that Lord who owned me
A Stranger to himself. Yet must you know
That I pretend not by my industry
To have acquir'd that mystick wealth in which
Your not mistaking fancy counts me rich.

74

Alas, Agyrtes had as sottish been
As is the heavyest He that sees the light,
Had Heav'n's sweet Rays not pleas'd to intervene
Between my heart and Ignorance's Night.
But Jesus, who is King of Love as well
As Wisdom, deign'd with both my breast to fill.

75

Yet this no Wisdom is but only what
Concerns his Truth and Him: if therefore you
For any other Learning thirst but that,
Pray seek where Vanity and Error grow.
That that, or none, sweet Sir, said Psyche; We
Would only in Heav'n's Wisdom learned be.

76

This yielding Answer made him smile within,
And promise his proud heart the Victory:
Yet sure to make, and grace his holy Sin,
To heav'n he turn'd his hell-directed Eye;
And lifting up his hands, seem'd thence to take
The copy of what next he meant to speak.

77

Then on the ready grass, which offer'd there
Its gentle service, jointly sitting down;
Although said he, you yet but Strangers are,
Your holy Wish thus far has made you known
That I perceive you are not yet to be
Inform'd, there is a Christ and Piety.

78

But as the noblest things besieged are
With thornyest difficulties, so is this
Religion and Truth yet never were
Enthron'd so high, but saucy Wickedness
Would muster as aspiring Errors, and
Before their face in flat defiance stand.

79

Yet if a Candidate you ever were
In great Cerinthus's School, what need I now
Open my bottles to your thirst, who there
All fulness from the Fount were taught to draw?
My School, cry'd Psyche, gentle Sir, alas
Only in blind and barbarous Albion was.

80

Know then, that when kind Heav'n implanted had
(Replyed he) its Gospel here below:
Ten thousand Weeds a conjuration made
To choke it when it first began to grow:
The Blade no sooner peeped forth, but there
These pois'nous Tyrants strove to domineer.

81

And surely all the harvest Hopes had been
Slain in their birth, had Jesus's watchful Care
Into his Field not sent Cerinthus: Sin
Ev'n in the spring presum'd the Crop to shear;
And Truth her infant head sought where to hide;
So rampant Error was, and spread so wide.

82

But this sage Gardner with his timely hook
Cut those Intruders down, and clear'd the ground.
The Church's soil strait cheer'd its doleful Look,
And rescu'd Truth, full room to flourish found.
The mystick Paradise began to be
From all th'insidious Serpent's dangers free.

83

The reverend Law, whose flaming Majesty
Flashed from Sinai, now brake out again;
And chasing all licentious Mists, which by
Heretick Sloth had gain'd Religion's rein,
Mingled its Lustre with the Gospel's Ray,
And doubled beauteous Truth's unspotted Day.

84

And wonder not if that severity
Which could not but attend this Reformation,
Gall'd Error's soul, and made Cerinthus be
The Butt of all despightful Indignation;
Since gallant He durst check the World, and ride
Against ev'n Catholick Corruption's tide.

85

Blind Ignorance was grown so bold, that she
Would needs perswade the World it had no Eyes;
Making the lazy name of Mystery
In stead of Demonstration suffice,
From this black Pit those Prodigies of blear
Hoodwink'd abused Faith vomited were.

116

86

For who can fancy Heav'n would e'r obtrude
On reasonable Souls such shameless Fictions
As full against all Reason's Rules conclude,
And founded are on jarring Contradictions!
Sure God so strange a Law did never give,
That Men must not be Men if they believe.

87

No; 'twas not God's, but Man's most lawless Law,
Who by enacting it usurped more
Than Godlike Power on those he won to bow
Their superstitious Necks to this new Lore;
By which to brutish Sotishness they are
Enslav'd, who Free by Christian Title were.

88

'Tis not enough, forsooth, that we believe
Mary the Mother was to Jesus; but
Into the bargain needs we must receive
That she a Virgin still remain'd. And what
More likely Proof, than her Virginity
The truth of His blest Birth to nullify?

89

If she a Mother be, she must be so;
But if a Virgin, she a Virgin is.
He that in One ties these repugnant Two,
May reconcile the Poles into a Kiss,
May Midnight in the face of Highnoon throw,
May cement in one Center, ay and No.

90

But by this Trick such Forgers pave a way
How their new Doctrines may embraced be
For most unspotted virgin Truths, though they
Prove Mothers of a numerous Progeny:
A Progeny of canonized Fictions,
Religious Lyes, and reverend Contradictions.

91

Yet well it were, had Mary been alone
The subject of this holy Nonsense: but
With greater impudence upon her Son
It ventur'd, and madly forging what
Unbias'd Reason cannot but detest,
This as the sacred Rule of Faith profest.

92

For though the Marveilmongers grant that He
Was moulded up but of a mortal metal,
And that his Substance was the same which We
Find in our selves so sadly weak and brittle;
Yet an eternal God they make him too,
And angry are that We will not do so.

93

(The idle Madness of a dreaming Brain
Thus counts one thing a Mountain and a Mite;
Fancies the Sun, Light's royal Sovereign,
To look like swarthy and ignoble Night;
Imagins wretched Worms, although it see
Them crawl in dirt, illustrious Kings to be.)

94

But Heav'n forbid our Tongues should so blaspheme,
And call our God as poor a thing as We.
How can Eternity be born in Time!
How can Infinitude a Baby be!
Or how can Heav'n and Earth's Almighty Lord
To Egypt fly for fear of Herod's sword!

95

How can the Spring of Wisdom wiser grow!
How can the most immeasurable Nature
By bounded years assistance from a low
And childish pitch, rise to a manly Stature!
How more than sottish is that Forgery,
That He should higher wax, who is Most High!

96

Can He be hungry who doth all things feed?
Can boundless Joy's eternal Monarch weep?
An Angel's help can Angel's Maker need?
Is He all Eye, and yet can fall asleep?
Can Man the Prince of Power crucify?
Can He, life's everlasting Fountain, die?

97

Such Gods as these indeed were Jupiter,
Mars, Saturn, Neptune, Mercury, Appolo,
And all that Rout to whom blind Pagans rear
Their cursed Altars: and must Christians follow
Such goodly Leaders, and their copy take
Religion worse than Atheism to make!

98

Surely much thank their Maker ows to them
Whose glorious Faith hath been so studious to
Heap all those vile Indignities on Him
Which they themselves abhor to undergo.
If God be such a wretched Thing, no more
Will I (and 'tis no proud word) Him adore.

99

But He is as impassible as they
Would make Him weak and faint: nor can He bow
To yield His high almighty Self a Prey
To our Infirmities who crawl below.
His superglorious most refined Nature
As far from Suffring is, as from a Creature.

100

I know they strive to mince the Matter by
Distinguishing His Natures; for their Art
(Resolv'd to blush at no Absurdity,)
Doubts not Himself ev'n from Himself to part.
Yet durst not We admit a Deity
Which must upon Distinctions builded be.

117

101

First let them prove that Contraries are one,
And that Immensity can bounded be:
That Height and Depth can friendly meet, and run
Into one Center's common Unity:
That Truth is double: that one Person can
Be Adam's genuine Son, yet more than Man.

102

But O how madly mad their Doctrine is,
And how transcending Pagan Blasphemy,
Who not content to make a God of this
Both passible and mortal Jesus: try
To thrust Him into one substantial Knot
With an eternal Sire who Him begot!

103

Two, yet not Two, but One these Two must be;
Nay and a Third into the Knot must cling:
The Spirit in they twist to make up Three:
Yet vouch these Three for but One single thing;
Thus fast and loose they play, or ev'n and odd,
And we a juggling Trick must have for God.

104

If God be one; then let Him be so still:
Why jumble We we know not what together?
Discerned not the World their God, until
This old blind Age discovered Him? Did neither
The Patriarks believe, nor Seers see
Aright, because they took not One for Three?

105

I and my Brethren are full well content
Ne'r to aspire to other Paradise
Than that to which those holy Heroes went
Whose Faith knew no such curious Prodigies.
No; Faith's a grave and sober Maid: and she
Loves neither Quirk nor Trick nor Forgery.

106

Let love and duty make of Christ as high
And glorious a Thing as Wit can reach;
Provided that against the Deity
No sacrilegious injury they preach.
If He that only way may honored be,
Him to neglect is Piety, say We.

107

But we neglect Him not, who merits more
Of us, than all our Reverence can pay:
Our necks we yield to His most gentle Lore,
And His Commands ambitiously obey.
His royal Law, is Love; and hated be
They who love not so sweet a Lord as He.

108

For our parts, we can willingly defy
Whatever dares our Love to Him oppose;
No Persecution frights our Loyalty,
Nor durst we think those lives are lost we loose
In His dear quarrel, who by Dying hath
Op'd us a way to Life through any Death.

109

You see how freely our Profession we
Impart to Strangers; being confident
That honest Truth can never shamed be.
Yet whither you will bow down your Consent
To our meek Doctrines, since I doubtful am,
Expect not I should further lavish them.

110

For if your Faith relies on Men, who are
Themselves but founded upon mouldering Dust;
If you by Reason's rule disdain to square
Your Piety, and take your God on trust,
(Which Heav'n forbid!) you only are a Prize
To foul Imposters' fairtongu'd Fallacies.

111

He ceased here. When Logos louting low
His fauning head to Psyche, gave her joy
That she had met so grave a Doctor now
Whose piercing Judgment's edge could cut the way
So plain and clear through those thik fogs which had
Religions' region sadly overspread.

112

Err not, said he, your former Error, but
Think how unjustly you Authades sleighted.
O what substantial Arguments, and what
Strong Motives has he muster'd and united
In this concise Discourse, whose depth might well
Be owned by the holyest Oracle.

113

Psyche, whose shier heart not long ago
Would have abhor'd this venomous Language more
Than doth the Lamb the Wolf's or Lyon's, who
Nothing but barbarous slaughter to it roar;
Had now forgot her pious jealous fear,
And knew not what it meant to be aware.

114

She from the Nazaren Cup already had
Sipped some drops of Bane; which having won
Her fond heart's approbation, it made
An open chanel for full streams to run
Into her bosom. Thus an Army by
One little breach pours in its Victory.

115

Nay though a strange reluctant Tremor through
Her bones did glide, she would not hearken what
That secret Item whispered, nor know
What dangerous Knowledge she affected; but
With monstrous Weakness conquers her own Might
And to her fatal Wo yields with delight.

118

116

She yields to swallow this Cerinthian Bait,
And studies to her Murderer thanks to pay.
Dear Sir, said she, your solid Reason's weight
Doth on my heart such sound Persuasion lay
That needs it must submit, and henceforth learn
Your further Favour thankfully to earn.

117

Scarce had she spoke; when lo, her Doctor, who
Had spy'd her Guardian flying thither, took
His leave as handsomly as haste and wo
Would him permit. Alas the Angel's look
Frighted the Cheater, who suspicious was
That Phylax would his holy Fraud uncase.

118

But as away he sneaked; Psyche's friend
Hot in th'impatience of loving Wrath,
The whining air with sprightful wings did rend
And shot himself through the directest path
To reach his Charge; for whom his heart did quake,
Because her own, though ruin'd, would not shake.

119

For by Love's Faithful Sympathy (though He
About his other work far distant were,)
He still preserv'd a soft Vicinity
With Psyche's Soul, and felt each wound: which there
Sophistick Darts had made, though foolish she
Perceived not her sugar'd misery.

120

At his approach, for joy the Virgin wept,
Not thinking that those tears to Shame were due:
For still Syneidesis securely slept,
And to her heart forbore her heart to shew.
She to her Self was more a Stranger, than
The Tarter to the Æetheopian.

121

But Phylax, almost out of breath for haste,
Suck'd in fresh spirits, and strictly then demanded
Who 'twas that gather'd up his heels so fast,
And fled from his arrival? if offended
He at my presence were, 'tis meet that I
Said he, suspect him for your Enemy.

122

No sure, replyed she; for neither I,
Nor Logos, could discover ought but love.
He freely taught us many a Verity,
And what he undertook, did clearly prove.
Misconster not his haste; 'twas no Offense
At you, but sudden bus'ness snatch'd him hence.

123

But Phylax better knowing him, than She,
The total matter gently sifted out;
And wrought upon her Softness so, that He
His kind Design right subtly brought about:
For full confession from her charmed tongue
Of both her Doctors' Principles he wrung.

124

Which heard; he groan'd, and smote his pitying breast,
And fixed upon hers his speaking eye;
By which the mixed language he exprest
Of love and wrath, of hope and jealousy:
And in this Prologue setting ope the door,
He from his lips his troubled Mind did pour,

125

Left I my Charge, O Psyche, to the Wind
When hence I took my journey, or to Thee?
If in my dearest cabinet, thy Mind,
I my Advice deposed, could it be
That every Cheater's breath should open lay
Thy breast, and blow that solid Pawn away?

126

If ever yet I fail'd to justify
My tenderest Affection's truth to thee;
Thou thence mightst patch up some Apology
Wherewith to cloke thy proving False to me.
But see what Logick thou hast learnt of late,
Who mak'st Love's Premisses conclude in Hate.

127

'T had been but fair, if thou hadst staid to hear
What I against those Arguments could say,
Whose Charms have stoll'n thy Faith out at thine ear.
But Phylax was not worth Expecting; nay
Not worth Remembring; else how could thy lip
Seal'd up by mine, Cerinthus's kisses sip!

128

My heart misgave me when away I went,
Or rather when with thine I left it here:
Ask but thy self what earnest pains I spent
To arm thy tender Soul with sacred fear.
O why with foolish confidence wouldst thou
Disarm thy self, and make room for the Blow?

129

That Blow, which struck so deep into thy breast
That if some sovereign Balsam makes not speed;
If strait thy Wounds be not as deeply drest;
If Heav'n be not as quick new life to shed
Into thy Soul, as Hell was to betray
It unto death; this is thy fatal Day.

130

Alas those Doctrines only Poisons were,
Squeez'd from the dregs of Satan's direful Pit.
Less pestilential those Venoms are
Which desperate Basilisks and Vipers spit.
Nor Aphrodisus's, nor Agenor's tongue
With such sure Bane thy careless bosom stung.

119

131

And canst thou Psyche, thus requite thy Lord
For all the treasures of His Love which He
So freely into thy poor heart hath pour'd?
What? plainly rob Him of his Deity,
And tear Him from his throne, whilst royal He
His heav'nly Realm prepares for worthless Thee?

132

Brisk Logos here no longer patience had;
For pricking up his insolent crest, he cry'd,
Good Sir, and take you me for one so mad
That in my proper road I cannot ride;
But both my Self, and Way, so wildely loose,
And willingly deep Precipices choose?

133

If Eyes of Colours sober judges be,
If Tongues can censure what is sour and sweet,
If Ears can Discords know from Harmony,
If Touching may decide in Cold and Heat;
Why may not I, who sit in Reason's chair,
Presume to judge what Proofs convincing are?

134

Unless I to my Essence give the Lye,
These Doctrines builded are on Demonstration.
But if you only must be Psyche's Eye;
Ev'n pull me out, that by no perturbation
The progress of your Plots I may forestal:
Pray let me be my Self, or not at all.

135

Psyche was glad to hear this Challenge beat
So high, and hop'd that Phylax would relent.
And were Angelick love's heroick Heat
Less resolute than it is, just Discontent
Had quenched Phylax's flames, which braved now
By this bold Opposition stouter grew.

136

For from her heav'n with secret instance He
Drew Charis down, to join her Powers with his.
Strait viewing Psyche's wounded bosom, she
Melted with pity at her deep distress;
And by victorious Sweetness op'd a way
Into her heart, and Thelema made her prey.

137

For with all heav'nly Operations, Speed
Contempor'd is; that in the quick Effect
The dullest Eye apparently may read
Omnipotence's dint. Thus Charis checkt
Stout Thelema, and in a moment prest
Her to a Willingness not to Resist.

138

Which Phylax marking: Logos strives in vain,
Said he, to countermine my care of thee,
I these Affronts, and greater, can sustain
Rather than Psyche should destroyed be;
All this, and more, I will forget, so thou
Wilt see one Spectacle I have to show.

139

Logos look'd big, and strugled might and main;
But Thelema was tractable and tame,
And vow'd the sullen Rebel to constrain
Unto her pliant mind his own to frame.
Poor Psyche sigh'd and wept, and half afraid,
Phylax with her to do his pleasure pray'd.

140

He weighing well that her Disease had need
Of nothing more than Haste in her Physitian;
Stay'd not to parle, but made all loving speed
To snatch her from these jaws of deep Perdition;
Whilst yet with Charis's soulsubduing heat
Her melted and convicted heart did beat.

141

Ready at hand his welknown Chariot stood,
In which he takes her up; and shakes the rein:
Forthwith the sprightful Steeds tearing the road
Which open lay upon th'ethereal plain,
Soon reached Gitton in Samaria; where
Phylax as quickly curbed their carreer.

142

Then lighting down, Lo Psyche, this, said he,
Is those thy newfound Doctor's native Town;
Here thou their true Original shalt see,
And from what kind of Nest they all are flown.
This House their Father's was: Come, let us in,
And view the Birthplace of Heretick Sin.

143

Thus entred they: when in the house they find
Such swarms of Doors, and Cells, and Galleries,
Which by quaint Turnings to and fro did wind,
That Psyche quickly lost her rolling eyes;
As she had done her Self, had Phylax not
Of all the Labyrinth full knowledge got.

144

But through a thousand snarl'd Meanders, to
A goodly Room he soon conducted her;
Where she another Door espy'd, but no
Cause to suspect what Dens in ambush were
Lurking behind it; so alluring was
The holy beauty of its cheating face.

145

A goodly Crucifix was there displaid,
Altars were rear'd, and reverend Bibles ope,
By which majestick Liturgies were laid,
And lofty-tuned Anthems; on the top
Art plac'd a Quire of Angels hovering,
And made the gorgeous Roof all seem to sing.

120

146

Truth's best Dissembler, old Apelles heir
Had quickned those dead Walls, and made them live
In many a holy History; whose fair
And breathing Colours did such welcome give,
That all Spectators' hearts leap'd to their eyes
To feast, though but on painted Rarities.

147

There Faith appeared with her eagle's Eye,
Hope with both hands her Anchor clasping fast,
And with wide-open bosom Charity;
Whose looks with such beseeming beams were drest,
That those who thoroughly scann'd them not, might deem
She at heav'n's genuine fire had kindled them.

148

With these were ranked Zeal, Austerity,
Devotion, Meekness, Gentleness, Content;
And whatsoe'r might advantageous be
The brave Imposture wisely to present.
Baits which might easly work a greater feat
Than Psyche's soft Simplicity to cheat.

149

She gaz'd, and copied in her foolish heart
With Fancie's pencil, what her Wonder saw.
But sober Phylax, whom no Painter's art
Could into rash (because blind) Error draw,
As easily return'd his Pupil back
As she had slipt into her fond Mistake.

150

What credit thou to those fair Looks may'st give,
Said he, thou shalt behold when I have shown
What ugliness those beauteous Porters strive
To palliate. With that, he bent his Frown
Upon th'inchanting Hypocrites, and they
To his imperious Anger strait gave way.

151

The holy Pageantry it self confest,
And yielded into naked Truth; for what
Before, the life of Goodliness exprest,
Repented now into its native Blot:
No quintessence of ink, or soot, or pitch,
The blackness of that Chamber's walls might reach.

152

Nor could the Door sustain his piercing Look,
But started into shivers: when, behold,
An hideous Grot, belching out stink and smoke,
A cloud of Terror upon Psyche roll'd;
In which her groping thoughts were lost, and she
Quite buried in blind Perplexity.

153

But Phylax shot from his illustrious Eye
Such potent lightning as subdu'd that cloud;
When lo about the Cavern's sides a Fry
Of frighted Toads into their holes did croud;
And thousand Spiders, at the sight agast,
Into the centers of their webs made haste.

154

But O what Man's, or Muse's tongue can tell
The other Monsters which were hissing there!
Huge Snakes, preposterous Amphisbænas fell,
And fiery Basilisks discover'd were
With angry Hydras, Scorpions, Dragons, and
Of foul Chimæras many a marshall'd band.

155

Yet these all fled before the Angel's face,
And in their several dens loud howling lay:
But he intending for a further place
With these less monstrous Monsters made no stay:
Strait to a closer darker door he goes,
Things far more deadly pois'nous to disclose.

156

Glozing Deceits, and handsom Lyes stood there,
With gentle meek demure Hypocrisy;
All which in goodly state attended were
By treacherous Rhetorick and Phylosophy;
With Syllogisms in rank and file array'd
Whose hands three-forked massy halberts sway'd.

157

But dreadfully abashed, on the ground
All these before the hasting Angel fell;
Who entring by that damned Portal, found
To such a Porch a correspondent Hall.
The Stinks he met before, pure Odours were
To these which reek'd in every corner here.

158

The Master of the house, grim Simon, who
Wore Magus for his cussed sirname, sate
Full in the midst; whose pois'ned stomack so
Surcharged was with crude Opinions, that
Its pestilential Load, which belk'd and wrought,
Into a brazen bowl, he spewed out.

159

And this that indigested Chaos was
Wherein all Heresies did jumbled lie;
The fertile Womb which fostered the Mass
Of every kind of breeding Blasphemy;
The Seed and Matter whence Sin's foul Creator
Of all black hideous Fancies fram'd the feature.

160

As this dire Vomit smoked in the bowl,
A croud of desperate Men throng'd round about;
Whose most accursed Thirst betray'd their soul
To covet this black draught. No scalding drought
Of chased Harts e'r bred such strong desire
In cooling springs to quench their raging fire.

121

161

The first Sup bold Menander got, and by,
That cankering liquor so infected grew
That Simon he outspit in Heresy,
And higher than his spewing Father flew.
Much he disdain'd that God or Man should be
However noble, nobler thought than He.

162

Cerinthus next to lapping fell, and then
His hungry Younglings with the Venom fed;
'Mongst whom Agyrtes suck'd his part: whom when
Psyche beheld, Guilt dy'd her cheeks with red.
But Ebion thrusting in took off her eye:
He Scripture's Mangler, Fo of Chastity.

163

Yet Nicholas madder prov'd himself than He,
And drunk so deep, that of all learned Lust
He turn'd Professor, and attain'd to be
The Hate of God. Behind him Elxai thrust,
And foul Jexeus, bretheren no less
In Nature than in lustful Putidness.

164

Then Saturnine, whose draught so strangely wrought,
That Purity it self he judg'd impure;
Chaste Matrimony he abhorr'd as fraught
With shameful odiousness; nor would endure
That any creature's blood his lips should stain,
Though they all humane lawful Births had slain.

165

Then Basilides, from this loathsome fount
Like dangerous Poison drunk: right pure and clean
Uncleanness seem'd in his corrupt account.
Nor had this Liquor different relish in
Carpocrates his mouth, and Valentin's,
The Oracles of all libidinous Sins.

166

From these dire Parents flow'd that numerous spawn
Of most portentuous Gnosticks, Antilacks,
Zacchæans, Coddians, Ophites, Cainites; known
By their profession of such shameless facts
As Hell would blush at: yet these facts were those
Which they for proofs of pure Religion chose.

167

Next these, about the bowl's brim licking lay
The Nazarens: amongst whose sneaking fry
Were both Anthades and Pseudagius, they
Who tainted Psyche's heart with Heresy.
She saw them there, and stood amaz'd to see
Saint-seeming Souls in deep-damn'd Company.

168

Her woful indignation on her breast
She sealed with a loud and hearty stroak;
And having thus her venturous Crime confest
Under her own hand, into tears she broke.
But Phylax charg'd her to observe the rest
Who forward to Death's living fountain prest.

169

For after those, appear'd the Marcosites,
Epiphanes, Secundus, Isidore;
Bold Cerdonists, and fond Heracleonites;
Marcion, Apelles; with blasphemous store
Of their Disciples: Lucan, Lucian,
Photinus, Basiliscus, Hermogen.

170

Then proud Montanus; with Quintilians,
Ascites, Pepuzians, and Artotyrites,
Priscillians, pharisaik Tatians,
Abstemious yet profane Severianites;
Archonticks, Adamites, Quartadecimans,
Vain Alogists, and Melchisidekians.

171

Tertullianists, Arabicks, Symmachists,
Homousiasts, Elxites, Origenians,
Valesians, Agrippinians, Catharists,
Hydroparastates, Patripassians,
Apostolicks, Angelicks, Chiliasts,
Samosatenian Paulianists.

172

Mad Maniches, outrageous Donatists,
Curs'd Arians, Colluthians, Audianites,
Marcellians, and Macedonianists,
Aerians, Acacians, Eustathites,
Eunomians, Messalians, Luciferians,
Agnoites, Hypsistarists, Apollinarians.

173

Timotheans, Seleucians, Collyridians
Rhetorians, Venustians, Proclianites,
Foul-mouth'd Jovinianists, and black Helvidians,
Bonosians, Campensians, Agapites;
Pelagius, Nestorius, Eutyches,
Accompany'd with all their Progenies.

174

Innumerable more besides were there
Whose several Poisons' Nature Phylax read
To his attentive Pupil, though they ne'r
As yet were to this world discovered.
Yea those he shew'd her, who at length would fill
With soul-destroying Bane her native Isle.

175

New-coyned Catharists were they; who bread
All Tribes and Kinds of raging Monsters, and
By traiterous Heresy upon the head
Of trampled Church and State presum'd to stand.
Yet these to Him but petty Vermin were
Who brandish'd now his vaster terror there.

122

176

A Prodigy of such commanding Look
That all those awed Suckers gave him way:
Three times his mighty head and locks he shook,
Three times he stoop'd, and seem'd too proud to lay
His lips so low; yet bowing down at length,
Upon the Bowl he shew'd his cursed strength:

177

For every drop of that foul Vomit he
Ingorged strait; and kick'd the Bowl away.
When lo the Venom's rampant potency
Made all the desperate Man its frightful Prey.
In's staring eyes, and all about his face
Infernal Horror freely took its place.

178

Two ragged horns brake from his brazen brow,
From's sulphury mouth impatient Blasphemy;
Big with all rancorous Spight his bosom grew;
His soul was stretch'd with arrogant Majesty.
Nor was't a wonder that he thus did swell,
Who quaffed had and drunken was with Hell.

179

He swore, and with a thundering oath, that he
Would make the whole World to his pleasure bow.
He threatned all Heav'n's starry Bravery
Down from their highest strongest Orbs to throw;
And vow'd by his own Head, no God should be
Thenceforth believed or ador'd but He.

180

Forthwith he proudly bent his brawny fists,
And mounted up his more than Dragon's tail;
With that artillery entering the lists,
And impudently trusting to prevail.
Nor was his Insolence in vain, for he
From Heav'n it self snatch'd down his victory.

181

From th'Evangelick Heav'n he boldly drew
Millions of Souls, whom he in sunder tore
Or with his breath's most Murdering Venom slew,
Bellowing his triumph in a dismal Roar:
Which made th'Heretick Frie terribly quake,
Curs'd Simon start, and honest Psyche shake.

182

But to allay the tempest of her fear,
Mark, Phylax cry'd, mark but what bounds restrain
The Monster's pride; for He's a pris'ner here,
And cannot break that adamantine Chain
Which Him and all his viperous Company
Though at some distance, fast to Hell doth tie.

183

She look'd, and saw her Guardian told her true:
She saw the Chain, which led into a Pit
Whence thick sulphureous Eructations flew,
And boiling Iron fiery terror spit.
Aloud she shriek'd, and turn'd about to spy
How from that gaping mouth of death to fly.

184

But shelter'd by his Wings' Security,
And by his trusty Word incouraged,
Into the Grot she ventured her eye;
Which there a more prodigeous Object read,
Than she had seen imprinted in the book
Of hideous Antichrist's portentuous Look.

185

It was that Beldame Hag from whose black breast
Simon his rank unweildy Poison drew;
Never was Fury so completely drest
In all the bravery of Horror's hue:
All shapeless shapes together tumbled were
To mould up Shame's extremity in Her.

186

Two heads she had, which on her Legs did grow;
Two faces, and two mouths, but ne'r an eye;
Six rows of teeth, whose task it was to gnaw
What of her Carkase they could reach: Her thigh
From an eternal Sore did poison drain
Into her throat, which spew'd it up again.

187

About her nasty hide the Vermins swarms,
Young Adders, Slow-worms, Toads, and Spiders were:
Out at her Loins she reach'd her scaley Arms;
An hundred Nails on either hand did tear
Her dangling Dugs, and when they weary grew,
The tatter'd budgets o'r her shoulders threw.

188

High on her neck a twisted Tail did sprout
Arm'd with a thousand forked stings, which she
For her own torture us'd, and round about
Her self its lashes threw: prodigiously
Her pois'ned Paunch was swoll'n, and thick beset
With snarled throngs of cole-black cloyen feet.

189

These scratch'd and scrambled every way, and drew
Her sometimes forward, sometimes back again:
If yet this most confounded Monster knew
What back and forward meant; for 'twas in vain
For any Eye to hope in her to find,
What might be term'd Before, and what Behind.

190

As Psyche shiver'd at this baleful sight,
And now, said Phylax, do'st not see and feel
That Logos's counsel solid was and right,
By which sage He engag'd thy heart to dwell
In this fine Ladie's family: for she
Is Grandame to that hideous Progeny.

123

191

Since thou hast made this choice, and scorned Me,
And my Advice; ev'n take thy chosen place,
Or in Pseudagius his company,
Or in Agyrtes: nay do not disgrace
Thy learned Prudence so as to retract:
Judicious Logos will not like the fact.

192

Poor Logos heard this word; which through his heart
Such Shame and Sorrow shot, that humbled He
Resolved ne'r to trust his proper art
Unless with Phylax' mind it did agree.
But yet in Psyche's tender breast the Wound
More stinging was, more fatally profound.

193

For prostrate at his feet, in silence she
Grappled a while with her outrageous Grief:
But when she saw the woful Victory
Growing upon her, and found no relief
In all her soul; she mingles with her sighs
Her Deplorations, and thus she cries:

194

Alas, Pseudagius' or Agyrtes' Place,
Though sunk in horrors, are too high for me:
That dreadful Hag's prodigious embrace
Is doubly due to my Apostasy:
Deserv'd have wretched I that she should hug
Me with her Tail, and feed me with her Dug.

195

For had Pseudagius' or Agyrtes' heart,
Like mine, been by a Phylax fortify'd;
No Mines, no Onslates of heretick Art
Had won their Forts: but I, by sottish Pride
Sleiting the Potent help of thy supply,
Chose on mine own bold Weakness to rely.

196

I fain would pardon beg; but mighty Shame
Seals up my mouth, and Guilt beats back my breath:
I fain would invocate His gracious Name
Who gave His Life to rescue me from death:
But Horror stifles my Attempt, since I
Have prov'd a Traytor to His Deity.

197

But thou, sweet Phylax, never did'st displease
Our sacred Sovereign, nor force His frown;
Seal'd sure on Thee His endless Favour is,
And thy Desires He with success will crown;
Would'st thou but plead for me, though not for mine,
He will for thy dear sake His ear incline.

198

I know my Impudence strains high, who dare
Crave thus much favour of abused Thee;
But thy brave Charity delights to war
Against the most perverse conspiracy
Of my Demerits, witness its divine
Battle against, Agenor's Pride and Mine.

199

O why shall my ingrateful Error be
Able to frustrate thy strong Love's Design!
Why may'st thou not be Phylax still to me,
And, spight of all my Darkness, freely shine
With heav'nly Help! why must Hell's Tyrant bost
That Heav'n and You your pains and me have lost!

200

If ever more from thy Advice I start,
By bold and traiterous Curiosity,
Amidst those Furies may I reap my part
Of my already-earned misery;
And may thy Wing no more for me be spread,
No more thy Tongue for my reprievement plead.

201

Divided here 'twixt trembling hope and fear,
On Him she fix'd her lamentable Eye:
Urging the rest by Looks; which louder were
Than all her former Cries. This modesty
A potent charm to her soft Guardian was,
Who took her up, and bad her wipe her face.

202

Your holy Resolution hold, said he,
And with the Issue trust my love and care:
Into false paths you ne'r were lur'd by me
Who more discerning eyes than Logos wear.
The ways I set may craggy seem, and high;
But such lead up to heav'n's sublimity.

203

Here by her hand then tenderly he led,
Gathering the steps by which he came into
The Grot: the curs'd Inhabitants were glad
(Though vex'd withal) that he had pass'd them so.
The Serpents creeping from their holes again,
Hiss'd after him, and spit their angry pain.

124

CANTO XIX. The Antidote.

The ARGUMENT.

Psyche, to purge that spreading Taint which had
So sliely stoll'n into her cheated breast,
By Phylax to Ecclesia's court is led;
Where she by Truth's divine embraces blest,
Quickly perceiv'd her Cure, and how the heat
Of Catholick Health in her sound Pulse did beat.

1

Vain miserable Man, why dost thou tread
So proudly on the Worm which crawls below;
Forgetting that thine own erected head
To far more solid Wretchedness doth bow
Than ever made the vilest Reptile be
The footstool of Contempt to sirly Thee.

2

Are not the Bowels of Disgrace the Spring
Whence thou dost flow? Is not Corruption
That despicable Mother which did bring
Forth Thee her genuine corruptible Son?
Though Flesh and Blood dissemble long, they must
Confess at last their putrid mouldring Dust.

3

For in the Center of thy proudest heart
Thy fatal Shame thou dost inshrined bear;
The Seeds of Rottenness, which pose all Art
Of Extirpation, lie breeding there;
Which are no sooner to matureness grown,
But, with thy self, they must be mowed down.

4

Sage Nature at the moment of thy birth
Made thee Lament, when yet thou knew'st not Why;
Being with Pollution tumbled headlong forth
Into the stage of Life's sure Tragedy;
Inevitably there first Vex'd to be,
And after murder'd, by Mortality.

5

The meanest Creature that e'r drunk in Light
Was richer born, and stronger far than Thou:
Completely shiftless was thy native plight,
And no self-succour would to thee allow:
Naked thou wert of every Help beside,
As well's of Clothes, thy woful shame to hide.

6

With Cares, and Fears, in thy young Education
Thy troubled Parent travelled again;
Her bowels yearn'd with no less perturbation
Than when they stretch'd with puerperial pain;
It being but Extension of thy Birth
To bring thee up, as she had brought thee forth.

7

How worrisomly cross and peevish were
Thy feeble years, when thou could'st only fight
With thy rebellious Will, and vex the Care
Of thy dear Nurse by sullen froward spight!
All other Twigs will freely bend: but thou
Alone, though young, had'st rather Break than Bow.

8

To school, the Rod both drives, and keeps thee there:
Who wholsome Institution dost embrace
Not out of Love, but most ignoble fear:
Like stubborn Colts, who tutor'd are to pace
When dreadful Awe compels them to submit
Not to the Rider, but his Whip and Bit.

9

But as the Tinder never fails to catch
The smallest spark, though burnt it needs must be
By what it hugs: so doth thy Madness snatch
At every glistering Sin and Vanity,
And grasp it close, although the treacherous Guest
Hell-fire most surely kindles in thy breast.

10

When riper years to manly Acts invite
Thy well-grown soul, what trade thy strength imploys
But that of amorous languishing Delight,
Of bitter Sweets, of delicate Annoys,
Of fawning Rhymes, of witty Fopperies,
Of dainty Perjuries, of smiling Lies?

125

11

In Ceremonies idely-busy school
Thou disciplinest every limb and joint,
Until thou grow'st a most accomplish'd Fool
In histrionick Vanities: each Point
Of finess thou disput'st, and wilt not Look,
Or move thy learned Body, but by book.

12

Combs, Brushes, Scissers, Crisping-irons, are
The choicest Tools of thy fantastick Trade;
By which more Art appeareth in thy Hair
Than in thy Head: which yet more curious made
By Powder's help, doth more thy Folly cheat,
For 'tis that Powder not thy Dust is sweet.

13

To Sheers and Needle thou thy self inslavest
And at the mercy liv'st of each new Cut
And upstart Garb: yet when thou in thy bravest
And most belaced Servitude dost strut,
Some newer Fashion still usurps, and thou
Unto its foolish yoke durst not but bow.

14

Thus through a thousand shapes thou art content
To croud thy self, Her favour to obtain
Who is as Various as the Complement
Of thine uncertain Fashions: in vain
Thou huntest thus to gain thy slippery Prize:
Her Mind as changing as thy Body is.

15

Yet thou inshrin'st in thy devoted breast
Her idoliz'd Idea: night and day
Thou prov'st thy thoughtful self her zealous Priest,
And Contemplation's Sacrifice dost pay:
For every Lineament, and every Part
Of her, thou mak'st divine in thy fond heart.

16

A Curle of silly feeble Hair, which is
The Sport and Scorn of every idle Wind,
Like chains of sturdy Adamant can seize
And captivate thy most unmanly Mind:
Which vain Captivity of thine makes Hair
The current granted Name of Locks to wear.

17

Her Motions and her Gestures travers'd are
By thy attending thoughts, and ravish'd thou
Think'st silver Venus through her limpid sphere
Swims with less gagliardise, and knows not how
So well to justify her Stile, and prove
Her self the Queen of soft leggiadrous Love.

18

Whate'r it be that thou dost hear or see,
Thou neither seest nor hearest: she alone
Reigns in thy heart, nor can deposed be
By any other Thought's intrusion.
Thy self is not thy self; nor art thou where
Thou art, unless She She be also there.

19

In vain thy Friends remember thee that she
Is black without and more deform'd within:
Thou know'st no Friend but Her, and joy'st to see
All others Envy at thy Choise repine.
Infallible thou art, and cause can'st find
To think that all the World but Love is blind.

20

In vain they ask thee how thy purse will bear
The unknown charge of Wedlock's life: for more
Than both the Indies' Wealth thou reck'nest Her;
Whom could'st thou gain, Thou would'st esteem but poor,
Ev'n Solomon, with his seven hundred Queens
And three fair Centuries of Concubines.

21

If She commands, O how thy heart doth leap
Into Obedience, though it be to run
Through all the vastest most tempestuous Deep
Unto the Setting or the Rising Sun!
If She forbids; let Earth and Heav'n command,
She is thy Goddess and her Will must stand.

22

How reverent's thy Devotion, when thou
To sacred Her dost thy Approaches make!
With what Zeal of exactness dost thou bow,
In meek ambition from her foot to take
Thy thirsty Fervor's aim, and thence ascend
To drink the dear draught of her milky Hand!

23

Then pour'st thou out thy Soul for thine Oblation
On her smooth Lip, thine Altar of delight;
Whence thou receiv'st with joyous adoration
The Blessings of her Kiss. Her calmy sight
Thou think'st thy Heav'n, and in her smiling Eyes
Read'st all the Sweets of thy Fool's Paradise.

24

But if coy Frowns, or one denying Glance
Becloud that Sphere of thine imagin'd Bliss;
How are thy Comforts cast into a trance
Of gnawing Dread, and anxious Distress!
What jealous fearful Pallor doth surprise
Thy Cheeks, what deadly Ghastlyness thine Eyes!

25

If she at last replies by sullen scorn,
To thy unwelcome suit; how dost thou hate
Thy sleighted self, and wish thou hadst been born
To any Reprobation, but that!
Happy, in earnest happy might'st thou prove,
Could'st thou so much thy God or Fear or Love.

126

26

When thou in matrimonial Bands art ty'd,
(Bands which no Sithe but that of Death can cut,)
Though them as soft thou countest as thy Bride.
From thine own Freedom thou hast freely shut
Thy self, not knowing but that yoke to thee
May prove more heavy than Virginity.

27

Fool! couldst thou dream thy female Deity
Would let thee know she but an Idol was;
Or had not wit to keep thy charmed eye
From reading any Line of her Disgrace?
Did ever Siren to the Seaman show
That her fair Flesh above, was Fish below?

28

Did'st thou thy self unmask thy self, and let
Her eyes the face of thy Condition see?
What makes thee then surmise she could forget
To meet thee with thine own Hypocrisy?
Or that her shie demure Sex understood
Not more than thine, what 'tis to wear a hood?

29

Alas thou saw'st but half of Her, those years
Thou drov'st so hot the Wooer's blinded trade,
And had'st full power to take or leave: but Fears
And Doubts are now too late, since thou hast made
The bargain up; not all the World can ease thee:
Thou must be pleas'd although she doth not please thee.

30

Yet grant her genuine Worth and virtuous Graces
Answer thy highest Hopes with full success:
Still thy Adventure's management debases
The fondly-founded credit of thy Bliss:
And though thou sit'st in Happiness's lap,
Thou can'st not praise thy Wisdom, but thy Hap.

31

If She proves Barren, who is thus thy Spouse,
Such such are all thy Hopes and Joyes: if She
With numerous Issue fills thy widest House,
What warrant hast that these will Blessings be?
They easlyest may be bad; nor canst thou tell
But thou hast helped to impeople Hell.

32

No Bed so thick with thorns can ever grow
As do's the Nuptial: what large Crops of Cares
It yields in every time and season! how
Fertile and rank 'tis in perpetual Fears!
In Winter and in Summer this doth bear,
And spreads its harvest over all the year.

33

Besides; unhappy Fortunato, how
Wilt thou indure to loose thy precious Dear!
Hast thou her Life in lease? or canst thou show
A better claim than Death will lay to her?
Thy Spouse, how soon thou know'st not, Death may wed,
And make the doleful Grave her nuptial Bed.

34

But if thou rests content to be a dry
And fruitless Tree, and wilt thy self restrain
Within the bounds of strict Virginity;
Intestine War will in thy bosom reign,
And Legions of Temptations always be
In arms against thy single Chastity.

35

Loud will thy fair Estate call for an Heir;
So will thy Name, and natural Philauty;
So will the thought of crazy Age, and Fear
Of wanting an unfained Friend's supply
Towards thy grave when years shall bow thee, and
For thy Wealth's Carkase Vultures gaping stand.

36

The World will heap on thy Severity
Bold Imputations, and surmise that thou
Deal'st underhand for what should purchas'd be
In open legal manner; or will grow
Into belief, thy Pertinacity
Hath scorn'd all Females, or all Females thee.

37

Yea they whom Nuptial Cares have vex'd and toss't,
In envy of thy Quiet, will lament
Thy tedious Solitariness, and boast
Their own to be the Life of free Content.
Much like Decoys, rejoycing in the Net,
Only to tempt more Pris'ners into it.

38

Would'st thou be Rich? then through outrageous Seas,
Within three inches of thy death, must thou
Sail from thy quiet Home, and yield to be
The worried Slave of all the Winds that blow.
Through grievous Mines thou must thy Labour reach,
And delve to hell thy Plutus thence to fetch.

39

Grant then that He thy largest Coffers fill:
Thy Heart's as poor and empty as before:
The cursed thirst of Gold grows hotter still
Though Plate and Indus thou on it dost poure.
The peevish Itch thus proves more fertile when
Thou rubb'st and strivest with the tainted Skin.

40

And now, though thou before could'st safely sleep;
In fear of Thieves thou break'st thy nightly rest,
Setting thy thoughtful Heart a watch to keep
About thy Bags. Unhappy Fool! at least
Consider, though thy Gold thou holdst so fast,
Thy self thou canst not, who must die at last.

127

41

Die, die thou must, and an account give up
Of all the fruitless Store thou hoardedst here.
Those Bags on which thy Soul had built her hope,
But rich and heavy Torments will appear:
And thou shalt bless their Poverty, who had
No Reckonings to make when they were Dead.

42

Is Poverty thy Lot? then look to be
The helpless Butt of Wrong and of Disgrace.
Thy Joints must buckle hard to Industry;
Continual Sweat must reak upon thy face;
To purchase what must fill and hide thy skin,
Least thou without be naked, and within.

43

If Vice to thy assistance thou shalt call,
And by thy Sins thy Fortunes hope to mend;
Thou digg'st a Pit wherein thy self must fall,
And to thy hellish Fo dost succour lend.
Thou spend'st thine only stock, and hast'st to be
A woful Bankrupt to eternity.

44

If thou a rich-descended Heir art born,
'Tis odds but that thy Birth will thee undo.
Such Wealth its Duty thinketh it to scorn
In Industry's laborious Paths to go.
'Tis Worth enough, if your young Gallant can
Look big, Luxuriate, and Write Gentleman.

45

In Learning's Lists adventur'st thou to trie
Thy strength? this makes all Ignorants thy foes;
And they wel-near are All. Yet could'st thou flie
Their Envie's reach, thy learned Joyes will loose
Their taste (if wisest Solomon may be
Trusted for judge,) in stinging Vanity.

46

Arts dar'st thou scorn? then dar'st thou be a Beast:
Nay beastlier than they; Beasts scorn them not.
Thy Scorn's Pride's daughter, and do's but resist
The progress of her own aspiring Plot:
For are not Arts the ready wings whereby
Proud Spirits, as well as Generous, soar high?

47

With martial Bayes dost thou affect to build
Glory's fair structure on thy hardy brow?
Know then that in the laurel-breeding Field
Millions of Dangers and of Vices grow:
And those, alas, may thee of life deprive;
These, which is worse, may make thee die alive.

48

Or doth the Muse's Wreath thy head invite
Restless innumerable Pains to take
In Numbers' study? O how few aright
Do guide Poetick Feet! how few extend
Their Lines by Virtue's Rule! how few escape
A Fall from Cynthius's Hill to Venus's lap!

49

But if thou choosest Virtue's lofty way,
Nobly disdaining All that flags beneath;
If thy dull Body's burden cannot sway
Thee downward; if this Life to thee be Death;
If pure and heav'nly be the towring Heat
Which doth in thy heroick bosom beat:

50

Right generous is thine Enterprise: but yet
Strong Difficulties block it up; thy cross
And headstrong Passions in array will set
Their utmost Powers thy Valour to oppose.
Thine own false Heart, unless thy Care be great,
Will Traytor prove and her own Aim defeat.

51

Besides; All they whose souls are tainted by
Sin's envyous Contagion, will join
Their Mischief in a full Conspiracy
Thy single Piety to undermine.
For all thy Virtue checks and chides their Vice,
Thy gracious Glories shame their Villanies.

52

Thou art their Scandal, and their Fame doth call
Upon their deepest waryest Craft for aid
Against that Blot thy Beauty throws on all
Who are of hardy Piety afraid.
To force back these, what Weapons wilt thou find;
How shall thy Vessel conquer Tide and Wind?

53

Yet through this rampant Sea of Opposition
Could'st thou tear ope thy way; how would'st thou tame
Those higher stouter Billows of Perdition
Whose Wrath in all thy paths doth roar and foam?
Hell and its Prince their toughest Nerves combine
To terrify and to enervate thine.

54

And sure this Tempest would effect its Spight;
On thy weak Bark, did not kind Heav'n descend
In part aforehand; did not Grace's Light
With cordial Assistance thee befriend;
Did She not steer thy Course, and bid thee ride
Securely o'r the Surge's highest Pride.

55

Thy Life to Execution only leads.
Condemned thee; unless all-pitying She
By seasonable Mercy intercedes
Between thy Soul and its Catastrophe.
Grace only can poor sentenc'd Man reprieve,
And find a way to teach his Life to live.

128

56

'Twas blessed Charis, who so fast did move
Phylax his wings when He to Psyche flew,
And with the wholesom speed of heav'nly love
Her from the Jaws of those Cerinthians drew;
By shewing her the horror of that Pit
Where Heresy and all her Brood were met.

57

But Phylax thence return'd, without delay
His nimble Chariot takes, and Her with it.
Strait Gitton sunk and vanished away;
For warned by the motion of their Bit
The lusty Coursers took their sprightful Wing,
And justling through the clouds, away did fling.

58

As Psyche wonder'd whither they would fly,
She found her self rapt to a gentle Sphere:
No saucy Wind durst ever press so high,
Or blow up any Tempest's tumults there.
The only Gales which in this Orb did move
Were pure delicious Breaths of Heav'n and Love.

59

The only Clouds which greeted there her eye,
Thick Volumes of religious Incense were;
The only Noise which rolled through that Sky
Were holy Echoes welcoming her ear
With soft Rebounds of those rich Anthems which
The throats and hearts of Saints divinely stretch.

60

She mused much what privileg'd Creatures were
Inhabitants in that calm Sea of Bliss:
When lo, a troop of glistering Towers drew near
To meet her pressing Chariot's earnestness:
And straight a goodly Palace fill'd her eye
With large and high-erected Majesty.

61

Directly thither, for they knew the Way,
The Coursers speeded, neighing as they flew:
But Phylax pluck'd the Reins, to bid them stay
Their Course, when near the outer Gate they drew.
Then lighting, with his Virgin Pupil; He
Taught her to see indeed what she did see.

62

Never, said He, my Dear, those Eyes of thine
Though they have travell'd through the World so far,
Were honored with Objects so divine
As these with which they now saluted are.
No Pile e'r swell'd to such bright Statelyness,
Nor sham'd all Princes' proudest Courts, as this.

63

That pompous Fabrick which great David's Son
Erected for a greater King, was plain
And poor, if brought into comparison
With this Magnificence which here doth reign.
As shades the Substance; so did typick that
But blindly intimate this Temple's state.

64

The Gold which shin'd, the Stones which sparkled there,
Were all th'ignoble Sons of dirty Earth:
But these substantial Glories flaming here
From Heav'n's fair womb derive their splendid birth.
Nor was the Work atchiev'd by mortal Hand,
Which firm as Immortality doth stand.

65

Had'st thou my wings, and through the Spheres could'st flie,
Heav'n's most Imperial Palace there to read;
That Spectacle would feast thy ravish'd Eye
But with an ampler Copy, wider spread
And fuller drawn; a Copy of what here
Is written in a smaller character.

66

Mark well its Situation: Caucasus,
The Alps, th'Atlantick Mountains, Ararat,
Noble Olymphus, nobler Libanus,
Are in their proudest exaltations, not
Half so sublime as is this royal Hill,
Which almost in both Worlds at once doth dwell.

67

Its worthy Head to Heav'n next neighbour is;
Sure upon Hell its conquering Foot is set:
On Hell, which often has repin'd at this
Oppressing load, and often strove to get
Its neck at liberty; but still in vain
The Powers of all that vexed Pit did strain.

68

For lo, the Mountain's all one solid Rock
Compacted in the strength of Unity:
Though Hills of brass should yield unto the shock
Of Violence; though Earth's vast Mass should be
From its profound Foundation shoulder'd; still
All Force must melt before this steady Pile.

69

So stands the craggy Promontory sure,
With head triumphing o'r the frustrate Storm,
When all the Winds against its Site conjure,
And thousand Waves with high-swoll'n fury arm:
It stands, and sees the Blasts blown out of breath,
And all the Billows shattered beneath.

70

But mark the Fabrick of this outer Gate:
Has thy Experience e'r observ'd a more
Unlikely Passage to a Court of State?
Strong those Materials are; but yet the Door
Is built so low, and so extremely narrow,
That Worms, not Men, seem fit to scramble thorough.

129

71

And Worms indeed the Passengers must be,
Poor, thin, and humble Things, which enter here.
Big puffing Pride presumes in vain that She
Shall through this Portal croud; or worldly Care
(Swell'd with Incumbrances, and lagg'd with Sin,)
At this small mystick Needless Eye thrust in.

72

They whose unhappy Bosoms stuff'd with Gold,
Whilst all their Bags lie heaped in their heart;
They who in Fat and Ease themselves infold,
And never were pinch'd up by any Smart:
Too burly are to enter here, and fit
Through Hell's wide-gaping Jaws alone to get.

73

And so is He whose boldly-busy Brain,
Grown tumid with a thousand Niceties,
Of blind yet prying Wisdom, doth disdain
Plain simple Faith; and by the Tympanies
Of strange, corrupt, hydropick Disputations
Each smallest Point into a Mountain fashions.

74

All secular Impostumes, which arise
From any Humor's Superfluity,
From ranging Lusts, from bubling Vanities,
From inward or from outward Luxury;
Must at this lowly Passage never hope
To find a Pass; for still they dam it up.

75

This said; He led the Virgin to the Gate;
Where, though she shrunk and closely gathered up
Her self within her self; yet still so great
She found her bulk, that she was fain to stoop,
And croud, and struggle hard, e'r she could win
Tenuity enough to wrestle in.

76

But once got through; a spacious Court she saw,
And yet wel-near as strait as was the Door;
Such Difficulties all about it grew,
Such high, such stoney, craggy Paths, such store
Of troublesom Shrubs and Thorns; all which did threat
With Snares and Scratches her obstructed feet.

77

Yet by the Angel's prudent Conduct She
Rubb'd through, though at the cost of Sweat and Pains:
When lo, with recreating Suavity
A second Gate her Wonder entertains;
A Gate as glorious and as venerable,
As was the other poor and despicable.

78

The Posts of milky Alabaster were,
So was the Lintel; but the Leaf was all
Of purest Crystal, that the Commers near,
Before the Door was open set, might fall
In love with those interiour Beauties, which
Themselves through that clear Perspective did reach.

79

But Psyche here observ'd a serious Maid
Who kept the Keys of that transparent Gate,
Upon the ground disconsolately laid,
Like one who felt and wail'd the Wrath of Fate.
Her left hand bolster'd up her heavy head;
And on her heavier heart her right was spread.

80

Part of her Tresses Sorrow off had torn,
And scatter'd at her feet: what did remain,
Neglect dishevel'd clotted and forlorn
About her ears: Her Forehead's native Plain
Self-hatred o'r and o'r had plowed, and
Deep were the furrows of that woful Land.

81

Her pensive Eyes so overladen were
With constant Clouds, that downward to the earth
They swaid her looks: the Weather ne'r was clear
With Her, but when one storm had broken forth
Another crouded on; or rather one
Continual Flood from both her Fountains ran.

82

The beauties of her Cheeks this wash'd away,
And through their hills two sallow chanels cut;
This marshal'd liquid Pearls in full array
Upon her Clothes, as sadly torn as wet:
This made the count'nance of the neighbour ground
Deep in th'exuberant brine of hers be drown'd.

83

Disgraced by a Kick of Indignation,
The foolish Furniture of Vanity
Kept distance from her naked Feet: the fashion
Of every Dress was spoild; the gallantry
Of all her Jewels, dust and mire did choke;
Spilt were her Red and White; her Mirrours broke.

84

Of woful Whips before her lay an heap
Red with the Vengeance on her Body she
Had sternly took: instead of needful sleep,
And proper Cordials, Austerity,
With pale-fac'd Watching, pensive Shame, and Fear,
And hollow-cheeked Fasts, besieged Her.

85

For grateful Powders to perfume her Head,
Cold contemptible Ashes there were strown;
Which an untimely hoary Winter spread
Upon her Locks, and preach'd to Her her own
Beginning and her End, that certain Dust
From whence she came, and unto which she must.

130

86

As Psyche ponder'd who this Maid should be
Which like a vanquish'd Prey to Grief did lie;
Howe'r She looks, said Phylax, this is She
Whom only Heav'n intrusteth with the Key
Of this vast Palace; She whose piteous Look,
Hath writ her Worth so high in God's own book.

87

Her Name is Penance; and with her must All
Whose brave ambition here would get access,
Into familiar meek acquaintance fall,
And love her painful Life and Wretchedness.
Though her embraces comfortless may seem,
And cold, yet heav'nly Fervors glow in them.

88

Delightful Ease lies nestling in her Smart,
Security inhabits in her Fears,
Content keeps house in her disconsolate heart,
Pure Solace bathes it self in all her Tears,
And in the frowning furrows of her Sadness
Are sown the seeds of everlasting Gladness.

89

This Word threw Psyche on her humble knee
To beg the favour of that mournful Maid;
Who rais'd her self with ready courtesy,
And for no stately-long Intreaty staid:
Welcome, she cry'd, and seal'd it with a Kiss,
And in her sober arms she hug'd her thrice.

90

She hug'd her thrice; and every time she shot
Into her Soul Grief's wholesome influence;
Whereby intire possession she got
Of all her Thoughts, and left her there no sense
Or rellish of terrest[r]ial Delight,
But fitted her to see this heav'nly sight.

91

Which done; upon her penitent head she spred
Part of her Tears, and of her Ashes part:
Then to the Door she Her right kindly led,
Which as she gently touch'd, did open start.
Straitway a Gale of holy Pleasures flew
Forth at the Gate, and full on Psyche blew.

92

Thus entred in, she there espies a Well
Of clearer crystal far than was that Door:
And here, all Purities, said Phylax, dwell;
Of limpid Life here lives the endless Store;
These Streams alone can conquer those deep Stains
Of which the tainted Universe complains.

93

No foolish wanton Nymphs are dabling here;
But Graces genuine, and numberless,
And all divine, who sutably do cheer
Their pious Guests, and bathe their souls in Bliss.
Fain'd Venus from her native Sea did rise
Less fair than Those this Fountain purifies.

94

For this is Baptism's sacred Laver, where
All They must wash the other World away
Who enter this new Life's celestial sphere,
And of Night's Brats turn Children of the Day.
Far hence profane unwashen feet must be;
This holy ground belongs to Sanctity.

95

But of such everlasting Virtue is
This heav'nly Liquor, that one Drenching will
Suffice; and 'tis presumptuous Lavishness
A second time its noble Drops to spill:
For since Life's purest Day hence takes its Morn,
What He can twice into one Life be born?

96

Though thine unhappy Albion will breed
Such Imps of Contradiction, as will row
Against great Baptism's Stream, and forge a need
Of padling in their own new Waters: Thou
Shalt find thy single Washing is alone,
Sufficient Cleansing; and may'st now go on.

97

This said; he leads her forward through a Way
Pav'd with the soul of Sweetness, to the bright
Palace, which courted with a full display
Of all its parts her now approaching Sight:
Magnifick was its Aspect, and upon
The Rock look'd like another Mount of Stone.

98

A Mount of Marble, polished and white;
But with such Architecture varied,
That Majesty was temper'd with Delight.
Thus all the Countenance of Heav'n is spred
With Awe and Beauty, that Spectators may
To it at once both Love and Reverence pay.

99

What goodly Pillars, Arcs, and Walls, were there!
What Rows of Lights in equi-distant grace!
What learn'd Engravings lived every where
With Anticks peopling each convenient space!
With what brave strife did cunning Art contend
The rich Material's Lustre to transcend!

100

But they by twelve fair steps advanced now;
Enter'd the Hall, whose princely Bravery
So far outshin'd what they had seen below,
That sweetly it perplexed Psyche's eye
In walking through the several Wonders, which
Did every corner of the Room inrich.

131

101

The Floor with glittering Silver all was spred,
The Allmug Walls with royal Arras drest,
The Cedar Roof with Gold imbellished,
With glorious Paint the Windows: such a Feast
Of pompous sights she never saw before,
Though she had view'd Agenor's splendid Store.

102

Yet this was but the handsome case and skin
Of what did more Majestick make the Place;
For nobly lost were all the Pillars in
Innumerable Spoils, which She who was
Queen of the Palace, in her Wars had won,
And fix'd them here, as Proofs what she had done.

103

Here by their Horns, Dilemmas hanging were,
And of big Syllogisms, the empty Skins.
Bold busy Wit, lay tame and quiet here;
Here Rhetorick, with all her cunning Gins
Twisted about her neck; here all the Pride
Of secular Wisdom, was close Pris'ner ty'd.

104

Next those, that insolent Severity,
That humble Arrogance, which long did reign
In th'old admired Porch, hung dead and dry;
And chained Zeno knit his brows in vain
To see that Doctrine which so far prevail'd,
Up here by conquering Truth in triumph nail'd.

105

And yet some comfort 'twas, that He beheld
The Pythagorean Prudence hanging by;
And its great Master, though he ne'r would yield
It fit for Men with Flesh to satisfy
Their Hunger's Call, forc'd madly now to eat
Himself, and make his chained Arms his Meat.

106

Nor had the Epicurean Discipline
Better Success, for she was Captive here;
And both with Shame and Hunger taught to pine
And dearly pay for her luxuriant Cheer:
All lank and thin she hung, like nothing less
Than Magazine of swell'd Voluptuousness.

107

Th'Egyptian Learning, black as blackest Hell
Where it was bred and born, hung also here;
Nor could invent with all its Magick Skill
Any mysterious Charm or Character
It self from that Disgrace to conjure down,
But found Truth's Spells much stronger than her own.

108

By these, the Spoils snatch'd from the furthest Parts
Of strangest Indian Worlds, hung one by one;
The proud Gymnosophists and Brachman's Arts:
(For noble Bartholmew had thither run,
And Thomas too; and made their Journey be
Only the March of speedy Victory.)

109

So did the Persians' Astrologick Skill,
And what in Balaam's Midian School was taught:
A mighty Prize was this, the Flower of Hell,
With thousand Sects of various Learning fraught;
Yet none of these could calculate that They
Should unto Catholick Truth become a Prey.

110

Nor did the Academick Glory, 'scape,
Though sage grave Plato rais'd it fair and high;
For here it hung in contemptible shape,
Presenting more of reverend Foolery,
Than genuine Wisdom, and lamenting that
It reach'd so near to Truth, yet reach'd it not.

111

Next this, the Oracles of the Stagarite,
(That God of logical and wrangling Brains,)
Hung all in scorned miserable plight,
Unable to Confute their conquering Chains;
And wish'd that they their Master's fate had seen,
And drowned with him in Euripus been.

112

Yea ev'n the Skeptick Protean Cunning too,
For all her wiley wiles, was taken here;
And now convinced by her certain Wo,
Confess'd some Truth could naked be and clear;
And into palpable assurance grew
That her Captivity at least was True.

113

In one side of the Hall these marshall'd were;
Nor did the other with less Spoils abound:
For all the Sadducæan Points hung there,
Too late bewailing what too late they found,
That they from thence should no Redemption have,
Who held no Resurrection from the Grave.

114

And in the same condition hanging was
Stubborn Herodianism, but buckled now;
Finding that Help to its distressed Cause
Its dead and rotten God could not allow;
That Herod proved no such kind of Thing
As Christ, of Glory and of Power King.

115

Essæan Prudence too was fain to bear
Her Fate, and share in this Captivity;
Though all her Ways, and Grounds, and Doctrins were
Of nearest kin to Truth: yet seeing She
Made least resistance, Justice gave command
She should be tyed in the gentler Band.

132

116

But puff'd with zealous Ignorance and Pride,
The Pharisaick Discipline held out
In flat defiance: bravingly she try'd
Her fancied strength, and obstinately fought.
And much she might have done, had Truth not been
Aided by Heav'n to bring her Pris'ner in.

117

Yet after Her, innumerable Swarms
Of peevish restless Vermin undertook
The War again; and being once in arms,
From sucking sneaking Schisms, they boldly broke
Into the monstrous amplitude of those
Black Heresies whose depth Hell only knows.

118

The Authors lately in their native Pit
Psyche beheld, and here their Brood she sees;
The hideous Portents of malitious Wit,
And piety-pretending Villanies;
Which now perforce their open Shame confess,
All hanging in their odious Nakedness.

119

They Naked hung; yet clothed in their gore;
Which livery too they gave the neighbour Wall,
Whilst they with rage their viperous Members tore
And upon one another spit their Gall;
Stark mad their huge and warlike selves to see
The Subjects of eternal Triumph be.

120

But one strange Spoil (though but prophetick yet)
More eminent and ugly than the rest
Upon a special Pillar, high was set;
The Presbyterian God, demurely drest
In solemn Weeds, spun all of Publick Weal,
Pure Christian Liberty, reforming Zeal.

121

His name was Covenant; and the Sacrifice
He gormandiz'd, more vast then that of Bel,
Or of the Dragon; for no smaller prize
Than Church and State would serve his paunch to fill:
For which huge feast he had as long a Grace,
And this ycleep'd the Directory was.

122

But stretch'd at length by this enormous Diet,
The wretched Idol's maw in sunder burst:
Forthwith the Issue of his boundless Riot
Flow'd out in millions of Sects, which curst
Their monstrous Parent, and are here with meet
Decorum rank'd and fetter'd at his feet.

123

These Trophies right heroick were: but yet
The upper end of this illustrious Hall
With gallanter Memorials was beset:
For all about the fair and lofty Wall
Hung goodly Tables, offring to the Eye
A full account of larger Victory.

124

The first display'd subdued Asia's face,
Where Conquest at Jerusalem begun
Her noble Progress, rending ope her ways
Quite through the heart of every Region;
Nor stay'd her Chariot, until it met
The rising Sun, and fairer shew'd than it.

125

The second, generous Europe did present,
The Queen of Arms and Arts, and yet too weak
And silly, to confute or stop the Dint
Of Christian Vigor, which undaunted brake
Through all her Quarters, till both Rome and Greece
Yielded, and su'd for Evangelick Peace.

126

Hot sandy Africk boiled in the Third,
Where all its Monsters gentle grew and tame;
Not frighted by the Lightning of the Sword,
But mollify'd by Christ's sweet-thrilling Name,
Which won (though with an Eunuch it began,)
At length the mightyest and compleatest Man.

127

The fourth, by Prophesy was painted; which
Decyphered a strange untutored World,
In golden Mines and Veins of Silver rich,
But poor in all the best of Wealth, and hurl'd
Quite on the Backside of these Climes which then
Were known to this our Universe's Men.

128

Yet was the Church assur'd that She should through
The vast Atlantick reach her conquering Arm;
And on the Western Ev'n her East bestow,
Which Pagan Cold with Christian Heats might warm:
She was assur'd, her Baptism's Streams upon
The wealthy Shore of noble Plate should run.

129

As Psyche paid her Admiration to
These Marvels, through whose stories one by one
Phylax' expounding Tongue vouchsaf'd to go;
Far goodlyer Sights, said he, this Mansion
Do's yet afford: These but the Preface be
(And poor enough) to what thou now shalt see.

130

Then up a spacious Ascent He brings
Her to the Presence-chamber of the Queen.
O what celestial, what matchless Things
Were sparkling in this holy Glorie's Scene!
Which whilst the Angel read to Psyche, He
Was ravished well near as much as She.

133

131

This precious Pavement first observe, said He;
Thy foot ne'r trampled on such Worth as this.
The floor's no less than pure Humility,
As smooth as Politure's own dainty Dress
Yet softer than those Carpets are whose sweet
And silken Kisses flatter Princes' feet.

132

The Walls are built of neither Wood nor Stone,
No nor of Brass, of Silver, or of Gold,
Or any Substance which Duration
Can make decrepit as it groweth old:
O no! these pure Materials are such
As wretched Weakness must not dare to touch:

133

Of genuine Strength and of Security
They temper'd are, and correspondence keep
With their foundations which fixed lie
Upon a Rock that scorns the raging Deep.
As Those, the Pow'rs beneath; so These disdain
All them above which in the Air do reign.

134

These Walls; which gloriously clothed are
With all the Gospel Wardrobe: there thy spouse
Is Born; to Egypt there he flies; and there
He is Baptized: there his Power flows
In miracle's full Deluge; there he hath
His Cross; and there to life is drawn his Death.

135

The Roof, whose patent Arch and azure Hue
Like Heav'n's Epitomy above us flows;
With no hypocrisy deludes our View,
Being conscious of more Value than it shows.
Well may it dazel thy poor mortal sense,
For 'tis no less than God's own Providence.

136

Those middle Pillars which so stoutly set
Their lusty shoulders under it, are cast
Of sound substantial faith; though Rocks should split;
Though Earth's vast Groundsels which are ramm'd so fast
About the Center, should in pieces fly;
These still will hold their own Solidity.

137

That strange solidity, whose mystick Root
Quite cross to all the World is taught to grow;
For its profoundly paradoxick foot
Implanted is above and not below;
Whilst by Love's all-uniting-strengthning Art
The Roof it self the Pillars doth support.

138

Those spacious Windows, which like limpid Eyes
Adorn this Chamber's face, are not of Glass,
(The brittle Emblem of fair Vanities,)
But firmest Hope; through which the Soul doth pass,
And climb aforehand to those Joys above
Which have monopoliz'd her loyal love.

139

That golden Chimney, and the fire which there
With unconsuming Sweetness flames so high,
The Shop and fervent Operations are
Of strong and never-idle Charity;
Whose soft Extremities of fostering Heat
As Pulses in true Christian bosoms beat.

140

But this resplendent Mount of Majesty
Which crowns the Navel of the Chamber, this
Large Diamond Throne, whose Glories far outvy
The rays of Solomon's, erected is
For Her whose Beauties make the Seat appear
But poor and dim when it supporteth Her.

141

Just as he spake, from her retiring Room,
Attended by her most imperial Train,
To that her Throne the Queen her self did come,
And justify the Angel's word: in vain
The Diamond strove, for all its Sparks gave way
To Her's, as Stars to Phebus and his Day.

142

No sooner set, but She to reading fell
Out of a golden Scrol those sacred Laws
Which from her sovereign Assent and Seal
Look'd for their life and Soul. This lucky Pause
Warn'd Psyche too to read, who for her Book
Could choose no other but this Monarch's Look.

143

A Look in which such blessed Gallantry
Its triumph held, that Psyche judged Her
No daughter of Mortality to be,
But sprung from Race divine: nor did she fear
Idolatry in worshiping a face
In which all Heav'n, and more, compacted was.

144

But as her knees were melting to the floor,
Phylax commands her first to satisfy
Her eye's profoundest hunger with that store
Of royal Chear, whose superfluity
Was so excessive: and thou then, said He,
Shalt know who is this Queen of Sweets, from me.

145

Thou then shalt know, when by due Observation
Thou of her sovereign Worth instructed art
That so thy well-confirmed Admiration
May soberly perform its Dutie's part,
And blot out that rash Zeal, whose hasty fire
Inflam'd thy Soul Pseudagius to admire.

134

146

This Precept She obey'd: but as a Child
Into a Prince's Garden brought, which he
Sees with innumerable Beauties fill'd;
Yields up himself to dainty Ecstasy,
Not knowing where he should begin to gather,
Being woo'd by every flower from one another:

147

So in delicious Confusion She
Among the Graces of this Empress lost
Her wandring self, nor could resolved be
Which Part deserv'd her Admiration most:
She look'd to find one better than the rest,
But look'd in vain, for every one was Best.

148

Down from the Head of this accomplish'd Queen
To her fair foot, there was no room for Blame:
Sooner shall Pitch in Venus's Rayes be seen;
Sooner shall Glory's face be damp'd with Shame;
Sooner shall Crystal guilty be of Blots,
Than purer She can be accus'd of spots.

149

As through the roseal casements of the East
Aurora looks, when fresh come out of bed;
So is her briskly-blooming Aspect drest
With all the Delicates of blushing Red:
Yet though these streams of Blushes overflow,
Firm truce maintain they with their neighbour Snow.

150

As modest Phebe in th'unclouded sphere
Smiles with chaste beauty, so do's chaster She:
Nay more than so; for virgin Mildness here
Is married to Titan's Majesty:
The Moon's sweet silver, and his stately Gold
Are in this face's Orb together roll'd.

151

Yet such its temper is, that if bold Eyes
Its Sweetness dare; such Terrors flame in it
As from a martiall'd Army's front surprize
Cold-hearted Cowards, when the Standards get
Their cue to poure ther awful Colours through
The Air, and stately Banners open flow.

152

This makes the Ladies' precious features be
As pleasant as the gracefullest Excess
Of Tirzah's Beauties; and her Bravery
As rich as Salem's was in Portlyness,
When her best Excellence had crown'd her Queen
Of whatsoe'r below the Sun was seen.

153

But as th'illustrious Tree of Victory,
The verdant Palm, lifts her triumphant head
Above the vulgar shrubs: so glorious She
Her princely stature. And 'tis fairly read
In all her Hall's bright Characters, how near
Of kin the Palm and She by conquests are.

154

Carmel, which looks from his exalted seat
With state upon the Vales that creep beneath,
And is so strong in high-grown Woods, so sweet
In fragrant Pastures, fairly copieth
Her goodly Head, that living Coronet
Enobling all the Members under it.

155

As from steep Gilead the milky flocks
Of climbing Goats right gracefully appear;
Such is the prospect of her flaxen Locks
Whose merry Curles like Kids all sporting are;
And by their sport, though feeble Chains they be,
Do captive take the King of Majesty.

156

Beneath the curious Arbour of her Hair
Half-hid, half-ope her sacred Temples lie,
Which like a rich Pomgranat lovely are,
And lovelyer by that open secresie,
For what is naked speaks for what is hid;
Whence more Desire is in Spectators bred.

157

He who by fair Bethrabbim Gate hath seen
The Pools of Heshbon even with the brim,
Where living Smiles inhabit, where serene
And genuine Purities delight to Swim;
Where both the Stars by night, and Sun by day
As in a softer Heav'n delight to play:

158

The Emblem of her Eyes hath He beheld;
Her Eyes, the smiling Mirrours whence those beams
Which dart forth Loves and Joyes, which sweetly gild
Spectators' hearts, poure out their gracious streams;
Her Eyes, the sparkling Nests of brightest Bliss,
The purest Springs of mystick Paradise.

159

That white and stately Tower of Marble which
Down from its Lebanon its looks extends
As far's Damascus; did aforehand preach
That princely Beauty which her Nose commends;
Whose alabaster Prominence doth grace
And fortify the region of her face.

160

Her Lips, of Scarlat are a fine-spun Thred;
Yet not so fine or delicate as is
The rare Effusion which through them is shed
When that sweet fount of Eloquence doth bless
Admiring Auditors, when vocal Gold
And Honey from th'enclosed Tongue is roll'd.

135

161

No Sheep, new-shorn and even, and washed white,
And marching home in decent order; can
Tickle Beholders' eyes with more delight,
Than her two Ranges of fair Ivory, when
A Smile, or some such sweet occasion hath
Display'd the equal Orders of her Teeth.

162

As David's portly Tower, the dwelling-place
Of Comelyness and Strength; such is her Neck:
A thousand mighty shields that Fortress grace,
And this as many lovely Jewels deck,
Or rather decked are by hanging there;
Their wealthy Home for them can lustre spare.

163

Two tender Roes, the Sons of one spruce Dame
And of one Birth, which in a lily field
Are put to pasture: in another name
Are her two Breasts, with polish'd softness swell'd,
Which in her Bosom's fragrant garden feed
Where whitest Sweetness takes delight to breed.

164

Her royal Robe is all of purest Silk;
In softness parallel to her own Skin,
In spotless Whiteness, to her precious Milk.
A cunning needle over it had run,
And scatter'd pritty Hills and Valleys, where
Neat flocks of Lambs feeding and sporting were.

165

But as when April's gentle Breath doth wake
The floury Eyes of Lebanon, or plays
Against his balmey Boughs, the Odours take
The soft alarm, and their sweet Powers raise:
So this rich Vesture's Smell replies to all
The Complements of every fanning Gale.

166

To either Hand belongs a Massy Key
The royal Scepters She was born to sway:
The one of beaten burnish'd Gold, which She
Hugs in her Right: for through Heav'n's narrow Way
Though many struggle, none can enter at
That Port of Bliss, if this locks up the Gate.

167

But her Sinister one, of Iron is:
A swarthy fatal Key, which keeps the door
Of everlasting Torment's foul Abyss,
Where anathematized Miscreants roar.
Proud Belzebub, although he Sovereign be
Of Hell, possesseth not his Kingdom's Key.

168

No; this is Her Prerogative alone
Who Arbitratrix sits of Heav'n and Hell:
And though her gentle Soul delights in none
But her mild Bliss-unlocking key; yet still
She maketh her abused Sweetness just
Against rebellious unrepentant Dust.

169

The Diadems of garish Gold and Gems
She to the heads of mortal Princes leaves;
That Heav'nly flame which round her Temples streams,
A richer Crown of living Glory weaves;
Which Mitre-like, and like the mystick guise
Of Cloven Tongues of sprightful fire doth rise.

170

But for a Canopie to shade her head;
No Babylonian Embroidery,
No Tyrian, nor Phrygian Texture's spread,
No artificial Help of Majesty,
No State which lasts no longer than 'tis stay'd
And fastned up by Cords' and Pillars' aid.

171

A Dove, not hatch'd in sublunary Nest,
Nor hatch'd at all, but of eternal Breed;
Weigh'd on his equal Wings, displays her Crest
At near but comely distance o'r her head:
Where by his splendid widespread feathers He
Is both her Glory and Security.

172

This was the Queen; on whom as Psyche gazed;
The reason why, my Dear, said Phylax, so
At her high Gallantry thou stand'st amazed,
Is, That thou know'st not yet her Name, nor who
Hath her espous'd. O pitty then, cry'd She,
Sweet Tutor, this my Ignorance and Me.

173

He, by a speaking Smile at first, then by
This smiling Speech, his pupil satisfy'd:
That Queen, Ecclesia is, and to the high
And mighty King of Kings the sovereign Bride:
Poor of her self, and sprung from Mortal race,
But thus advanced by His bounteous Grace.

174

Those Princes who descended are of Clay,
Are fain to make a tedious search to find
Ladies whose florid features answer may
The brisk Ideas of their youthful Mind;
Nay for a Dowry oft they hunt, that so
The Maid and Money they may marry too.

175

But it becomes Heav'n's Emperor to make,
Not seek a Spouse which may his fancy please;
Nor can it with his Greatness stand to take
A Portion with his Bride, who Owner is
Of more than thine, or Phebus's larger eye
Could in his furthest Travels e'r descry.

136

176

Both Thou, and every pious Soul beside,
As Spouses by his Favour owned are:
But She alone is his Imperial Bride,
His Heart's own Heart, his most indeared Dear.
One Lady thus to glorious Solomon
Amongst his Thousand was his Only One.

177

Before, alas, She black and crooked was,
The nasty Sink of all Deformities:
Such heaps of odious Blains and Boils; a Mass
Of such Distortions; such rank Heresies
Of Form and Feature; could not any where
Be found in one Colluvies, as in Her.

178

Indeed when first She in her Filth was born
No friendly Hand took care to Wash her clean,
Or cut her Navel: helpless and forlorn
In her foul blood she lay, till He sent in
His yearning Providence, relief to give,
Which on Death's brink commanded her to Live.

179

She Liv'd: but so as still her Life confest
By its Procession, what its Entrance was:
Yet when all other Lovers did detest
The thought of her most ugly-vile embrace;
In Jesus steps, and cries, why may not She
Grow beautious by my superfluity?

180

Then from the Mine of his exuberant Graces
Ten thousand rich and radiant Things he takes;
Which all about the wondering Maid he places,
And of a Worm this Queen of Glory makes;
That chosen she might be embellished
Proportionably to his royal Bed.

181

And that she also might attended be
With fair and sutable Retinues to
Her radiant Self; that Train magnifick He
Both furnish'd and maintaineth for her: lo
With what prest forwardness they waiting are
About her sparkling Throne, and brighter Her.

182

The formost Squadron is of threescore Queens,
Who yet can from her Service, Honor take:
The next's of fourescore goodly Concubines;
But they who those exterior Ranges make,
Where in a number numberless they flow,
Are Virgins all, both white and chaste as Snow.

183

These were the minor single Churches, spread
So thick in every Gospel-conquer'd Place;
Which still their Strength and their Dependance had
From this most Catholick Majesty, which was
Diffus'd as wide's all they, and never found
That Land or Sea which could its Progress bound.

184

These every Morn, and every Evening raise
Their homage in religious Anthems high;
Paying their Admiration and Praise
To Her the Monarch of all Piety:
And happy Tributaries too are they
Who always Gainers are by what they pay.

185

But mark that Company whose station is
Before the Throne; true Maids of Honor, whose
Sweet privilege it is this Queen to Dress:
Their hands alone have her adorn'd with those
Embellishments, which round about her shine,
And make that fairer look which was Divine.

186

That slender strait-lac'd Maid, is Unity,
Who buckles on (for that's her proper part)
That golden Girdle which so decently
Huggeth her Sovereign's Loins: and with what art
Her noble Duty she performs, thou may'st
Read in the Queen's epitomized Waste.

187

That sober Matron, in whose stayed Eye,
And venerable Face, so fair are writ
The awful Lines of Heaven, is Sanctity:
Who reverently before the Queen doth set
Her faithful self, and serves her for a Glass
By which to guide and order all her Dress.

188

The Next, whose Soft and yielding Looks confess
The temper of her heart, is Patience:
Her Empress she bedecks with Tenderness
And makes her slow and loth to take offence;
That all her Subjects by her Softness may
Be charm'd, so kind a Princess to obey.

189

But Magnanimity, that highlook'd She,
Embraves that Mildness with right active Fire;
This that Virago is, who scorns to see
Any Exploit of Gallantry outvie her.
Ecclesia's Brows with Stoutness she doth build,
And helps her both her mighty Keys to weild.

190

She whose wideopen Breasts so fairly swell,
And wears as large a Purse upon her side;
Who looks about to see where she may spill
Her teeming Charity's never-ebbing Tide;
Is Bounty, Almner to the Queen, whom she
Likewise arrays with Grace and Courtesy.

137

191

That other, whose ev'n Look was never knit
Into a Frown, nor loos'd into a smile;
Whose right hand holds a Sword, whose left a fit
And equal Balance, Justice is; who still
As Cases come, her Ladie's eyes doth dress
With what is neither Wrath nor Friendlyness.

192

She whose sharp Eye looks all things through and through,
And sees both sides of double-faced Chance;
Who in Futurity's blind Sea can rowe,
And take a plenal Prospect by a Glance;
Is searching Wisdom, and do's every morn
Her Sovereign's Head most studiously adorn.

193

That amiable sweet-complexion'd Maid
Is Temperance, which keeps the Queen so fair:
In all Distempers She with ready Aid
Knows how her health and beauty to repair:
Her Body sound, her skin she maketh sleek;
She with warm Roses trims her lovely Cheek.

194

Those other Virtues too (for All are there,)
Attend their several Offices. But turn,
And mark that neighbour Combination, where
Far nobler Virgins wait; that thou may'st learn
By their rare Worth how glorious is She
Whose houshold Servants they are proud to be.

195

That martial She all over writ with Scars,
Laden with Palms, and clothed round in Blood,
Ecclesia's Champion is: ten thousand Wars
She waged hath, and valiantly withstood
The Outrages of Earth and Hell; her Name
Is Martyrdom: her Story, highest Fame.

196

That plainlook'd Maid, whose course and simple Hue
May seem Discredit to this gorgeous Place,
Is Poverty; who though to outward view
She shines with no alluring courtly Grace,
Yet is within as truely bright and fair
As on their outside her Companions are.

197

For Jesus, who the heart of things doth see,
Was so inamor'd of her Beauties, that
He chose to dwell with Her alone when He
Entred upon His Theanthropick State:
And Her (so high He found her Worth) commended
To Queen Ecclesia when He hence Ascended.

198

The next, her Sister is, Obedience:
Thou never saw'st a Twig more apt to bow,
Nor Wax more pliant, whensoe'r her Prince
Summons her Duty into Action: though
A Will she once had of her own, yet She
Gave it her Queen, that so she might be Free.

199

For, prudent as she was, right well she knew
How edg'd a Tool is every Humane Will,
Oft making her enslaved Owners rue
Her desperate Freedom; whose carreer to quell
The safest way she found, was to submit
Her to a wiser Rein and stronger Bit.

200

Lo there Virginity her self: O who
Can count the Graces reigning in her eyes;
Or those which all about her body flow
In Love's and Pleasure's chaste Extremities!
Precious she is to Heav'n it self; for she
As truely is Angelical as We.

201

Indeed the old Acquaintance which we had
With her pure Softness, makes us what we are,
Upon our Wings her Hands their Whiteness spread;
'Tis she who frees us from vexatious care,
And gives us leave to be attendant on
The bus'ness of Heav'n's Sovereign alone.

202

The Tenderness which smileth in her Face
Cohabits with heroick Bravery;
Which can ev'n from your mortal Weakness chase
Faint Nature's inbred Imbecillity;
Incouraging dull Flesh it self to strain
And with pure Spirits equal pace maintain.

203

She, she it is, who scorneth to enjoy
A Dispensation from her Lord's advice;
Who chooseth not, to do all that she may,
But all she can; who generously flies
Soul-bigamy; who to her heart allows,
Since She's betroth'd to Christ, no other Spouse.

204

But there stand Ladies more illustrious yet,
Stars of the first and fairest Magnitude;
To which this Universe is deep in debt
For that commanding Light whose dint subdu'd
The monstrous Night of Ignorance which had
All Nations its blinded Pris'ners made.

205

That awful Maid, Heav'n's glorious Amazon,
Before whose March the World made haste to bow,
And take the Evangelick Yoke upon
Its conquer'd neck; thou by her Looks may'st know:
O brave Apostleship, which hast outrun
The Course, outshin'd the Glories of the Sun!

138

206

The Lady Treasurer is She; into
The faithful hands of whose dispensing Care
Ecclesia's precious Store was put; that so
All pious Souls might be directed where
To find their holy Food, the heav'nly Word
And Sacraments of their most provident Lord.

207

Behind her standeth her apparent Heir,
Who, when to heav'n she steps, her Office takes:
Yet, modest as she is, doth still forbear
The Glory her great Mother's Title speaks,
And meekly turns the Apostolical
Denomination to Episcopal.

208

But when the Tide of Converts flowed high,
Episcopacy happily was forc'd
To substitute that sacred Deputy
Part of the Charge to bear which She at first
Manag'd alone: behold the Virgin there;
Priesthood's the Name she honored is to wear.

209

She, in whose startled Look and dazell'd Eye
Enthusiastick Characters appear,
Is sacredly-inspired Prophesy:
Earth's Monitor, Heav'n's Privy-counseller:
She, whose quicksighted Soul can Wonders see
A day, a year, an age before they be.

210

The next, is Doctrine; in whose lips there dwells
A spring of Honey sweeter than its Name;
Honey which never fulsome is, yet fills
The widest Souls; Honey which first did stream
In Heav'n's most happy Canaan, and thence
Remov'd to Earth's its blessed Influence.

211

The Sixth's, that mighty She, to whom the Prince
Of Wonders left the noble Legacy
Of his miraculous Power; which ever since
Hath flourish'd in her potent Arm: for She
Still triumphs over Nature's Laws, and still
Makes Mountains stoop to her imperious Will.

212

The Seav'nth's, the Mistress of profounder Art
Than in the brain of Æsculapius grew:
She calls no Roots nor Herbs to take her part;
Nor needs the virtuous souls of Plants to brew;
But by her Touch, or her commanding Breath
Knows how to slay both Sicknesses and Death.

213

The Eighth, whose ready and officious Eyes
Her Ministerial Aptitude declare,
Is She who on the sacred Mysteries
With reverent distance waits, and takes the care
Of Those who, did not pious Charity
Keep open house, would no where harbour'd be.

214

The Ninth, whose Stature rises high and fair,
So broad whose Shoulders, and whose Breast so wide,
Whose Joints well-knit, whose Bones well-timber'd are,
But stronger far her Heart; is signify'd
By these sure Marks firm Goverment to be,
The Pillar of Ecclesia's Policy.

215

See'st thou the Last? know Psyche, wondrous she
Can by no Token but her Tongue be known;
And yet her Tongue's strange Multiplicity
Looses her self again; for what's her own
Of all the Languages with which she flows,
(Each one so right she hits,) no Censor knows.

216

She in their proper Dialects can trade
With all the World, and Heav'n's Wares set to sale:
No Sound to Sense a Dress was ever made
But she with it can strait acquainted fall,
And best determin whether it doth sit
Upon that Sense's shoulders right and fit.

217

Unhappy Babel's Antidote is she,
And cures the Wound which there did Tongues divide:
All Languages in her sole Lips agree,
For to her single Tongue they All are ty'd;
So are their Virtues too, and Eloquence
Dwells there in all her Tunes of Excellence.

218

But now behold where at the Queen's right hand,
As best deserving that illustrious Place,
The Flower of all these Maiden Flowers doth stand,
The Gallantry ev'n of her Queen to grace:
A Virgin fairer than her native Nest
The silver Spheres, which by her Birth were blest.

219

Lo she from head to foot all Naked is,
As are the Sun by day and Stars by night:
Her self She with her proper Beams doth dress,
As they with their Attire of natural Light.
External Helps true Beauty never lacks;
'Tis Shame alone which Vestments useful makes.

220

Who ever thought the Rose or Lilly stood
Guilty of course unhandsom Nakedness,
Because they never put on borrowed Hood,
Nor veiled up their native Sweetnesses?
For where shall Ornaments be found which may
Fairer, such Sons of Goodliness array?

139

221

Believe it Psyche, she doth but retain
Her Countrie's fashion: they whose Bliss it is
In Heav'n, the Realm of richest Pomp, to reign,
Profess no other kind of Dress but this;
They naked go of whatsoe'r might hinder
Or cloke the Grace of their arraying Splendor.

222

A Texture all of Glory, soft and white
As is her virgin Soul, surrounds her: when
Darkness can smutch the highnoon Face of Light,
When veins of Ink in floods of Milk can run;
Then may a Critick hope to spie in her
Pellucid Robe of Nakedness, a Blur.

223

That Nakedness, which though it breeds Desire,
In every Heart not stupify'd with stone,
It kindles none but sweet and spotless Fire;
In whose pure furnace brave Devotion
Learns with more sprightful fervency to glow,
And Chastity it self refin'd doth grow.

224

But O what Powers are flaming in her Face,
Pouring her Conquests upon every Eye!
The hardyest He that e'r on her did gaze,
Yielded and lov'd his sweet Captivity.
Error her self, though swell'd with Pride and Hell,
In her bright presence is content to kneel.

225

Her name is Truth; and what her Care and Charge
Judge by those Tokens which her Hands present;
Two Autographs: that in her Left, the large
And Old, but never-failing Testament:
That in her Right, the New: which could with none
Justly intrusted be, but Her alone.

226

For every Leaf of them a Mirrour is
In which she reads her own unspotted Face:
Each Line is taught sincerely to express
Some correspondent Lineament of Grace
In her sweet Body, whose all-lovely Looks
Are nothing but the Life of those dead Books.

227

Bold Heresy has often in that Glass
Presum'd to peep, and swore that there she spyed
The faithful shape of her own faithless face:
But yet the shameless Elf as often lyed.
That trusty Glass will no false Colours shew,
But unto Truth, and Truth alone; is true.

228

And though Rebellion too hereafter will
Be studying here, and prying how to find
The pourtraiture of her foul self; yet still
The Lustre of the noble Book will blind
Such saucy Readers, whose true Image is
Reflected only in Hell's black Abyss.

229

But mark what clings about the Virgin's breast;
A Knot of Things whose Splendor bids thine Eye
Be with a Glimpse content, and not contest
With what confounds bold Curiosity.
Faith's Mysteries they are, which by the bright
Excess of their own beams, are hid from sight.

230

In vain thou seek'st these flames to parallel
By any Raies which e'r amaz'd thine Eye:
Souls which in most heroick Worth excel
Cannot endure their naked Majesty;
But happy count themselves that they can see
These Mysteries ev'n through a Mystery.

231

And happy thou, my Psyche, who are hither
By Heav'n's indulgence and my conduct, brought;
If thou that Bliss neglected not to gather
Which now is ripe, and bids thy Heart not doubt
Here freely to inrich its Poverty
At highest heav'nlyest Wealth's own Treasury.

232

Thus Phylax spake: and Psyche all the while,
Viewing these several Glories of the Court,
Did with as many Satisfactions fill
Her wondring spirit, and her self transport
From this to that; till Truth's strange Contemplation
Monopolized all her Admiration.

233

For as the noble Eaglet perched high
In open prospect to the naked Sun,
Banquets and riots with her ravish'd Eye
In that bright Sea of Beauty, where alone
Her genuine Sight meets with its flaming Love,
And by his sovereign Beams its own doth prove:

234

So She with strong impatient Ardor here
Stood feeding upon Truth's all-glorious Face;
Where since she found most satiating Cheer,
She therefore still unsatiated was:
Till lost in amorous Greediness, she cries,
Sweet Guardian help me, or thy Psyche dies.

235

Phylax, who knew the soul of that Complaint,
(For on his own it beat) with tender Hand
Reliev'd his Pupil as he saw her faint;
And, Well, said he, thy Grief I understand:
Fear't not; though sharp, 'tis salutiferous;
Thy Joys had dy'd, hadst thou not Grieved thus.

140

236

The Pictures of thy late Acquaintance, and
Newly imbibed Doctrins, in the Eye
Of thy now self-revenged Conscience stand;
Checking thy venturous Credulity,
Which durst embrace such Monsters, and dismiss
A Beauty so divinely bright as this.

237

Yet let not Sorrow quench thy Hopes, for She
All Injuries rejoyceth to forget:
She never laughed at the Misery
Of any Heart which would to Her submit:
Revenge indeed, but soft and sweet she takes;
Her Foes to Liberty she Captives makes.

238

This said: his Charge to that bright Maid he led;
Whom, by their old Acquaintance he desired
Her favour on this begging Soul to spread,
Who with her lustre was already fired.
Truth gently smiled at his sweet Request,
And by her Looks her forwardness confest.

239

Forthwith, as humble Psyche trembling lay,
Pouring her tears and heart at her fair feet;
She mildly took her up, and gave her joy
That she was rescued thus from Error's Net.
That word she clos'd with an Embrace; and this
She more indeered by an Heav'nly Kiss.

240

As when the vernal life-enlivening Sun
Embraceth languid Earth with courteous Raies;
Through her cold starved Veins fresh fire doth run;
New Life and Verdure smile in all her face,
Herby and floury Gallantry combine
Their fairest powers to make her mantle fine:

241

So Psyche hugg'd and warm'd intirely by
The Arms and Lips of Truth, soon felt her breast,
Before envellopp'd in Obscurity,
Now by a pure and precious Light possest:
She felt her inward Mystick Day arise,
Which gently flourish'd through her wondring eyes.

242

O mighty Truth! whose glorious Nakedness
The troublous burly furniture transcends
Of strongest Arguments; whose winning Kiss
Presseth thy Conquests home; whose look commands
Success; whose brave Conclusions need not stay
Till tedious Premisses prepare the way.

243

Logos, who had so pert and busy been,
Was strangely startled at the sudden sight:
For to himself his Blindness now was seen,
So critical was this new-dawning Light:
He saw his Blindness, and in seeing this,
Descry'd withal a thousand Mysteries.

244

And that so clearly, that he fear'd no more
What Mists Authades in his way could throw;
Agyrtes Charms he scorned, which before
To Darkness's paths had power his feet to draw:
This happy Morn he bless'd and kissed, which
His eyes with Heav'n's true Prospect did inrich.

245

For here far more convincing Things he read
Than were his late adored Demonstrations.
No brisk Distinction now durst show her head,
Or hope to damp those glorious Probations
Which to Syneidesis her self so great
Appear'd, that unto them her seal she set.

246

Nor less on Thelema this Wonder wrought;
For with intire submission down she bow'd
Her high and mighty Neck, and low did lout
To what her sober Logos now allow'd.
Those precious Gems she hugg'd within her heart,
Resolved never more with them to part.

247

With holy sprightful joy replenished
Was Psyche, at this happy Change's sight:
All Catholick Verities at large were spread
In her bright soul, whence Scruples took their flight;
Resigning all that Region to be
Possest by Satisfaction's Clarity.

248

Ten thousand Thanks to courteous Truth she paid;
And would as many times have paid them o'r;
But Phylax her excess of Passion staid,
Telling her, she must now employ that store
She here had gain'd, where Need requir'd it, and
Turn Benefactrix to her native Land.

249

She rose: but at the Throne fell down again
To pay her homage to the Empress, who
Higher enthroned in her heart did reign:
Then with loth willingness she yields to go,
Having receiv'd a Benediction from
Ecclesia for her dear Viaticum.

250

But as she went, she bless'd the blessed Place:
And, O, How happy are the Souls, said she,
Who in this holy Court's illustrious Face
May be Attendants, and those Glories see
With constant freedom, which all Heav'n can dart
With one short glimpse on their Spectators' heart!

141

251

O happy they, who here secured are
Far far above unhappy Error's reach!
How vainly aimed I my zealous Care
To find the Holy Land in Chanaan, which
Lost me my foolish self! henceforth to me
No Land but this alone shall Holy be.

252

O happy they who in this Hall may Live,
Perpetually those noble Spoils to read;
And Acclamations of Honor give
To Her who all these Monsters' blood hath shed:
To Her, whom all the World must yield to be
As large as is it self, in Victory.

253

O happy they who have but leave to dwell
Here in this Preface to that larger Bliss!
This empty Porch alone doth far excel
The Fulness of all other Palaces:
This is the Morning unto Glory's Day,
The Brink of Joy, the Top of Heav'n's highway.

254

O happy they, who in this beauteous Court
May wait upon the Porch, and feed their eyes,
And with their eyes their hearts, in any sort
Upon this House and Home of Mysteries!
This Neighbourhood to Bliss, would prove to me
A full Infeofment in Felicity.

255

O happy they, who may permitted be
Ev'n in this Realm of Thorns, these craggy Ways,
This Field of Hardship and Perplexity,
This Maze of Fears and Snares, to spend their days!
The Prospect to yon Palace would suffice
To bless and sweeten all Anxieties.

256

O happy they, who may remain with Thee,
Disconsolate Maid, though at this outmost Gate!
The Comfort but of such Vicinity
To those fair Towers, would easily abate
The trouble of thy sighs; and ne'r would I
Repent of Penance's sad Company.

257

With these sweet Plaints she measur'd her return,
Till to the waiting Chariot back she came.
And well was Phylax pleas'd to hear her mourn,
And by her sighs blow up the pious flame
Of her Affection to that holy place,
Which kindled was by Truth's divine embrace.

258

Then mounting up, and gently seating Her
At his right hand, his mighty Reins he shook;
And these could scarce before his Coursers stir,
For strait their leap into the Air they took;
Their ready Wings wide Oars displaying, through
The waves of that soft Ocean to row.

259

For deeply she remembring what Event
Plagu'd her affected stay in Palestine,
By dear-bought Wisdom learn'd to be content
To leave this reverend Place, though more divine
Temptations here invited her to stay;
Since wiser Phylax summon'd her away.

260

So when a Child, woo'd by the sporting flame,
Is once but scorch'd into a feeling sense
Of such fair-faced Danger; Fear and Shame
Subject him to his Nurse's Providence,
And make him any harmless Lustre shun
If but her Nod adviseth him to run.

261

But He, to entertain her by the way
With advantageous Discourse, begun
To reckon through what worthy Wonders They
In their long Pilgrimage's Tract had run.
For Repetition's trusty hand both saves
The old Impression, and a new one graves.

262

This rous'd her soul to recollect how she
Under the shield of Heav'n's especial Grace
Through thousand Dangers pass'd; though resolutely
Satan and all his Wit engaged was
In open field to cross, or undermine
By secret Wilyness her brave Design.

263

Afresh her Mind did feast on every sweet
And sacred Thing, which all the way she went
With rich Varieties her eyes had met:
So clearly did the Angel them present
In their distinct and proper colours, by
His Eloquence's prompt dexterity.

264

Thus in two Chariots she at once did ride:
But yet in this of his Discourse she flew
With swiftest speed, outrunning ev'n the tide
Of Time it self: for still her Joys were new,
Cheating her Weariness as He along
Through all her Journeys travell'd with his Tongue.

265

Her Voice this tuned by her heart's soft strings
To honest Gratitude's ingenuous lays:
High was her Key, and delicate the Songs,
Composed to the sweetest Air of Praise:
For ever may these lips be seal'd, said She,
When they suppress the Thanks I owe to Thee.

142

266

To Thee, dear Pilot of my tender Bark,
Which many Rocks e'r this had dash'd in sunder;
Which oft had wander'd in the Deep and Dark:
Which many storms' proud feet had trampled under;
Which many Sands into its Grave long since
Had swallow'd: hadst not Thou been my Defence.

267

To Thee, whom no Contempt of mine could drive
To just Disdain of this vile Worm: To thee
By whose kind Care my better Life I live;
If yet I live at all, and rather be
Not dead and buried in those sins which I
Preferr'd before the Life of Piety.

268

Yet more I owe to Him (and more must pay)
By whose appointment Thou conductedst Me:
Be still my Guide, and in this loyal Way
Of Thanks, instruct me what those Thanks must be.
If they must be my Self, I ready am
This sacrifice to offer to His Name.

269

His Name, in whose dear Syllables alone
I read my self intirely such: for there,
There lives the Soul of that Redemption
Which snatch'd me from the desperate Bondage where
I lay abandon'd to the tyrannous Will
Of Pride, Rebellion, Heresy, and Hell.

270

His Name, in which the Praise and Adoration
Of His Seraphick and Cherubick Quire
Rejoyce to meet: His Name, of every Nation
The dearest Joy and sovereign Desire.
His Name, which o'r the World's subdued Pride
Doth in sublime but gracious triumph ride.

271

His Name, the only Musick which mine Ear
Can of no Jars accuse: that lovely Name
Which when Heav'n's most melodious Circles hear,
They throw aside their other songs, and frame
Their Tunes by Jesus's sweets.—Here off she broke,
Ravish'd and silenc'd by the Name she spoke.

272

And here the Steeds, who all this while had flown
With stout but silent fervor, neigh'd aloud;
Their Journey now was to its period grown,
And Albion her chalkey forehead show'd;
Which with erected Ears, and shaked Mains
They doubled strait, and scoured o'r the Plains.

273

Forthwith all clouded in their smoaking foam
The Chariot they hurl'd to Psyche's door,
Where Phylax bid his Pupil Welcome home;
Which she did on her knee to him restore:
And then she prais'd the steeds unwearied Pains,
Stroking her thanks upon their ruffled Mains.

143

CANTO XX. The Mortification.

The ARGUMENT.

Right wisely busy in her Leisure, now
Psyche asserts her royal Power; and by
Severest Tenderness contriveth how
In strict Obedience's chain to ty
The Commons of her Realm: as knowing well
The way to Live, was thus her Self to Kill.

1

Peace , gentle Queen of whatsoever makes
Sweets acceptable, Bliss delightful be;
What fatal Conjuration of Mistakes
Inchanteth mortal Hearts, that they will see
Thy Worth not by its own clear light, but by
The hideous Glass of War's Deformity!

2

They see Sol's beauty by his proper beams;
Gems by their native Lustre them allure;
They taste the Fountain's sweetness by the streams;
The Rose's scarlet Cheeks can them assure
The Flower is gorgeous: yet will they not
Thy Graces read, but by a Stain and Blot:

3

The Blot of every Sin, of Blood the Stain,
Which in the lawless Fields of Mars doth grow:
Thus silly Sheep by sad experience gain
To know the safety of the Fold, when through
The Mountains straying they have lost their way,
And found themselves to Bears and Wolves a Prey.

4

Dear is this Learning, and how oft too late!
O how much sooner, and much cheaper might
They War's most tedious costly study bate,
If they to Thee would come to School, and write
But from th'Original of thy fair Eyes;
That Book, which dims the Volumes of the Skies!

5

Thy Temper is all Musick; never did
The least of Jars thy sweet Complexion crack:
From thine, all Concords first were copied;
Nor would the Center on his trusty back
Agree to bear the World, didst Thou not by
Thy dainty Chains his Load upon him ty.

6

In Time's first Dawn, when in th'untuned Deep
Each Thing was wroth and snarled at his Brother;
When Heav'n and Earth tumbled in one blind heap,
Struggled and strove to stifle one another;
When with their peevish selves all Creatures fought,
And in their own hearts for their Enemies sought:

7

With seasonable Kindness Thou didst come,
And those wild Tumults sweetly chase away:
The boistrous Pangs of Nature's travelling Womb
With happy Quietness Thou didst allay,
Making those Embryos friends, who never since
Have to that Knot of Love done Violence.

8

All rest contented with the Stations Thou
Appointedst them: and Earth is pleas'd as well
With her poor Habitation here below,
As Stars which in Heav'n's loftiest stories dwell.
Nor will the Winds, though big they be and proud,
Desire above the middle Air to croud.

9

The surly Sea, who in his boiling Wrath
Against the shore with mountainous Waves doth make;
Dreadeth that List of feeble Sands, which hath
No power his desperate Carreer to slake;
Because he reads in it Thy potent Law
Which to a meek Ebb chides his proudest Flow.

10

All honest Beasts and sociable, are
Made such by Thy mild Influence: in vain
The tender Oaten Pipe, and weaker Care
Of Pan's plain Sons their silly selves would strain,
Didst Thou not first persuade the Sheep to be
Best pleased with the Flock's Community.

144

11

The boldest Brats of Salvageness are not
So barbarous, but they to Thy Sweetness yield:
The rugged Bears in Thy commanding Knot
Are closed fast, when through the widest field
They range and roar: nor durst fierce Lyons break
Thy yoke of Friendship from their sturdy neck.

12

Men whose discording Tempers them invite
To seek new Worlds their several minds to please,
Are by Thy Cement taught to take delight
In courteous Unions of Families:
One House will hold a Brood, when Thou dost join
To build their Walls, and their Desires combine.

13

No Cities ever could erected be,
Did not Thine Hand the Architecture guide;
Were not the sound Materials by Thee
For every Street and every Isle supply'd:
Their Firmitude to neither Wood nor Stone
They owe, but to Thine Unity alone.

14

Most distant Countries Thou canst Neighbours make
By safe and friendly Traffick, which doth bear
One World into another's Lap, and pack
Away the rich and radiant East, that here
It may adorn the West; whose mutual Store
Of other Wealth requites that Golden Ore.

15

Nations whose differing Languages divide
Them from the hopes of joint Community,
Are in one Common-wealth securely ty'd
When Thou dost knit them up, and make them see
That All want friendly Help of All: that One
Is next to Nothing when 'tis left alone.

16

A Scepter's mighty Load Thou makest light,
And wean'st from Wearyness the Subjects' necks,
Except by wilful sottishness they slight
Thy Kindness, and their own Subjection vex.
For Highnoon's dark to those who will not see;
And Feathers Lead, when Men will tired be.

17

When sacred Thou prevail'st, all Laws do so,
And fair Astræa ventures down again;
Right through the blessed Streets hath leave to go,
And awful Modesty fails not to chain
All Rudeness up; which once let loose by War
Nor Heav'n, nor Earth, nor its own Weal doth spare.

18

The coolest Veil could never yet secure
The bashful Virgin from Lust's rampant fire;
But when in sober bounds thy Rules immure
The youthful Violence of hot Desire;
Her only safety lily Chastity
To thy white Banner owes, and purer Thee.

19

The Gown may keep the thoughtful Student warm,
Yet not but when they kindly are embraced,
And girded close by Thy incircling Arm:
Else is their poor unguarded Garb outfaced
By Buff and Shields; and they enforc'd to try
What Habit best will sute them when they fly.

20

For from their Studies reprobated They
Though unaccused, must Ejected be;
And sadly driv'n to make where e'r they may
The Universe their University;
Whilst in the Muses' Hives an upstart Breed
Of misbegot intruding Drones succeed.

21

All Arts which are of age, and grown complete,
That Happiness to Thy Tuition owe:
No Honey e'r had chose its dainty Seat
In Orator's Mouths; no Bay on Poet's brow
Had flourished; did not Thine Influence bless
All Learning's Seasons with due Fertilness.

22

By Thy sole Patent Heav'n on Earth hath room;
Churches have license to be what they are;
God is permitted here to have an Home,
And handsome too: thou puttest in the Bar
Which bids Profaness learn its distance, and
Confess that there's more than one Holy Land.

23

The Walls to their own Altars cannot yield
Protection, if Thou lend'st them not Thine aid;
The Roof cannot the Rites and Service shield
When by Heretick storms they are assay'd,
Except Thou help'st the Churches air to clear.
And bridle up that popular Carreer.

24

The Theme of everlasting Admiration,
Miraculous Love's selected Mystery,
Lies prostituted to the Usurpation
Of lay unwashed Hands but where by thy
Just Discipline, from that Communion this
Shameless Community forestalled is.

25

The sacred Priests, who never injur'd be
By unrevenged Hand, are not secured,
Though all the Reverence of Piety
In venerable Awe hath them immur'd;
Unless Thy potent Arm be stretch'd to keep
The Shepherds from the mouths of their own Sheep.

145

26

For by the teeth of spightful Accusations
Whetted by thousand Lies, they snarle and grin;
Then by the crueler Jaws of Sequestrations
Grind and devour their patient Pastors, in
Prodigious desire that in their stead
They may by some rapacious Wolf be fed.

27

Or if their Mercy let them live; 'tis but
To mock them by a killing Livelyhood,
The Fifth Part; which is sooner spent than got,
And that in getting; thus they suck the blood
They seemed to have left, and find a way
To make their very Charity destroy.

28

Religion's venerable Cedars, They
In whom the grand Apostles still survive;
Alas, must Root and Branch be torn away,
And room to Shrubs and scrambling Brambles give;
Vile Underwoods, and their own Planter's shame;
Elders in nothing but their stinking name.

29

In vain our holy Mother's own Freehold
That Title weareth, so unnatural be
Her Sons, and sacrilegiously bold;
Unless Thou curb'st their cursed Liberty:
Poor Church! she Bankrupt turns, except by Thee
Her Patrimony she protected see.

30

Nay Princes, upon whose majestick Head
God's Name was poured in the sacred Unction,
No sooner are by Thee abandoned;
But in despight to their most awful Function
Of all th'ingrateful and apostate Scum
Of their own Vassals, they the Scorn become.

31

No Region, though before the Garden where
All Happiness had ample room to grow,
Forsaken is by Thee, but strait doth wear
The woful garb of Misery, and flow
With streams of briney tears for those sweet currents
Where Milk and Honey join'd to make the torrents.

32

But Plenty's Horn in thy fair bosom dwells;
Whence, whereso'er thy happy foot but treads,
Thy Benisons it liberally spills,
And all the Fields with smiling Fatness spreads;
Whilst jolly Hinds repay thee honest praise,
Not Guns' dread Thunder, but soft oaten Layes.

33

Away sneaks Vice, when thou thy face revealest,
And seeks blind Holes to hide her blacker head;
Whose Dwellings Thou to chosen Virtues dealest,
Cheering them up to take sure root and spread
Their Arms so wide that all the Country may
Under their shade calm Happiness enjoy.

34

O blessed Maid, how long, how long shall we
Our Curses number by the days and years!
The tedious days and years, which still we see
All black with sullen clouds of fatal Fears,
Whilst thou art fled, and leav'st our woful Land
In most unnatural War's destroying Hand!

35

How is unhappy Britain now become
The Isle of Sorrow which was once of Joy!
How have all Monsters made those Fields their Home
Where only harmless Sheep were wont to play!
How are the Drums and Cannons taught to roar
Where only Pipes of Reed were heard before!

36

How have we stained Albion's lily hue
In bloody gore, and wash'd that Name away!
How has our Red-cross prov'd too truly true
To that its Tincture! How are we a Prey
Unto our Selves, whilst we have made a Sea
No less amidst us, than about us be!

37

A Sea, broke ope from our own desperate Veins,
Which both to Crown and Mitre shipwrack threats:
A Sea, in which though Some still fish for Gains,
They'l be at length the Draught to their own Nets.
Alas, there's nothing to be gained here
But certain Loss; which makes the Trade too dear.

38

How have we coin'd fond Names of Hate, which we
With sword and bullet to the death persue!
Are there no Turks! that thus the Unity
Of our brave English Name must by a new
Portentuous Rent, all massacred appear
Into the Roundhead and the Cavalier!

39

Yea ev'n that Roundhead, like his Master's Foot
Is clov'n, and into two new Monsters split:
The Presbyterian (once the only Root,
Now but a Branch,) and Independent; fit
And hopeful Twins, and like to multiply
Into a more-and-more-divided Fry.

40

How have we strove our Lyon's Nails to pare,
Who was before the royal Dread and Awe
Of all the neighbour Beasts! How has our Fear
And Jealousy now help'd their Cause to grow
To greater strength! How has our first Expence
But op'd our Purse till all be drained thence!

146

41

How have our idle Compositions given,
Power to our foes' Divisions to maintain!
How are our Servants by our Madness thriven
Into imperious Lords! whilst We are fain
To be at charges toward our own Plunder,
And keep an Army up to keep us under!

42

Sweet Queen of Joys, O when, when will it be!
When will the blessed Dawn of thy fair Eyes
Clear our benighted Hemisphere, that We
And all our wonted Bliss, with thee may Rise!
Dear Peace, when will thy calming Presence please
Our inland Tempest's billows to appease?

43

When shall we cease, with mighty Care and Cost
To raise the heap of our own Ruins high!
When shall we yield to be no longer tost
In waves of self-affected Misery!
When shall we with our Tortures cease to play!
When shall we Do, what we so often Say!

44

When shall we scorn to make our Isle the scorn
Of All who at self-sought Disasters jest!
When shall we judge our selves enough forlorn!
When shall we think our Woes deserve at least
Our own Compassion; that our Bowels may
Be wounded only by that healing way.

45

(Such were my Muse's sighs, when She and I
Heard in our Cell, the Crack of Church and State
So sad a time of its Nativity
Had Psyche's legend. For, the better fate
Of worried Britan stay'd with Him to come
Who only worthy was to bring it home.

46

He wondrous He, upon the Belgick main
Imbark'd, and then in triumph landed it
Safe on the Kentish Strand: where Charles his Wain
Broke from its long and black Eclipse; and met
Those gazing Throngs, whose strange Applauses prest
Both Heav'n and Earth their Gladness to attest.

47

From hence, to scarce-believing London flew
The grand Restorer: in whose glorious Train
How suddenly great Britain greater grew,
Outshining her old self, to entertain
Her new felicity! O loyal Pride,
Which meek Submission bravely testify'd!

48

Thus through his vast Metropolis, the King
Now of her heart, pass'd to his royal Home!
Whilst all th'adorned Streets with shouting rung.
No Acclamations ever thundred from
More earnest Mouths; no Calm of Peace was e'r
Welcom'd with such tempestuous Joys, as here.

49

Prudent and tender Phylax, knew that He
In both those Titles, nothing could bestow
Which in Advantages would richer be
To his most precious Pupil's heart, than now
To exile every troublous Mist and clear
The count'nance of her Habitation's sphere.

50

He knew the worth of Peace; and long ago,
When he had left his Charge in Palestine,
He hither flew, and order'd business so
That all things into Quiet did combine:
Yet none could tell it was to entertain
Psyche, now ready to return again.

51

But she, arrived at her native Home,
Wonder'd to find Security made Queen
Of all that Region: vacant was no room
For Molestation to be tampering in;
Nor any gap left ope, by which she might
Thrust in her head, and Settlement affright.

52

Her Friends and Parents much advanc'd this Wonder,
When in their cheerly Gratulations they
Told her, how Peace had trode all Perils under
Her sure-set feet, and puff'd the Storm away.
They told it o'r, and o'r; and marvel'd why
She turn'd to Phylax her mistrusting eye.

53

Which He observing, to her silent Doubt
Made this Reply: suspect no Falsehood here;
'Tis Truth thou seest; a Truth my Care has brought
About, to bid thee welcome home, my Dear.
Thy Voyage finish'd is; and safely thou
May'st in this Hav'n of Rest thy Bark bestow.

54

But see thou rigg'st it still, and keep'st it trim,
For fear some treacherous storm hereafter rise:
What boots it, stoutly through strange Seas to swim,
And poorly prove at home a Tempest's Prize?
Safe is the Harbour whilst thy Care awakes:
Just Shipwrack sleeping Pilots overtakes.

55

Complete Security dwells in no Bay
But that above, to which thine Heart doth sail:
There in the Downs of Peace for ever may
Thy Vessel ride: but here no Help can bail
Thee from the Wind's arrest, if thou forget
To aid thy self, and thine own Watches set.

147

56

O set them then, and bravely antidate
The Rest that happy makes the heav'nly Port;
Cheap, cheap's the Prize, though at the dearest Rate:
O stick not then to pay thus little for't.
Thy Life no further than a span can reach;
And wilt not thou thus far thy Labour stretch?

57

If thou repent thee of thy bargain, say
That with false Wares thy Phylax cheated thee:
Throw, boldly throw both them and Me away;
And call the Shoar more treacherous than the Sea.
Conclude all things but Vanity, are vain,
And count Perdition for the only Gain.

58

But surely no such desperate Thought will e'r
Debauch the sober heart of Psyche: No;
My Hopes are greater of thy holy Care,
With which mine own shall be combined too;
For as a Guard upon thy Guard will I
My wonted Love and Watchfulness imploy.

59

Nor will thy other Soul-embraving Friend
Be slow in lending thee her mighty Aid:
She who through every Obstacle can rend
Her conquering way; She who hath often stay'd
Thy tottering feet, and often thee restor'd
To thy lost Self, and thy forsaken Lord.

60

Scarce had he spoke; but (as the heav'nly Dew
Into Earth's thirsty mouth drops soaking Joy)
Right seasonable Charis hither flew,
Whose thrilling Influence op'd its dainty way,
With most invincibly-delicious art,
Through Psyche's soft breast to her softer heart.

61

Nor did her Favor use, or need, her tongue;
But spake it self in Psyche's inmost ear;
And by soul-plying secret language rung
More solid sweets than airy Words could bear:
The Virgin understood its meaning well,
And hugg'd it in her heart's profoundest cell.

62

(That cell wherein her Life inshrined lay,
Which now rose up in pious reverence,
And to this royal Guest gave willing way:
For what is Grace's blessed Influence,
But Life's best Life? and therefore well may in
The vital Palace reign as sovereign Queen.)

63

So close she hugg'd it, that it there grew warm,
And glow'd so hot, that strait it fell on fire:
The sudden flame sounded a smart Alarm
Through all her breast, and roused brave Desire:
Desire, the other Forces muster'd up;
And now no bar her high Design could stop.

64

As when heroick Fervour has awoke
A Prince's heart to take a strict Survey
Of all his Realm, and Reformation make
Of what is swerv'd from Right's and Law's Highway:
To his own King, the King of Heav'n, he calls
For Aid, and then to his great Bus'ness falls:

65

So entheous Psyche, prostrate on her face,
Begs Jesus's help to speed her Enterprise:
(For Phylax now by Heav'n admonished was
To snatch his Presence from his Pupil's eyes:
In prest obedience to which Item, He
Fled strait into Invisiblity.)

66

Dear Lord, said she, who never didst reject
Thy Worms, which to thy footstool crawl for Aid;
Thy Pity on thy Handmaid O reflect,
That she by her faint self be not betray'd.
Thou, who vouchsaf'd to kindle my Desire,
Assist me, least it prove an useless Fire.

67

Well knows thy wronged Majesty, how I
The flames Thou giv'st me, oft, too oft, did choke,
And sent up no Returns at all to thy
Most liberal Heav'n, but black and stinking smoke;
Hell's proper breath, and yet as truly mine
When to Cerinthus's School I ran from Thine.

68

O trust me not alone; though now my Will
Bravely inspired and spurred on by Thee,
Aims at a lofty mark; yet Psyche still
Is that unfortunate and feeble she
Who in her full carreers proves out of breath,
And when she soars to Life sinks down to Death.

69

Dear is my Guardian's Company to me:
And yet when He is here, I am alone:
My soul in no Companion finds but Thee
A perfect Cure of Desolation:
For I my self, alas, do never stay
Ev'n with my self, if Thou but step'st away.

70

But if Thou stay'st, I shall defiance give
To any Labour and to any Pain:
As oft's mine own do faint, I shall receive
New spirits from Thee, and venture on again:
Nor shall misfortune cheat me of my Bay,
For though I die, I still shall win the day.

148

71

Yet not for mine, but for thy Grace's, and
For thine own Credit, here I crave success:
Paid soley to the Praise of thy kind Hand
Shall be th'Atchievment's glory: Psyche is
Beneath Disgrace, but it in honor do's
Concern thy strength no Victory to loose.

72

Up towr'd her Prayer, and knock'd at Jesus's ear;
So loud it knock'd, that strait he let it in;
In, to his Favor's Presence-chamber, where
Their highest Ends all lowly Suters win:
Its Embassy was heard, and Jesus granted
What Psyche in this noble Business wanted.

73

This bred fresh courage in her soul, and she
With doubled Gallantry adventur'd on
Her generous Task: Her antient Royalty,
Which bold Incroachment oft had trode upon,
She meant to rescue, and assert her Crown;
Though for her Spouse's sake, more than her own.

74

A general Court she calls, and summons all
Her Subjects in, her royal mind to know:
Large this Appearence prov'd; both great and small
Hasting their prest obedience to show.
For, strict the Proclamation was, and they
Some special Business did expect that day.

75

No sooner had this Conflux swell'd the Hall
Of Psyche's palace, but in princely state
Ballast both with her Scepter and her Ball
She fairly sails into her sovereign Seat.
Up stood the Company, while she sate down,
And bow'd their heads to Her's, and to her Crown.

76

How kindly she that joint submission took
As Earnest of their several Duties, she
Assur'd them first by her welpleased Look,
(With which she paus'd a while; for Majesty
Must not make haste) then by her softer Tongue,
From whence her charming honey thus she wrung:

77

My multiplyed self, my numerous I,
In whom as many and as pleasant Lives
I live, as each of you enjoy; how high
Content to me your loyal Prescence gives,
Shall not be now my Theme; it were too long
A story, and would do the other wrong:

78

The Other; which, since it would more than fill
This Day, (as having cost me several years
To travel through it,) I must only tell
Part of its Wonders; for against your Ears
I plot no tyranny, nor aim to break
Them on a tedious Narration's Rack.

79

Through many Climats I have whirled been
Safe by the Conduct of my Guardian's Care:
The World I in its several Garbs have seen,
And how their Clothes and Manners Mortals wear;
Fair Cities, foul inhabitants; and sorry
Hamlets, yet noble by their Dwellers' Glory.

80

I saw Men live in their outsides alone,
Scarce dreaming that within a Soul they had:
And yet (because the fashion help'd it on,)
A Cloke they wisely of Religion made:
A Summer Cloke, so thin and light, that they
Ne'r felt it when upon their backs it lay.

81

The crisp'd, perfum'd, belac'd, befooled Wights,
Jetting in histrionick Pride I saw;
And jolly Cupid's smug salacious Knights
Proud of atchieving Virtue's overthrow;
With Bacchus's wrangling Squires, whose strange Contest
Was, who should prove the best at being Beast.

82

Fondlings I saw their fatal Bane embrace,
And loath the Antidote of Piety:
I saw true Honor loaded with Disgrace,
And humble Zeal disdained by those high
And silken Things, who know no way to be
Gentile, but Pride and sinful Liberty.

83

I saw severely-holy Souls, the Aim
Of lusty Gallants' scorn and peevish Hate;
Who threap'd upon their patient heads the Blame
Of foolish Singularity; and that
Alone because they down the flattering Tide
Of deep Damnation would not with them ride.

84

The holier Stories, whence the Holy Land
Deriv'd her Name, I by their footsteps read;
For many there still deep imprinted stand
To give all pious Pilgrims aim, and lead
Their hearts in that meek hardy Path, which for
Their sakes great Love himself would not abhor.

85

But by that Lesson of Humility
Both proud and confident I strangely grew;
My own poor waxen wings I needs would try,
And wilfully from those stout Pinions flew
Which Phylax always for my service spread
When sturdy Dangers levell'd at my head.

149

86

My Wings, alas, did only me commit
An helpless booty to the Birds of Prey:
With Kites and Vultures strait I was beset,
Whose foul heretick Tallons pluck'd away
My best and fairest plumes; and hasting were
My blood and life with equal spight to tear.

87

But Heav'n and Phylax present pity took,
And snatched me from that fatal Company,
Up to a Palace whose illustrious Look
Revived mine; whose royal Courtesy
Gave me more solid precious Things, than those
Plunder's wild Law made forfeit to my foes.

88

This was Ecclesia's famous Court; where I
Beheld the Miracles of Discipline:
No Spectacle e'r blessed mortal eye
With Ravishments more sacred and divine;
Which on my heart themselves so deep did seal,
That there th'Impression must for ever dwell.

89

So sweet a Calm of heav'nly Peace was there,
That no Disturbance could its Jars intrude:
Which made it genuine Heav'n on Earth appear,
All over with harmonious Pleasures strew'd:
Each Courtier perfect was in's Office grown,
And lov'd it best because it was his own.

90

And happy are those Courts, and none but those,
Where wise Content doth in all Stations dwell;
Where every Officer, if put to choose,
Would only be ambitious to excel
In what's his own Imployment, and appear
Splendid in none but in his proper sphere.

91

Such welplac'd Beams as theirs, can only be
The comely Glory of a Prince's Court.
Thus all the prudent Stars above agree
To swell and garnish Heav'n's majestick Port:
Each orb thus loves his own dear Road, and on
His mighty Journy doth with Musick run.

92

Thus those more radiant Sparks which on the face
Of th'Empyrean Vastness glittering are,
The holy Angels, hug their Orders Place,
And wish no nobler Work than meets them there.
And who can Us impede, if stoutly We
Resolve to model thus our Polity?

93

How lovelyly shine these Examples, which
Invite our Study into Honor's way!
What Tongue would grudge in its sublimest pitch
Of strained Art, to consecrate a Lay
Of praise to them? and why should we admire
What yet we dare not venture to desire?

94

Foul Shame forbid our Souls should flag so low
As ne'r to try one reach at Excellence.
Grant it should cost us all a sweating brow;
The Gain will more than wipe off that Expence.
Ease, Ease alone's the Rust of that brave Metal
Which strengthens noble Spirits for Virtue's Battel.

95

No pains so painful are to those who know
Their Soul's Activity, as lazy Rest:
And on my foes, might I free Curses throw;
My worst should be, What Drones esteem the best:
No Imprecations would I shoot, but this;
And damn them to no Hell but Idleness.

96

Come then, Enacted let it henceforth be,
That all our Bows shall to the utmost bend:
That generous and hardy Industry
Through all our Court her active arms extend:
That each one in his proper Office prove
How much my Credit, and their own, they love.

97

Though I be Queen, I stick not to submit,
And yield my neck to this our common Law:
The yoke for Me no less then you is fit;
And be assured, I my part will draw.
If e'r you see me shrink at any strains,
It shall be your Discharge from further pains.

98

But if you winch and kick, and scorn to be
Partners with me in your propounded Prize;
Know I'm no youngling now; maturity
Dwells in my Hand and Brain; well can I poise
My Scepter, and have learned how to make
Those who disdain to bow, be fain to break.

99

I paid an high price for that Learning, when
Crafty Agenor made his market here.
And who can blame my Prudence, if I mean
To make the most of what has cost so dear?
It must and shall appear, how well I know
That Kindness makes but Rebels bolder grow.

100

But O! I feel my unaccustom'd Tongue
Distaste this threatning stile: for sweetest I
Esteem my breath, when melted to a Song
In Commendation of your Loyalty.
Your Loyalty, which now me thinks, I see
Flaming in forward Sacrifice to Me.

150

101

She ceased here. When lo, on all the Hall
A chain of general musing silence lay.
Divers suspected that this Law would gall
Their necks beyond all Patience: yet they
Fearing their Parties votes would prove too weak,
Durst not their belking Motions open make.

102

Not with their Tongues: but with their Eyes about
The Room they walk'd, and question'd one another;
In every look they met both Hope and Doubt,
Which mutually their trembling selves did smother;
Their shoulders some, and some their heads did shake,
Plainly confessing what they fear'd to speak.

103

At length presuming it the safer way
Their vessels down the potent stream to steer;
They with the rest resolved to Obey,
And rather bend than break. Thus thankless fear
Of being crush'd by Boreas' wrath, can win
The lazy Clouds through widest Skies to run.

104

Thrice bow'd the whole Assembly to the ground,
And thrice their Thanks professed to their Prince;
Whose Prudence such a certain way had found
To yoke her Subjects unto Excellence.
And may Rebellion's brand and curse, said they,
Mark and revenge all them that Disobey.

105

Thus pass'd the Act: which being fairly writ,
High on the middle Pillar of the Hall
Was hung, by Psyche's wise Command, that it
Might of their Duties daily warn them All.
So is the Rod stuck up at School, whose look
Awes Children's eyes and points them to their book.

106

But She, to practice what was now Decreed,
Begins with them who easiest were to tame;
That their Examples useful seeds might breed,
A ready stinging Argument of Shame,
To lash those Servants who more manly were,
If they more weakly should their Task forbear.

107

Her Porters five She called one by one,
Their several Instructions now to take.
Opsis was first; to whom she thus begun:
Though thine high Seat, and sprightful Quickness make
Thee ready at Discoveries, yet I
Am sharper sighted, and can deeper pry.

108

Believe me then, Thou hast most need to be
Jealous of what usurpeth Beauty's skin.
Danger is politick, and Treachery
Too wise to lodge in a suspicious Inn.
The rankest Weeds in richest soils abound,
The deepest Holes in smoothest floods are found.

109

That Apple which bewitch'd our Grandame's eyes,
Was in Pomona's goodlyest robe array'd;
Its plump and ruddy cheeks did sweetly rise,
And seeming smiles in all its count'nance play'd;
Yet in it's Juice there lurk'd that venomous Sea
Which drown'd the World in deep Mortality.

110

Fair were the Grapes to Noah's fearless eye,
Nor with less pleasure faund they on his taste:
His unsuspecting Heart was also by
Their sweet enchantments ravish'd; till at last
His treacherous Guest trip'd up his heels, and He
Spew'd out confession of the victory.

111

Elisha's servant read no cause of fear
In that wild Vine, whose smooth Hypocrisy
Woo'd him to fill his mantle with the Cheer
Which thus had feasted his wellpleased Eye:
Yet cheated Man, he did he knew not what,
And shred abundant Death into the pot.

112

Israel's and Wisdom's most renowned King
In folly's guilt was plunged by his Eyes;
Which in his Queens' bright Beauties rioting,
Slyly seduc'd him first to idolize
Those female Powers; and then fall down before
What he set up, and Stocks and Stones adore.

113

Iscariot's Eyes, when fascinated by
Most dangerous Money's gaudy glistering look,
No longer could those richer Beams descry
Whose pure Exuberance from his Master's broke:
But he, blind Traytor, to eternal Night
Betray'd himself, in scorning Jesus's Light.

114

That gorgeous fruit which dangled on the Trees
That decked Asphaltites's ugly shore,
Outvy'd in fragrant Gold th'Hesperides
Admired boughs, and more Enticements wore
On its smug cheeks: yet all this Statelyness
Was but of Ashes and of stinks the Dress.

115

The dainty skin which shines on Beauty's face,
Where White's the life of Red, and Red of White,
Alas too oft proves but the lovely Case
Of odious lust and Pride. The goodlyest Wight
Is seldom Good; and hard it is to find
Under a splendid look, a graceful mind.

151

116

Be warey then in time, for fear some Bait
Demurely steals an Hook into thine Eye;
For fear the Blandishments of sweet Deceit
Pour Bitterness on thy Credulity.
Security delights in Fear's meek Cell,
And scorns in Confidence's Towers to dwell.

117

Thou'lt ne'r repent thee of the easy cost
Before thine Eyes a constant Watch to set:
Two nimble Lids thou always ready hast,
Which, if thou wilt, all Dangers out can shut.
Shall it be said, that Opsis means to keep
Those Curtains only to inclose her Sleep?

118

When Dinah's Eyes would needs be gadding out,
And tracing Hamor's Court; though honest She
Only to feed her curious fancy sought,
Insnar'd she was in Shechem's Treachery,
And, silly Maiden, suddenly became
An Holocaust to Lust's unhappy flame.

119

O then indanger not, nor waste thy Look
On any Object that concerns thee not:
Thy proper Bus'ness is the safest Book
On which thy studies can be fixed: but
If thou on others cast'st thy venturous eyes,
Thou dangerous Errors read'st and Heresies.

120

Thou hear'st thy Task; a Task by which thou may'st
Be safe and happy, as my Self would be.
So shall thy Tears be useless, when thou hast
No Crimes to wash: so shall the Bravery
Of thy sweet Beams persist for ever clear,
And from Hell's gloomy Fire no outrage fear.

121

The time will surely come, as sure as Fate,
Which will this Abstinence of thine requite;
When thou shalt freely rove and range through that
Ocean of Beauties which make Heav'n so bright.
Discredit not with Earthly sights, those eyes
Which are design'd to read the glorious skies.

122

The glorious skies; and what makes them be so?
That double Fount whence purest Glories rise,
The Eyes of Jesus; which on thine shall throw
Whole Deluges of everlasting Bliss;
When they have done their duty here beneath,
And once by Him awakened are from death.

123

But sure that Duty never will be done
By dwelling on that Mirrour in thy hands;
That brittle Emblem of Corruption,
Which though a polish'd sparkling Front commends,
It wears unlovely Blackness on its back,
And at the mercy lives of every Knock.

124

Opsis this Charge receiv'd with anxious Look,
And trembled at its smart severity:
That Tremor, from her hand her Mirrour shook;
Which falling into its own ruins, she
With many a foolish tear its death lamented,
And took her leave unwillingly contented.

125

The next was Acoe; who came dancing in,
And with her wanton fingers tripped o'r
A tickled Lute, in jolly hopes to win
The favor of her awful Sovereign; for
She felt the pulse of every String to find
Where lay the soul of Melody inshrin'd.

126

Grave Psyche, till the Galliard's Close, was mute
But then reply'd: now lend thine ear to me,
Who will requite thy Layes. I grant thy Lute
Cheer'd and encourag'd by Art's bravery,
May pant thee Airs more sweet in thy esteem
Than any breath which from my lips can stream.

127

But what is Sweetest, is not always Best,
And therefore not so sweet as is its Name;
Else treacherous Charmers' Pipes must be confest
To merit all the loudest Trumps of Fame:
Though their delicious Tunes Spight's Hisses be
Dissembled under cheating Harmony.

128

Else might th'insidious Sirens' warbling Note
Vie with the Accents of the Nightingale;
Although no barbarous Tempest's bellowing throat
Did with more certain Peril e'r assail
The Mariner; unless with timely Care
Against her Musick up he seal'd his ear.

129

Else were th'Hyæna, who with friendly tone
Demurely knocketh at the simple door,
As courteous as his Salutation,
Though in his breast he bloody Treason bore;
And that false Mouth which them bespake so fair
Prepared were the silly Lambs to tear.

130

Else should the Parasite, whose trade it is
To feed and clothe himself by Praising thee
And stroaking all thy rankling Wickedness:
Be thy more useful faithful Friend, than He
Who for thy breeding Canker's sure prevention
Applies the Corsive of sound Reprehension.

152

131

Else should Agyrtes's honey-tipped Tongue
Of ears and hearts more meritorious be,
Than is th'unstudied and harsh-grating Song
Of plain Syneidesis: though dangerous He
Speaks nothing but the Dialect of Hell,
Whilst trusty She doth vocal Heav'n distil.

132

Remember Acoe with what oily words
The Serpent ointed Eve's imprudent ears:
Yet all the Syllables were two-edg'd swords,
Longbearded Arrows, or envenom'd Spears;
Which flew not only through her careless heart,
But wounds and Death through all the world did dart.

133

That Serpent marking what himself had done,
Wisely applyd it to his own Defence:
So did his cunning Generation,
Who stop their ears against the Influence
Of soft Enchantments. And it can be no
Disgrace, to learn a Virtue of a Foe.

134

Had Delilah's Tongue not been so musical,
It ne'r had ventur'd upon Samson's might;
Nor in his chamber conquer'd more than all
Philistia's Powers could do in open sight.
But when the sturdiest Bands were try'd in vain,
Her supple Language prov'd his fatal Chain.

135

Puff'd with Heav'n-daring Pride and Victory
Great Holofernes fear'd no dint of Fear;
When walled in with his vast Army, He
Vow'd Jacob's Stock up by the roots to tear.
Yet Judith's glozing Tongue his Boasts outdid;
For having won his Ears, she gain'd his Head.

136

O then thine Avenues let Prudence shut
When worldly Charms are tuning Falshood's strings:
Be deaf, and happy; rather than admit
Those traiterously-melodious Flourishings;
Which stealing once into thy heart, will there
With everlasting Jars thy Conscience tear.

137

The Voice of Truth, though seeming plain and dry,
Flows with more honey than all Tongues beside:
With Honey so sincere, that Purity
It self in those sole streams delights to glide.
Securely may'st thou be Luxuriant here,
Nor any Surfeit from this Fulness fear.

138

Thus shalt thou never need to hunt abroad
For News, the Bait by which Fools mock their hunger;
Who when most fill'd with this most empty food
Find their abused Appetite the stronger.
Well may'st thou other Novelties refuse
For now, alas, ev'n Truth it self is News.

139

Let others slander't with the name of Pride,
I'l stile it Virtue in thee, to disdain
That Foam of useless Prattle, which doth ride
Upon the idely-busy tongues of vain
And shallow Mortals; who though all the day
They spin out long Discourses, Nothing say.

140

Scorn light fond Accents, and reserve thine Ear
For those which solid Musick's sweets distil;
Years post about apace: the Time draws near,
When thou exalted on Heav'n's glistering Hill
With those rich Notes shalt entertained be,
Whose Comfort makes the spherick melody.

141

My Guardian's blessed Voice there shalt thou hear,
And all the winged Quire, whose sprightful Tongues
Blisses and Honors, joys and triumphs cheer,
By lofty raptures of their entheous Songs:
Songs, which must ne'r inebriate any Ear
But what were sober kept on purpose here.

142

On Acoe so hard this Lesson grated,
That in her heart she wish'd she had been deaf:
And, since their old Rebellion was defeated,
She fear'd the Senses could have no Relief
By any new: full well she knew beside
Who most should feel it when her Queen did chide.

143

She groan'd, and let her Lutestrings down as though
Those of her heart with them she loosned had:
And then, O sweetest Womb of Pleasures, how
Shall Acoe live, said she, now thou ly'st dead!
With that, she fetch'd her Musick's funeral sigh,
And kiss'd her Lute, and gently laid it by.

144

Then Osphresis came in; who in one hand
Courted a Civit box, and in the other
A Nest of Rosebuds built upon a Wand
Of Juniper, and quaintly knit together.
Which Psyche seeing, Court it warily,
Roses wear Pricks as well as Leaves, said she.

145

Could all the Balm of Gilead, all the spice
Of happy Araby, inform thee how
To counterplot those fatal Miseries
Whose certain Seeds in thine own bosom grow;
I could approve such Helps: but they, as frail
And mortal as thy self, thy hopes will fail.

153

146

Alas, so deep Corruption rooted is
Ev'n in the center of thy fading breast;
That Odours spend their breath in vain to dress
The tainted Soil. How largely 'tis confest
By all the former Ages Ashes, that
Mortality on Man is seal'd by Fate!

147

And shall the Son and true apparent Heir
Of Rottenness mispend his time upon
Unprofitable Sweets, by which the Air
Is for a while inrich'd and that alone?
Sweets which each silly Wind that whisketh by,
Snatcheth, and scattereth, in proud mockery.

148

Why should'st thou studious be to make the Prey
Of stinking Worms, so sweetly dainty? why
Affect'st thou on perfumed beds to lay
Thine head, which must e'r long a-rotting lie?
Why should'st thou with such curious cost and trouble
Conspire Corruption's victory to double?

149

Wer't not a cheaper and a wiser Plot,
Aforehand with displeasant smiles to grow
Acquainted; that the brackish Grave may not
By being strange to thee, the bitterer show?
Besides; Perfumes, Contagions may be
With Delicacies' Bane infecting thee.

150

Howe'r, thou usest not those Odours which
So much thou usest: others nostrils reap
The crop of Sweets thou plantedst, and grow rich
At thy vain charge; whilst thou dost only keep
To please thy Neighbours' smell, thy powder'd Tresses,
And preciously-aromatized Dresses.

151

O Osphresis, that thou didst truly know
What fields of Fragrances, what beds of spice,
What hills of Roses, plains of Spiknard grow
In fair and eververdant Paradise;
Thou generously would'st scorn to dote upon
Earth's poor Perfumes, which whilst they come are gone.

152

Yet all the purest names of Odours are
Short of that soul-enlivening Incense which
From Heav'n's high Altar pyramides doth rear
Of Suavity, and Bliss it self inrich.
O then reserve thy Sense, for that which will
Its Fast with all the best of Fulness fill.

153

And yet mean while I will to thee allow,
More worthy Sweets, than those thou throw'st away,
In Virtue's garden do but walk, and Thou
Shalt meet such spicey Breaths of holy Joy
As will compell thy ravish'd soul to think,
This World's gentilest sent, but precious stink.

154

Such Breaths, as will perfume thy heart indeed,
And all thy Thoughts and Words aromatize;
Until their odorous Emanations breed
Delight in God's own nostrils; who doth prize
All pious Incense, only by the sent
Of its meek Sacrificers pure Intent.

155

So spake the Queen: whose words, though soft and sweet
As is the morning blast of eastern Gales,
Seem'd strong and rank to Osphresis; who beat
Her foolish thoughts on present Hills and Dales
Of fragrant wealth, which she desir'd to crop,
Being loth to live on that cold sent of hope.

156

Deep sighing, she thrice on her Civet, and
Thrice on her smiling Posy smelt; but yet
At length she drop'd them out of either hand,
Perceiving Psyche's awful Count'nance set
With Resolution; and no longer stout,
As Geusis marched in, she trembled out.

157

But Psyche, prompted by the honey Comb
Which Geusis hug'd, thus 'gan the maid to greet:
What if that Nest of Sweetness hath no room
For any thing that is intirely sweet?
What if the Bee hath in that Cabinet
More of her Sting, than of her Honey put?

158

Hard, hard it is, to eat no more than may
True friendship keep 'twixt Safety and Delight:
The least Excess will thee to Pangs betray,
And break thy Work by day, thy Rest by night.
Indeed a surfeit goes like Honey down,
But strait with Gall the heart is overflown.

159

How ravenous is the mouth of Mars his Sword,
Vast Armies swallow'd up by it, confess:
Yet Luxury with sharper Stings is stor'd;
Her throat's devouring Gulf much wider is:
No reeking Steel thou ever yet didst see
Blush in the guilt of so much blood, as She.

160

We wrong, alas, we wrong the bloody Paws
Of Lyons, Panthers, Tigres, Bears, and Wolves;
Yea and the direful Plague's relentless Jaws,
By calling them most salvage: We our Selves
More deadly Plagues, and Beasts more cruel are;
For our own Lives with our own Teeth we tear.

154

161

Of his Sobrieties sage stayed weight
Had great Belshazzar not been cozen'd by
The cruel Sweets of Luxury's Deceit;
He had not in Heav'n's scale of Equity
Been found so light, as by Darius down
From his high Empires Zenith to be blown.

162

Of her in time had Dives taken heed,
When in each Dish for him she lay in wait,
When into every Boul her self she shed,
When each superfluous Bit she made a Bait;
In Hell the wretched Gallant had not lain
Acting poor Lazarus his part in vain.

163

His broiled Tongue had not so earnest been
In lamentable Outcries, to obtain
No crowned Cups of lusty foaming Wine,
But one cold drop of Water, to restrain
Those rampant Flames which with luxuriant spight
Reveng'd his former Luxuries' Delight.

164

But Lazarus, whose meek ambition was
No more than with this Glutton's Dogs to be
A Commoner; into the sweet Embrace
Of Abraham, and of Felicity
Mounted, on Angels' pinions towr'd, and there
Injoy'd a fuller Feast than Dives here.

165

Wise Saint, his stomack he had sav'd, that he
With a full Appetite might thither go
Where sumptuous Dainties hold their Monarchy,
And purest Pleasures by whole Rivers flow.
And if Thou after Him desir'st to climb,
Be sure to trace his footsteps here in time.

166

I know the Boards of many holy Souls
In Fatness often have been seen to shine;
On which their golden overflowing Bouls
Leap'd up in sparks of aromatick Wine:
But canst thou say, That they themselves did so?
Surely their Looks and Lives will tell thee No.

167

This constant Plenty did but keep them close
To temperance's manlyest Exercise;
And difficultest Virtues' list they chose
When to their Boards they went, to play the prize
Of Abstinence, and, by forbearing, fight
With those arrayed Armies of Delight.

168

Heroick Hearts! who though beleaguered by
A siege of Superfluity, could yet
Mantain chaste Moderation. But thy
Metal and temper, Geusis, are not fit
To wage war with temptations: no, 'tis well
If thou by flying canst thy Safety steal.

169

To sparing Diet fly: there may'st thou eat
And drink thine Health; but never in Excess.
Excess makes Sickness reek in all thy meat;
And with thy Liquor, Surfeits treason press
Into thy Cup; by which before thou art
Aware, thy Head is drowned, chok'd thy Heart.

170

But fasting's vertue never fails to be
A sovereign Purge where vicious humours reign;
Whilst other Physick drains thy Purse, not Thee,
This plots not to evacuate thy Coin;
But battle bids, and bids to none but those
Who are thy Body's or thy Spirit's foes.

171

This will prepare, and keep thy Taste in taste,
Till this short Eve shall be exspired, which
Ushers thee to that everlasting feast,
Where at the Lamb's most royal Board the rich
Extremities of Delicacies will
More than thy mouth, yea or thy wishes fill.

172

And since thou know'st thy Duty; likewise know
I love thee better than to let thee 'scape
Severest censure, if thou swervest now
From this fair Path which leads to Blisse's Top;
And with such ballast stuff'st thy self, as will
If Heav'n prevent not, lag thee down to Hell.

173

Close all this while her Comb had Geusis held;
But this last Word's smart dint prevail'd to smite
It from her quaking hand: at which she swell'd
With sullen sadness, and began to bite
Her lips: but marking then stern Psyche's eye,
She bow'd her head and made her will comply.

174

Scarce was she out; but mincing Haphe came,
Whose hands were in a Muff of Sables drown'd;
Her Body wantonized in a frame
By Ease's measure made, a Robe, which round
With silken softness courted her: no Pin
Nor Seam presum'd to touch her dainty skin.

175

The sight made Psyche smile: And what, said she;
If that soft furniture grow thick with Pricks?
If harshest Hair or sackcloth, gentler be,
Which close and strait on hardy Bodies sticks?
Alas the Wounds of Silk more dangerous far
Than those of sharpest Swords and Arrows are.

155

176

Such Weapons' Wounds can never further sink
Than to the Bodie's bottom; but a proud
Attire doth sadly soak the Soul, and drink
Its best blood up; nor knows she how to shroud
Her self from this mishap so long as she
Builds inward Joys on outward Bravery.

177

Potiphera was deeper wounded by
The delicacies of her soft array,
Then Joseph by his Chains' austerity
Whose iron load eat ope a cruel way
Through skin and flesh: her wounds did her destroy,
His cur'd their earthly Pain with Heav'nly Joy.

178

Thou know'st in what a Soft and curious Dress
Madam Herodias danced down to hell:
Whilst reverend John, array'd in Simpleness,
Did proudlyest-decked Mortals so excel,
That, though in Herod's Court despised, yet
Plain as he was, he into Heav'n's was let.

179

Had'st thou beheld his homespun Camel's hair,
And leathern Thong; how would thy quaint and new
Fashions, thy Lawns, thy Silks, thy Sables dare
Their cowardly effeminate face to shew?
Would not thy worthless Skin have blush'd to see
It self in fairer Robes then glorious He.

180

What ugl[i]er Sight can Fancy's storehouse show,
Than goodly-formed Man disfigured by
Strange garbs and cuts; and madly bent to grow
More handsom than himself! what Vanity
Of Pride so foolish, as for man to aim
A comelyer fashion than his God to frame!

181

Thou in Life's scene hast but one Part to play,
Why like a thousand things then art thou drest?
Why art thou big and rufling loose to day,
To morrow spruce and slender? if the best
Garb be thy Wish, the Best can be but one:
Why dost thou woo them all, yet weddest none?

182

O could'st thou see that course and rural Suit
The wise Creator did for Adam make;
How would it thy vain Gallantry confute,
Who all the world's best Dainties up would'st rake
Thy vulgar Carcase, to array, when He
In Leather goes who's King of Earth and Sea!

183

God's Copy satisfy'd the Saints of old,
Who sought no further than Goats or Sheep
For Skins, in which they might their own infold:
A rude Plantation this; yet hence they reap
A royal Harvest, and bedeck'd in fair
Robes of immortal Glory glittering are.

184

No beds of wanton Down desired They
Wherein to loose themselves; but were content
In Dens and Caves their manly heads to lay;
Where they to Rest with fuller comfort went
Than pompous lusty Solomon, when he
Climb'd up his couch of stately Ivory.

185

Nor e'r was't known that precious Pearl would lie
In any Shells but wondrous course and plain;
That any search could Gold and Silver spy
But nestled in some dark and dirty Vein:
That briskest sparks of fire would choose their rest
But in some black rude Flint's unlikely breast.

186

I grant that now distinct Degrees require
Such Garbs as may their Dignity proclaim:
Not that they by their outside beams aspire
To gaudy foolish Glory; for their aim
Is only by this necessary Art
Their Place's proper honor to assert.

187

Else Man's perversly-blear and peevish Eye
Would find a way how not to be aware
Of what dread Lustre flames in Majesty;
Or that the Sacerdotal Temples are
With venerable Privileges crown'd,
Which from their Function's Sanctity redound.

188

This made Heav'n's Ordination of old
The consecrated Body of the Priest
With reverence-commanding Gems and Gold,
And finest Linen's Purity invest.
But what's all this to Thee, whose private State
All Helps of publick Dignity may bate?

189

My peremptory Pleasure therefore 'tis
That Thou thy fittest Patterns copy out:
Since thou delighted art with Tenderness,
Be Tender of thy Bliss; and never doubt
But that will softer prove, and warmer be
Than are thy Wishes and that Muff to thee.

190

This said; she spake her Expectation by
Her serious Looks which darted Haphe through
With servile dread, and summon'd off her eye
Which hankered upon her Fur till now.
Sad was the foolish Maid, she knew not why,
Being only chid from tickling Misery.

156

191

For full as loth as that Beast's back which wore
The furry skin at first, did part with it,
She let her hand drop down her Muff before
Her Sovereign's foot, and made her head submit.
But yet she shrunk her shoulders, and betray'd
How sad a load she counted on them laid.

192

Psyche, her Cinque-Ports being thus secured,
For Glossa call'd; who cheerfully came in,
And with a thousand Complements allured
The kind Opinion of her frowning Queen:
But thou mistak'st, said she, in reck'ning by
Thy numerous Complements thy Loyalty.

193

Truth's quickly said; for pure unspotted she
Delights in her own genuine Nakedness,
And scorns that ceremonious Bravery
Which Flattery's Deformity doth dress.
Dull Wood alone needs Vernice; radiant Gems
Are brave in their own native naked beams.

194

Much Talk is either stretched out by Lies,
Which poison all the streams wherein they flow;
Or tricked up with pritty Vanities,
Which like fond Ribands, serve but for a show,
And catch Spectators' eyes, but tie not that
Which they embrace with their close-fauning Knot.

195

The idle Froth which plays upon the face
Of troubled Waters, swelleth not with Wind
So pitifully slight and empty, as
Is that which bubbles from a royled Mind;
When, overflowing Wisdom's sober brims,
In drunken Prattle on the Lips it swims.

196

As is thy neighbor Geusis apt to be
Luxurious by too much Taking in;
So thou the hazard run'st of Gluttony
By Pouring out: if once thy Lips begin
To give the Reins to Words, thou in profound
Intemperance wilt suddenly be drown'd.

197

Silence, her Master never did undo;
But O how guilty is Multiloquie
Of this unnatural Treason! Nature, who
The danger spy'd by Providence's eye,
Was studious this mischief to prevent
When thee a ready double Guard she lent.

198

The outer are thy Lips; which though they be
But soft and tender, yet their two-leav'd Door
So close they shut, that not the first Degree
Of Words, not Breath it self has power to bore
Its path, but silently must tack about
And through the Nose's sluces wrestle out.

199

The inner, are those Ranks of Ivory, which
Right strongly barracado up thy way:
To sally out in vain thy Murmurs itch,
Unless the Passage fondly these betray.
'Tis no hard task for thee to rest in peace,
Who strengthned art by two such Guards as these.

200

Before thou speakest, thou art Queen alone,
And freely may'st command and rule thy thought:
But thou to foreign Jurisdiction
Surrendrest it, when Words have blown it out:
For strait 'tis subject to the cruel Laws
Of every Auditor's censorious Jaws.

201

When leave thou giv'st to other Tongues to walk,
They travel for thy gain: if wise he be
Who speaks, thou learnest Wisdom by his Talk;
If fond, thou reapest from his Vanity
A wholsom warning: but when e'r thy Cock
Alone doth run, thou spendest on the Stock.

202

Fear no Discredit by Pauciloquie:
All Jesus's footsteps high and noble are;
Never was stripped Sheep more mute than He,
His humane fleece when Spight inhumane shore.
And if the Word himself was not ashamed
Of Silence, can it in the Tongue be blamed?

203

Nay dullest Fools, when they their Lips contained,
Have often purchas'd Wisdom's reputation;
Whilst greatest Clarks who rashly have unreined
Their prancing Tongues, from their own Credit's station
By their unruly venturous Coursers down
The Precipices of Contempt are thrown.

204

What will it boot thee to inhance that score
Of debts thou ow'st the dreadful Judge; since thou
A strict account must render up before
His throne, of all the stragling words that flow
From thee in vain? Why, why wilt thou to death
Be sentenced by thine own lavish Breath?

205

Improve it rather in an holy Thrift,
And make it up to Heav'n thy Prayers blow;
Or Hallelujahs thither let it lift;
And not, like wanton Gales, play here below.
But if thou needs wilt idely prattle, I
Must deal in earnest with thy Vanity.

157

206

No word to this, check'd Glossa could reply,
But look'd demurely, and obeysance did:
Her conge to withdraw, in Psyche's eye
And in her Nod, no sooner had she read;
But out she meekly went, and left the room
Free for the Passions now thither come.

207

As these in order stood before the Throne,
With earnest Looks the Queen first aw'd them, and
Then thus began: Now you are here alone,
I am content to let you understand
How you I prize, so long as you can be
What Heav'n has made you, to your selves and Me.

208

Of all the Commons who allegiance owe
To this my Crown, I you the noblest count;
More quick, more generous Service you can show
Than those whose highest faculties can mount
But to exterior grosser things, which are
Lab'ring in Sensibilitie's dull sphere.

209

On your fleet backs I can far higher flie,
And with more speed, than on the Senses' wings:
But you I welcome bid, or I defie
The tribute which to me their Service brings.
You are the lovely Mirrour which presents
My Disposition's truest lineaments.

210

The inward Body of the Soul are you,
The outside of the hidden Heart: all springs
Which there peep up, learn openly to flow
In your free chanels; and th'abstrusest things
Which in the Mind's dark Temper nuzling lie,
By you exposed are to every eye.

211

But as your native strength and worth is high,
So is the Guilt of your Extravagance:
Though Worms, the Sons of vile Dirt, mudling lie
In their Dames' bosom, they do not inhance
Their Baseness: but should Birds be groveling there,
The sordid Crime unnatural would appear.

212

Be then but truly what you are, and flie
In your own sphere: so you shall surely meet
Together with your own Felicity,
My Love and Praise: damp not that generous heat
Whose embers in your veins desire to flame
Into the Lustre of eternal Fame.

213

Love, know thy self, and own an holy Pride;
Thine Arms were not made pliant, to embrace
Such low ignoble Joys as can abide
Beasts for their Owners: never then disgrace
The gallantry of thy illustrious wings
By hankering here about vile earthly Things.

214

Though to Humility's submissive Law
Thou art sworn Subject; yet thine Aim may be
At Excellency's lofty crest: for know
That Meekness Jesus's steps may trace, and He
Through deep Contempt's black Valley towred up
To God's right hand, and Glory's brightest Top.

215

Virtue, and Heav'n (the soil whence first it sprung)
Exposed are to thee a royal Prey:
If rotten Earth can more allurements bring,
More worth, more satisfaction, than they;
Pour scorn upon them, and thy self apply
To hug the Pleasures of Mortality.

216

The great Adventures of all Saints deride,
Who spent their lives those Prizes to obtain;
And bless fond Wantons, who swum down the Tide
Of these short Sweets, into that Gulf of Pain
Where endless Horrors boil, and where ev'n Love
It self is changed, and doth Hatred prove.

217

But ne'r may'st Thou prove so, most noble Thou,
The privileged and selected she,
Who, whilst thy Sisters all are fain to row
In some shore-girted measurable Sea,
Into Infinitude may'st lanch, and there
Thy endless Course without all Compass steer.

218

Fear, be not thou afraid to know thy Part:
'Tis not to quake at any Powers which Hell
Or Earth can arm against thy jealous Heart:
Those Tempests all are chain'd, nor can they swell
Higher than his more lofty Hand will yield,
Which always out is stretch'd to be thy Shield.

219

See'st thou that single Hair, which shivering lies
Upon thy breast, and dreads the mildest Wind?
Were all th'Aereal Principalities
In one sworn knot of Violence combin'd,
'Twould pose their Might and Wit to tear it thence,
If checked by that Hand of Providence.

220

Thy duty is, to tremble at the sight
Of that foul Monster which makes Hell so black;
Sin's face alone is that which needs affright
Thy tenderest Eyes; a Face, whose dint can rack
The Basilisks with pois'nous torture, and
All Dragons' fiery Souls with terror rend.

158

221

Yet if thy Wilfulness will not attend
The frightfulness of that most dismal look;
View but the Horrors of a Cursed End,
And make Eternal flames a while thy Book:
There shalt thou read what will deserve to be
With ghastly Dread contemplated by thee.

222

And in this shaking fit, shalt thou admire
What madness makes fond Mortals quake so much
At fortune's frowns, or at a Prince's ire;
Yet never fear the wrath of Vengeance; which
Inrag'd by Brimstone in the burning Pit,
Gapes wide for All, who, slighting, merit it.

223

But when with soft and gentle Tremor thou
Would'st sweetly exercise thy self; apply
Thy reverent Thoughts to Him whose sovereign brow
Adorns the Crown of highest Majesty.
So will thy God his eyes to thine incline;
Which on thy heart with dainty Awe will shine.

224

And Thou, stern Hatred, as relentless be
As Rocks, or Souls of Tigres in thy spight:
But see the dart of this thy Cruelty
Miss not its proper Butt: thine only fight
With Sin's bold troops must be; on which accurst
And dangerous Enemy do, do thy worst.

225

All other foes, how fell soe'r, belong
To Love's vast Jurisdiction; for She
Knows how revenge to take on any Wrong
By drowning it in mighty Charity.
Thy Wrath is sharp, but hers is gentle; Thou
With steel dost break, but She with Warmth doth thaw.

226

Be warey then to guide thy stroke aright,
For close the Sin and Sinner linked are;
Least when thou aim'st against the Crime, thy fight,
Unto the Person thou extend'st thy war.
The Person's God's, who nothing hates which he
Hath made, and therefore will not suffer Thee.

227

Hope, lavish not thy fruitless Expectation
On any birth this World's womb forth can bring:
Why should'st thou dance attendance on vexation,
On wind, on froth, on shadows vanishing
In their original; and gape to be
Replenished with meer Vacuity?

228

On fulness rather wait, and lift thine Eye,
Thy longing eye, to Heav'n, in which it dwells.
Far off indeed the Object is, but thy
Discerning Power, at distance most excels.
Be brave and confident, thou can'st not miss
A mark so ample and so fair as this.

229

Since Absence nothing is to mystick Thee
But its bare name (for to thy reaching eye
The thing is present, though it hidden be
In darkest bosom of futurity.)
O turn fruition; antidate thy Bliss,
And climb aforehand into Paradise.

230

But thou, tart Anger, never hunt abroad
For meat to please thy washpish appetite:
Home will supply thee with sufficient food
To fatten thee with solid true Delight.
What faults soever thou espyest here,
Fall to and make thee merry with the cheer.

231

Thy useful Self why should'st thou strive to be
In others' bosoms, rather than thine own?
Wrath's arrows seldom fly aright, when she
Levels against a foreign Mark her frown:
Her Archery is surest practiz'd on
The Buts of her domestick Sins alone.

232

No less to Thee, pale thoughtful Jealousy
Belongs this Item: Let no vain surmise
Of others' bus'ness breed perplexity
In thine; but inward turn thy prying eyes,
And give the reins to thy suspicion here
In any thing which looks not sound and clear.

233

I grant thee leave, ev'n not to spare thy Queen;
Be diligent, and if thou wilt, severe:
For sure if thou such heretofore had'st been,
Immured safe in never-sleeping fear
Psyche had dwelt, and not been conquer'd by
The charms of Lust, and fouler Heresy.

234

Yet Sorrow, thou thy fears may'st safely spend
On alien and on publick Mischiefs; thou
May'st help Compassion freely to extend
Her reaching bowels, and her bounty show
In sympathetick tenderness to all
Whom tyrannous Disasters hold in thrall.

235

Provided, all thy store thou pour'st not forth
To quench thy Neighbours' flames, but stor'st up some
To wash out those sad stains which from thy birth
Have daily multiplyed here at home.
These, these, deserve them: but no drop shalt thou
On any temporal Cross of mine bestow.

159

236

O no! a Tear's a nobler thing than so,
Nor must be squander'd in such vain expence.
No oriental Pearls, though married to
Richest Embroideries, shew such pretence
To Beauty, as those precious Beads, whose Mine
Lives in the fertile womb of humane Eyn.

237

Let wanton Fortune take her proud delight
In trampling on what Error Goods doth call:
A name which mocks the Thing, whose frail and slight
Being at Change's beck must rise and fall.
Let her insult; why should thy Tears flow down
For fortune's faults, and not lament thine own?

238

Joy, thou hast hitherto too careless been
In distribution of thy lavish Smiles:
What is't to thee, if fields abroad are green;
If Plenty with her Bliss thy coffers fills;
If any thing without thee prospers, when
Thou poor, and parch'd, and barren art within:

239

If thou at home canst nothing worthy find
Of just applauding Notice; no brave feat
Of resolute Virtue, no soul-plying Wind
Of Heav'n's great Spirit, no adventurous Heat
Of holy Love: alas, thy Merriment
Is but th'Hypocrisy of Discontent.

240

'Tis but a shaddowy dreaming Pleasure, which
May float and play in thy fantastick brain,
But ne'r can to thy bosom's region reach
Which still beclouded is with pensive pain.
Yea ev'n thy laughter with deep wrinkles plows
Thy face, and in thy Mirth Care's Visage shows.

241

In smiling Wine let rampant Roarers brue
The Quintessence of their lymphatick mirth:
Let idleness's busy Sons persue
Pleasure through thousand Sports; in tedious Earth
Let Muckworms delve, and grope, Content to gain:
What's that to thee, if they will sweat in vain?

242

In God alone, and what of Him in thy
Meek loyal Soul thou find'st, fix thy delight;
And then walk out; yet only to descry
What hearts pant Heav'n like thine; that only sight
Abroad, deserves thou should'st Spectator be;
All else, with Grief suit better than with Thee.

243

And you the rest, whose near attendance on
My royal Person equally requires
Exact and generous Duty; see you run
Not on the errands of your own Desires,
But mine; which should be yours: and know, that I
Much better than your selves can you employ.

244

So shall our Kingdom with such Peace be blest
As no intrusion of storms shall fear.
So of your selves you all shall be possest
And reign in your own bounds, as I do here.
So no Agenor shall again intice
You to Conspire to your own Miseries.

245

But if you scorn to walk in Honor's way
(Which way is, Doing what becomes you best)
Yet must not I permit you to betray,
Your own Capacity of Welfare. Is't
Your Lot or Office here to Govern? No;
Your Queen her power better knows than so.

246

She ending here: the Passions each on other
Cast cowardly-couragious glances: for,
Though loth their itching Waywardness to smother,
These strict injunctions griped them so sore,
Yet none such venturous metal had, as up
To lead their belking Stomacks' forlorn Hope.

247

Then vex'd at one another's faintness, they
Hung down their sheepish look, and bent their knees
In token they were ready to obey
Their Queen's, however new and strange, Decrees;
And so in peevish shame went blushing out
That they into Subjection's Guilt were brought.

248

For those whose Palats ne'r were taught to taste
The piercing Sweets of Holy Discipline,
By wilful Licence's mad Revels cast
Their fond Accounts of freedom, and repine
At any chains, although they keep them in
From rushing to the slavery of Sin.

249

Psyche observ'd how they this serious Bit
Into their mouths like sullen Horses took;
How mutinously they foam'd and champed it,
And in their hearts the Reins aforehand broke.
This made her instantly resolve to ride
Them hard, and weary out their lusty Pride.

250

Not theirs alone; but her chaf'd Senses too,
Whom their new Laws had almost Passions made,
So hard their stubborn necks they grated, so
Straitly they ty'd them to a sourer trade
Than e'r they drove before, or than they had
Observ'd professed by the World abroad.

160

251

She by a Peremptory brave Decree
Enacted Scorn of every thing which here
The Tempter makes a bait to Luxury,
Pride, Avarice, or any Crimes which bear
Chief rule in mortal Hearts, whilst heedless they
Mark not the Hook ev'n when they are its Prey.

252

A general Proclamation then she made
That none who to her Scepter homage owe
In any case presume abroad to gad;
Unless Necessity were seen to go
As their Companion; who might limits set
Both to their Walk, and what they did in it.

253

Nor would now Prudence her commission seal
To any Judge's serious eye, to see
Due execution of her Laws; for well
She knew, that to her self her own would be
Most true and trusty: and she vowed here
To prove her self as Watchful as Severe.

254

As when an headstrong Torrent, wont to throw
His lawless arms on every Mead where he
Listed to riot, is injoyn'd to flow
In some strait Chanel's Regularity;
The stream with belking indignation beats,
And foams against the Banks with murmuring threats:

255

So with high-swelling self-tormenting Wrath
Her Subjects pent in these new narrow bounds,
Impatiently rebel against their Path,
And every one his fretful grief expounds
In long long commentaries of Complaint:
The only freedom of their close Restrant.

256

Were other Subjects yok'd so strait as We,
Their Company would lighter make our yoke;
For Misery spread in Community
Abates the terror of her cruel look.
But how, said they, shall we support alone
This mountainous load of Persecution!

257

If 'twere the fashion any where beside,
For Sense and Passion thus in chains to lie;
Our Souls it would not torture to be ty'd
In patternable slavery: but why
Must all the World laugh at our Woes, whilst We
The sole Examples of this Bondage be?

258

Psyche, who all their strugling Murmurs heard
With awful Majesty inflam'd her eye:
And, Come, said she, if I must needs be fear'd,
Who would much rather have been loved by
My Subjects; be it so: for know, that still
Keep you intirely Such I must and will.

259

Yet since the fashion's all your Plea, and you
As singular have tax'd your present State;
Observe I pray how amply I allow
You your own wish: but see you kick not at
My royal love, nor force me to the fashion
Which Princes use in Rebels' Insultation.

260

The noble Mode which I have put you in,
Is that which made the Saints of old so fine;
That they the eyes of Heav'n it self could win,
And ravish All but those to whom divine
And earth-despising Beauty dimmer seems
Than pallid Gold's and glaring Silver's beams.

261

Yea, that illustrious Realm whose situation
Lies higher than the Stars, has no disdain
At that which you repute a servile fashion:
For every Angel his own will doth chain
Close to his Sovereign's Law, and never flies
Abroad, but when his pinions That employs.

262

Tell me not then what Garbs and Humors are
By this blind foolish World ador'd; but take
Your Copy from those Patterns which outdare
The worth of any Parellel; and make
Those men your Pity, who make you their scorn:
Your fashion gorgeous is, but theirs forlorn.

263

These words with such convincing horror flew
Upon the faces of the mutinous Rout,
That all their Murmurs' Blasts away they blew;
Calming the storms which in their bosoms wrought.
And now their Stoutness nothing had to say,
Nothing remain'd to do, but to obey.

264

So when the stubborn Colt has kick'd, and flung
And tryed his rebellious strength in vain,
Finding his stomack and his neck too young
To grapple with his skilful Rider's Rein;
To strong Necessity he giveth place,
And melteth into an obedient pace.

265

Thus from exterior Troubles sequestred,
Close to her private bus'ness Psyche fell;
She, long before the Sun sprung out of bed,
And call'd it morning, e'r the East could tell
Aurora dressing was; for I, said she,
Have fiercer Steeds to rule than Titan's be.

161

266

Then, higher in to Heav'n, than he can roll
His wheels, she leap'd; so stout and sinewy were
Her early Mattens; which carreerd her Soul
Up to the pinacle of Glory; where
Praises and Prayers in a flood before
Her Spouse's footstool she of course did pour.

267

Her hands then letting down, she set them to
Their second Task; and hasted to prepare
Clothes for the Orphans and the Widows, who
By generous Charitie's Adoption were
Become her Children: thus did prudent She
Nobly make fruitful her Virginity.

268

And from this voluntary Offspring She
Reap'd pure delight: for they who Parents are
By Nature's Help, too oft engaged be
In their unnatural Brood's vexatious Care:
But she from her's no Discontent could find,
Being the chosen Children of her mind.

269

Yet with her Work, her Prayers she so enchas'd
That she of both a goodly checker made:
For through her pious hands no bus'ness pass'd,
But Heav'n she enterwove; her constant trade
Was but a faithful Prenticehood to Him
Whose royal Temples wear Heav'n's Diadem.

270

So though the mariner with busy Care
Waits on his Card, yet oft he lifts his eye
To drink direction from that trusty Star
Which darteth on his Voyage, Certainty;
And by this mixed study safely rides
Over the proudest and the furthest Tides.

271

Never could She find leisure to attend
On ceremonious Idelness, nor by
The civil speciousness of Visits spend
Her precious Time on courteous Vanity.
Wealth against Wealth she never meant to try,
Nor bandy Feasts, or Entertainments vy.

272

Yet painful Bus'ness her abroad could draw,
And wheresoe'r the sick despised Poor
Lay succourless, she by the Gospel Law
Her self accounted summon'd to restore
Her needy Lord that tender help which she
Had oft receiv'd from his Benignity.

273

For Him on all those languid Beds she saw;
His pained broken limbs, His parched skin,
His burning Tumours, His black stripes, His raw
And gaping Wounds: and these so strongly won
On her Compassion, that her own they proved,
Whilst her soft bowels them both felt and loved.

274

The odious Sores which would have loathing bred
Ev'n in the Surgeon's eyes, she gladly view'd;
Her choicest Plasters pleasantly she spread,
And all her Powders with delight she strewed.
Her self she robbed of her Clothes to wind
About the Naked, and the maimed bind.

275

By their Diseases height she joy'd to measure
The worth of such distressed Company:
The foulest Lepers yielded choisest pleasure
To her Attendance; who aspir'd to be
Chief Servant unto those whose noisom stench
Could Parents love and Childrens duty quench.

276

In vain her Senses turn'd their nauseous head,
Since she resolv'd to love what they abhorr'd:
In vain her dainty Passions murmured,
And Logos too with some Dislike was stirred:
Her Resolution she the more professed,
And ever Kiss'd the Sores which she had dressed.

277

The coy-ey'd Ladies, with a squeamish look,
Admir'd and loath'd her lowly Complement:
Not for a world would their fine Fingers brook
The touch of what they saw her Lips resent
As soft and sweet: yet could not their Disdain
Her Kisses most courageous zeal restrain.

278

She still her merciful Design persues,
And by divine Insinuation tries
How in her Potions she may Heav'n infuse,
And reach the soul's mysterious Maladies.
Heart-startling Hints she sprinckles here and there,
And poures in holy Cordials every where.

279

Nor by this paradoxick Zeal alone
Did she run counter to the World's carreer;
But valiant in her high Devotion,
Adventur'd further yet to domineer
Over her Flesh and Blood; whose lusty heat
Down flat by Abstinence she meant to beat.

280

Wherefore no set and customary Time
Tempted her to unnecessary Meat;
But earnest Hunger always toll'd the chime
Which smartly her admonished to eat.
And then her Meal she would not measure by
Her stomachful, but bare sufficiency.

162

281

And thus did she her Food her Servant make,
Whilst others, slaves to their own Tables were;
Thus did she rellish every Bit, and take
The genuine Pleasure of her sober Fare:
Whilst those whom Plenty's Fat brimful doth keep,
Their Palat's proper Joys can never reap.

282

This Art so pluck'd her Bodies plumes, that she
Could easily grasp, and rule it with her Will:
For she resolv'd it never more should be
Permitted bigger than it self to swell;
And if it winch'd and strugled, straiter yet
By fresh severity she yoked it.

283

The tenderest Flesh's delicacy, she
Us'd as an argument to pass them by:
Those Fishes, whose rude shells are found to be
Of daintiest Nutriment the Treasury,
She for that Reason still despis'd; and none
But choicest Viands always chose to shun.

284

The Garden's roseal and lily store,
With all its wealth of Spice and Odours, she
For being such, did scorn: of eastern Ore,
Since it was rich, she would no Hoarder be:
From Lute and Harp, because they pleasing were
She pleasure took to sequester her ear.

285

(For yet Religion's cheerly jovial Days
Incourag'd not the Christian Hemisphere:
No Musick married Instrumental Lays
To holy Churche's Anthems, striving here
To echo those celestial Tunes which ring
From Angels throats about their glorious King.

286

Else surely Psyche's Soul must needs have leap'd
At such Delights; and her sweet-tuned Heart
With its exultant Pulse due time have keep'd
To all such pious Airs; by which the Art
Of charming Sanctity can steal upon
The coldest bosom, hot Devotion.)

287

Delicious Wine, because it guilty was
But of it self, exactly she eschewed:
The Gallantry of clothes, she held Disgrace
In those whose hearts had Vanity subdued:
By simplest Nature's Rules she strove to square
What she did touch, or taste, or smell, or hear.

288

To Heav'n she charg'd on Fervor's wings to ride
All those Affections which could traffick there,
To be her Factors, and her Stock provide,
Against her Death should thither send up her.
And those, whose work lay here below, she taught
To think it Heav'n, when upon Earth they wrought.

289

By constant waiting on her Penitence
Her Tears acquir'd so quick an habit, that
No Tide with such perpetual Effluence
Its swelling Brine above the shores could shoot;
Her Flood disdained Ebbs, and still she found
Both night and day her cheeks and bosom drown'd.

290

Etesian Winds could never hold so long
In breath as her loud sighs unwearied Blast;
Nor could the Air's thin storms blow half so strong,
Or one another forward croud so fast:
And what for her Design so fit a gale
Who meant through Sorrow's Ocean to sail?

291

Indeed when Days of reverend Churche's Joy
Did in their festival horizon dawn,
She laid aside her penitent Annoy,
And with the Catholick Triumph mix'd her own:
Yet still her Sighs and Tears she could not choose
At least for joyous Love, to interpose.

292

Her Couch was ready furnish'd every where,
Her valiant Sleep being on the naked Ground:
Forecasting as she was, her lodging there
Right politickly she contriv'd; and found
A way to make her Grave seem neither odd
Nor uncooth, when she there should go to bed.

293

And though faint Flesh, this Couch might churlish deem,
She felt it courteous in the best of Love;
Those lusty Thoughts which in a soft-lay'd Dream
With hot uncleanness through the fancy rove;
Were curbed by this sober Hardship's Rein
Which cool'd all mutinies' pulses in her Brain.

294

For, wanton Cogitations Cowards are,
The delicate tender Sons of easy Rest:
Who painful Virtues hardy quarters fear,
And only love a lazy downy Nest.
Soft are their limbs, and therefore warm and drie
Would fain be kept, and upon Feathers lie.

295

When sparing Capricorn would not allow
To Day, a space as liberal, as to Night;
She no advantage took, but studied how
To piece up curtail'd Day with Candle-light:
And still was up, though Phebus were in bed,
Till her Devotion's Task she finish'd had.

163

296

But that to such extension swell'd, that she
Was often spy'd, and overtaken by
The laziest Morn, e'r her great work could be
As great's her mind, and gain maturity.
Yet then to Rest she seldom bowed till
Her weary Head down on her Prayerbook fell.

297

For Time, inestimable Time, was that
On which her only Avarice she fed:
Griev'd that the world with such elaborate
And costly Idleness had studied.
A thousand courtly Pastimes, seeing they
Alas, pass not the Time, but Man, away:

298

Madly-improvident Man; who though vain he
Be sure he's sure of nothing, but to Die;
Though in his power the next poor moment be
No more than is the next Age; labours by
The help of long-extended empty Sport
To make the too-too-posting Hours seem short.

299

Psyche ne'r found so tedious a Day,
But still she thought Night crouded on too fast:
She knew, as hard and narrow, so the Way
To Heav'n was long; and in her greatest haste
She fear'd Death's darkness might rush on, e'r she
Safe at her mighty Journey's end could be.

300

Unwearied Custom in this strictness made
The sweetest world unsavory to her Taste:
Her Senses relish'd not their wonted Trade,
Tame were her Passions, and her Fervor's chaste;
Her Body humbled and beat down so low,
That no rank weeds in that dry Soil could grow.

301

Her Pulse beat none but Moderation's pace;
Her virgin Blood cloistred it self within,
And never look'd abroad but when her face
In graceful Virtue's blushing Dress would shine:
Her venerable gravely-moving Eye
Darted no beams but those of Piety.

302

About her Soul her fleshy Vestment sate
As close and fit as Fitness could devise;
A Maid more trim and sprucely delicate
She seemed now in Heav'n's judicious eyes,
Than when she wore a larger bulk without her
And her full Body ruffled more about her.

303

So just and strait her Feature was, no wild
Distortions or Distempers room could spy
Where to assail her: Health its kingdom held
In every Part, and brisk Activity
Liv'd in her mortified Flesh; whose skin
Look'd near as pale, as she was pure within.

304

But yet her Mental Powers more lively were,
Not being hampered or clogged by
Those Fumes and Clouds which from luxuriant Cheer
Full at the face of heedless Reason fly;
And damp those Eyes with lazy Dimness which
Objects sublime intended were to reach.

305

The Bow of all her sprightful Faculties
She order'd to be always strung and bent:
No bus'ness was so quick as to surprise
Her heart asleep; nor could she be content
Lazy Concoction's leisure to attend;
If work were ready, ready was her Hand.

306

Thus quite disbanded in her troubled sky
All gloomy Frowns she saw, which cleer'd into
The cheerful beauty of serenity:
She saw her rudely-blustering servants, who
Disturb'd her Region, in one Calm united:
And at this sight of Peace her soul delighted.

164

CANTO XXI. The Sublimation.

The ARGUMENT.

Dead to unworthy Life, her self above
Her self, aspiring Psyche lifts, and in
Perfection's Sphere appoints those wheels to move
On which her Logos and her Thelema ran.
Then Satan she defies, though crafty He
Came clothed in Angelick Clarity.

1

Hard is thy hap, poor Virtue, who by All
Applauded art, yet truly Lov'd by Few;
Whilst lucky Vice, although both Great and Small
Brand her for Ugly, yet her horrid Hue
They hug so close, that 'tis no Hell can fright,
No Heav'n can woo them from that mad Delight.

2

With Most, Thou serv'st to trim Discourse, and paint
Praise-hunting Gestures and ambitious Looks;
But She, inshrined like the adored Saint,
Reigns in the Temple of the Soul: in Books
Thou dwellest, She in Lives; and though Thou art
Frequently Read, She's oftner got by heart.

3

Or if thy worth so fortunate can be
(For sometimes wondrous things will come to pass)
As to convince our Approbation; we
Afford thee still a warey shie Embrace:
Some piece of thee we venture on: but are
Jealous, in Goodness to proceed too far.

4

And witty too in Self delusion, we
Against high-streined Piety can plead;
Gravely pretending that Extremity,
Is Vice's Clime; that by the Catholick Creed
Of all the world it is acknowledg'd, that
The temperate Mean is always Virtue's seat.

5

Hence comes the Race of mungrel Goodness; hence
Faint Tepidness usurpeth Fervor's name:
Hence will the earthborn Meteor needs commence
In his gay glaring robes, sydereal Flame:
Hence foolish Man, if moderately Evil,
Dreams he's a Saint because he's not a Devil.

6

Rare souls are they, who still forgetting what
Behind them conquer'd lies; with restless heat
Reach at new Laurels, and adventure at
Whate'r inviteth Gallantry to sweat;
Who, like our Psyche, scorn their course to stop,
Till they have doubled fair Perfection's Top.

7

For as the generous Spark is not content
With having climb'd the Air's first stage, since by
The spurring fervor of its natural Bent
Above the third it aims; and needs must die,
Unless it may its high Design atchieve,
And in Fire's elemental bosom live:

8

So Psyche, who to Excellence's sphere
Steer'd her brave Course, now for a second flight
Her Wings and Resolution did prepare;
Knowing a Third remained still, which might
Her former Venture frustrate; if in this
She coward turn'd, and bow'd to Weariness.

9

In meekly-daring Zeal, she vow'd to try
The utmost of her strength: and fear'd not what
Mishap might intercept her Bravery:
Though Chance's Wheel in her hand rolled not,
In God's it did; And upon This will I
Since he has giv'n me leave, said she, rely.

10

As sure I am that he can bear me up,
As that, left to my self, I down shall tumble:
Nor can I fail to reach the glorious Top
Of my inflam'd Ambition, whilst I humble
My climbing heart: no longer will I, though
On Earth I live, a Dweller be below.

165

11

Logos forthwith appearing at her Call,
With fixed count'nance thus she him bespake:
Thou seest with what exact Obedience all
My vulgar Subjects on their shoulders take
My heavyest yokes; and far, far be it Thou
Who greater art, less Loyalty should'st show.

12

If common Herbs and Grass can learn to give
Faithful Attendance on their Lord the Sun;
What Candor can the Marigold reprieve
From Censure's shameful Lash, if she alone
Whom Nature joins so near to Him, denies
Her higher Duties' kindly sacrifice?

13

Could thy best Hopes have ever thought that my
Wild suburb Servants would have found such dear
Content in those sad Loads; whose Novelty
Quite slew at first their jealous hearts with fear?
Yet now Tranquillity and Joy and Bliss
The fruit of my severe Injunctions is.

14

To brutish Dulness being near of kin,
Their ears disrelish'd Reason's sweetest Plea;
And hard it was for heavy them to win
Upon their carnal selves, and bow to Me.
But should'st thou linger so, it monstrous were,
And would with thine own Essence interfere.

15

Remember but thy noble strength, and dare
To be thy self: no Arrow with such speed
Snatcheth its shortest journey through the Air;
No lightning with such nimble wings can spread
Its self from East to West; as thou canst fly
Ev'n to the crest of all Sublimity.

16

Abuse not then that brave Activity
By hankering and flagging here below:
Stout-winged Eagles ne'r were made to be
Consorts to flitting Dunghil flies. O how
Wilt Thou thine own worth answer, if thine aim
Thou tak'st beneath thy Self, and thy high Name?

17

Alas, these sublunary Gewgaws be
So full of Emptiness, that wretched they
Will shrink and crumble into Vanity
When thou begin'st to grasp them: never play
At such poor game, as will but mock thy Pains;
So far are they from answering cost with gains.

18

Learning, which looks so big, and nods Disdain
On course illiterate Swains, could never yet
More than that self-tormenting Wit attain
Of understanding its own Want of Wit:
Whilst simple Souls are never vexed by
Those stinging Checks of learn'd Simplicity.

19

Yet no disdainful Knower e'r can gain
That Admiration which ambitious He
Hunts for with studious and palefac'd pain,
Unless his Auditors unlearned be.
Art wonders not at Art; 'tis Ignorance's
Staring applause which Learning's fame advances.

20

How lost are those poor Worms, who though they crawl
On Earth, will needs be traversing Heav'n's Hill:
Where whilst their dazel'd Eyes and Brains do roll,
The spheres with Birds and Beasts and Fish they fill;
And though they talk much of Seav'n others there,
Alas themselves the greatest Planets are.

21

Nature's Disciples, whose vast Library
In every mine, and every Garden grow,
Ne'r learnt for their own Health's security
Such sure Receipts as each brute Creature knows:
These know, They Guess, and make it plain appear
That Beasts Physicians, Men but Doctors are.

22

The busy Schools, what are they but perplext
And snarled Mazes, in whose wild Meander
With thousand craggy scrupulous By-paths vext
The everdoubting Student's forc'd to wander?
Learning her self's a Circle, and the Soul
Can find no Rest where she must always roul.

23

Had any Rest dwelt there, thou hadst not in
Ecclesia's glorious Hall beheld how all
The Patriarchs of Worldly Wit did grin
Upon the Chains which held their Pride in thrall;
And by sad Demonstration made them see
How hard they studied endless fools to be.

24

What gains reap'st thou thy self when thou didst sow
Thy pains on Nazerene or Cerinthian soil;
When coyly scorning Heav'n's Instruction, thou
Would'st with terrestrial Wisdom needs beguile
Thy better Knowledge? in thy Blush I see
Confession of that costly Vanity.

25

But ask thy Memory, and she will tell
Thee what thou undertook'st when thou wert freed
From fairtongu'd Heresy's foulhearted Hell:
Of all thy Self mad'st thou not then a Deed
To me? a Deed which still in force doth stand
For sure I am, I cancell'd not the Bond.

166

26

And now Performance I require, nor will
I bate a Tittle of the Obligation:
If this strict Course involv'd thee any ill,
I easly would admit thy Deprecation.
But Bound thou art to thine own Happiness.
And Heav'n forbid I thence should thee release.

27

No such Indulgence must I thee allow
As most malicious Tyranny would be:
Sooner among the clouds shall Dolphins row,
And Eagles flutter through the deepest Sea;
Then I will Accessary be to thy
Enslaving freedom and self-felony.

28

No; thy perpetual Task henceforth shall be
In Heav'n's soft air thy right-aim'd wings to stretch.
Say not, they are too short; for Constancy
Of Exercise will quickly make them reach,
And thee enable gallantly to rise
And soar amongst the Birds of Paradise.

29

Amongst those Birds who on the royal face
Of th'everhighnoon Sun of Majesty
In meek audacity devoutly gaze.
Reading his mighty Providential Eye,
And all those splendid Marvels his Dignation
Permitteth to created Contemplation.

30

Thy endless study thou shalt settle there:
But with this sober caution, that thine eye
Trust not its blear and feeble self too far,
But on that never-erring Glass rely
Which in Ecclesia's Court to thee was given:
Truth's Mirrour, and the Spectacles of Heav'n.

31

There may'st thou meet a Feast, and only there,
Which all thy vast Capacity will fill:
There may'st thou riot in that sacred cheer,
Which would'st thou buy, the whole World could not sell;
That cheer, whose worth's above the World as far
As its Exuberance and Dwelling are.

32

Leaps not thy Soul at this? If any where
Thy search can once retrieve a worthier Prize
I'l not command thy strength to wrestle here:
But since all Treasures this alone outvies;
I must not suffer Scorn to say of thee,
Logos could reason find a fool to be.

33

And that Anamnesis thine handmaid may
Advance thy brave Adventure, upon Her
My strict and peremptory charge I lay
To see no Trash pollute her Register:
For many a Toy which wears an harmless look,
May cunningly deflower her virgin Book.

34

Wild fancy would be tame; did she not find
A thousand Shapes of vain and useless Things
Wandring about the storehouse of the mind;
On whose soft backs she gets, and madly flings
About the region of the Brain; when sleep
In her blind arms doth Thee close pris'ner keep,

35

Those Arts unfortunately-pregnant Wits
Bring forth to wait on Curiosity;
That too-industrious Learning which forgets
Th'eternal Wisdom; that sage foolery
Which puffs up Pharisaick Hearts; that skill
Which with fine froth the Theatre doth fill;

36

Quaint Legends, fond Romances, wanton Songs;
With idelness's bus'ness, tickling News;
Which swarm so thick upon unwary Tongues,
And man's sole Treasure, precious Time, abuse;
Must not that Bosom clog and pester, where
Heav'n is desir'd to be a Sojourner.

37

No; Heav'n is large, and our poor Hearts are narrow;
Heav'n will our utmost Stowage fraught, and more.
The spacious breasts of Seraphs could we borrow,
Still in Capacity we should be poor;
Still would our Blisse's eb-defying Tide
Over our highest banks in triumph ride.

38

Those Notions which their bounden tribute pay
To Sanctity, I will not her forbid:
But yet her Zeal's prime care shall be, to lay
Up store of that pure Heav'n-descended Bread;
Which Manna's famous bounty doth outgive,
And teach frail Men eternal Lives to live.

39

That Bread which flourish'd from the Mouth of Bliss,
God's sacred Word consign'd in Scripture; where
Wisdom's best Jewels, and the rich excess
Of deepest Learning, all inshrined are:
That living Mine of Oracles, that spring
Of every sober heart-contenting thing.

40

Such precious Eloquence ne'r built its hive
On any Roman or Athenian Tongue,
As in this honey-shaming Book doth live:
Such rare ecstatick Sweets were never rung
From humane Poets' love-oppressed Soul,
As in each leaf and line their currents roul

167

41

For what is every leaf, and every line,
But several Chanels through whose bosom glides
The soft and supple Soul of most divine
Most satisfying Truth; which welcome bids
All holy Guests, and with unwearied Store
Of royal Pleasures flow for evermore.

42

Her prudent Bottles must at every one
Of these dear Streams be taught to drink: yet she
Shall with most constant ardent study run
To David's blessed Well; where Suavity
In three times fifty Springs is bubling up,
And liquid Heav'n to thirsty Souls set ope.

43

Then in the Song of Songs (that is, of Love,
Who there in sacred Wantonness doth play,
Streining his strong inamor'd Notes above
The loftiest spheres most sublimated lay,)
Her pious Revels she may freely make,
And choise of Solomon's best Riches take.

44

But from the Evangelick fountains she
The readyest floods of Holyness shall draw;
Floods, in whose more than crystal Clarity
Innumerable virgin Graces row;
Floods were Humility, who only hath
All Virtues for her handmaids, joys to bathe.

45

All Mysteries array'd in Sweetness there,
And Life's own Life, she shall not fail to see:
There God's own Motions in an human sphere
Accommodated to her Weakness, she
Shall safely read; and from the dropping Lip
Of Jesus, how much more than Nectar sip.

46

And thus laid in; thy Stock so great will be
As well may laugh at any fear of driving
That generous Trade of busy Piety,
And any Doubt of answerable Thriving.
'Tis rotten Wealth makes Bankrupts such, but thine
Estate shall be immortal and divine.

47

Here Psyche ceas'd. But Logos scratch'd his head,
And muster'd up his contradicting Wit:
Yet her Proposal when he pondered,
And what strong Reasons back'd and flanker'd it;
Finding all Pleas forestall'd, he bow'd in mute
Obedience to what he could not confute.

48

She, glad on any terms that Logos had
Buckled his shoulders to this noble yoke;
In all his Task a decent method made,
That Time it self might call him to his book;
And turn his leaves and shew him every day
What lesson ready for his study lay.

49

For sad Experience oft had shewed her
That best Imployments, if not ranked in
A constant Equipage, would enterfere,
And one another's Progress undermine:
That Order is the soul of Bus'ness, and
Supports the Work both of the Brain and Hand.

50

A glorious Week of Attributes she chose
Among the Deitie's most boundless Treasures;
And prest her Sev'n Days to attend them close
Each at his proper cue: Time's constant measures
She meant to count, not by the posting Sun,
But her own Contemplation's Motion.

51

The Morn which to the World set Sunday ope,
(That Sun's fair Day which did at Salem rise,)
Awak'd her not, but found her ready up
And busy at her work: the reverent eyes
Of Logos wide were ope, and earnestly
Fix'd on the Godhead's wondrous Unity.

52

Nothing is lac'd so strictly-strait into
It self, as this immeasurable Nature;
That Singularity which seemeth so
Close girt to every Individual Creature;
Hangs loose about them, if they judged be
By this sole Rule of pure Simplicity.

53

A dull Passivity doth sneaking lie
About the center of the Seraphs' hearts,
Checking those Flames of their Activity
Which seem all spirit: and wheresoever Parts
Can be descry'd, though ne'r so close they run,
Yet still the whole's not absolutely One.

54

O no! should God dissolve those secret Glues
Which in their strait and spruce subsistance knit
The purest Angels' Natures; that which shews
So strangely single, would in sunder split;
Their wings would moult and melt, their flames would die,
And they themselves from their own selves would fly.

55

Ev'n Unity it self had never grown
It self, if not shrunk up and model'd by
This Prototype: that Unity, which thrown
About this world, girts up all things which lie
Under the foot of that eternal Throne
On which he reigns, who is supremely One.

168

56

Yet not more truly One, than strangely Three,
But knit up in a most mysterious Knot
Of simple singular Triplicity:
Which Psyche, though she comprehended not,
Yet with admiring eyes she dwelt upon,
As Eagles on the Light, the Flame, the Sun.

57

There she beheld, how infinitely Bold,
And equally Besotted was their sin,
Who in their wild Religion's List inroll'd
A Croud of Gods: she now could easlier win
Upon her Faith, to think that there were none
At all, than yield there could be more than One.

58

O how she praised and ador'd that high
And burning Jealousy, which though she saw
Flaming with most indignant Ardency
Upon the forehead of the ancient Law;
Till now she knew not so profoundly why
Heav'n most abhor'd Polytheous Piety.

59

But then embrav'd by meek heroick heat
Nearer and nearer to this Knot she drew;
And prostrate at her mighty Maker's feet
This panting Cry upon his footstool threw:
Great Lord, why may not I with Thee be One,
Though not by Unity, yet by Union!

60

O, I am now a thousand Things a day!
But were I once to Thee intirely join'd;
No Objects should thy Psyche steal away,
Nor into their vain selves transform my mind:
Thy self, and mine I should behold in Thee,
And all things else I could desire to see.

61

So I no longer should this moment be
All Hope, and nothing else but Fear the next:
So by no Checker of pure Clarity,
And gloomy Doubting, should I still be vext:
So to it self my Life no more shall give
The Lye, nor I be Dying while I Live.

62

The next Day's Dawn her meditations drew
On her adored Master's Truth to feed;
Truth so supreme and infinitely true,
As Seas of boundless satisfaction shed
Upon her Intellect; whose daintiest Feast
By Truth alone is furnished and drest.

63

Solid substantial Treasures here she saw,
To which all other Beings, shadows are;
And found compulsive Reason to avow
This maxim which astounds a natural Ear;
That God is in such sovereign Certainty
Himself, that Nothing truely is, but He.

64

The Universe's Fulness being founded
On Emptiness's self, it cannot be
More real than its Bottom: what is grounded
On frothy Bubbles, sticks to Vanity
Close by the roots: and seeing All Things came
From Nothing's womb, they must be like their Dame.

65

Hence, when a quickpac'd Intellect doth trace
The lines of any Creature's Essence, though
At first it meets with what presents a face
Of solid Something; it will quickly grow
To its vain journey's end; and stopped be
By huge Abysses of Vacuity.

66

But when it launcheth forth into the Sea
Of increated Nature, it can sail
Through true and genuine substantiality
Which never will its contemplation fail
By terminating Want's ignoble shore,
But lets it drive its Course for evermore.

67

And in this blessed Ocean Psyche met
Such vast Reality, that in disdain
She call'd the World, and all that swell'd in it,
A mighty lye, dress'd up and trim'd with vain
Embellishments; whose outside flatteries
Make blear-ey'd credulous fools Delusion's prize.

68

Yet far more Sweets her Third Day did afford;
For then her Speculation fix'd its Eye
Upon the royal Goodness of her Lord,
The fountain of unbounded Suavity;
A fountain which it self at home doth fill,
And through the Universe its Influence thrill.

69

For as the Sun on every Star doth poure
The Bounty of his inexhausted beams;
Inriching them with his illustrious store,
Who else could ne'r have kindled their own flames:
So all the Raies of Goodness which are read
In Creatures' eyes, are but the Sparks of God.

70

Meer Sparks indeed, who of their Weakness by
Their twinckling Tremor plain confession make:
But God's supreme original Bonity
Doth from its Home its vast demensions take:
It lives, and flames in his most boundless Breast,
And fills with sweetest fulness all its Nest.

169

71

Here Thelema leap'd in, and clearly found
That God alone was absolutely Good:
Fain, fain she would her ravish'd self have drown'd
In this delicious Attribute's dear flood;
But Psyche rein'd her Zeal; whose life she meant
Should in another sacrifice be spent.

72

Her fourth Day's task was wondrous hard and high;
For now her thoughts adventured to look
Upon the Volumes of Immensity,
The seal'd though ope, the plain though mystick Book
Of her grand Lord's Extent: a Book which made
The World to less than its first Nothing fade.

73

But as her Contemplations wander'd here,
The further they went on, the further they
Were from the end of their most endless sphere,
Loosing themselves in their increasing Way:
Yet Psyche felt her heart take dear delight
Thus to be lost from morning unto night.

74

Oft did she cry, what though by loosing, I
Am fain to find; by being Blind, to see?
What though I cannot Comprehend, but by
Granting my want of due Capacity?
I am content, my God, since I by this
Negation thy greatness best confess.

75

I see thou art Immense and Infinite,
And therefore See thee not; yet see thee more
By this unable and denying Sight,
Than they whose saucy Eyes dare by the poor
Comparison of whatsoe'r it be
Express the Measure of thy Deity.

76

But since thou art so vast, O mighty Lord,
Whence is't, that Man's scant narrow Heart to Thee
An acceptable Dwelling can afford!
How is it, that thy Love's Immensity
Shrinks up thy Nature's! which is yet as great
As 'twas before, ev'n in this Little seat.

77

And O, may Psyche's Breast become the Scene
Of this dear Wonder! thy Infinitude
Can no where find a Mansion so mean,
So low, so disproportion'd to include
What knows no bounds: O then inhabit me,
And so shall I be sure to dwell in thee.

78

The fifth Day summon'd all her Might, to view
That matchless Power of pure Divinity:
Strait in her face the whole Creation flew
With witness of its Author's Strength, which she
Read from the fairest Heav'n's sublimest Crest
Down to the gloomy Center's lowest Nest.

79

Yet though the universal fabrick were
The full Expansion of Magnificence;
She often chose the smallest Character
Of close short-writ Epitomies; and thence
Observ'd God's finger-work in smallest flies,
As great as was his Arm's in widest Skies.

80

But Man took up her deepest Admiration:
Man that rich Extract of all things beside,
That wonderous Juncture of the whole Creation,
By which the Heav'n to Earth is strangely ty'd;
Yea more than so, for God unto the Creature
Is married by none but Human Nature.

81

Such comely Architecture, such Concent
Of fair Proportions, such Variety
Of well-agreeing Rooms, such Ornament
Of Softness, Politure and Colour, she
Observed here, as fully taught her why
Man was enthron'd in Nature's Sovereignty.

82

Yet not content thus at the second hand
To feast her hungry Meditations; she
Gallantly made a further Venture, and
Gaz'd on her Maker's naked Potency;
Where she discover'd strength enough to build
More Worlds than Atoms she in this beheld.

83

Nor Bounds nor Bars she saw, which could forbid
The Pleasure of his Hand, but only those
Which Contradiction had established:
Yet serv'd not they his Power to inclose,
But to demonstrate that his noble Might
Could nothing do but what was true and right.

84

O how she pitied those gay Princes, who
Upon exterior helps misplace the Name
Of Strength: and dread not what all foes can do,
If they have once prevail'd with vaunting fame
To publish to the World their numerous force
Of Castles, Ships, Arms, Money, Men, and Horse.

85

For what are those swollen words to any King,
Whose Arm's as short, whose sinews are as weak
As those of his mean Peasants; who can bring
No Legions into the field, nor wreak
His challeng'd fury on his ready Fo,
If his be not his Subjects' Pleasure too?

170

86

Can his sole Word the battle fight, and wrest
The Laurel from the strugling Enemies?
O no! his Power doth more in Others rest
Than in Himself; and if by Mutiny's
Unhappy spark, Rebellion's flame burst out,
By his own forces his defeat is wrought.

87

But Psyche saw how her Creator's Might
Fast to his proper Will alone was chain'd;
Omnipotence, whene'r he pleased to fight
Led up his Van, for in his Hand it reign'd;
In that vast hand which doth support and stay
All other Arms from mouldering away.

88

Yet though thus Potent, He is also Mild,
And she as such the Sixth Day him admired:
She sadly weighed, how all Ages held
One Principle of Boldness, and conspired
Against their Patient God, as if his strong
Right-hand were bound because He held his Tongue.

89

Amaz'd she stood, to mark how He kept under
Incensed Justice, who would fain have thrown
His ready Vengeance dress'd in dreadful Thunder,
In Wars, Plagues, Deluges, Drought, Famin, down
Upon the wretched heads and hearts of those
Who durst in spight of Mercy, be his foes.

90

Indeed she saw that Mercy fix her eye
Upon the Rainbow; where she sweetly read
An Obligation of her Lenity,
Though Hell-encourag'd Sin bore up its head
As high as Heav'n: yet by her own consent,
Yea and desire, that signal Bow was bent.

91

The Bow was bent; yet not to shoot, but show
How Mercy bound her self to do her best
The world to shelter from a second Blow,
Which from the first her only Hand releast.
Else had the Deluge not repented, and
To Earth made restitution of dry Land.

92

Else had the vaster flood of fire e'r now
Broke from the banks of Fate, and over run
Not only Nature's Colonies below,
But all the fairly-spread Plantation
Of highest Stars, and this condemned World
Into its final funeral Ashes hurl'd.

93

This Speculation inform'd her how
Much more heroick is the Victory,
When Sweetness wreaths the Bay aboout the brow,
Than when plain force snatches it thither: He
In whom are both supreme, takes more delight
In conquering by his Mercy, than his Might.

94

And O may I, said she, (when Night at length
Warn'd this her Meditation to conclude,)
Not by the dint of thy enraged Strength,
Dear Lord, but by thy Mercy be subdu'd!
If on a Worm thy Power thou wilt try,
O let it be the Might of Lenity!

95

But then each Seav'nth Day brings her thoughts their Cue,
The Wonders of his Glory to behold,
Which from the six preceeding did accrew,
And Brightness's Excess about him roll'd:
Wonders which gave Heav'n's Quire their Task to sing
Eternal Hallelujahs to their King.

96

And ravish'd here with mighty Joy and Love,
She took with entheous Them her part of Praise;
With utmost Zeal's intension she strove
Her Acclamations to their Key to raise:
And though she could not Sing so high nor clear
Her hearty Musick pleas'd Heav'n's candid ear.

97

She Thought, and Sung, and then she thought again,
For still new floods came rushing in upon her:
God's other Attributes' illustrious Train
Themselves in homage pay unto his Honor;
In whose incomparable Vastness they
Can all their now Infinitudes display.

98

Whatever breaths, or lives, or owns the least
Share of Existence, constant Tribute brings
To this bright Treasury, as well's the best
And fairest Cherub: yea ev'n empty things,
Defects and Sins, though not by Doing, yet
By Suff'ring what they merit, render it.

99

And shall my duty faint and pining be,
When all the World besides so fruitfull is?
Forbid it mighty King of Souls, said she;
Let not thy Psyche's heart the glory miss
Of honoring Thee, yea though my Life it cost;
That Life's best Saved which for Thee is lost.

100

In these high Roads thus did her restless soul
Renew her fervent Journeys day by day:
And as the Sun perpetually doth roul
From East to West, yet still in Heav'n doth stay;
So loftier-moving she in God alone
Still found her happy self where-e'r she ran.

171

101

Thus having spent, or rather gain'd, some years,
She chang'd her task, but not her Industry:
For her meek Contemplation she prepares
To wait upon her Spouse's Majesty;
And those sweet Marvails of his Love to read
Which over her, and all the World, was spread.

102

And here with sympathetick Exultation
In amorous flames she strove her heart to melt;
For in the tract of every speculation
His Acts and Passions in her heart she felt,
Which always sad, or cheerly was, as she
His Sorrows or his Joys in thought did see.

103

A Pilgrimage much longer now she went,
And travell'd all the way with more divine
Delight, than when she from her Britain bent
Her zealous Course to holy Palestine:
Longer she dwelt on every Monument
Of what her Lord for her had done, or spent.

104

For then her Soul ran gazing to her Eye,
But now her Eye did to her Soul retreat:
And in that mystick Holy Land descry
Those Monuments all copied by the sweet
Art of Devotion, but exposed to
No dangerous Ambush of Cerinthian Fo.

105

A thousand times she sigh'd and wonder'd why
Brisk generous Spirits, who hunt for noble Stories
Through all Books else, should not be ravish'd by
The Lustre of the Evangelick Glories;
But more exactly strive to know the List
Of Cesar's Acts, than what was done by Christ.

106

But more she marvell'd how a Christian Heart,
Which scorn'd to give its blessed Name the Lye,
Could possibly forbear to snatch its part
In its Redemer's sacred History:
How Love could quit its loyal self, and yet
Not know whatever of its Spouse was writ.

107

Yet all this while on Logos's Wings she flew,
(Though Thelema sometimes would flutter by,)
And these were much too short and weak, she knew,
To tower and double that sublimity;
Which makes Perfection's third and highest story,
The Crown of Saints, and all the Angels' Glory.

108

On Thelema, to practise therefore now
Her Wit, she set, by charming Courtesy,
Contriving how her mighty Heart to bow,
And make it plyant to the Plot, which she
Had lay'd to Catch her into Bliss: and then
She gently grasp'd her hand, and thus began:

109

O Thou, the dearest of my Servants, who
Command'st the Keys of all that I possess;
Yea and of Me thy native Sovereign too,
Who have no power to stir abroad, unless
Thou op'st the door; how much I wish, that I
Had more to trust with thy Fidelity.

110

But since I neither am, nor have no more,
Let this suffice to bind thy heart to Me:
In gratitude Thou canst no less restore
Than prest Compliance, though I ask of thee
Some hard and costly service, so to prove
The rate and value of my Steward's Love.

111

But I my proper Interest can bate,
And by my Subjects' Gains account mine own:
Whate'r Advantages inhance their State,
In my repute will higher build my Crown.
They are my Riches, nor can I be poor
So long as thriving They increase their store.

112

All my Desire's no more than this: That thou
Would'st venture highest Happiness to reap;
And now dull Sense and Passion valiant grow,
Now Logos daily up to heav'n doth leap;
Not flinch alone, nor be content to stay
In any lower Region than They.

113

Remember that thy Wings of Strength are made;
No flight's too high or long for metall'd Thee:
No hard Design e'r made thy Courage fade,
Unless thy Self did'st timorously agree
To thy Defeat; such thine Advantage is,
If Win thou Wilt, to Win thou canst not miss.

114

Jesus, the sovereign Lord of Thee and Me,
Will give thee leave to make himself thy Prey:
Reach then thine Arms of noble Love, that He
Imprisoned in thy Embraces, may
For ever make thee Free, and with the best
Of Heav'n fill up and deify thy breast.

115

If this Adventure thou esteem'st too high,
Throw down thy self before his blessed Feet:
He cannot let thee there despised lie,
But will thy Homage with Acceptance greet;
And for that Resignation of thine,
His gracious Self to Thee again Resign.

172

116

This gallant Challenge wrought so strong upon
The generous heart of Thelema, that She
The forward Proof of her Submission
Shot instantly from her low-bended Knee;
And Heav'n forbid, she cry'd, I should deny
Your Pleasure, or mine own Felicity.

117

Though not at Jesus's royal feet, (O no,
I am too vile to aim my Pride so high,)
Yet, Madam, all my Self at your's I throw
To be accepted, and disposed by
Your Love and Wisdom; use me as you please,
Lo I return you yours, and mine own Keys.

118

Triumphant Joy strait flam'd in Psyche's breast
The Virgin's ready Loyalty to see:
Whom she embraced thrice, and thrice she kist,
And sweetly forc'd to bate her humble knee.
Her welcome Keys she then to her own side
(Weeping and smiling) in a loveknot ty'd.

119

And now I feel my self a Queen, said she,
Queen of my Self: yet be assured Thou,
O faithful Maid, shalt find thy self more free
By this subjection, than when thou did'st bow
To thine own blind and rash Desires; which have
Made thee too oft to Vanity a Slave.

120

Exalted thus to her own Wishes' Crest,
Into her pious Oratory She
With Throngs of Vows impatiently prest,
To celebrate a new Solemnity:
An Holocaust she had to sacrifice,
For which her own stout Zeal the Fire supplies.

121

Did golden Mountains tempt her now to stay;
Did Millions of Worlds made up in one
Inestimable Bait, smile in her way,
And woo her but to let one Minute run
Before her work; not all th'inchanting force
Of those strong Complements could stop her Course.

122

No; she of joyous Love in travail is,
And feels the pangs of dainty Parturition;
Till forth she brings her mighty Sacrifice,
'Tis not all Heav'n can ease her smart condition.
Speed, Speed alone could gratify her now:
Speed's wings she snatch'd, and to her bus'ness flew.

123

So fast she flew, that she outstript the Thought
Of all the World, which now she left behind her:
No other Work but what she went about
Lay in her Fancie's shop: Self could not mind her
Of her own self; for, totally on fire,
She nothing was but what she did desire.

124

A Preface of a thousand Sighs and Tears
Before her brave Oblation she spread;
As many mystick Groans to Jesus's ears
Like Harbingers of her design she speed:
Then prostrate on the ground her Face she laid,
And of her humbler Heart the Altar made.

125

Upon this Altar, bound both hands and feet,
Her Thelema she for the Offring threw:
And, bend thy gracious Eye, she cry'd, thou sweet
Compassionate Lamb of Heav'n, to Me, who sue
For thy Acceptance of this Sacrifice,
Which at the footstool of thy Mercy lies.

126

Thy royal Bounty gave this Will to Me;
But I have long long found my self too weak
To manage such a great Estate: to Thee
I therefore render it. O gently take
It home again, and govern it for Me
The feeble Handmaid of thy Majesty.

127

Do with 't whate'r thou wilt; so it be Thine
I care not what betide it; since I know
Thy Pleasure, like thy Self, must be Divine.
O see, see how it pants and heaves! if Thou
Wilt not accept it, let it lie, for me;
How can I love what is despis'd by Thee?

128

Never did Lightning flashing from the skie
Rush down and flame to Earth with less delay,
Than did the Fervor of this Prayer flie,
And snatch from thence to Heav'n its sudden way;
Nor made it there a stop at any Sphere,
But scour'd through all and reached Jesus's ear.

129

Propitious He strait yielded his Consent,
And opening wide his blessed Arms, embraced
His Psyche's Offring with as high Content,
As if Himself had more than She been graced.
O King of sweetest Love, what Contemplation
Can stand enough amaz'd at thy Dignation!

130

But zealous she now striving up to send
Her Altar after her brave Sacrifice;
Perceiv'd a suddain Plenitude extend
Her bosom with such ravishing Rarities;
That she perplext with unknown sweets, admired
With what strange Paradise she was inspired.

173

131

At length examining her incroaching Bliss,
Another Thelema in her heart she spyed;
But in so lovely and majestick Dress.
That whence she came she by her Looks descryed,
And most profoundly felt she could by none
Be sent, but by her heav'nly Spouse alone.

132

His Will it was, indeed: for noble He
Not to Return, more than he Takes, disdains;
In lieu of Psyche's Offring, instantly
This Present, which more precious Worth contains
Than Heav'n and Earth, from his own bosom's nest
He delicately shot into her breast.

133

This grasp'd her soul so fast, and knit it so
Intirely to her Spouse's heart, that She
Strait seemed to have nothing more to do
With Psyche's Interest, since potent He
Was seized of her; and of self bereft,
She now to Love's sole Tyranny was left.

134

Nor lost great Love his time, but domineer'd
In her subdued heart with full carreer;
And she as glad to be his Slave appear'd
As he rejoyced to triumph on Her.
For by his Conquests counted she her own,
Being by every Fall far higher thrown.

135

Thrown up to new strange stages of Delight,
And fresh Excess of those immortal Things
Which never were debas'd to mortal sight,
Nor stoop'd to please the Ears of proudest Kings:
Things which the largest heart of Man with vain
Indeavor pants and stretches to contain.

136

O no; spiritual mystick Joys, although
They in the Bosom's inmost Closet dwell,
Their Habitation's limits overflow,
And past the shores of Comprehension swell.
Lost in her Gains was Psyche, and by this
Riddle of Solace made her Prize's Prize.

137

And now her Soul, much like a weaned Child
Which wholly hangs upon his Nurse's Will,
It self not by it self did move and wield,
But absolutely resting on the Skill
And Care of her dear Lord who tutor'd it,
Was carried wheresoever He thought fit.

138

This made all Sweets and Dainties here below
(For with such Names our fond Mistaks will grace them)
Disrellish in her accurate Sense, and grow
Truly themselves: which was enough to chase them
From wise Acceptance; for their borrow'd shape
Is that alone which do's our love entrap.

139

On God her only Joys she chose to feast;
His Pleasure was her sole and precious Bliss;
Her heart's sage Palate found such savory Taste
In all His Statutes, that the Pleasantness
Both of the Honey and the Honey-comb
Lost in her approbation all their room.

140

What grated hardest on her Soul before,
Wrongs, Slanders, Pains, Distress, Calamities,
Mishaps, and Sickness tortur'd her no more;
For by her Spouse's beck she mov'd her eyes,
And still embrac'd as Best whatever He
Did either Order, or Permit, to be.

141

This kindled such a Bonfire of Delight
Throughout her breast, that had she been invited
For goodly Paradise to yield her Right
In this Possession, she would strait have slighted
The mighty lure, and triumph'd still to be
The Holocaust of Love's Extremity.

142

Yet was her Passion's wondrous Violence
Sweetned with such divine Serenity;
That with less undisturbed influence
The Sun's full Beams about the Welkin flie
To light the Day, than did these Flames of Love
Through all her Heart's calm quiet rigions move.

143

In dainty Silence she her Soul possest
With firm Adhesion to her secret Bliss;
Ev'n all her motions mingled were with Rest,
Because they still concentered with His;
Whose Actions, though all Infinite they be,
Their number up is ty'd in Unity.

144

Mean while the World, whom her Austerity
Could not but check and sting; by peevish scorn
Reveng'd themselves: for lo, said they, how she
By Melancholy's blackness grown forlorn,
Esteems her self as fair as if the best
Of heav'n's bright Beauties had her count'nance drest.

145

In proud Retirement her Content she mews,
And doggedly Reserv'd disdains to hold
Fair Correspondence, or as much as use
The Courtsy of her Friends: as if she could
Not keep the Statutes of her God, but by
Breaking the Laws of all Civility.

174

146

She from her self by wilful Robbery
Plunders those honest sweets which gracious Heav'n
To check Life's Tide of Infelicity
Hath into Moderation's bosom given;
And taxeth God's own Bounty, by Refusing
What Men cannot approve but by their Using.

147

Should any paltry Begger venture so
To serve her Ladyship, could she surmise
That both the thankless Gift, and Giver too
He scorned not? scarce would his humble Guise
Persuade her that his Stomach's inward Pride
Was by Devotion's Fervor Mortify'd.

148

Thus did the Ravens against the Swan inveigh:
But now no seeds of Discontent remain'd
In Psyche's heart: she let them say their Say,
And from their Envy this new Laurel gain'd:
Her silent Patience answer'd all their Scorn,
And to her Crown their Calumnies did turn.

149

But as she reigned in this mystick Peace;
Her's, and all pious Souls' eternal Fo,
Counting his own Vexations by her Ease,
Tore his fell heart with studying what to do.
At length resolv'd, he hastes, the Uglyness
Of his Design, in Beauty's Mask to dress.

150

Time was, when He Precentor of that Quire
Which all the Spheres with Hallelujahs fill,
Arrayed was in glorious Attire,
Whose gallantry did then become him well:
But when he Discord sung, and Rebel turn'd
That Crime for him his hideous Blackness earn'd.

151

Yet he remembring his original guise,
And skill'd in cunningest Hypocrisy,
Patch'd up himself a Coat of gorgeous Lies,
And many a comely Trapping got; whereby,
Though He the Sovereign were of foulest Night,
He might an Angel seem of fairest Light.

152

His ragged Horns of steel he plucked in,
And on his rusty brazen Count'nance spread
A soft, a ruddy, and welpolish'd skin;
His Front, with envious wrinckles furrowed,
He planed over, sweetning all his Face
With blooming Youthfulness, and smiling Grace.

153

Into a knot he gathered up his Tail,
And ty'd it at his back; of every Toe
And Finger carefully he cut the Nail;
And then his Hands and Feet he painted so
That what before was harsh and sooty, now
Usurped cleanly Daintiness's hue.

154

The glaring Pitch of his wide-flaming Eyes
To moderate and comely Beams he turned;
Beams which profess'd Cognation with the Skies,
And like the highest Stars' pure glances burned.
He borrowed both Arabia's Gales and Spice
His Breath's rank Sulphure to aromatize.

155

His bushy snarled Locks of fretful Snakes
He shaved off from his more angry Head;
By whose advice into the Tomb he breaks
Of an embalmed Virgin lately dead;
And stealing thence her fresh-perfumed Tresses,
His Baldness he with Curles of Amber dresses.

156

An hundred Swans then having plundered;
Their fairest and their softest feathers he
In two brave Combinations marshalled,
And measured and poised equally;
Which to his shoulders close he fitted, and
A pair of goodly Wings had at command.

157

A Robe he chose whose colour scorn'd the Milk,
And with his Wings did correspondence hold;
Its texture was of light and pliant silk
Belac'd and fring'd with oriental Gold:
That both its Pureness and its splendor might
Maintain, that down from Heav'n he took his flight.

158

Accouter'd thus; whilst Psyche wearied by
Her holy Vigils, yielded unto sleep;
Into her chamber softly stole the sly
Impostor, and found out a way to creep
Under the eyelids of her heart, where He
Himself presented in his Pageantry.

159

But when she started and awoke: fear not
Said cunning He, for Phylax is thy friend:
These Raies of mine did never Terror shoot,
But to thy Weakness Strength and Comfort lend:
And Heav'n forbid that I should prove unkind
Now thou my favor most deserv'st to find.

160

The gallantry of thy Devotion I
Come to applaud, and to increase its fire:
I grant thy zealous Wings have towred high,
But yet thy Spouse would have them labour higher;
And as immoderate in their Answer prove
As is the Challenge of his boundless Love.

175

161

Has not thy Soul now chose her worthy station
Far far above this groveling World below?
Has not the Virtue of thy last Oblation
Clasp'd thee close to thy God? how then canst thou
Any ignoble Solecism bear,
And make thy Motion lower than thy sphere?

162

The Watches frequent are and long, which thou
In dear attendance upon Him dost keep;
Yet oftner generous He, and longer too
To purchase Rest for thee did loose his sleep.
Be active now, remembring thou shalt have
Sufficient sleeping time in thy still grave.

163

Low hast thou pluck'd thy Bodie's plumes; but He
Was rent and torn and furrow'd up with lashes:
Shall not the Zeal of thy Austerity
Be legible in correspondent Gashes?
I know thou lovest not thy skin; but yet
'Twere not amiss thus much were writ on it.

164

Severe and resolute thy fastings be
If scanned by the faint World's vulgar fashion;
But forty Days He deign'd to fast for thee,
And now expects thy faithful Imitation:
As well he may, who an eternal feast
To quit a few days' fast, in Heav'n has drest.

165

Since then he means that thou with us shalt reign,
Betimes it will become thee to prepare
Thy self for our Society, and strein
Out all the dregs thou hast contracted here;
That raised to our Purity, thy Soul
May in Angelick Orbs for ever roul.

166

By Moses and Elias, who beheld
But at a distance Jesus's glimmering face,
Shall Psyche be in Abstinence excell'd?
Can she, on whom the Evangelick Grace
With such full lustre beats, by those whom blind
And shady Types envelop'd, be outshin'd?

167

O no; dear Pupil; since thy generous breast
Dar'd wish to be inflamed by that fire
Whose Aim's Perfection; let no lazy Rest
Beclog the Wings of thy sublime Desire.
What though thy death it hastens? Thou and I
To life's fair Realm shall but the sooner fly.

168

Thus sought the wily Tempter to invite
The Virgin to a fair-fac'd Precipice;
But as the Lamb's inspir'd by natural fright
To hate the Wolf, though in the honest fleece
Of mildest sheep he trim his spight's adventure,
And with the smoothest flattery complement her.

169

So Psyche's heart (for Heav'nly Charis there
Close in the center of her Soul did lie,)
Misgave her at the sight, and quak'd for fear
Of this strange Angel's uncooth Courtesy:
For all his dainty looks and skin, yet she
Assured was, it could not Phylax be.

170

None of those soft and blessed Heats she felt,
Which sweetly when her genuine Phylax spake
Did all her breast into Compliance melt,
And way for their own gentle Conquests make:
Besides, the Voice, though scrued to appear
Divine, seem'd something out of tune to Her.

171

Too high it seem'd, and of too loud a strein;
Still was her Spouse's musick wont to be:
Sweet Gospel notes, whose mildly-charming chain
Drew by the strength of thrilling Suavity.
Nor knew she why He suddenly should raise
Into a Trumpet's Roar his gentle Layes.

172

Besides; had mighty He this Message sent,
She knew her Heart (which now did pant and move
By His sole motions,) must needs relent,
And by submission his Commands approve.
But now she by reluctant Nauseousness
Felt, whosoe'r it were, 'twas none of His.

173

Awaking therefore her wise Confidence,
And with three Invocations having sued
Her Saviour to engage in her Defence,
Upon her faithful forehead she renewed
His potent sign; and then with courage cry'd,
In Light's fair looks why dost thou Darkness hide?

174

Fair is thy face's Preachment to mine Eye,
But yet thy Tongue's foul Language to mine Ear
Sounds nothing less than Phylax: wherefore hie
Thee hence, false feind, and seek thy booty where
A beauteous Count'nance, and a snowy Pair
Of wings, the full proof of an Angel are.

175

I know my Debt to my great Lord, is high;
Yet I no more can pay him then I have:
For his dear sake I more that once could Die,
Yet must I not Destroy what He do's save.
O no; Heav'n gives no such Advice, but Hell,
Our selves in meer Devotion to kill.

176

As when the Sun's stout beams burst out upon
A waxen Idol, straight its goodly face
Too weak to bear that glorious Dint, doth run
Away in droyling Drops, and fouls the place
Which it adorn'd: so Satan melted at
The servant Answer noble Psyche shot.

177

Off dropt his Coat, his Perriwig, his Wings,
His roseal Vizard, and his milky skin:
And in the room of those usurped Things
His proper shape of Horridness began
To clothe him round: at which indignant he,—
Least Psyche should triumph his shame to see,—

178

Tore his way down to Hell, in cursed Night
His baffled Head and his Disgrace to hide:
A thousand Stinks behind him at his flight
He left: and being tumbled home, he try'd
Upon the Souls which in his brimstone Lake
All yelling lay, his vexed spight to wreak.

179

But as the Victor, those quaint spoils admired
Which dropped from her beauteous-hideous Fo,
And with her Sacrifice of Thanks aspired
Unto the footstool of her Saviour, who
Had in that fight her faithful Champion been;
Her old unfeigned Phylax flutter'd in.

180

O how her heart leap'd at the welcome sight,
And thus broke from her lips! Thou, thou art He;
I knew thee at the dawning of thy light
In which no fauning lurks, nor fallacy:
Spare all Probations: Thou need'st not tell
Me who thou art; I know my Phylax well.

181

This said; her self before his feet she threw,
Which hugging fast, she welcom'd with a kiss.
He gave his Passion leave a while to shew
The meek impatience of this sweet Excess:
Then up he took her, and return'd upon
Her Lip, what that unto his feet had done.

182

And, Joy, said he, my valiant Dear, of thy
Victorious Encounter with thy Fo:
That goodly furniture of Treason I
As well as Thou who art the Victor, know:
I saw the pilfering Traytor when he pickt
It up, and when his ugly self he trickt.

183

Close at his heels I follow'd him when he
His forgery advanc'd, and hither flew:
I was Spectator when he stormed thee,
And in Heav'n's Name his Hell against thee drew:
Unseen I saw the dangerous battle, and
By it I stood, but aided not thy Hand.

184

No; thy dear Spouse, who never can forget
His humble faithful Servants, that supply
Of Power provided, and conveyed it
By ever-ready Charis's ministry.
I claim no share; thy Thanks and Praises are
Intirely due to none but Him and Her.

185

Thou find'st how bountifully they repay
The loyalty of thy sublime Devotion;
And what thou gain'st by giving Thelema
To Him, who will not be in debt. Thy station
Is now secure, unless thou back shalt start,
And fondly home again recal thy Heart.

186

Surely thou never hadst so much thy Will
As since thou hadst it not: for all things now
Throughout the Universe thy mind fulfil,
And Nature's Laws to thy great Pleasure bow;
Because thy Pleasure's not thine own, but His
Who of Omnipotence the Sovereign is.

187

That dainty Peace thou valuedst so high,
Hath now its lodging taken in thy breast;
Nor could the Tempter's deepest Subtilty
Disturb thy Calm or undermine thy Rest.
Be then content for ever to possess
By holding fast thine hold, thine Happiness.

188

For if thou let it slip, and weary grow
Of blessed Ease, it soon will fly away:
No Certainty inhabits here below
In this unstable flitting World; and they
Alone dwell out of Change's reach, who are
Infeof'd above in endless Quiet's sphere.

189

Take heed no desperate Logick make thee be
Most dangerously secure: O never dream
That thou by God's Immutability
Unalterable prov'st; for still the same
Will He remain, though from this Bliss's brink
Thou start'st, and fall'st into Perdition's sink.

190

'Tis true, those everlasting chains which tie
Heav'n's Destinations to their Ends, excel
All Adamantine firmitude, and by
No opposition of Earth or Hell
Are forced to betray their hold: yet this
No ground of Confidence to Mortals is.

177

191

For those Decrees profoundly treasur'd are
In His dread bosom which no Angel's eye
Dares peep into. This maketh pious fear,
Religious Awe and holy Jealousy;
The only Anchors which Assurance can
Afford unto the tossed heart of Man.

192

And this to him Heav'n's favour is; least he
Should bold and careless grow, if once he saw
The Patent of his own felicity
Were sign'd and seal'd so sure, that by the Law
Of absolute Necessity, he through
All Tempests safely to his Port must row.

193

For then should he be but a thankless slave
To Bliss; whose Crown for none prepared is
But them who venture at it by the brave
Ambition of Humble Holiness:
Then if he lists, his mighty God might he
Disdain, and dare him with his own Decree.

194

O then with reverend Dread march on my Dear,
In this Design of thy high Virtue; and
Think it sufficient Happiness, if here
Thy Fear can Desperation countermand;
If thou by Trembling canst Victorious grow,
And meet thy Laurel with a sweating Brow.

195

As for these Spoils, the Trophies they shall be
Of what by Love's assistance thou hast done:
These Memorandums of thy Victory
May keep awake thy wise Devotion:
Lo here I hang them up; and if again
The Serpent hither creep, shew him his skin.

178

CANTO XXII. The Persecution.

The ARGUMENT.

Still Satan wars on Psyche's Constancy;
Both by his own and Persecution's Hand;
But most impregnably resolved She
Their Mines and Onslates doubts not to withstand;
Until her Guardian by a blessed Cheat
Enforc'd her to a glorious Retreat.

1

Their Nest though Joys, and Loves, and Blisses make,
In Peace's bosom; oftentimes beneath
That Surface of Security a Snake
His unsuspected Venome sheltereth:
For 'tis an everlasting Statute, that
No genuine Rest can here below be got.

2

Else Glory's Favorite, admired He
Who reign'd on Peace's, Plenty's, Wisdom's, throne,
Had compassed Content's serenity,
And in his Joys found Ease: but Solomon
Could neither with his Brain nor Treasure free
His great Self from Vexation's Vanity.

3

The Creatures courteous Faithlessness, who still
Shrink from our grasping hands and cheat our Hope;
Admonish our Desires themselves to fill
At those pure springs of fulness, which stand ope
In Heav'n alone, and never fancy here
Complete Delights and Satisfaction's Sphere.

4

This makes courageous hardy Exercize
Dearer to Virtue than is lazy Quiet;
Hence she so highly Patience learns to prize,
And constantly her self with Suffrings diet;
That this sharp sauce may wholesomly repress
Of Peace's Sweets and Fat, the Fulsomness.

5

Affliction is the only School where she
Is Magnanimity's brave Lessons taught:
The Theatre on which her Gallantry
Before the royal Eyes of Heav'n is brought;
Where of her Acting both the Angels, and
The Angels' Sovereign Spectators stand.

6

Full well she knows that stealing Rust will creep
Upon the briskest Sword, if lazily
In his blind quiet sheath he lies asleep,
And be not rubb'd, nor chaf'd, nor vexed by
Harsh scouring, churlish whetting, or kept bright
By its perpetual bus'ness in the Fight.

7

That never Horse was made of so much fire,
Nor temper'd for so proud impatient speed,
Though Pegasus had been his sprightful Sire,
Or Titan's fiercest heav'n-devouring Steed,
But if he stirr'd not from his fat and lusty
Manger and Rack, would soon prove lame and resty.

8

That purest Air, if in Tranquillity
It loiters in the Sun, will putrid grow:
But when 'tis startled and afflicted by
Thunder and Lightning: when it feels the blow
Of boistrous winds; its drowsy dull Disease
Wakes at the frightful News, and vanishes.

9

That sluggish Lakes which alway sleeping lie
Upon their easy beds of Mud, beget
Of Toads and Stinks a nasty Progeny:
But those brisk busy Rills, which, though beset
With craggy Hindrances, still struggle through,
Preserve their Worth, and clean and limpid flow.

10

That never Soil was so ingenuous yet,
But, if not duly worried, digg'd and plow'd,
Harrow'd and torn, and forced to be fit
By such sharp usage; with a rampant Croud
Of useless Thorns and Thistles would defeat
All hopes of honest advantageous Wheat.

179

11

That never Tree was known so thrifty, as
To spare his juice and husband it aright;
But on loose idle Suckers would misplace
The careless Bounty of his verdant Might;
Until the disciplining Pruner's Hook
Lopp'd of those Wantons, and reform'd the Stock.

12

That if the goodliest Watch be not wound up;
In vain the curious Wheels are glib and fit,
Even and stout the String; in vain that shop
Of artificial life is clean and neat;
The Virtue of the Spring, alas, is drie,
The Hand turns only lame, the Quick doth die.

13

That finest Vestments, when they idle lie,
Would gather nasty Dust, and quickly breed
Of Moths,—a most ingrateful fretting frie—
Unless the earnest Wands and Brushes did
Rouse up their laziness, and whip away
Those busy bold Incroachers from their Prey.

14

That Mariners who in the easy Bay
Their Winter and their Summer fondly waste;
Would never learn to steer their Bark, till they
Were by some Tempest into Danger cast;
And had accustomed their venturous Minds
To ken the boisterous language of the Winds.

15

That Soldiers listed are in vain, and wear
Steel by their side, and Brass upon their head;
If they decline the pitched field, and fear
To face the shouting Fo, and battle bid,
To force Success, and bring away their skars
As Letters testimonial of their Wars.

16

And though no Life scarce any Title merits
But that of War; (so many Enemies
By his most wretched Birthright Man inherits,
Since rebel Adam taught the World to rise
Rebelliously against himself;) no state
More than the Christian, is besieg'd with Hate.

17

The Christian Life the surest Warfare is;
And though a thousand Victories it gains,
Yet on it still more and more Armies press,
More Care, more Sweat, more strugling still remains:
Though in an inward Calm Peace luls us, yet
External Tryals still will us beset.

18

Though all the headstrong Senses and the Passions
Be civilized Virtue's yoak to bear:
Though all the stickling peevish Insultations
Of crossgrain'd Will and Reason, by the care
Of an untired Soul be tam'd, yet still
There is a World without to work her ill.

19

For by her Christian Course, against the Tide
Of all that world she rows; and therefore by
Eternal Opposition is try'd,
And hardned to victorious Constancy.
No way had She Magnanimous to seem
If she had floated down the willing stream.

20

But now her gallant Metal wetted is;
Her own luxuriant Twigs are prun'd away;
Her Clothes are brush'd from Moths and Dustiness;
Her soil is digg'd and dress'd; the lazy Bay
She changeth for the active manly Main;
And in pitch'd field her foes doth entertain.

21

Her Beasts are to their pace right strictly kept,
And daily ridden hard; her wholsome Air
By frequent Tempests of loud sighs is swept,
Tempests, which make her Bosom's region fair;
The Torrents of her Eyes continue clear
Because perpetually they flowing are.

22

Her Watch by constant Vigils up she winds,
And every Wheel in its due motion keeps:
By which unwearied Diligence she finds
How every Hour doth pass: yea though she sleeps,
Still her Devotion's waking spring persists,
And towards Heav'n she moves ev'n whilst she rests.

23

Thus though Affliction's looks be sad and sour,
Her Heart is kind, and she the best of friends;
Whilst Ease her Poisons gently plots to pour,
Her Antidotes She most severely blends;
Her Physick, smart and searching Corsives be,
But their Conclusion's always Lenity.

24

And Psyche, since she's to her Spouse as dear
As is the blessed Apple of his Eye,
Abandon'd to Affliction's full carreer
Must now be left; that as Sol's Majesty
From blackest Clouds breaks out with fairest Rays,
So might her Virtue pluck from Briars Bays.

25

When Satan for his late Repulse could find
No comfort in his spightful Tyranny
Over his damned Slaves; his frightful Mind
Boil'd with such hot Impatience, that He
Into the Air's cool region again
Flung up himself with terrible Disdain.

180

26

Where, as he champ'd his meditating Rage,
He chanc'd a winged Squadron to espy,
Returning home in beauteous equipage,
Having dispatched each his Embassy,
With which they had been delegated hither
From Heav'n, to fit our Earth to mount up thither.

27

This prompted him to brew a new Device:
With cunning speed he play'd the Thief again,
And having stoll'n a Tire of Gallantries,
After the Angel-troops posted amain;
Trimming his cursed feature as he flew,
Till like a Bird of that fair Brood he grew.

28

Something behind he lagg'd, least piercing They
His impudent Imposture should descry,
And intercept his Project by the way
In just Disdain of his foul Company.
So at wise distance sneaks the Traitor, when
True-hearted Peers to Court he follows in.

29

But fluttering through the spheres, his lips he bit
To see the famous fatal Tract whereby
He once was tumbled headlong down; and yet
Though they with fell Despite and Blasphemy
Were big, he durst not ope them, knowing well
Heav'n ill would bear the Dialect of Hell.

30

Arrived at the everlasting Gate,
Into th'imperial Palace of their King,
The well-known Angels in triumphant state
Their entrance made: but Satan's foreign Wing
Shiver'd for fear; so did the Vizard he
Had clapp'd upon his Guilt's Deformity.

31

For from the Luster of his Maker's eyes
Such Dread flashed on his, that swarthy He,
Who had been us'd to Night's black Prodigies,
Was dazel'd at the naked Majesty
Of more than day: Three times he winck'd, and then
With both his hands his spurious eyes did screen.

32

Such fright the sooty Bats is wont to seize
When Highnoon's darts of splendor shoot them through:
The woful Ghosts who in sad shadows please
Their gloomy Thoughts, thus terrified grow,
If in the East the curtains ope are thrown,
And up Aurora get e'r they be down.

33

The blessed Spectacles which here he saw
Were sharper Torments than he felt at home;
No Glories' sparkling streams could near him flow,
But burnt him more than his own fiery Doom:
Each holy Joy a Torture was, and He
Fry'd in the midst of this felicity.

34

He fry'd and flam'd, and strait his look's spruce Craft,
His forged Plumes, his curled Grove of Hair,
His dainty Coat, and all his gorgeous Theft
A sacrifice unto the lightning were
Of Jesus's Eyes; and in his naked Dress
He now appear'd of helish Ugliness.

35

The Angels started at the hideous sight,
And standing at a distance round about,
Gaz'd on the Portent; who with all the might
Of Impudence, although a while he fought,
Could not against his guilty shame prevail;
Down hung his Head, his Tallons, and his Tail.

36

Thus when the conscious Traitor's hateful face
Is in the presence of the Prince descry'd,
And persecuted by the joint Disgrace
Of all the loyal Court; against that Tide
Of Ignominy he in vain contends;
Such Horror all his Stubborness transcends.

37

As Jesus saw the fiend, abashed so,
He charg'd him to confess from whence he came:
Nor durst the thus commanded Monster, though
Lyes were his only Trade, a fiction frame:
Yet loth to loose the credit of his Pride,
With dogged sullenness he thus reply'd.

38

Whence can I come, but from Beneath? unless
You know some higher place than this your Heav'n?
This Heav'n, from whence by you, I must confess,
(But let All judge how justly) I was driven.
From visiting the Earth I come, where I
Have far more Subjects than your Deity.

39

But mine, said Jesus, (for he scorn'd to chide
The stomachful fiend, since ever-damned He
Finds equal Torment for his endless Pride,)
Although so few, yet highly Precious be.
Vain multitudes to Thee their homage pay:
Mine not by Number, but by Weight I weigh.

40

By Virtue's Weight; for that alone can show
The worth of Gems: and such my Servants be.
Who though a while Inhabitants below,
Yet are an Heav'n-descended Progeny;
Whose genuine Raies assert their noble birth,
And in their Dust prove something more than Earth.

181

41

Let one Example speak the praise of All;
My handmaid Psyche; Hath thy prying Eye
Which scoureth round about the terrene Ball,
Full notice taken of her Piety?
And how none live in all that World, who be
Higher above it, than is lowly she?

42

Is not her Soul intirely fixed here,
Preoccupating Heav'n and endless Bliss?
Nor Earth nor Hell can strike her thoughts with fear,
But He alone who her Creator is;
Of Him she always stands in dainty awe,
For still she loves as much as dreads his Law.

43

But wheresoe'r she reads the open face,
Or can discover but the Limbs or Claws
Of ugly Sin, she flies the dangerous Place,
And into straitest hardest shifts withdraws;
Rather than hazard to be overrun
With pleasure-promising Destruction.

44

Is not the temper of her warey Heart,
Admonished by wise instinct, afraid
Of every Bait, which by the subtlest Art
Of spight and Wickedness for her is laid?
Or is there any Hag which she doth more
Than Thee, ev'n in thy fairest Looks abhor?

45

Stung by these words, with strong intestine Pain,
The Monster felt his heartstrings stretch'd and torn;
Yet that he might not bear these Pangs in vain,
But on his God his Stomach's Vomit turn;
He rear'd his face of everlasting Brass,
And what he spake, of that bold metal was.

46

Is not your mighty providential Arm
Become that paltry Wench's hedge, said he,
Infallibly to shut out fear and harm,
And make her Pris'ner to Security?
Is not brave Phylax forc'd to be her Squire,
And dance attendance on that Brat's desire?

47

On all her Errands runs not servile He?
Has he not trotted from the farthest West,
In duty to her Curiosity,
Into the fondly-venerable East?
Where like a silly Pilgrim up and down,
Forsooth, the Angel jogg'd from Town to Town.

48

Nay and your Daughter Charis too (yet who
Would think her so, who her Imployment sees?)
As though in Heav'n she nothing had to do,
Degraded is to Earth, and charg'd to please
This Imp of Dust, on whom her noble store
Of Sweets, to win the Urcheon, she must pour.

49

A worthy Purchase you have got; but I
For my part, would not buy a Worm so dear.
If wretched Psyche's price must be so high,
Surely you need no rival Chapmen fear:
Only by this proportion I would know
What rate you would for Me, for Me, allow.

50

Me, whose sublime, and therefore envied Nature
Hath no cognation to ignoble Dust:
Me, whose sole blemish is the Name of Creature,
Which yet is not my Fault: Me, whom you must
Confess to be the Crest of your Creation,
However plunder'd of my native Station.

51

But as for Her, might I have leave to try,
I soon would shew you of what brittle Clay
She moulded is: would Phylax not deny
To let me on her naked shoulder lay
This Hand of mine, no Touchstone you should see
Was ever nimbler at Discovery.

52

For on your pamper'd Darling should Distresses
With full and free Commission domineer;
That Tongue which now your Praises' Pageant dresses
(For to the Task 'tis hir'd, and hir'd full dear)
Would change its Tune, and on your Godship spit
More Curses than my Self e'r spew'd on it.

53

If Psyche's bosom harbours any Breed
Of such profound Ingratitude, replied
Almighty Jesus, 'tis no more than need
The ugly Embryos be in time descried.
Go, use thy Skill; full Power to thee I give:
No Phylax shall against thy Project strive.

54

Yet must thy Tether not extend so far
As to her Life: her Life belongs to me:
For in my Hand th'authentick Volumes are
Of mortal and immortal Destiny.
Nor could'st thou make th'Experiment, unless
She lives, to belch out her Unthankfulness.

55

As when the Lyon's loos'd to tear his Prey,
With furious Joy he shakes his dreadful Crest
He mounts his surly Tail, and rends his way
Into the Theatre: so Satan prest
Back through the Spheres, and thought his Shame was cheap
He suffer'd there, since he his End did reap.

182

56

For his mad Spight's irrefragable Pride
Would not permit him mannerly to part:
He neither bow'd, nor bent, nor signify'd
The least of Thanks for gaining what his heart
Did most desire; but thought he needed not
Take other leave, who leave to rage had got.

57

As down through Heav'n he rush'd, he proudly threw
Scorn on the Stars which he could not possess:
Then through the Air imperiously he flew,
And by his looks proclaim'd that Realm was his;
The blackest Clouds which floated there, made haste
To clear the way, till blacker He was past.

58

His swarthy Wings lash'd that soft Element
With violent speed, and made it roar aloud:
No wind did ever with such furious Bent
Or hideous Noise, through those mild Regions croud;
No Bolt of Thunder ever rent its path
With such precipitant tumultuous wrath.

59

Though once he hop'd he might have reach'd his Aim
By those fell Agents he dispatch'd from Hell:
Yet since without their Errand home they came,
To this curs'd bus'ness he in person fell;
Resolv'd whatever Labour or Disgrace
It cost him, Psyche should not 'scape his chase.

60

Thus came the Monster to his dearest Place
On Earth, a Palace wondrous large and high,
Which on seav'n Mountains' heads enthroned was,
All which it higher rais'd with Majesty;
Thus by its seav'nfold Tumor copying
The number of the Horns which crown'd its King.

61

Of dead Men's Bones were all th'exterior Walls
Rais'd to a fair but formidable height;
In answer to which strange Materials
A Graff of dreadful depth and bredth did wait
Upon the Works, fill'd with a piteous flood
Of innocently-pure and holy Blood.

62

Those awful Birds whose Joy is ravenous War,
Strong-tallon'd Eagles, perch'd upon the head
Of every Turret, took their prospect far
And wide about the World; and questioned
Each Wind that travel'd by, to know if they
Could tell them News of any bloody Prey.

63

The inner Bulwarks rais'd of shining Brass,
With Firmitude and Pride were buttressed.
The Gate of polish'd Steel, wide open was
To entertain those Throngs, who offered
Their slavish Necks, to take the yoke, with which
That City's Tyrant did the World bewitch.

64

For She had wisely order'd it to be
Gilded with Liberty's inchanting Name:
Whence cheated Nations, who before were Free
Into her flattering Chains for Freedom came.
Thus her strange Conquests overtook the Sun,
Who Rose and Set in her Dominion.

65

But thick within the Line, erected were
Innumerable Prisons, plated round
With massy Iron and with zealous Fear:
And in those Forts of Barbarism, profound
And mirey Dungeons, where contagious stink,
Cold, Anguish, Horror, had their dismal sink.

66

In these, press'd down with Chains of fretting Brass
Ten thousand innocent Lambs did bleating lie
Whose Groans, reported by the hollow Place,
Summon'd Compassion from the Passers by;
Whom they, alas, no less relentless found
Than was the Brass which them to Sorrow bound.

67

For they designed for the Shambles were
To feast the Tyrant's greedy Cruelty;
Who could be gratified with no Fare
But such Delights of salvage Luxury:
Though sweetest Dainties woo'd her morning Taste
She with an hundred Lives would break her Fast.

68

Vast were the Treasures of her house; yet she
Solac'd her Fancy in no Furniture
But choicest Tools of Inhumanity,
Which might her bloody Ends to her assure.
This stuff'd her Court with direful Engins; this
Made every Room an Armory profess.

69

Swords, Daggers, Bodkins, bearded Arrows, Spears,
Nails, Pinsers, Crosses, Gibbets, Hurdles, Ropes,
Tallons of Griffens, Paws and Teeth of Bears,
Tigres' and Lyons' Mouths, hot iron Hoops,
Racks, Wheels, Strappados, brazen Cauldrons, which
Boiled with oil, huge Tuns, which flam'd with pitch.

70

These, and more dangerous Weapons yet were there;
Fairfaced Promises, but lin'd with Spight;
High royal outside Courtesies, but mere
Traps and Conspiracies, which with Delight
To heedless Men the worst of Poisons give,
And stealing to their hearts slay them alive.

183

71

Satan arrived here, strait enter'd in;
(For well he knew the Place, and well was known;)
The fawning Courtiers all were proud to win
His gracious Look, and in his way fell down
To beg his Blessing and to kiss his feet,
As on he press'd their Sovereign to greet.

72

She then (for long within she could not stay)
Preparing was her Chariot to take,
And her loud Stomach's sharp Commands obey:
But spying Belzebub, she started back,
Surpris'd with reverential Dread to see
The sudden Presence of her Deity.

73

Then down she fell, and pray'd Him to ascend
Her Throne Imperial, which was standing there;
And thence his Pleasure to his Worm commend,
Ready with all Humility to hear
What bow'd her God so low, as thus to come
In person to his worthless Vassal's Home.

74

But kindly taking up his loyal Creature,
He in his scaley Arms did her embrace;
Inamor'd of her correspondent Feature,
Which render'd him his own infernal Face.
Three times he kiss'd and hugg'd her close, and round
About her waste his royal Tail he wound.

75

And, I have no such leisure now, said He,
To climb thy Throne, who must secure mine own;
I have discover'd in my Brittany
The Seeds of dangerous Rebellion sown;
Which to an harvest, if it thriveth, may
Disturb mine Empire, and thine oversway.

76

The Christian spreading Canker there hath got
Deep footing in the hearts of heedless Men;
Who to the poor mechanick God are not
Asham'd to pay their holiest Homage, when
With Credit they might it to Me prefer
Who am, I trow, more than a Carpenter.

77

Me thinks my Scepter should as noble be
As Ax or Mallet; and as brave my Train
Of heav'n-descended Sparks, the gallantry
Of whose high Souls, did God's own Yoke disdain;
As those who from their dirty Fishing Boat
Into the threadbare Court of Jesus got.

78

It cannot be deny'd but mighty I
Had a Mischance of old; and I confess
My foot once slip'd; yet still my Majesty
Above Reproach's wretched triumph is.
My Honor suffer'd not in that my Loss,
And though I fell, I fell not to a Cross.

79

They use to cast it in our teeth, that We
By blackest Powers of Spells and Incantations
Both founded and advanc'd our Monarchy:
As if there were not stranger Conjurations
In this besetting Witchery, which can
Make worse than Beasts of Reasonable Man.

80

For, Brutes to brutish can the silliest Flock
Afford, who would themselves with Him intrust
Who runs away to Heav'n; and bids them look
For Wrongs and Crosses, which indure they must
For his dear Sake? right dear indeed, if they
Their Lives must to his cruel Precept pay.

81

Strange sheep were they which thus would fooled be,
And for their Loyalty to Him alone
Be quite abandon'd, and relinquish'd free
To thousand Wolves' and Bears' Incursion:
Nay Sheep would never turn so sheepish; yet
Men to this Paradox themselves submit.

82

Grant Heav'n be in reversion their own;
What shall the Fondlings gain by dwelling there,
Who must eternally be crouching down,
And paying Praise's Tribute to His ear,
Who will requite them with a Chain, which shall
Bind ev'n their Wills in everlasting Thrall!

83

Were not their Souls more generous, if they
The gallant Freedom of our Hell would choose;
Which scorneth that ignoble Word Obey,
And lets full Blasphemy for ever loose?
Faint-hearted Fools, who needs will Vassals be
For fear least I should make them truly Free.

84

Thou see'st this Crime is Crying, and for high
Revenge beats loud upon my royal Ear.
And should my Fury wake, and instantly
Those mad Apostates all in pieces tear;
Surely my Justice I could well acquit,
However envious Heav'n would rail at it.

85

But I (for this far more becomes a King)
A better rellish find in Lenity:
I know the Galilean's tongues do ring
With restless Clamors on my Tyranny:
Forgetting that their Lord has banish'd me
From Heav'n, against all Law and Equity.

184

86

Yet neither He nor They shall ever make
Brave Me their Baseness in its kind repay.
No: let them henceforth Demonstration take
With what intolerable Slander They
Lay to my charge all barbarous Cruelties:
Judge all the World, who Father is of lyes.

87

For I resolved am at first to try
What by my royal Mercy may be done:
Far rather would I win them thus, than by
Stern Vengeance drown them in Destruction.
The People's fault is not so foul, as His
Whose gospel Pipe has charm'd their Simpleness.

88

Snatch, therefore now thy necessary speed
To Britain, and divulge my Proclamation
Of Grace and Pardon unto every Head,
Which strait abjures that dangerous Innovation,
And penitent for his Christian Heresy,
With orthodox Devotion bows to Me.

89

To Me, who will their Loyalty requite
With golden Plenty and with pleasant Ease;
To Me, whose Laws are Statutes of Delight,
Not of unnatural Severities,
Of Watchings, Fastings, Sighs and Tears; O no!
What Mildness means I better know than so.

90

But if my princely Favor be despised,
Both Heav'n and Earth must needs my Rage approve.
Denounce all Vengeance that can be devised
By scorn'd and therefore most indignant Love:
Make all the stupid stubborn Rebels feel
That I can on their Earth display my Hell.

91

This said: the Feind with three short adorations
Of her dread Lord, her salvage Task embrac'd,
And loth that ceremonious Dilations
Should greater Duties stop, to Coach made haste.
Thus mounting at the Gate, they parted; He
Home to his Hell, and towards Britain She.

92

Forthwith, in terrible Magnificence,
An hundred Trumpets sent their Voice before,
To tell the People that their awful Prince
Her Progress now began: that stately Roar
Through every Street imperiously flew,
And warn'd all Eyes this mighty Sight to view.

93

When lo, the sweating Throngs her way bespread
With Admirations of her Pomp and Train,
Two Squires before the rest at distance rid,
Suspition and Envy: both did rein
Their fitting Steeds, the one a Fox, the other
A Wolf, and forc'd them on to march together.

94

The next was Blandishment, whose winning Face
Alone was open to the People's eye;
On whom she smil'd with amiable grace,
And cunningly maintain'd her goodly Lye:
For all her Harpy-bodie's monstrous Fashion
Lurk'd in her Trappings spruce Dissimulation.

95

Then follow'd Pride upon a surly Horse,
Whose stomach swell'd like Her's: fierce Sparkles broke
From his impatient Eyes; with martial force
He bent his Neck's large Bow; his Main he shook;
About he flung his Foam; and champ'd his Bit,
For both his Rider he disdain'd, and it.

96

But in her right hand She a Banner held,
And fair display'd its bosom to the Wind:
Forthwith the Flag with stately Fulness swell'd
Wherein the Tyrant's golden Scutcheon shin'd,
A widespread Eagle, whose stout Pinions seem'd
To bear her up still as the Colours stream'd.

97

Then came the Coach, which two strange Monsters drew,
For one a dreadful Lybian Dragon was,
Who from his mouth did flaming Sulphure spew,
Empoisning all the Way he was to pass:
The other, an enormous Crocodile,
The most accursed Son of happy Nile.

98

On them, two fierce Postillions mounted were:
Intolerable headstrong Anger, who
Her Dragon's sides with restless Lashes tore,
Yet knew not why she him tormented so:
And Cruelty, whose heart was harder than
His knotty Crocodile's black iron skin.

99

Upon the Coachbox sate a Driver, hight
Selfwil, a madbrain'd most outrageous He;
Who makes devouring Speed his sole Delight,
Though thousand Perils chide his Fervency
Never could Hills or Dales, or Sea or Land,
Or desperate Precipices, make him stand.

100

The Chariot's metal nothing was but Brass,
Bright burning Brass; of which each dismal side
With sharp and hungry Hooks thick platted was,
To mow down All it met: in this did ride
The dreadful Queen, a Queen of mighty Fame
Who hath not heard of Persecution's Name

185

101

All Frowns which make stern Panthers' aspects be
Of ravenous Cruelty the hideous Book;
With indefatigable Industry
She had transcrib'd into her monstrous Look,
And strangely turn'd her vainly-humane Face
To Inhumanitie's most frightful Glass.

102

The mighty Plea of gracious Innocence
Proves weak and useless at her salvage Bar;
For causeless Spight, and bloody Violence
Her only Laws and only Pleasures are.
Heav'n shield all pious Souls, and raise their fears
To generous Faith, where-ever She appears.

103

Her steely Coat's all smear'd with gore; her Hands
Gripe two imprison'd Twists of angry Snakes,
With which, though still her Coachman never stands,
Eternally she threshes him, and makes
His furious Speed more speedy grow, that she
Might at her Prey as soon's her Wishes be.

104

Thus whirl'd she through the Popular Rout, and flew
To her desired Isle the straitest way;
Behind the Coach her larger Train she drew,
Right glad to tread her cruel steps; for they
Were All her own infernal genuine Brood,
Whom she had nurs'd and fatten'd up with blood.

105

Upon a Goat, more stinking far than He,
Rode Ravishment; who threw his licorish eyes,
And they bold wanton fire, on every She
Whom Beauty's Wealth commended for a Prize.
The Chariot's Haste he curs'd, and he alone,
From's Sin's fair fuel loth to part so soon.

106

Perch'd on a Vultur's back was Rapine, who
In length of Tallons did that Bird exceed;
Starv'd with Desire, though fat in Spoils, she so
Tormented was, that with more headlong Speed
She wish'd her Queen would march, that at the Feast
Of British Plunder she might be a Guest.

107

Upon an Ostrich, more unnatural
Than barbarous She, rode meagre Astorgy,
Vowing aloud to tear in sunder all
Those Cords with which true Love delights to tie
The Souls of Parents, and of Children; and
Shatter the links of every Nuptial Band.

108

High-mounted on an Hydra, Heresy
With more and stranger heads than had her Steed;
Rejoyc'd in hope that now contagious She
Her Poison to another World should spread;
And Albion's Sands, which bridled in the Sea,
Should by her stouter Tide o'rflowed be.

109

A black and grizly Dog bore Profanation:
Her who ne'r learnt Distinction of Place,
Of Time, or Things; who never yet could fashion
A modest Look, or paint a Blush's Grace;
Whose Rudeness no more reverence affords
To holy Altars, than to Dresser-boards.

110

Bold Sacrilege sate pertly on a Kite;
And though her Claws were burnt, and sing'd her Wings
E'r since the Altar might have taught her Wit,
(For vengeful Coals stuck to the sacred Things,
Branding the saucy Thief,) yet shameless She
A-robbing Heav'n and God again would be.

111

Upon a Serpent bred in Hell beneath,
Which belch'd rank fire at every step he took,
Which reached Heav'n with his pestiferous breath,
Which fought with holy Incense by the smoke
Of his foul Throat; rode desperate Blasphemy,
And dared all the way Divinity.

112

But on an Heifer of Egyptian race,
Right proud of his renown'd Descent (for he
The Heir of Apis and of Isis was,)
Sate full as gross a Brute, Idolatry:
And yet Devoto's, grosser than her Beast,
Or She, about her with their Offrings prest.

113

And this was Persecution's princely Train;
Which all the way she went, stroke mortal fright
Into the Countries, travelling in Pain,
As she in Triumph; till her rushing Flight
Her, and their Fears far out of sight had born,
And bad them from their Dens and Caves return.

114

Poor Albion thrice started as she drew
Near to the shore, and would have further run
Into the Sea: but now the Tyrant flew
With cursed Joy and snatch'd possession
Of her unhappy Isle; where dreadful she
Took up her Quarters in a Colony.

115

A strange Amusement on all hearts did seize,
And each Man chew'd his own misgiving Thoughts:
None durst have courage by Discourse to ease
The heavy burden of his labouring Doubts.
'Twixt nearest Friend and Friend Suspicion thrust,
And Jealousy devour'd all dearest Trust.

186

116

When lo, She issued out her Proclamations
Of Pardon unto All who would come in:
But sour'd that Sweetness by stern Denuntiations
To those who still continued in their Sin;
Who wasted still their Piety upon
The Carpenter's poor Crucified Son.

117

She summon'd all the Isle to Reformation,
That mighty Jove, by whose high blessing She
Reign'd Empress of the World, in worthy fashion,
And like his sovereign Self, might worship'd be;
And mov'd to shower his fattest Favors down,
And Albion with Peace and Plenty crown.

118

For by her royal Declaration She
All Blastings, Mildews, Droughts, Plagues, Earthquakes, Wars,
Charg'd soly upon Christianity;
Which impious Sect, said she, so boldly dares
The Wrath of all the Gods, that righteous They
On stubborn Earth must needs this Vengeance lay.

119

Forthwith, all Those whose bosoms tainted were
With rank Idolatry's mad Venom, grew
Luxuriously glad the News to hear;
And with immediate rampant Confluence flew
To do their homage, and their thanks prefer
Ev'n in the Name of succoured Jove to Her.

120

Then They, who could have lov'd safe Piety
Yet durst no more than faint cold Virtue own;
They in whose Hearts the World and Self did lie
As well as Jesus; they who would have drawn
In th'Evangelick Yoke with patience, so
Mean while their secular Plough might also go;

121

They who conceiv'd, for Wives' and Children's sake
Depending soley on their Love and Care,
(So dreamt the faithless Fondlings) they might make
A little bold with God; and They who were
Flatter'd with hopes that Heav'n's propitious Eye
Would wink at what they held Necessity;

122

Came in the rear, like Men who scarcely came,
For not so much as half their Minds were there:
In Evening's guilty Vail they clok'd their Shame
Which honest Day's clear-judging eye did fear;
Whilst to escape the Tyrant's Condemnation
Themselves condemn their own Dissimulation.

123

But they whose Loyalty stood firm and sound,
They who to Love intirely were resigned,
Such potent Sweetness in his Service found
As scorn'd all Hate with bloody Power combin'd:
Such Sweetness as inforced to be sweet
That Gall which flow'd in Persecution's Threat.

124

Sooner will they be charmed by the Hiss
Of Dragons, into their fell Dens to go;
Than be persuaded to accept of this
So treacherous and destructive Pardon; No
Whate'r they loose, they from their Loss will reap
This noble Gain, that they themselves will keep.

125

Their Life, Limbs, Fame, Estate, and Liberty
They can more eas'ly than their Conscience spare:
They nothing count their own, which cannot be
Without Impiety possest; and are
Content with any Thing but God to part,
Who only can secure them their own Heart.

126

Psyche was one, and not the meanest one
Of these brave Champions; who since Phylax had
By Heav'n's disposal left her now alone,
Her meek Addresses to Uranius made:
An holy Priest was He, and unto Her
An Oracle in any Doubt or Fear.

127

To You, said She, my reverend Father, I
Now Persecution's furious Storms arise,
As to my wise and faithful Pilot flie;
Not to be steered where Calamities
May never reach my Vessel, but to know
The nearest way how I to them may row.

128

Forbid it genuine Love, that I should flie
The noblest Testimony I can give,
Of my O how deserved Loyalty
To my great Spouse, for whom alone I live:
For Him I live; and must that Truth deny
If in his Quarel I refuse to die.

129

For was not His ten thousand times more dear
And precious than my Life? yet generous He
His heart-blood's utmost Drop stuck not to spare
Ev'n for the worst of Worms, vile sinful Me:
Loud cries the Merit of this Blood, and I
Though oft I dy'd for Him, in debt should die.

130

And should I shrink from one poor Death, what Eye
Would not shoot Wrath at such Unthankfulness?
How should I hate my self, and strive to die
For shame of Fearing Death? yet I confess
This wretched Life's so mean a thing, that We
By Martyrdom do Heav'n no courtesy.

187

131

Mine all the Gains will be: nor know I how
To 'scape this Profit; which could I but shun,
More Solace from my Death to me would flow,
And to the Stake I cheerlyer should run.
But since that may not be; since Bliss is still
To Suffrings ty'd, let Love enjoy his Will.

132

Let Love assert his own Magnificence,
And make us for our very Service be
Deeper in Debt; yet surely I will hence
Revenge me of his Liberality,
And do my best to run upon the score
With this great Creditor for evermore.

133

But grave Uranius, who was deeper read
I'th' cool sage Gospel Discipline, reply'd;
The fire by which those Flames of thine are bred
Is pure and genuine; but they blaze too wide:
Dear Daughter be content, and think that I
Can wish and dare, as well as you, to Die.

134

Though I were courted by secure Delight
And Glory's Complement to live and breath:
My feeble Age would stronglier me invite
To take my rest in any Bed of Death:
But since no Baits allure me here to stay,
O how much worse than Death, is Death's Delay!

135

Yet must no headlong Haste of mine prevent
My Sovereign's Pleasure, who, for ought I know,
Desires Uranius should rest content
To wrestle still with Sorrows here below;
Still to be exil'd from the blessed Sight
Of His dear Eyes, and grovel here in Night.

136

Besides, if I before his Call should run,
This hot Impatience might outstrip his Grace:
And where should feeble I, thus left alone,
Find Courage to outlook the dreadful Face
Of Death, when dress'd in martial Array
He gives the Onset to my Dust and Clay?

137

Will any General thank that Captain who
Without Commission has presum'd to fight?
Into the Lists if any Pris'ner go
On Tigres or on Bears to try his might
Till thither forc'd; what Eye will grieve to see
His torn limbs pay for his Temerity?

138

Is't not enough, if when we challeng'd are,
We flinch not from maintaining, That his Name
Doth in our bosoms sit more near and dear
Than Life it self? mean while ne'r think it shame
To balk the tempest, which will soon retrieve
Thy Heav'n and Thee, if Jesus gives it leave.

139

As some young Soldier, who was more on fire
Than his fierce sparkling Steed, the Charge to give,
When by some old Commander his Desire
As rash and perillous, doth a Curb receive,
Finds it an harder Conflict to subdue
His single self, than all his hostile Crew:

140

So Psyche crossed in her venturous way
By that grave bulk of her sage Priest's Advice,
Feels it an heavy troublous Task to stay,
And shun the winning of her dearest Prize:
Yet knowing He was wiser far than she,
Bravely she yields, and gains self-victory.

141

Uranius well remembring now how He,
Then young and shiftless, by his Parents was
Into a Nest of silent Privacy,
Whose Avenue lay through a Desert's maze,
Hurry'd by night, when such a storm as this
Into the Britain Hemisphere did press:

142

Thither, when Ev'n had muffled up the Eye
Of Heav'n, and those of Earth, he Psyche led;
And by a Lanthorn which would not descry
More than He pleas'd, his journey governed:
Till at the Cavern they arrived, where
Cheerly he bad the Maid be of good cheer.

143

It is no new Adventure, this, said He,
But practis'd and well-season'd to thine hand:
Moses, that Man of God, was glad to flee,
And wander up and down a foreign Land.
With hungrier sp[r]ight no Partridge ever on
The hills was chas'd, than Jesse's holy Son.

144

Noble Elijah in the Desert hid
His persecuted head, when Jezebel,
Our Tyrant's Type, her threatnings thundered
Against his Life: there chose this Saint to dwell,
Supplyed with no Caterer or Cook,
But only Ravens, no Cellar, but a Brook.

145

Nay mighty Jesus too himself did flie
When bloody Herod drew his desperate Sword:
And never think it can discredit thy
Devotion, to follow Him thy Lord
In any of his steps, who is alone
The way which leads to all Perfection.

188

146

Whilst thus the sober Priest encourag'd Her:
A Troop of furious Soldiers had by night
Beset their houses, in presumption there
To catch their ready Prey: but when their flight
They understood, their frustrate Expectation
Flam'd into most impatient Vexation.

147

All Rooms they ransak'd, where what Goods they met
Were hungry Plunder's instant Sacrifice:
Yet still their Rage unsatisfied, set
The Houses too on fire; with barbarous Cries
Threatning like vengeance to their Owners, when
Justice could hunt them from their secret Den.

148

If any of the Neighbours, wounded by
The salvage Spectacle, but smote their breast,
Or shak'd their head, or mourned in a sigh;
The salvage Caytifs took it for Confest
That to their Queen they ill-affected were,
And them with rayling Cries to Prison tare.

149

Yet, by the way, the cruel Courtesy
Of hungry Thieves they frankly offer'd Them;
Who ready were their Lives and Liberty
With present sums of Money to redeem.
Their Queen is safe enough, so They can line
Their greedy Coffers with Delinquents' Coin.

150

Which having gain'd, they set their Pris'ners free;
Free to new Rapine, giving Information
Of their Religious Delinquency
To other Plunderers; who with fresh Invasion
On their fat Booties seize, whose Guilt is sure
To last as long's their Purses' Springs endure.

151

But through the Eastern ruby Portals now
Aurora op'd the passage to the Day;
When lo, an old and shaggy Lyon, who
Had busy been all night about his prey,
Came panting home, and with a mighty Roar
Proclaim'd his entrance at his Cavern's door.

152

This was that Cavern where for shelter lay
The good Uranius and Psyche, who
Rous'd by the Noise, but destitute of way
To flie the presence of their hideous Fo;
Their hearts to Heav'n with instant fervor sent,
Imploring Succour in this Peril's dint.

153

In rush'd the Beast, whose dreadful Mouth and Paw
Still reeked with his worried Bootie's blood:
But those unlook'd-for Guests when there he saw,
Stroke with the awful News a while he stood,
And as he wistly view'd, he smooth'd his frown
And by degrees his Crest and Tail let down.

154

Uranius musing what the Lyon meant
To melt from his stern self, thus him bespake:
If He who is our Lord and thine, hath sent
Thee hither with Commission to take
Our lives by gentler Tyranny than that
From which we fled, lo we deny them not.

155

Much Solace it will be to Us that We
Augment not by our deaths the Guilt of Men;
This bloody Trade far better suits with Thee,
Of Salvageness the dreadful Sovereign, than
With them whose softer Tempers to the key
Of mild Compassion should tuned be.

156

Yet if Thou dost not on Heav'n's Errand come,
But on the bus'ness of thy barbarous Thirst;
Unarmed though we be, no Peril from
Thy Paws or Jaws we dread; do all thy worst.
So faithful He, and so said Psyche too,
And waited what the Beast would dare to do.

157

When lo, the trusty generous Lyon, who
No Vengeance ought to Men but where he saw
The print of Guilt and of Rebellion to
Their common Sovereign, right meekly threw
Himself before these Saints; in whom he read
The Lines of Innocence so fairly spread.

158

(Thus his ingenuous Forefathers, when
Great Daniel at their Hunger's mercy lay,
Permitted Him to reign in their own Den;
And stuck not to his Sanctity to pay
Their couchant Tribute, though their stomachs' Cry
Mean while alarm'd their fierce Rapacity.)

159

Then having humbly lick'd their holy feet,
And seem'd to beg their Blessings e'r he went;
What universal Providence finds meet
And useful for thy Modestie's content,
Uranius cry'd, may it bestowed be
In due requital of thy Piety.

160

Forthwith the joyful Lyon took his leave,
With all the manners his rude Education
Could teach his joints; which sight made Psyche grieve,
Reflecting with a tender Meditation
On those unmanly Men from whom she fled,
Who did the wildest Beasts in Rage exceed.

189

161

And well she might; for lo, a trusty friend
Both to the Priest and Her, who knew the place
Where now they lurk'd, his way did thither rend
With Ashes on his head and Grief in's face:
And enter'd there, a while he silent stood,
And eas'd his Passion in a weeping flood.

162

Then prefacing with Groans, Alas, he cry'd,
That I have liv'd to bring this deadly News!
Your selves have by your flight escap'd the Tide
Of Salvageness which all our Town imbrues:
But nothing else; for what behind you left,
The Booty is of most outrageous Theft.

163

Your Houses, turn'd to their own funeral pile,
Now in their Ashes lie—. Vast Sorrow here
Stifeled the rest. But then, thy story's stile
To Us is not so dreadful; never fear
That what remains, will torture Us, replies
The Priest, who dare embrace our miseries.

164

Whate'r was ours, thou know'st, We never Made,
But by our Lord's Donation did possess:
Since all we had, we but as Stewards had,
Well may our Master call for what was His.
And blessed be His Name, who Us from these
Incumbrances is pleased to release.

165

Chidden by this heroick Bravery,
The Messenger took heart, and thus went on:
Had furious Tyranny presum'd to fly
No higher than at you, and yours, alone;
Tears might have reach'd that Loss; but now her Rage
With the Most High adventures War to wage.

166

The desperate Caytifs feared not to break
Into the sacred Oratory (where
Our bus'ness we with Heav'n dispatch'd, for lack
Of publick safety for our Rites,) and there
Made Hellish havock, challenging, in spight,
God for His Temple and Himself to fight.

167

The sacred Volumes they no sooner saw,
But cry'd, in atheistick scorn, Behold
These odious Galileans' lawless Law,
Which boldly breaks all Statutes else, enroll'd
Either in Cesar's books, or Jove's: but We
Will try if this may now not broken be.

168

Forthwith they madly tore it leaf by leaf;
Here Moses tatter'd lay, the Prophets there:
But on the Evangelick Part their chief
Revenge they pour'd, and, as they able were
Massacred patient Christ again, and rent
Him in the Body of his Testament.

169

Which done; upon Religion's next support,
And grave Devotion's Rule, the Liturgy,
They made their equally-malicious sport:
Crying, These are those Leaves of Witchery,
That bulk of Conjurations and Charms,
To which the whole World ows its present Harms.

170

Next, all the Altar's reverend furniture
They snatch'd, and scrambled who should rifle most;
The sacerdotal Vestments, white and pure,
About the room at first in scorn they tost;
And then with them array'd their gamesome selves,
Acting in Lambs' mild fleeces, murderous Wolves.

171

Upon the Chalice, when they had espyed
The Shepherd bringing home the strayed sheep,
All in an hell-combined Clamor cryed,
Look how those Christians set their God to keep
Their Wine: but fools, they should have hir'd a friend
Who might his Godship from our hands defend.

172

Is not our Pan more like a God, than this?
Pan, who the Shepherds selves has power to keep,
Whilst this poor servile Thing contented is
To spend his foolish time on silly sheep.
But since He's here of Silver, in our need
His Deity may stand us in some stead.

173

When in these Contumelies they their fill
Had wantoniz'd; one ill-look'd Soldier brings
A black Dog's carkase, which (O wit of Hell!)
He scornfully upon the Altar flings;
And with blasphemous supplication, cries,
Accept, O Christ, my bounden Sacrifice.

174

Then said another, we must not forget
Humbly to tender our Drinkoffring too.
With that, upon the Altar thrice he spit,
And having fill'd a putrified shoe
With his vile Urine, on his bended knee
He pour'd out his foul Impiety.

175

But then a Third, to make their Crime complete,
Yelling and rayling, set the Place on fire.
For since, said he, this Jesus is so great
A Deity, his Godship may require
An Holocaust: which word, and Act, the Rout
Applauded with an universal shout.

190

176

No more, cry'd here Uranius; O forbear
Till we have pour'd out our due Tears for this.
That Jesus, and his Temple wronged are,
Our Sins, and ours alone, the reason is:
Our Breach of His Commandments is the Gap
Which let into His House this foul Mishap.

177

This said; the reins to pious Lamentation
Both He and Psyche liberally gave.
When lo, a strong and mixt Vociferation
Conquer'd their Cries, and triumph'd in the Cave:
Some Huntsmen's Noise it seemed in their ear;
And right they guess'd, for these Men-hunters were.

178

It prov'd that Rout, who when they mist the Priest
At his own house, concluded he was fled,
And in the Desert sought some private Nest,
Wherein to hide his persecuted head.
But they all bent and sworn to hunt him out,
A Pack of Bloodhounds for the purpose brought.

179

As up and down these trac'd the Solitude,
A busy Cur the Cavern did surround.
And having caught the wished sent, persu'd
It close till he these holy Weepers found;
Whom spying, wide he opened, and howl'd
Till he to all the Rabble tales had toll'd.

180

This brought them tumbling thither: where when they
Beheld Uranius, with a barbarous Cry
Up went their Voice and Hands to pull Dismay
Down on their Pris'ner; whom forthwith they tie
To that grim Hound which him retriev'd, that he
Might his contemptible Conducter be.

181

The reverend Captive knew it was in vain
To ask their madness why it us'd him so;
Or what Offence of his had earn'd that Chain
Which bound him to such ignominious Wo;
He was not now to learn, that sober Reason
By this Committee would be voted Treason.

182

In patient silence he attends their spight,
Ready to stay, or go, to live, or die;
Not doubting but in Persecution's sight
To yield's the surest way to Victory.
Thus harmless Lambs are in their Suff'rings mute,
And never with the Butcher's Knife dispute.

183

As Psyche at his back lamenting stood,
One who pretended to have something still
Of Man and Kindness, bad her stop that flood,
Which poor seduced She amiss did spill;
And never weep to see Him Pris'ner there,
Who by Enchantments had enslaved Her.

184

For this your lurking, and your wailing here,
Tell us He hath bewitch'd you into his
Ridiculous Religion's yoak: yet were
It only such, said he, we would not press
The Law against him; but the wide World knows
That it with Crimes as well as Follies flows.

185

This old Ringleader of the Sect will we
To justice sacrifice: but as for you,
Whose Guilt we hope is but Simplicity,
To your less fault we Pardon will allow:
And to your silly Servant here, if He
Henceforth will be content more Wise to be.

186

Psyche with silent and with sad Disdain
Threw back his Courtesy into his face:
For though her heart at present did refrain
To speak it self, yet she resolved was:
Resolved not to leave her friend that day
Though Death and Devils blocked up her way.

187

And now the raging Miscreants tore the Priest
Back to the Town with shameless Exclamations,
And all the way his Patience opprest
With Kicks, and Stripes, and Taunts, and Accusations;
Which sad Procession reached to the Place
Where their Tribunal high-erected was.

188

A Deputy of Persecution there
Upon the Bench with ready Malice sate;
Full on whose face an Altar looked, where
Prepared Coals did glowing lie; and at
The shrine stood one with Incense in his hand
To wait upon the Deputy's Command.

189

Uranius thus presented at the Bar;
The Judge begins an insolent Oration,
In which his spight had took sufficient Care
To blast, and to blaspheme the Christian nation;
To whose sole Charge he loudly layed all
The Miseries which did that Age befall.

190

Nor those alone (his Sovereign's Declaration
Had thus far ly'd,) but all that Calumny
Could possibly invent; the Combination
Of bloody and unclean Impiety,
Which made the Gnosticks' Name so horrid, He
Avow'd the Christian Discipline to be.

191

His Praise advanc'd his Gods unto the skies,
(A place which they, alas, could never reach,)
But heap'd on Christ all slanderous Injuries
Which Envy could suggest, or Hell could teach.
And at each period the People's Roar
Pour'd proud Applause upon their Orator.

192

But in the Close, he gravely turn'd his speech
With cruel Pity to Uranius;
Whom by his reverend Age he did beseech
No longer to be fool'd and cheated thus
By silly Wickedness, but choose their odds
Who offer'd him for One a Troop of Gods.

193

He wonder'd why he should not much prefer
The Deities all Nations did adore,
Before the single simple Carpenter
Who found no Worship but amongst a poor
Few sneaking and despised Souls, which He
(Vain God) could not protect from Misery.

194

With earnest looks he then conjur'd him to
Remember what was done at Calvary;
Who there was mock'd, and pierc'd, and nailed; who
Expired there on Shame's and Torment's Tree;
And not with desperate Sottishness lay down
His life for Him who could not save His own.

195

But if he still refused to present
Incense to Jove, he bad him strait expect
The most severe Excess of Punishment
Which scorn'd and anger'd Mercy could inflict.
This said; with anxious and greedy eye
He gaped for Uranius his Reply.

196

But He right brave Defiance to return
Upon the crafty Judge's hated love,
Cry'd out, Much sooner I my self will burn,
Than Incense to an Idol: could you prove
Your favor would not surely me destroy,
I it would hug with humble thanks and joy.

197

But Sir, Uranius is assur'd that They
On whom you thrust the Names of Deities,
Are weaker far than we poor things of Clay;
And that the Carpenter you so despise
Is He who fram'd both You and Me, and all
The fabrick of this universal Ball.

198

And His revenging Arm it is which now
Lasheth the World with those Calamities
Whose guilt on our Religion's shoulders you
So freely threap: your own Idolatries
Force Him to Justice, who had rather be
Known unto all this World by Lenity.

199

Would He think fit to rescue me, it is
Not all your Power, or your Queen's, can stand
Against his might: But if I must by His
Most just, be left to your tyrannick Hand;
His Pleasure dearer is than life to Me;
I dread not Death, but dread Apostasy.

200

No Sea repulsed by a solid Rock
E'r swell'd and foam'd with more disdainful Wrath;
Than now the Judge, to hear the Pris'ner mock
So solemnly his Gods and Him, and Death.
Then let him Burn, he cry'd; since he denies
To offer, make him be, Jove's Sacrifice.

201

The Soldiers, who were much afraid least He
Should have embrac'd the Judge's profer'd Grace,
Rejoyc'd and clap'd their cursed hands to see
That to their Rage He now condemned was.
Away they drag him to the stake, and there
A fort of fagots round about him rear.

202

Then with a Brand from Jove's high Altar brought,
The Pile they kindle, and blow up the flame:
Which as it rose, they bellow'd out their shout:
May such Revenge those stubborn Dotards tame,
Who scorning to the mighty Gods to yield,
Their trust on Crucified Jesus build.

203

But mild Uranius having kiss'd the stake,
And every fagot which his lips could reach;
At leasure was his noble Prayers to make
For Pardon for his Murderers' fury, which
Blinded with Superstition's veil, alas,
Perceived not what part it Acting was.

204

Then purer than the flame, and brighter far,
Which mounted from his Pile, his Soul did fly:
It higher flew than That, and gain'd the sphere
Not of the Stars, but of felicity;
Where it was welcom'd to its final Home
By Martyrdom's illustrious Diademe.

205

So when brave Gold hath by the cruelty
Of an incensed furnace been refined;
Its genuine substance is allow'd to be
Crowned, and with th'Imperial Image signed;
Free leave and full authority it has
Current through all its Sovereign's Realm to pass.

192

206

Psyche, whose sympathetick heart attended
Upon this holy Tragick-comedy,
No sooner saw how gloriously it ended,
But gravid with her pious Plaudit, she,
Forgetful of the furious standers by,
Thus eas'd her Soul's exultant Ecstasy:

207

Go, valiant Saint, thy Conquest is complete;
Go where immortal Laurel ready is
With endless Honor thy bright brows to meet;
Go and possess thy Master's Realm of Bliss:
Thy Name and fame shall reverend be beneath
So long as Piety on Earth shall breath.

208

Happy, most happy Thou, who art supply'd
Ev'n by thy Foes with this fair Chariot, in
Whose flaming Glories thou hast leave to ride
To those which in the Empyreum shine:
Well might'st thou pray their sin be not imputed
To them, who thee to Heav'n have persecuted.

209

O that poor Psyche might the grace obtain,
Though at the price of all the World's worst spight,
To kiss thy glorious feet, and bear thy Train
In thy triumphant March! O that I might
Through all thy hottest flames climb after thee,
And from this mortal Dross refined be?

210

This high-strain'd Air full well beseemed Her,
And in all holy Ears good musick made;
But no flat Discord could more grate and jar
Upon the Soldiers, whose professed Trade
Was how to tune their Curses to a Key
Of wild impetuous Importunity.

211

And how intolerable they esteem
This note of hers, they make her fully feel;
For first they vote her to be Furie's Game,
And then with barbarous haste kick, tear and hale
Her to the Judge's Bar; in hopes that He
Their bloody Hunger's Caterer would be.

212

Here they exclaim, that this bold Woman was
As manly as the Priest in Wickedness;
That she nor fear'd nor blush'd to make his Case
Heav'n's quarrel, and his cursed Death to bless;
And so must needs as guilty be as He
Of sin's Perfection, Christianity.

213

Yea of the rankest foulest part of it;
Witness the shelter of the Night and Cave,
An advantageous Circumstance, and fit
For none but Lust's black work: And now you have
Just Sir, said they, arraigned here before
Your righteous Seat a Christian and a Whore.

214

But She, commanded by the Judge to make
Her own Apologie, (which best, said he,
Will be evinc'd, if you that Censer take
And choke with holy smoke all Calumny,)
With elevated Eyes thank'd Heav'n for this
Occasion to ascend unto her Bliss.

215

Embraving then her face with gallant Joy,
And like a Champion ready for the fight,
Or some bright Queen who gilds her nuptial Day,
Or Venus whose pure lustre silvers Night,
Or brisk Aurora garnishing the Morn,
Or goodly Ceres traversing her Corn.

216

Or rather like that glorious Deacon who
First op'd the ruby Gate of Martyrdom,
Whom sweet and princely beams imbellish'd so
That Heav'n it self aforehand seem'd to come
And perch upon his face, which to his Foes
An Angel's Count'nance did in Man's disclose;

217

She thus began: No Confutation I
But Thanks alone to my Accusers owe,
Who charge on me no vulgar Piety,
But rank me with Uranius, and allow
That simple I deserve no less than He
With Martyrdom's fair Palms adorn'd to be.

218

Indeed 'tis my Ambition's Aim that I
May but appear as deep ingrain'd as He
In what you fondly count Guilt's ugly Die:
And since their malice hath befriended me
Above my merit, I am loth to lose
What is so freely granted by my Foes.

219

But that part of their spight which call'd me Whore
Foully mistaketh my Delights and Me;
For might I choose my flames, for evermore
In all Hell's sulphur I would fryed be,
Rather than hatch a Thought of giving way
That lust's black fire should make my heart its Prey.

220

But how have I demean'd my self, that you
Wise Sir, should think this wretched Life to me
Can seem more precious than the faith I owe
To Him who can from Death's Captivity
Redeem His Subjects, and a course will take
Uranius from his Ashes out to rake.

193

221

If e'r this Tongue of mine was known to spill
The least Consent or seeming Approbation
Of you or of your Gods, (which sure my Will
Was never privy to,) this Detestation
May wipe it off, and make my Guilt as clear
As my Accusers wish it may appear.

222

Your Jove's no more, nay not so much to Me
As you, or as the meanest Wight that lives:
He to your fancies ow's his Deity,
And from your Superstition receives
His several shapes: and therefore well may you
Be bold with him, and what you please allow.

223

Sometimes a Bull must serve, sometimes a Swan
For King of Gods and Men; sometimes a shower
Of Gold, and, when you kindest are, a Man:
But such a Man, as wast's his Godship's Power
In Lust and Luxury; that politick ye
May by your God's Example Wicked be.

224

And must I lavish Incense to perfume
His Name, the Name of filths and Stinks? must I
His wretched Vileness to content presume
On Jesu's pure and mighty Majesty?
No: Him indeed I fear, but dread not you;
Which with my life I ready am to show.

225

I grant Corruption is my Pedegree,
And Worms my kindred; yet I must have leave
To think my self too noble still to be
Your God's Devoto: O do not deceive
Your selves in vain; my Essence real is,
And therefore may not worship forgeries.

226

Were I as foul as Slander's thoughts of me,
Were I the worst of horrid Things, a Whore;
I see not why your goodly Piety
Should not forthwith convince you to Adore
My Wickedness and Me, unless you dare
Your Venus from her Goddeship debar.

227

What Perfica, Pertunda, Mutunus,
What Cyprian Rites, what Ithyphallies, mean,
What sacred sport old Baubo's glorious
Invention made to cheer up Harvest's Queen,
You and your Temples know: but pardon me
If I abhor to name such Villany.

228

No: it shall never stain this Tongue of mine
This Tongue, whose Homage is intirely due
To Jesu's Name; that Name of most divine
Unspotted Sweetness: doubt not Sir, although
I am a feeble Female, His dear Sake
My Resolution Masculine can make.

229

It can, and will; and if you find to day
That Jove, or greater you, can make me start
From what becomes his faithful Champion, say
Jesus has Psyche's Tongue, but none her Heart.
This said: with hopes of deadly Tortures fill'd,
On her grim Judge's face she nobly smil'd.

230

But He, deep stung by this most stout Reply,
And highly scorning to acknowledge in
A Woman such heroick Constancy,
With envious Cunning cry'd, now have I seen
Enough to quit lowd Fame from any Lie
Which charg'd such Charms on Christianity.

231

If every silly Soul inchanted were
With fauning Superstition's Witchery,
This obstinate and retchless Maiden here
Is Captive to that curs'd Impiety;
Being so monstrously transform'd, that to
The Gods and her own Self she's open Foe.

232

But must We rage because this Wench is mad?
Perhaps her Spell's of short extent, and she
Tam'd by a Prison's Hardship, may be glad
To turn into her self again, and be
Content (which may the Gods vouchsafe to grant!)
Her Blasphemy and Boldness to recant.

233

Great Jove, who heard when she did him defy,
Forbore to fling his Lightning at her head;
And by that sweet and heav'nly Lenity,
Of Patience to Us a Lecture read.
To Prison with her, and instruct her by
New Chains to quit these Bands of Witchery.

234

Laden with Irons, but much more with scorn,
Poor Psyche thus unto the Jayl is led;
And in a dungeon gloomy and forlorn
(That she might doubly be imprisoned,)
Cruelly plung'd: where as she 'gan to sink
Into the nasty Mire, she wak'd the Stink.

235

A Stink which might disdain what Arabie
And all its Odors could against it do:
An aged Stink, which in that Sordid stie
Had mellowing lain; for it was long agoe
Since any Foot disquieted the Heap
Of pois'nous Lothsomness which there did sleep.

194

236

Fast in this Torment stuck, afflicted She
No succour could receive from any Friend:
The Jaylor barr'd out all Their Piety
Who long'd to give what He deny'd to lend,
And only once a day his Pris'ner fed
With puddle Water and more dirty Bread.

237

Yet harder than this Diet, was the Grace
He duly said: Repent, unhappy Wretch,
Repent, he cry'd: why should this odious Place
Be dearer to thee, than the Favor which
The gentle Judge hath offer'd thee, if thou
With Him, and our great Queen, to Jove wilt bow?

238

These curs'd importunate Preachments sorely grated
Upon the bowels of her Soul, who in
This woful Leisure deeply meditated
Upon the Age's most contagious Sin;
Which now with zealous superstition rung
From her destructive Keeper's pitying Tongue.

239

No Member e'r with softer Sympathy
The Wounds of its fraternal Part could feel,
Than she that deadly-spreading Malady
Which now had tainted Albion's Commonweal;
And like the Plague indeed, into the Heart
Its desperate Poison did directly dart.

240

Inestimable Souls (for such the Price
Which Jesus paid, demonstrates them to be,)
Their own illustrious Value did despise,
Selling themselves to poor Idolatry;
And at no higher rate, than to escape
Some worldly Shame, and temporal Mishap.

241

Their dear Redeemer's most transcendent Love
They kick'd and scorned and his Heav'n with it;
And spent their Service on ignoble Jove,
Although no Guerdon but the lowest Pit
Of everflaming Torments did attend them,
Where ev'n that Jove himself no help could lend them.

242

This pierc'd her Soul so deep, that she should give
Her Life ten thousand times to Death, might she
But at that cost be able to reprieve
Or Friends or Foes from this mad misery.
But seeing this unfeasible, the sight
Doubled her sorrow's heart-oppressing weight.

243

This fair Advantage envious Satan took
To work upon her rocky Constancy,
Trusting his Art at length would her provoke
To kiss the Judge's offer'd Courtesy;
He hop'd that Desolation gall'd by Grief
Would stoop at last, and not disdain Relief.

244

And yet her charitable Meditation
Highly displeas'd him; wherefore crafty He
Resolv'd perforce to knit her Contemplation
Close to her own new-sprung Calamity;
For all her Veins with angry Flames he fill'd,
Till into burning Pearls and Boils they swell'd.

245

Her skin, so soft, and white, and sleck before,
All rugged now with odious Tumors is:
From head to foot one universal Sore
Arrays her round in a tormenting Dress;
A Dress which Vzze's patient Prince of old
He forc'd to wear instead of Robes of gold.

246

Yet on dry Ashes He had leave to sit,
And with a Potsherd scrape his scurfy skin:
A Comfort Psyche's Fate would not permit,
Who stuck beneath that Help, a Captive in
The thick relentless Mire; where she is fain
To rub her torturing Tumors with her Chain.

247

She rub'd, and every Rub did but inrage
The fretful Sores to higher swelling Pain;
Whose fury for the present to asswage
She rub'd, and so augmented it again.
O deplorable Wight, whose only Ease
Is her own flaming Anguish to increase!

248

And yet these Torments less tormenting were
Than those which now her Parents' treacherous Love
Heap'd on her wounded Soul: the Judge's ear,
And then his Leave they gain'd, to come and prove
What their Persuasions with their Child could do;
And cunningly they did their bus'ness too.

249

For on the Dungeon's brink their Lamentation
They poured first, and then this charming Cry:
Psyche, O Psyche, If thy Tribulation
Be yet too weak to make thee bow to thy
Own Ease and Quiet; let thy Parents' Grief
At least, by thy Consent, obtain Releif.

250

The Staff of our decrepit years art Thou,
Sole Thou, dear Daughter; all our Joys in Thee
Are fresh and young: O do not rob us now
Of that by which we live, thy Liberty:
Thy Liberty, which we would rather choose
By any Hand than by thine own to loose.

195

251

The Judge would yield thee back to Us again,
And wilt thou Cruel be when He is kind?
By thee have we deserved to be slain
Who from our Foes such generous Pity find?
Though thine own Life thou strangely scornest, yet
Abhor not Ours to whom thou owest it.

252

Surely thy Christ, if he as gentle be,
As thou didst vaunt him for, will never praise
That wilful and unnatural Piety
Which both thine own and Parents' lives betrays.
O no: our common Lord we also know,
And honor his Compassion more than thou.

253

Our Faith in his abundant Mercy makes
Us, till this boistrous Storm abates, Comply.
His Eye, which through all Hearts its Prospect takes,
Beholds that Ours pant still with Loyalty
To him and his dear Laws; and therefore He
Propitious to our ou[t]side-fault will be.

254

To Peter's Tongue, though fould with three Denyals,
'Cause still his Heart was clean, he pardon gave:
And doubt not thou but since thy present Tryals
More dreadful are than His, thy Lips may have
Leave to be bold for once, if still thy Breast
In Loyalty to Jesus doth persist.

255

O force not then thine own Destruction!
Accept of what thou surely ought'st to crave;
Whilst yet it shines, enjoy the courteous Sun,
And let this Dungeon not forestal thy Grave.
Speak, speak, and bid Us Live with Thee; or by
Thy willful Silence, send Us home to Dy.

256

So pleaded they: but Psyche with a Sigh
Fetch'd deeper than the bottom of her Grot,
Sounded the woful Charge, and valiantly
With this athletick Answer vanquish'd what
Artillery their crafty Tongues had brought
From Piety's strong-Hold to force her out.

257

I now no longer can the Jaylor blame
Who tempted me my Liberty to gain
By being Slave to Jove's accursed Name,
And scorning Him who on Heav'n's throne doth reign:
Why should I look that Pagan He, to Me
Should kinder than my Christian Parents be?

258

If yet you dare that holy Title wear,
Who antichristianly invite me now
To kick at Christ. Alas, that I appear,
So execrable in your eyes, that you
(As if this Dungeon here were shallow grown,)
Into Hell's Gulf should strive to plunge me down!

259

The sacred Law of Filial Duty I
Hold dearer than this World: for well I know
(Nor shall all Torments force me to deny
This Truth,) that unto you my Life I ow;
Which in your Service if I ever fear
To spend, then may I prove Idolater.

260

But that's the Life by which I Pris'ner am
In Earth's unworthy Jayl: a Life I have
Much truer to its active noble Name;
A Life so precious, that to reprieve
It from the Jaws of endless Death, his own
The King of Kings vouchsafed to lay down.

261

That Life I mean by which my Soul doth live;
A Life which from your Loins I never drew:
O call not then for what you did not give,
Nor think that this is to your Pleasure due.
God is my only Parent here, and I
Intire to him must keep my Loyalty.

262

As fast as in this Mire I stick, the Way
Of His Commands I running am: and though
Your Prayers or Necks you in my Path should lay
To barricado up my Race; yet now
I would not hear my Mortal Duty plead,
But on your Necks and Prayers freely tread.

263

Yet Heav'n forbid I should be forc'd to take
This hard Experiment of Piety!
O rather help to haste me to the Stake
And of my Combat there Spectators be:
You'l ne'r repent that you your Child, though in
A Coach of Flames, to Heav'n have mounting seen.

264

But since you know so well the vast extent
Of Jesu's Mercy, know it not in vain:
Your own decrepit years bid you repent
With speediest speed: and that deep-dyed stain
Of your Idolatrous Compliance dares
The utmost Power of your fullest Tears.

265

This is the properest Use your souls can make
Of Peter's signal Case; his triple Sin
No warrant for Presumption is to take
His faithless Course; but his repentant Brine
Shews to all sinful Eyes, what Waters are
Able to purge such stains, and quench Despair.

196

266

Mispend not then those precious Beads on me;
Your Selves need all their ornament: and I
This only Favor crave, that you would be
But so courageous yet, as to rely
On Heav'n's Protection. Speak, O speak, and ease
My throbbing heart's tormenting Jealousies.

267

I burn, I burn in Anguish, till I hear
You by a stout Profession defy
Those Baits of secular ignoble Fear
Which strangely lur'd you to Apostasy.
Speak then, and make my Life grow sweet, in spight
Of all these Tortures which against it fight.

268

So pious She. But feeble-hearted They
Rendring no Answer but a faithless sigh,
Their griefs and fears to witness, went their way,
Confounded by their Daughter's Constancy.
Yet by this foul Retreat they gave her more
Soul-piercing Wounds, than did their Charge before.

269

For now her ominous Meditations threw
Her down into that Gulf of flaming Pain
Which to Apostate Wickedness was due;
Where every Torment, every Rack and Chain
To which her Parents seem'd condemned now,
A Sea of Woe into her bosom threw.

270

So vast a Sea, as drowned all the Sense
Of her own overflowing Pangs; and she
Is quite transformed by the Violence
Of tender but self-cruel Sympathy
Into their imminent Condition, where
She underwent what she for them did fear.

271

But as she strugled to maintain this Fight
Of mighty Charity, at length she fainted;
When lo, a sudden unexpected Light
(A thing with which that Grot had ne'r acquainted,)
The Place, and Her, with Glory did surprise,
Off'ring a radiant Stranger to her eyes.

272

For she beheld at her right hand a Maid
On whose fair head a diamond Crown did shine:
With gentle Majesty she was array'd,
And all her Ornaments appear'd divine.
Which Sight amazed Psyche so, that she
Hasted to wellcom't on her bended knee.

273

But as her Soreness, Mire, and Clay, forbad
Her meek Intent, she fetch'd a modest sigh:
To which the Stranger this mild Answer made:
I see thy Mind in thy ingenuous Eye;
Thy Courtesy by thy Desire is done,
And sweetly calls my ern'd Requital on.

274

This said; she hugg'd her with a dear Embrace,
Which clasp'd her straiter than her Gyves and Chains,
And deeper printed was than her Disease;
For mightily it pierc'd through all her Pains
Into her Heart, and girt it up so close,
That now no Anguish there could interpose.

275

As He who is some wager'd Race to run,
Having his Loins knit up, and being by
His Girdle tyed to Himself alone,
With nimbler stoutness to the Goal doth fly,
Than when his Waste he loose about him ware
And there for wearyness had room to spare.

276

Embraced Psyche thus perceiv'd her Breast
Lac'd strait, and shrunk into Collection's strength.
At first she wonder'd her importunate Guest
So much should press her Courtesy; but at length
Finding fresh Vigor glowing in her heart,
She knew she only squeased out her smart.

277

This threw her down in humble Gratitude
To court and kiss her heav'nly Surgeon's foot;
A Surgeon whose mysterious Art subdu'd
Her strong Disease, and yet subdu'd it not:
For though at perfect Ease, yet still as sore
She found her boyling Body as before.

278

And now such Courage in her Bosom reigns,
That she rejoic'd she had so hard a Race:
Her gauntlet she dares give to any Pains,
And dreads no lingring Death's most tedious face.
Her Chains to her no more than Bracelets are,
Her flaming Boyls as Pearls indeed apear.

279

Her Parents' Case to Heav'n's yet hidden Will
She freely now resigns; that Will, which though
It bitter seem to Worldly Tastes, can still
To meek and uncorrupted Palats flow
With all the Soul of Sweetness, and will make
From Springs of Gall a Flood of Honey break.

280

She seeming yet not to have fully shar'd
In Pangs and Suff'rings, feareth not to Pray
That He who had on her such strength confer'd
Would still more Load upon her shoulders lay:
More fewel still unto her Fervor give,
Who now by nothing but by Pains could live.

197

281

Nor was it wonder; for the Stranger here
(Thenceforth a stranger unto her no more,)
Was sped from Heav'n a special Messenger
To heal her Heart now 'ginning to be sore,
In her pain'd Body. Willingly she came
And did her work, for Patience was her Name.

282

The Eyes of Lambs ne'r darted meeker Raies
Than stream from Hers; and yet the Lyon's face
With stouter Bravery could never raise
His royal Looks, nor with more Courage gaze
Upon and challenge Terrors, than do's she,
Though soft as Honey, or as Oil she be.

283

All over She is nothing else but Scars,
Writ large and fair, to testify what she
Had undergone in Heav'n's adventurous Wars;
And yet these Characters her Beauty be;
For with such silver Light they smile, that they
Her noble Limbs like Tires of Stars array.

284

But having thus dispatch'd her Bus'ness, she
The cheer'd resolved Pris'ner leav's: when lo
The Judge's Messenger arriv'd, to see
If Psyche yet were fully tam'd or no:
And standing at the Dungeon's mouth, he cries,
Learn wretched Maid, at length, learn to be wise.

285

The Judge, on whose sole Will thy Fate depends,
In spight of thy Perversness Tender is;
And Me on Mercie's Errand hither sends
To offer to thee at an easy price
Thy Life and Liberty; and more than that
If thou thy Irreligion wilt forget.

286

His noble Word (is any Bond or Seal
So sure?) he gives, to change thy Poverty
Into a wealthy state; nor shalt thou feel
What Scorns and Chains, and Dungeons signify;
But living in soft Peace and Plenty His
High Favor, and the World's Esteem possess.

287

His only Son, the Heir of his Estate,
And present Owner of his Heart, for Thee
He doth design, except thou shutt'st the gate
Against thy entering Felicity;
And desperately foolish, wilt desire
Before thy Nuptial Torch, thy Funeral Fire.

288

But if you obstinately yet deny
To offer Incense to our mighty Jove;
You dam the way to all his Clemency,
And a deserved Sacrifice must prove
To your own Madness: this Decree is past;
You must Vranius's Fate to morrow taste.

289

As when the tossed Mariner descries
The Promontory of his native Soil,
Within whose craggy Horns his harbor lies,
He strait forgets his long tempestuous Toil,
Beginning his revived Heart to find
Swell'd more with Joy than are his Sails with wind.

290

So Psyche hearing that her Doom was past
Which to her long-wisht Port would her convey;
Her Arms in triumph up to Heav'n she cast
With thanks and praises for that happy Day;
And in Defiance of his offer'd Grace,
Threw this stout answer at the Serjeant's face:

291

My Thanks to your kind Master carry back;
High is his Favor, and I it embrace:
But sure your Errand you did much mistake,
Or willingly at least your words misplace.
Death, Death, not Life, a Favor is, and I
More gratefully accept That Courtesy.

292

Tell Him he woo's me for his Son too late
Who long since was betroth'd, and mean to be
True to my noble Spouse: nor can your Threat
E'r shake the groundsel of my Constancy,
Who doubt not but my Nuptial Tapers will
Be lighted at my funeral flaming Pile.

293

As for your vain and wretched Jupiter,
Were he but half so true a thing as you,
I then would some respect to Him defer;
But unto Nothing, what can I allow
But what it is? and though your Incense be
But smoke, 'tis more substantial far than He.

294

Deceive your foolish Selves no longer, I
Am not Enchanted, but All you are so:
What else should make you dream I fear to dy,
Who through Death's gate to Life's bright Court shall go?
Away, and pray your Master, if he be
An honest Man, to keep his word with Me.

295

This Answer (which the Bearer fully did,)
Inrag'd the Judge to make his Threatnings good.
But all in vain his Wrath he marshalled;
Heav'n's mild, against his bloody Purpose stood;
Nor could fierce Satan further help him, or
One step beyond his sturdy Tether stir.

198

296

Mean while such Joy in Psyche's bosom glow'd
Through Expectation of the Fire and Stake,
That all her Pains and Torments to it bow'd:
For in sweet Quiet she that evening brake
Her tedious Vigils, and permitted Sleep
Over the Curtains of her Eyes to creep.

297

But Phylax, who in Absence's sad night
Had all this while been set; now gained leave
Of Heav'n to Rise in his dear Pupil's sight,
And from the Tyrant's fury her reprieve:
Down to the Dungeon he as gladly flies,
As ever he had towred to the skies.

298

Where finding her not only Pris'ner to
Her iron Chains, but Sleep's soft silken Bands,
He wisely set himself his work to do
Whilst She was yet at Rest: His potent Hands
Upon her burning Soars he gently laid;
Which quench'd, and fled, as of his Touch afraid.

299

Her scurfy Roughcast scaled off, and all
Her Skin to fresh and tender smoothness left.
So when of old the Syrian General
In Jordan had exchang'd his leprous shift,
His Flesh appear'd as soft and pure as were
The Virgin Streams which smil'd and sported there.

300

With like facility He did but touch
The massy Chains which on his Daring lay:
Nor durst their brasen Locks so much as grutch
That mystick Key's Commandment to obey:
But down they tumbled, clashing as they fell;
Which Noise to Psyche did their Ruine tell.

301

Up started she, and sought to understand
The Noise's meaning, hoping 't had been Day;
And that the challeng'd Judge had sent Command
Strait to the Stake to hurry her away;
That hungry he might other charges save
And her for Breakfast ready rosted have.

302

When lo, her self in Phylax's Arms she found
Chain'd by the Bands of Love: her other Gyves
Confuted all and shattered on the ground
She wondring sees; and instantly perceiv's
Her Sores were fled she knew not whither: which
Scru'd her Amazement to an higher pitch.

303

But then, My Dear, said Phylax, we have now
No time to loyter here, but must be gone.
Three times she shak'd her head and rubb'd her brow,
But off she could not rub the Vision:
She yielded therefore to attend the Dream,
For no such Truth to her it self could seem.

304

Up from the Dungeon the Angel flew
Proud of the Prize which in his Arms he bore;
The Bolts and Locks ran from his radiant View,
So did the Prison's seav'nfold brasen Door,
Yet durst not make the least Complaint, or bear
Tales, by their clashing, to the Jaylor's ear.

305

Thus through the Town unseen, unheard he past
Leading his Pupil in a silent Way:
Great was his Care of her, and great his Haste
Till he had brought her into Safetie's Bay;
This was a Place which in the Desert He
For her immured had with Privacy.

306

A Place sequester'd far beyond the Scent
Of any Bloodhound whether Man or Beast;
A Place well-furnished with sweet Content
And all Conveniences ready drest:
Where, having brought her in, No more mistake
Thy Bliss, he cry'd, but know thou art Awake.

307

For amply pleas'd with this Experiment,
Thy Spouse accepts thy faithful Patience:
To snatch Thee from thy Chains and Sores, He sent
Me hither, and from all that Violence
The furious Tyrant hath prepar'd to day
Upon thine undeserving Life to lay.

308

Psyche appal'd at this unlook'd-for Word,
And well-perceiving that she heard and saw,
With such indignant Discontent was stirr'd
Against her Guardian, that had not the Law
Of Modesty been printed on her Tongue,
Full in his face Defiance she had flung.

309

Sadly she frown'd, and sadlier smote her breast;
And looked round about, some hopes to meet
That still she was not totally releast
Out of the reach of Persecution's Threat:
But nothing answer'd her examining Eye,
But, what she most abhor'd, Safe Privacy.

310

Wherefore at length she ventur'd thus to ease
Her belking Heart: O Phylax, how art Thou,
Known hitherto to me by Courtesies,
Into mine Enemy transformed now!
A greater Tyrant why art Thou to Me
Than He from whom thou hast set me free.

199

311

I by His help, this morning should have seen
That Day which riseth from my Spouse's Eyes;
Nor had I any longer troubled been
Upward to gaze when I would read the skies:
O no! Vranius now looks down, when he
The region of the Sun and Stars would see.

312

What is this Life of Banishment to Me,
Who have no setled Home but That above?
What boots it, that my Chains and Malady
Are shaken off, if Psyche still must grove
A Pris'ner to this heavy Flesh, which more
Tormenteth me than any Chain or Sore.

313

And are the Palms and ever-radiant Crown
Of Martyrdom so poor and vile a prize;
Are Heav'n, and Bliss, and Jesus's presence, grown
Things so indifferent, that my longing Eyes
Should spare their Tears, when I am snatch'd away
From them, and forc'd on sordid Earth to stay?

314

O Phylax, thou hast not reprieved me
From any of my pangs: I'm at the stake,
I burn, I burn; nor can my Agony
But by my final Dissolution slake.
She fainted here—But Phylax snatch'd her up,
And hasted thus her sorrow's Tide to stop:

315

Courage, sweet soul; and he assured, I
Have not deceiv'd thee of thy noble Aim:
Thy Spouse design's a Martyrdom whereby
To fetch thee to Himself, but not the same
He de[s]igned to Vranius: no; for Thee
He treasur'd hath a braver Destiny.

316

A Destiny which He on none bestows
But those who highest in his Favor set;
A Destiny to which thy highest Vows
Ne'r yet aspir'd; a Destiny so fit
For brightest Seraphs, that were mortal Fate
To end their Life, they'd choose no Death but that.

317

More long, more strong, and stretch'd with fuller Pain
Thy Martyrdom shall be, than from the Spight
Of this, th[r]ough raging Tyrant thou canst gain:
Thy Strength's reserv'd for a hardier Fight
Than that Vranius fought; and this shall be
The Scene of thy heroick Chevalry.

318

Here, here shalt Thou impregnably maintain
The sturdy Combat, whilst thy Spouse, and all
His Angels waiting on his royal Train,
Will be Spectators: Do not then forestal
Thy greater Fame by hasty Zeal, but stay
With patience for thy Coronation Day.

319

This welcome Answer such Refreshment blew
On Psyche's heart, that meek and pliant she
Cool'd her importunate Desires, and grew
Content to wait the full Maturity
Of her affected Laurel: though as yet
She little knew how she must Gather it.

200

CANTO XXIII. The Dereliction.

The ARGUMENT.

Psyche abandon'd to the Solitude
Of Soul and Body, by the resolute Might
Of patient loyal Constancy subdu'd
Hell's Champion Despair in single fight.
Yet in her Conquest no free triumph found,
Being still a Slave to Dereliction bound.

1

Though cold grim Sadness frowneth in thine Eye,
Dear Solitude, yet in thy silent Breast
Some worthy Sweetness doth inshrined ly;
Witness that Vileness, and that high Request
By which betwixt the lazy earthly heart
And Pious Soul thou so divided art.

2

He whom black Conscience catching all alone,
Suffers not to be so; but in his face
Musters in dread array each Legion
Of his hell-lifted Sins; and in that Glass
Of self-affrighting Terror makes him see
What cause he has ev'n his own Foe to be:

3

He, foolish He, a large Inditement draws
Against thy larger Innocence; upon
Thy Credit's fairest Top his Anger throws
Scorn's foulest Bottom: Thee he calls, and none
But Thee, the Mother of vexatious Folly,
Of Horrors, and despairing Melancholy.

4

He no where but among his roaring Boys
Can meet a Quire whose Musick suits his ears,
Whilst in the tumult of that boistrous Noise
All Atheisme's ranting Wit he hears,
And learns what Phrases of mad Vanity,
What Oaths, what Blasphemies in fashion be.

5

In this loud Tempest (joined with a Sea
Of lusty Wine) he desperately drowns
The wholsom Thoughts of sad Sobriety:
In this gay Throng, made up of all the Town's
Gentilest Crimes, He's certain not to find
Free Room to take a View of his own Mind.

6

And thus, unhappy Man, he only lives
In his Outside, and therefore liveth not:
But when sure Death his woful Summons gives,
Alarm'd into a Fright past knowing what
To do or think, in vain for help he cries,
And to himself a wretched Stranger dies.

7

He dies, and leaves his Body, which could not
Endure to be a little while alone,
In Grave's dark tedious Solitude to rot;
Whilst in the Tumult of Damnation
His now uncloyster'd Soul is forc'd to dwell
Amongst the Roarers of eternal Hell.

8

But He who dares his Bosom ransack, and
Take due survey of every thing within,
That he may always ready have at hand
An Inventory of Himself, and win
Time upon Death by prudent Preparation
To entertain and kiss his Consummation;

9

He who can venture to endure the Slander
Of Stoicism, and scorn the wanton Lure
Of gaudy Fashion, Sin's most faithful Pander;
He who can think it reason to Immure
Himself, when They who ly at open Ease
Prove Prizes to Soul-plundering Miseries;

10

He who will rather sail alone; than run
With that wild Navy which no Compass keeps,
Nor steers by any heav'nly Light, but on
Fleet Shelves doth ride, or rush through rocky Deeps;
He whom no cheating Charms can win to be
Content to perish for mere Company:

201

11

He who both Leisure and Desire can find
To sequester Impertinences, that
His proper Bus'ness he may only mind
And raise by pious Thrift his best Estate,
That he a Bank of endless Wealth may have
When poor he go's and naked to his grave:

12

He, He's the Man, on whom the Citie's Joys
And proud Excess; the Countrie's hearty Sport;
The gallant Licence, and the glittering Toys,
With all the glorious Nothings of the Court,
As on their Conqueror look; Since sober He
Can of plain Solitude inamored be.

13

For here his Soul more Company can meet
And of more high and worthy Quality,
Than in the Theater's most thronging Sweat,
Where Spectacles profess to court the Eye.
Such Preasses justle out all Heav'n, but He
Reads it at large in this Vacuity.

14

An undisturbed View he here can take
Of all its fairest and its loftiest Stories:
His Contemplation here can freely break
Through all its Treasures of unbounded Glories;
And in the Court where Bliss and Pleasures reign
With Saints and Angels brave Acquaintance gain.

15

Here to the Universe's King may He
His free attendance pay from Morn to Night,
Whilst in the everlasting One and Three
He learneth to Divide and to Unite
His mystick Homage, as the Spirit's Gale
Makes him in this Abyss of Wonders sail.

16

Here constantly he stands upon his Watch,
That when the roaring Lyon, whose fierce Chase
Surrounds the World his careless Preys to catch,
Hunteth that way, his heav'n-imbraved Face
May with inured ready-waking Might
Confront his Fo, and entertain the Fight.

17

Here, from the sapless World's inchanting breast
Where only mocking Froth and Bubbles spring,
Himself he weans; and studies how to feast
Upon some masculine substantial Thing,
Which may not cheat him with short false Content,
But yield his Soul eternal Nutriment.

18

No Humor of the Times, no Garbs or Fashions,
Can here seduce his Care; no boistrous News
Of publick Woes, or fatal Alterations,
His Harbour's Halcyon Quiet can abuse.
No storms can rage but in the open Seas;
His private Bay the Cloyster is of Ease.

19

His righteous Soul is not afflicted here
To see and hear how wretched Worms defy
Omnipotence's Self, and scorn to fear
The Jaws of Hell, to which their Villany
Makes them apparent Heirs; but take delight
The Love and Blood of Jesus to despight.

20

He sees no Levellers begin their Trade
With Altars first, and then with Crowns; he sees
No Temples Dens of Holy Robbers made,
And garrison'd with strong Impieties;
Temples, where under foot the Church is trod,
And only Horses serv'd in stead of God.

21

He heareth no Rebellion's Canons first
Giving their dire Reports in Pulpits, and
As loud, as if indeed their Thunder burst
From Heav'n's Artillery; till th'imbroiled Land
Too late perceiveth this Vociferation
Is but the funeral Sermon to the Nation.

22

Here past the reach of those bewitching Darts
Which flash with radiant Bane from Wanton Eyes,
And grave both Timorous and Martial Hearts
With Mortal, though fanastick Wounds, He lies
Secure and safe, and undisturbed may
Prepare for his eternal Nuptial Day.

23

Here Time and Freedom he enjoys, to weed
And cultivate himself: with pious toil
Each Herb of Grace he plants, and sows the Seed
Of every Virtue in his Bosom's Soil;
Assur'd this Agriculture will conclude
I'th' Harvest of mature Beatitude.

24

With prudent Fore-cast he can here provide
An ample Stock in readiness to be
Against all Charges which may him betide
In managing a Publick Life, if he
Be called from his private Nest, and made
Against the thronging stream of sin to wade.

25

More furnished with strength of Argument
From learned Athens never Student came,
Who had his nimblest Years and Spirits spent
The Engins of deep-reaching Wit to frame;
Than doth this sagely-sprightful Champion from
His private School of publick Virtue come.

202

26

For having learn'd their due Contempt to throw
Upon those Interests and Baits which make
The bias'd Hearts of Men unmanly grow,
And cowardly Sin's sneaking Bypaths take;
In spight of all the World which dares say No,
He in the King of Heav'n's Highway will go:

27

And that is Truth's and holy Wisdom's Road;
In which whoever travels, always wins
The Games he hunts; for whilst he is abroad,
He finds Success and Victory his Inns:
And when he to his heav'nly Home ascends,
His Journey he in endless Triumphs ends.

28

The Garland thus of all Advantages
Retirement's Life is privileg'd to wear:
Which therefore only dear and precious is
To Them who Sons of heav'n and Prudence are;
And which insiped timorous Souls, as they
Cannot believe, so never can enjoy.

29

Psyche, who now conducted was into
This Solitude, though Zeal's most venturous heat
Spurr'd her in stout Uranius's steps to go;
Yet, since her Phylax stop'd her forward feet,
Appeas'd the Flames of her Impatience by
The streaming Comforts of her Privacy.

30

If in the Tumult of the World she still
Had mingled been, the Croud had surely slain her;
For all Earth's friendliest Furniture and Skill
Could with no savory Solace entertain her:
Her heart already dwelt in Heav'n, and she
Liv'd best where least she could behind it be.

31

And that was here, where by no secular Care
Or Interruption's Clog she hamper'd was;
But harbouring in a calmy Hemisphere,
Upon free Meditation's wings could pass
Above the Moon and Sun, and Troops of fair
Stars, which in Heav'n's Campagnia ranged are.

32

Yet Contemplation's too jejune and dry
To satisfy Love's mighty Hunger: Love
Will venture in rebellious Loyalty
To reach at full Fruition, though above
Her reach it lie: Love's quickned when repell'd,
And may Forbidden be, but not With-held.

33

But as her Soul began to pant again
For that dear Day of final Conflict she
By Phylax's Promise hoped to obtain,
And that alone: Lo on the suddain he
Warn'd thence by secret Bus'ness from his King,
Presently took his leave, and took his wing.

34

As she made haste to ask the reason, he
With sprightful speed outflew her Voice, and Eye.
A Sigh then strove to follow him; but she
Repulsed it with noble Constancy;
And cry'd, It must not, and it shall not grieve me:
Did Heav'n not call him, Phylax would not leave me

35

Then down upon her yielding Knees she fell,
And casting upward her most loyal Eyes,
Since thou no less on Earth below dost dwell
Sweet Lord, said she, than in the highest skies;
Though Phylax's wings now shelter not my head
Yet Thine are always o'r thy Handmaid spread.

36

Though to my soul his Company be dear,
Yet not so precious as thy blessed Will:
Though he has left his feeble Psyche here,
I can, and dare be more Abandon'd still,
If mighty Thou, who never wilt forsake me,
With nearer Losses pleased art to rack me.

37

Fain would I quit the Debt in which to Thee,
And mine own Vows I stand; fain would I prove
By combating with any Misery,
The valiant Truth of my obliged Love.
Thou bidst us Follow with our Cross, and lo
I in thy bloodiest steps desire to go.

38

I would not to a Figure's Courtesy
Beholden be in my Affliction, nor
To such a tender Cross condemned be
As needs th'assistance of a Metaphor
To make its hard Name good; for That, I'm sure
Was true and real which Thou didst endure.

39

No golden Plenty Psyche craves of Thee,
No soft Content, or silken Peace; impart
Those Favors unto whom thou wilt, for me;
Thy sharpest Blessings best will sute my Heart:
My Heart, which burneth in profound Desire
Of some heroick and consuming Fire.

40

If ever Martyr ow'd thee more than I,
Permit me not to pay my Blood to Thee.
But mighty King of Equity, O Why
Must Psyche only not have leave to be
What Duty bids her? why must Life be mine,
Which is not so, till I have made it Thine?

203

41

O slay me not by still Denying Death!
To suffer want of Suff'rings, is to Me
The only Dregs which from thy deepest Wrath
Vengeance can squeaze; from this one misery,
Which is the Pith of all, I beg reprieve:
I die in Torment if in Ease I live.

42

I die; and which is worse than Death and Hell,
Die not for Thee, though Thou for me wert slain:
Pity, O Pity, Jesu.—Here her Zeal
Outflew her Tongue: yet though she could Complain
By Words no longer; by her weeping Eyes
She poured out as strong a Flood of Cries.

43

Jesus, whose Ear to Love's sweet Dialect
Stands always ope, strait heard her Agony;
Whose potent Musicke charm'd him to respect
Her meekly-venturous Importunity:
His sweetned Bitterness apace he sent,
And bless'd her with her begged Punishment.

44

Charis, accustom'd open house to keep
In her free heart, he there shut up so close
That now no glimmering Ray had power to Peep
Forth from that Nest of Light: nor could she choose
But be suspitious that the spring was dry'd,
From whence she saw no Emanations glide.

45

When lo the Welkin, which before was clear,
And flowed with the Sun's transparent Gold;
Started from its fair Looks with sudden fear,
And did in swarthy Weeds it self infold.
Day was abash'd to see how boldly Night
Incroach'd upon her, and despis'd her Light:

46

The Air, presaging what outrageous Pains
Would tear her tender weatherbeaten sides,
Looks sadly, and with hollow Groans complains
Aforehand of the Storm; which as she chides,
She but awakes; and so provokes to rage
With louder fury on this tragick Stage.

47

Forthwith the Clouds came tumbling one upon
Another's back, for fear to loose their place
And office in that blind Confusion
With which the Element all gravid was:
Close quaking in his Cave lay every Beast,
And every Bird lamenting in his Nest.

48

The daunted Trees shiver'd in every Leaf;
The stones forgot their strength, and sweat for fear;
The Corn hung down their heads, and pour'd their grief
By whispers into one another's ear.
Never did more dismaying Expectation
Usher in any Tempest's Indignation.

49

Strange Phantoms dress'd in spurious smoaking Light
Fed by foul Sulphur, flashed all about;
Fell grizly Ghosts array'd in gloomy Fright
Both with themselves and one another fought:
Whole Troops of Feinds and Furies, in despair,
Threw their torn Serpents through the sable Air.

50

The labouring Clouds at length with open Cry
Brought forth their Woe, and thunder'd their Complaint:
The Bowels of the hardest Rocks were by
Compassion mov'd; the massy Earth grew faint,
And all her boldest Mountains shak'd to hear
The doleful Outcry of her neighbour Sphere.

51

Psyche alone as yet refus'd to melt
By any Tremor; only in her heart
A leaden Numness creeping on she felt,
Since Charis there forbore her sprightful Part:
When blacker than the rest one heavy Cloud
Down to the ground before her face did crou'd.

52

Where having op'd its hideous Curtains wide,
Forth at the gap a stream of Lightning broke;
The suddenness of whose most dazeling Tide
The resolute Maid with some amazement stroke:
But strait an Hand reach'd out it self and held
A deep wide Cup with greater Terrors fill'd.

53

It held it to her Lip, and that which had
Till now been Thunder, prov'd a fiercer Voice,
Commanding Her to drink that liquid Dread
In proper Answer to her venturous Choise:
She nothing more than Pleasures feard; and here
Was nothing less than what her heart did fear.

54

Thus challeng'd by the Voice, whose Fount she knew
And durst not disobey; into the Cup
She sent her Eye to take a plenal view
Of this sad Deep before she drunk it up.
But there such boiling Horrors she descried,
That down she prostrate fell, and thus she cried:

55

Weak Woman, as I was; how has my Pride,
My silly Pride, betrayed me to Wo!
On Confidence's wings I needs would ride,
And pertly towre up to mine overthrow.
Had I remembred that a Worm I am,
I ne'r had crawl'd so high to reach my Shame.

204

56

I ne'r had woo'd all Tryals to assail me,
I ne'r had challeng'd what I quake to see:
But since my prudent Meekness then did fail me
'Tis just my Courage now should languid be.
Alas my blindly-valiant Wish is too,
Too fully come; and I, what shall I do?

57

To its dead bottom Jesu didst not Thou
Grief's mighty Cup for all thy Members drink?
How is it then, that this of mine is now
Of Poison's rankest Soul a swelling sink:
Whose Sorrows, though to Thine they shallow be,
Yet are too deep for faint unhappy Me.

58

Thy naked Anger floating here I see,
In which no Glimpse of Favor mixed is:
What will become of weak abandon'd me
Who in thy Count'nance read mine only bliss,
If I be drowned in this Sea of Night
And buried from thy all-enlivening Sight?

59

Sweet was the Bowle of which Vranius drunk;
For being swallow'd up in streams of Fire,
Fortunate Saint to Heav'n he only sunk:
But I in this black Gulf of hideous Ire
Must downward dive, and overwhelmed be
In Dereliction's vast Profoundity.

60

I would not fear the most appalling Face
Of any Sorrow, which did not forbid
The sight of Thine: but now thine Eyes, alas,
In strange Aversion's angry Cloud are hid;
How shall I steer through this vast Deep, who may
Not see the Stars which are to guide my way!

61

Here having knock'd her breast, and turn'd her Eye,
Her generous Eye, three times into the Cup;
She chid her Sadness with a sadder Sigh,
And looking then with noble fervor up;
Yet why should I demur, she cry'd, since mine
Own Will long since is not mine own, but Thine?

62

If any Title to my Self I had,
I might be tender of my Ease and Rest:
But since to Thee a Deed of Gift I made
(O no! of bounden Pay) Thou art possest
Intirely of me; nor must I refuse
That Thou what is thine Own shouldst freely use.

63

I am no further I, than Thou wilt grant;
Propriety is no such thing to Me:
Yet I who nothing have, can nothing want
So long as I resigned am to Thee:
Thy Will in Sweetness always equal is,
Though our false Palates sometimes judge amiss.

64

And now I know thy Will is mingled here
In this most dismal Draught, whatever be
The present Rellish, Psyche doth not fear
But it will end in purest Suavity.
I fear it not: and here She snatch'd the Cup,
And bravely to the bottom drunk it up.

65

Thus have I seen a real-hearted Friend
(Though startled at some hard Experiment
Required by his dearer Self,) ascend
Above his Fears, and loyally consent
To what he hates, his Friendship so to prove
Ev'n by the Desperation of his Love.

66

But He who has in poison quaffed deep,
And drown'd himself in what he swallow'd down;
Quickly perceives the groping Mischief creep
About his heart: where being Victor grown,
Its fatal Chains of cold and heavy Lead
Are soon upon its fainting pris'ner spread:

67

So Psyche having poured down this black
Potion of living Death, strait felt its force
A Battery against all Comforts make,
Which prov'd too weak to stop its Triumph's course;
For through her Soul the Deluge broke, and there
Maintain'd its cruel uncontroll'd carreer.

68

Forthwith the Clouds, which had beset the Air,
Broke up their gloomy Siege; the Phantoms fled;
Serenity made all the Welkin fair;
The Rocks left quaking: Birds began to spred
Their cheerly Wings abroad; Beasts ventur'd forth;
So did the Sun, and rendred Heav'n to Earth.

69

The World to every Thing grew fresh and clear,
But unto Psyche; for distressed she
Perceiv'd no Change whose Courtesy could cheer
The turbid Region of her Agony:
The Brightness of the Day, to her was more
Black than the Vail of Pitch she saw before.

70

Thus cheerly Musick sounds but Torment to
A pained Ear: thus Neighbor's Liberty
With stricter Fetters gripes the Pris'ner's Wo:
Thus Lamps are to the Blind but Mockery:
Thus Gales, though cool and gentle, only learn
The boiling Flames more furiously to burn.

205

71

Alas her outward Self long since had she
Forgot, and knew not what Earth's Pleasures meant;
Above the Sphere of Sensibility
She had established her sole Content.
What is't to Her, that Phebus shineth fair,
Whose Comforts higher than His Zenith were?

72

That little glaring Thing, that mortal Sun,
Was not the King and Father of her Day:
Her Morning dawn'd with Jesus's Eyes alone,
The glorious Fountains of her gallant Joy:
And how, how can she live, now she no more
Can drink her draughts of Life as heretofore?

73

How can the ravish'd Lover's Comforts breath
When from his most inestimably Precious
His Eyes exiled are? Death, dolefull Death
Meets him in all his Life; and what delicious
Objects salute his Sight, but make him read
How much more sweet a Gem from him is hid.

74

Her Soul look'd up, alas, but look'd in vain;
For on her Eylids sate a Night so thick
As damp'd all Prospect, and made Hope complain
Which never until now receiv'd a Check.
Small is the Blind Man's Grief, to theirs who see
Nothing at all but their own Misery.

75

For unto this, and this alone, her Eyes
Wide open were, yea though she shut them close:
Still her importunate Calamities
And Desolations, their black Troops expose
In full array to Psyche's view, in spight
Of any Vail which could forbid the sight.

76

Tortur'd by this unsufferable Loss,
(For she Alone, till now, had never been,)
She spread to Heav'n her woful Hands across,
And sinking on her Knee to Earth; she in
A most abashed deplorable guise
Thus to her Spouse's wonted Favor flies.

77

My God, where e'r thou art, Why, why wilt Thou
Who every where canst Thy great Self display,
To Thy poor Handmaid not one glimpse allow
Who once enjoy'd Thy Grace's Highnoon Day?
Which had I never done, my present Pain
With such excess of Anguish would not reign.

78

Hath not Thy boundless Sweetness taught my heart
Complete Disrellish of all things beside?
Where grows the Balsam then which for this smart
Of mine can any Lenitive provide;
So long as most abandon'd I in this
Black Death, the Life of thy sweet Aspect miss?

79

Strong was this Cry; for all the Heav'ns it rent,
Yet prov'd too weak to make them hear: and she
Remembring not she e'r had thither sent
Such Prayers in vain, amazed was to see
These which so loud about her Spouse resounded,
Back to her breast with Emptiness rebounded.

80

Yet as the noble Palm, though on her head
A sturdy Burden's stern oppression lies,
In valiant Patience still go's on to spread
Her indefatigable Arms, and tries
How she may both her sad Afflictions bear,
And her ambitious boughs still higher rear:

81

So gallant Psyche, though upon her Back
Grief's Load more ponderous than Mountains lay;
Heroickly resolv'd it should not crack,
Nor Her most loyal Tollerance betray:
She knew what Jesus underwent before,
And that His Love deserv'd thus much and more.

82

She knew she could not Fall, except she would,
Although she saw not how she still could stand:
No Comfort's Ray she spy'd whereon to hold,
Yet fast ev'n on blind Hope she held her Hand;
Not doubting but through this most heavy blood
Fair Titan's cheerly Face at length would croud.

83

Confirmed therefore, to her Task she went,
And spurr'd up Logos to his daily Part;
Whom she in Contemplation's Chariot sent
To fetch some Solace for her pined Heart:
To Joy's celestial Board she sent him, where
He us'd to meet with high and holy Cheer.

84

But every Night when He returned home
He nothing brought but cold and sapless Fare,
Lank dry Results, whose Bulk and Total Sum
She never saw amount to more than bare
And flashy Vselessness, which mock'd her Hunger
And only made her wofull Weakness stronger.

85

This sad miscarriage could not but awake
The languid Fountains of her heavy Eyes;
Which with continual showers strove to slake,
Or empty out her flaming miseries:
Yet all the Brine, alas, she thus could pour,
But scalt her cheeks and galled her the more.

206

86

In all Attempts thus thwarted still, though she
Too reasonable a Temptation had
No more to flout her own Calamity
With fruitless Toil: yet she this Statute made
To her stout Self, Her Duty still to do
Whither Heav'n would regard her Pains or no.

87

So when the unrelenting Storm hath driven
The Marriner into the boiling main,
Vailing with sullen Clouds the face of Heav'n
That from no star he may Direction gain;
Though lost, he yields not to his Loss, but plies
His trusty Oars, whither he lives or dies.

88

Her Tears she poured still, her Sighs she blew,
Her hands she lifted up, her Knees she bent,
She knock'd her breast, her Contemplations flew
Their wonted flight, her Groans her bosom rent,
Her Heart dissolv'd in Languishments of Love,
By Watchings, Prayers, and Fasts with God she strove.

89

With God she strove, and with her Self; for all
This while her Soul was out of taste, and those
Dear Exercises savour'd now of Gall
Whose Sweets before all Honey's Powers did pose.
Yet she this tedious Gall would not refuse,
Nor in exchange accept of Hybla's Dews.

90

Thus when foul Humors have usurp'd and reign
In his weak stomach, still his wholesom meat
The hungry Man ingesteth, still in vain
He feeds what hateth to be fed, and eats
But an Assurance that his Cates again
Must be regorg'd with nauseous tearing Pain.

91

Her heavy Breast, as cold and dead was now
Become, as if it ne'r had been the Seat
Of holy Fire, and Heav'n: though wonderous low
Her Body beaten lay by Penance, yet
Her Soul was far more mortify'd and dry,
Pining in Desolation's Agony.

92

This scrued her Condition's Anguish high;
For still she neither thought she Watch'd nor Pray'd,
Nor shed a Tear, nor heaved up a Sigh,
Nor managed her Contemplation's Trade,
Nor Groan'd, nor Lov'd; because she never felt
Her Heart in all these mighty Ardors melt.

93

What man upon the thankless Rocks can plow,
Or found his Building on the faithless Sand,
Or in the stormy Ocean's furrows sow,
Or wash the tawny Æthiopian's Hand;
And still be patient, though his Pains and Cost
A thousand times already he has lost?

94

Where's that unwearied He, who though employ'd
In waiting upon Fire and Flames, and set
With sulphury fuel up to keep the Tide
Of iron Furnace's enraged Heat,
Can be content Frost's Tyranny mean time
Should cross his Trade, and nip and shrivel Him?

95

Yet through these Riddles of Disconsolation
Brave Psyche waded, and bore up her head
Above the Deluge; whilst without all Passion
Her Passion she embrac'd, and wearyed
Her Self with so much Quiet, as to seem
To Row indeed, but only down the stream.

96

For patiently she tired was; but found
No Comfort in this Conquest of her Pain:
Yet though she every day and hour were drown'd
Ev'n whilst she swum, she vowed to maintain
The mighty Conflict, and her self to give
Up freely in this rueful Death to Live.

97

Long liv'd she in it: and although her Fasts
She duely kept, yet would she not forbear,
When Nature challeng'd them, such spare Repasts
As her might fit to wage this Suff'rings War:
Though her Ambition's Aim were, but to Die,
She scorn'd to haste by force her Destiny.

98

Long liv'd she in it: for her Spouse was now
Resolv'd her Valour's full Extent to trie;
And make her Soul most lamentably know
The Value of his own reveled Eye
By hiding it from hers. No Lesson can
Like Loss and Absence, teach unhappy Man.

99

As thus she panting lay; the fretted Prince
Of restless Envy, who roves night and day,
Prying about the World to gather thence
Fresh Booties upon which his Wrath may prey;
Discover'd her in this disconsolate plight,
And leap'd for cruel Joy to see the sight.

100

But as a Coward, who hath oft been beat,
Yet still on base revengeful hope doth feed,
Waits opportunity till he may meet
His fear'd Antagonist empoverished
In Strength and Spirits by some other Fight,
And on that Weakness builds his stollen Might:

207

101

So now basehearted He that shock forbore
Till Psyche's Courage he conceived spent:
And then with prouder Hopes than e'r before
Down to his damned Home puff'd up he went:
(Fool as he was, to let his hasty Eye
Such Triumph look before the Victory.)

102

Then having climb'd his Throne, and from his face
Wip'd off the coalblack sweat, into a smile
He forc'd his Cheeks: The feinds admir'd what cause
Their King's Austerity could so beguile:
Yet in compliance every one begun
To shrivel up his chaps and gently grin.

103

When Satan thus: Hate and Defiance first
To Heav'n, and then all glory to my Self.
You know to what expence of Pains that curst
And though most feeble, yet most stubborn Elf
Jesus his Mistress, long hath put me, yet
On that vile Worm my Will I ne'r could get.

104

But now the feat is done, and wretched she
Is by her goodly spouse divorc'd, and lies
To our just Vengeance's severity
A most abandon'd and devoted Prize.
I saw her as she lay; but scorn'd to bring
Her with me: no; it sutes not with a King.

105

Not with the King of most heroick Pride;
Disdain's the highest Jewel in my Crown:
I who to Heav'n's big Sovereign deny'd
To bend my sturdy knee, must not stoop down
To take up vile Dust: though below I dwell
In Night, the Rising Morn's my Mother still.

106

But Thou, Dispair, (and here he turn'd aside,
For waiting at his right hand stood the feind,)
Shalt tear her hither: Thou mayst find her hid
In that blind Desert's furthest closest End,
Which borders on the Superstitious sink
Where Arimathean Joseph's bones do stink.

107

The delegated fury made no stay,
(For what so headlong is as Desperation?)
But posted upward, snatching by the way
Her dismal Engins in such ireful fashion,
That all her Sisters started at her haste,
And frighted Hell was glad when she was past.

108

I'th dark deep bowels of the hilly Peak
There lies a gloomy and disconsolate Way,
Through which with such impatient pace she brake,
That round about the Country trembling lay;
In whose dull bosom all the sleepy Lead;
Awak'd for fear, and ran about its bed.

109

The Beasts which saw the Monster as she flew,
Distracted at the horror of the sight,
Themselves down fatal Precipices threw;
All Birds unable to maintain their flight
Let their Wings flag, and hung their heads aside,
And having chang'd their Songs to shriekings, dy'd.

110

But still the frighted Fury posted on
Till she arriv'd at her desired Place:
Where finding pensive Psyche all alone,
She set her hideous self full in her face.
All horrid Wrinkles to her odious Looks
Are Gardens of Delight and Beautie's Books.

111

Pale Ghastlyness triumphed in her face.
Which yet with fierceness strangely truce maintain'd:
Her own Veins swarthy Gore with hellish Grace
The grim deep Valleys of her Cheeks ingrain'd;
Where her fell Nails to plough full often went,
And on her cursed self her madness spent.

112

Her locks were half rent off, so was her Gown;
And more by careless Nastyness was she
Arrayed than by Clothes: Her breasts hung down
All lank and torn, and flapp'd upon her knee,
Which gap'd, and shew'd the naked shatter'd bones
She wilfully had dash'd on ragged stones.

113

Ten thousand Bruses made her Leanness fat
With Tumors and with Pains: no Joints were true
To their uniting Name; nor any knot
Of Ligaments their binding Office knew:
Her carcase was an heap of broken Limbs,
By which she only her own Ruins seems.

114

But every part look'd delicate and fair,
To her most hollow yet most staring Eyes;
In which such sovereign Terrors muster'd were,
As fear's own fancy ne'r could equalize;
For one was like to nothing but the other,
And either strove which should outstare his brother.

115

These were the ominous Mirrours where each He
Whose Bosom was not innocent and clear
No sooner look'd, but he was forc'd to see
His heart in all her Crimes array'd; which there
Appearing double, rais'd his fright so high
That from his odious self he long'd to fly.

208

116

The direfull Basilisks' mischievous Eyes,
And those of fascinating Witches, are
Far safer Glasses, than these Prodigies
Which with the Life of killing Horrors glare.
Heav'n shield the Man whose miserable Chance
Damns him into the compass of her Glance.

117

Nor was the furniture of this foul Hag
Improper for her formidable looks:
Her starv'd sharp Arms did loads of Weapons lag,
Rust-eaten Swords, Knives, Daggers, Bodkins, Hooks,
With poison-hugging Boxes; all bound up
Here with a fatal Wieth, there with a Rope.

118

Appointed thus; she stood a while and stared
On desolate Psyche; who at first was stroke
(For unexpectedly the fein'd appeared,
And with a sudden Dint,) at her fell look:
Yet she disdained to be beaten over,
And nobly did her strength and self recover.

119

The Tower thus, which at th'unlook'd-for Blast
Of th'angry Storms forlorn doth yield to quake;
Forgetteth not withal to stand more fast
Than those proud Buildings which refuse to shake,
And therefore by an instant Ruin down
From their exalted Confidence are thrown.

120

Dispair perceiving that her looks were vain,
Her far more dangerous Engin mov'd, (for this
Was her bewitching Tongue, now taught to strain
Up to the highest Key of Craftiness;
And casting down her Luggage, thus assay'd
To do as much upon the constant Maid.

121

If I thy doubtful Count'nance read aright,
Thy gloomy Wo perceives not who am I
Nor who thy Self: But this thy desolate plight
Charms my convinced Pity to descry
Both unto Thee; that if thou wilt befriend
Thy self, no Enemies may Thee offend.

122

I know my Aspect speaketh nothing less
Than Courtesy: but Things which fairest smile,
Too frequently in their inchanting Dress
The lurking stings of odious Treason vail:
And sober Wisdom always must commend
Before a fauning Fo, a frowning friend.

123

Were it not so; thy self hadst never strove
Against the flattering Tide of Things below;
Distrustful always of the soothing Love
With which the World's inviting Courtships flow:
Were it not so; what Price could be so high
To hire thee thus thy self to Mortify?

124

And what should I do here in any Dress
Of gaudy Sweetness, which strict Thou long since
Hast banish'd from thy Love, espousing this
Course Life of Solitude, where no pretence
Of Beauty peeps? nor canst thou now deny
But thine own Choise is my Apology.

125

Suspect not then my Looks, which only show
Like Terror's living Theatre to Them
Whose vain deluded bosom's overflow
With secular Pleasure's frothy empty stream:
These think each Gale which to the Haven would blow them
Will prove a storm, and into Ruin throw them.

126

But thy Condition, if thou weigh'st it right,
Will teach thee better what concerns thy Bliss:
Remember then, that since thou saw'st the Light,
Thou ne'r hadst reason to be friends with this
Vntoward Life, which always to regret thee
With restless Swarms of Sorrows hath beset thee.

127

The dainty Buds of thy young vigorous years
Served not to trim a Garland for Delight;
By rigid Virtue's most untimely Cares
They blasted were; and Thou, ev'n in Despight
Of blooming-Tenderness preventedst Time,
And provedst Old and wither'd in thy Prime.

128

Whilst other Maidens ripe for Nuptial Joy,
Gather'd the Sweetest Sweets of cheerly Nature;
Thou spentst thy self in solitude's Annoy,
Living a Comfortless and single Creature:
Yet in thy Virgin Bed thou could'st not 'scape
Being a Mother to all sad mishap.

129

For from thine Isle of Bliss, thy native Home,
Thy fruitless Zeal exil'd thee to the East;
Where Thou through cursed Palestine did'st rome,
Both to the Place a Stranger, and to Rest:
What found'st thou but thy loss, whilst there thy Soul
Drunk, and was drown'd, in Heresy's black Boul?

130

Alas the dear Memorials of thy Lord
Which there thy hankering Eyes so often read,
Did but Assurance to thy Heart afford
That He, its only Joy, to Heav'n was fled:
And surely here at home thou wert as near
The happy Spheres, as in thine Exile there.

209

131

Thus having wasted out thy Strength and Time
(And Credit too, with those who lov'd thee best,)
Thou flutter'dst back to this thy British Clime
Like some poor wearyed Bird to her old Nest;
Where when thou countedst up thy Journey's Gains,
Thou only had'st thy Labour for thy Pains.

132

Then fired by unhappy Piety,
Upon thy Self thou did'st the Tyrant play:
Thy lamentable Body sheweth by
Its ghastly Leanness, how thou strov'st to slay
Thy guiltless flesh, and by Devotion's Rack
Languid and senseless every Sense to make.

133

And for no other End, but to refine
Thy Self from this dull Earth into a state
Which might thy backward Spouse's Heart incline
To loyal Thee, who with such venturous Heat
Did'st trace thy hardiest steps, and cheerly toss
On thy soft shoulders his most heavy Cross.

134

Yet when her just Reward thy faith expected,
(Less due to thy Uranius, than to thee,)
He to an odious Dungeon thee rejected,
(A Place how far from Heav'nly Liberty!)
Where Thou who in pure flames long'dst to expire,
Wert forc'd to lead a dying Life in mire.

135

Remember what intolerable Chains
Into thy Soul their cruel Iron prest;
What floods of boiling Soars and fiery Pains
Were pour'd on thee; what Anguish slew thy Rest:
Remember how all foes but He relented,
And mighty Cruelty her self repented.

136

He to whose barbarous trust the Management
Of Persecution's War was here committed,
Fought with his own outrageous Intent,
And conquer'd by thy Woes, thy Suffrings pity'd:
But from Life's Dungeon when he had prepared
To set thee free, thy freedom was debarred.

137

It was debarr'd, and by no other Hand
But that which rather should have lent thee aid:
And what did Phylax but thy Lord's Command
When from Joy's brink he stole thee, and betrayed
Thy hopes of Martyrdom, which now was grown
Mature, and offer'd to thine head a Crown?

138

I grant, thy torturing soars he healed, but
Deserv'd no thanks for such a cruel Cure,
Which did but thy repaired Body put
Into an abler posture to endure
This greater Load; whose merciless Excess
Doth my unpityed shoulders now oppress.

139

Shoulders unpityed by Him from whom
Thy Service had full dearly earn'd Relief:
But in his hardned Ears was left no room
To entertain the suit of deepest Grief.
Had any there been left, sure He could not
Thy mighty Supplications out have shut.

140

How has the stroke of thy impetuous Cry
Taught this dumb Desert Sorrow's Dialect;
Whilst all its Rocks and Caverns shaken by
Thy Groans and Lamentations, them reflect
To Heav'n with doubled fervor, and agree
Fellow-petitioners to be with Thee!

141

And yet thy grated Throat is not so dry,
As are thy now exhausted Eyes; from whence
Thy Spouse's sturdy heart to mollify
Thou pourd'st thy constant floods: but that immense
Relentless stone which barbarizeth His
Strange Breast, by all those streams unpeirced is.

142

Unkindly He still turns his face away
Least any helpful Glimpse should leap to thee:
And thou long flatter'd by his favor's Day,
Art now betrayed to the Misery
Of blackest Night. O may all Souls be ware
How they Heav'n's wiley Sovereign trust too far.

143

He mighty Promises indeed doth give;
For Words are cheap and put Him to no cost:
But can thy Soul on aëry Diet live,
And feed on verbal Nutriment? the most
Thou can'st pretend is Hope: and what is that
But Sorrow's flattering and endless Cheat?

144

Alas thy desolate Heart too well doth know
How little I in thy Condition err:
And with secure Presumption Psyche, thou
May'st this Conclusion from my Art infer:
That I who can discover all thy Grief,
May tell what Physick must be thy Relief.

145

Thy Phylax, once esteem'd thy trustiest friend,
Well understands the depth of thy Disease:
Yet finding all his skill too faint to lend
Thee any real Help, himself he frees
From fruitless Trouble, and is fled away;
Ashamed now his weakness to betray.

210

146

I know not how; but always at a pinch
When great Extremities crave equal Aid,
Your vulgar Comforters use still to flinch,
And Cry, God's will be done: but I afraid
Of nothing am, no not God's Destination;
Dispair alone can feel no Desperation.

147

I, I, the only able Doctress, who
In desperate Cases certain Physick give;
In pity of thy unregarded Wo
Am hither come on purpose to relieve
Thy helpless Heart: Nor do I ask a fee;
My ample guerdon shall thy Safety be.

148

Lo here approv'd Receipts: When noble Saul
The field, his Kingdom, and his God had lost;
That Rapier he no sooner found, but all
The conquering Plot of his mishaps he crost,
And malgrè sternPhilistia's Powers, fell
Down to the Rest of holy Samuel.

149

Disgrac'd by Hushai, and rejected by
Fond Absalom, profound Achitophel
For rescue from misfortune's Tyranny
Consulted with his own deep Oracle;
And found no wiser way than by this Rope
His Breath, his Life, and his Contempt to stop.

150

Great Annibal, accustom'd long to ride
In Triumph's Chariot, being overborn
By undeserv'd Disaster's pow'rful Tide;
Scorn'd to become th'insulting Roman's scorn,
But sipp'd his safety from that Poison there
And went in glorious Peace unto his Beir.

151

Renowned Cato, when by peevish fate
Thrust into straits too narrow to contain
His mighty Spirit; by soon-ended Hate
Of wretched Life, immortal Rest did gain.
There lies the Sword, the lucky Sword whereby
He op'd his way to generous Liberty.

152

When base false-hearted Fortune had betray'd
The gallant Antony to Overthrow;
Of nothing but vile fear was he afraid,
And much disdaining, though subdu'd, to bow;
Cut with that Weapon his unworthy thred
Of Life, and laid him down in Honor's Bed.

153

Say not, that These were Men, and female Thou
Too weak to manage Masculine Bravery:
Thy Sex's stout exploits will not allow
That weak Excuse: yet, could I cite to thee
No Precedents, thy most Extreme Distress
Might be thy warrant for this manlyness.

154

But see that Daggor, smeared with the Blood
The manly Blood of female Lucrece; she
Not trusting to her Tears' poor womanish flood,
Took her courageous Advice from Me;
And broach'd red Torrents from her noble Veins
To paint with Glory her Pollution's stains.

155

Brave Portia, when her sad Disasters grew
So thick and cross that they the way had damm'd
To every known Relief, found out a new
Road unto Death, and down her throat she cramm'd
That Fire which made her Valour's sacrifice:
Part of the Coals still in that Vial lies.

156

Though sweetest Antony was wont to rest
In Cleopatra's dainty bosom; yet
When Losses her besieged, to her breast,
Her lovely breast, an odious Aspe she set;
Which suck'd out her abhorred Life; and in
That Box the Serpent doth himself intwine.

157

Now that a British Hand as much may do
As any Foreign, thou hast witness by
Thy late Compatriot Boadicia, who
Boldly outbrav'd her own Calamity.
Lo there's the Poison by whose Virtue she
Preserv'd her self from Roman Bondage free.

158

These, and ten thousand more have I befriended
With Rescue from deplor'd Extremities:
And though I ne'r to any one commended
His Choise of these Receipts; thy Miseries
Move my Compassion so, that I'm content
Thou shouldst have leave to choose thy Instrument.

159

A burning or a freezing Poison take,
A Sword, Stiletto, Dart, Spear, Dagger, Knife,
Fire, Water, Rope; or whatsoe'r will make
An end of thine; no, of thy Torments' life:
And if one will not serve, take two or three;
Nay I can spare them all poor Heart, for thee.

160

But hate not thou thy self, 'cause I am kind,
Nor scorn the Bounty of my Pity: know
It stands not with a truly generous mind
To fear her own more than another's Blow.
If thou wouldst Live indeed, be brave, and Die:
The Life of Fame will reach Eternity.

211

161

Come then; and since thy Spouse so cruell is,
Give him his Due, and Curse him to his face:
Come choose thy Passage to thy ready Bliss,
And nobly send thy Self to that calm Place,
Where Heros who durst wretched Life disdain
Safe in the Arms of endless Peace remain.

162

Thou hast too long already waited on
The leisure of regardless Heav'n; since thou
Art able by thy valiant Hand alone
To give thy self what that will not allow.
A Martyrdom's thy wish; and thou may'st be
A Martyr now to thine own Bravery.

163

So spake Dispair. But Psyche all the while
Stood firm and constant as the resolute Rock:
For well she understood Her fatal Guile,
And wisely arm'd her self against the Shock;
Which in the Fury's unexpecting face
By her stout Answer thus returned was:

164

Take up thy Implements mischievous Elf,
And, since thou fail'st in this thy deep Design,
Go and employ them on thy cursed self:
My state is bad enough; I need not join
Thy damned Offer to augment my Grief,
And 'cause I'm Sick, dispair of all Relief.

165

Surely it may suffice my Wish, that I
Thus miserable am: why should I throw
My most dejected self still lower? why
Should I whom now no other Friend will know,
Turn, in destructive Pity, mine own Fo,
And wilfully join Madness to my Wo?

166

What were those Heros whose preposterous Might
Thou gild'st so fairly with thine eloquent Lye;
But venturous Cowards, who in fear to fight
With Pain, Loss, Shame, or Bondage, chose to Die?
Far be it I should Valour's Title give
To those who durst not do so much as live.

167

'Tis true, my Spouse hath hid his joyous face,
And sure I have deserv'd he should do so.
Yet ne'r was Night so long, but yielded place
At length to cheerly Day; but that which you
Howl in Beneath, and therefore wondrous fain
Into that endlesse Darkness me would gain.

168

Let Jesus use his Pleasure on me; I
His Dust and Ashes am: and so go tell
Black Belzebub, your envious Father, by
Whose delegation you are come from Hell.
Tell him, though Jesus kill me, yet I must
And in his Goodness will repose my Trust.

169

The Fury to this Word made no Reply,
But by an hideous Shrick; which split the Air
And rent the Earth, rebounding on the Sky
And heart of Hell at once: all thunders were
Faint Murmurs, and the Tempest's bellowing Voice
But trembling Whispers to this monstrous Noise.

170

Then snatching up her Baggage, with one Hand,
And with the other tearing off her hair,
Her skin, her flesh; she cursed Jesus, and
To Peak's close road returned bleeding; where
She shriek'd again and shak'd all Hell before
She entred through the Gulf of th'iron Door.

171

Great Satan started, when the Feind he saw
Come thus lamenting home without her Prey:
Full on her throat he clapt his brazen Paw,
And through it tore his Indignation's way:
For Pain She roared, so did He for spight;
The dire Deeps trembling at the dreadful sight.

172

But Psyche, though her Victory were great,
And might in other Hearts have Triumph bred,
No Joy could relish in her glorious Feat;
For to all Comfort she was cold and dead,
And in her Conquest still remain'd as sad
As if her self had been the Captive made.

173

Her hands she wrung, and smote her pensive breast,
And cry'd, what is that good success to me?
So long as Heaven is deaf to my Request,
So long's I grope in this Obscurity,
So long as from my Spouse's Eyes the wide
Black Curtains of Disfavor mine must hide?

174

What have I gained now my Fo is fled
But freer leisure to observe my Sorrows?
Indeed the field is mine; but oh! the Seed
Of Desolation grows in all its furrows.
Let those triumph, to Rest whom Conquest sends;
My Victory in Grief begins, and ends.

175

Now, now alas, by dear Experience, I
Have learn'd that Sweets and Pleasures no where are
Their genuine selves, but in the Treasury
Of Jesus's all-enamoring Count'nance: there,
O there they shine; but hidden are from me
Who ev'n in Joy find nought but Misery.

212

176

As in the Gulf of this Disconsolation
She plunged lay, and saw no way to rise:
Her Phylax tir'd with his long Sequestration
From his dear Charge, of whose Calamities
His tender heart was jealous; never rested
Till Leave to see Her he from Heav'n had wrested.

177

And then, no wind its wings e'r stoutlier stretch'd
Or flew with cheerlier Velocity:
But when his Speed the wished Place had reach'd,
Far from his Wish prov'd disappointed He:
Down fell his Plumes and Eyes, back flew his Blood,
And he O how unlike an Angel stood!

178

Such havock Grief had made in Psyche's Face
That in her Self her self he scarce could spy.
Besides, the lovely beams of heav'nly Grace,
Which us'd to sparkle in her holy Eye
Were damp'd with deadish Dulness, and no sign
Peep'd forth of any thing within divine.

179

This further spurred on his Search to see
What weather 'twas in her high-throbbing Breast:
Where finding thick and heavy Darkness, He
Would to the Center of her Heart have prest;
But Charis there so close lay locked up,
That all his sweetness could not charm it ope.

180

At this amazed, and amazed too
That She who with impatient Love had used
To bid him welcome, and his Feet to woo
With humble Kisses, strangely stood amased;
As doubtful whether now it were not best
To throw Neglect, on her unsent for Guest.

181

And yet resolv'd to try the strength of Love,
And not be dash'd out of his kind Intent;
He thrice embraced Her, and gently strove
Her Sorrows' Fulness to out-compliment:
With all his heav'nly Heats he wrought to thaw
That Frost, whose Chains about her Soul he saw.

182

But what can tardy Salves and Balsams do
If Life has once the Member bid Adieu?
In vain do's Phylax hug his Pupil, who
Beyond all help of finite Cordials grew.
In vain he blew those Ashes, in whose Heap
No Embers, nor no hopeful spark did sleep.

183

With full as probable success might Lot
Have hugg'd and courted his transformed Wife;
Wooing the Pillar to be moved at
His Kisses' suit, when her condemned Life
Was choaked up in Salt, and she become
At once the doleful Carcase and the Tomb.

184

This plough'd his heart with so severe a wound
That he forgot with him he brought his Tongue.
And pitching sadly down upon the ground,
His anxious Thoughts and Eyes on her he hung;
Whilst Silence curb'd his daunted Lips, and quite
Sealed them up for many a day and night.

185

So when the Desolate Idumæan Prince
Not worth so much as his own Skin was left,
But by an universal Confluence
Of Losses and of Soars, of all bereft;
His dearest Friends sate by him in profound
And silent Grief's deep stupifaction drown'd.

186

But then perceiving his long Expectation
Bred no relenting in her stiff Disease;
Into the Dialect of Consolation
He forc'd his Breath, and try'd his best by these
Most tender Lenitives, to venture on
A Combat with her Heart's cold heavy stone.

187

O Psyche, (if thou yet remainest she,)
What means this long Aversness in thine Eye?
How hast thou lost thy memory of me
Who still am Phylax; and Calamity,
Me thinks, should make thee not forget that Name,
Which tells thy Grief I thy Protector am.

188

If ever thou hadst found me false, when thy
Distress had summon'd my helping hand;
Or if thy present Load of misery
Doth not in need of my Assistance stand;
Well mightst thou by this strange Deportment dart
Disdain upon the Comforts I impart.

189

It was no Bus'ness of mine own which drew
Thy faithful Phylax from thy Company;
Witness the time when I so gladly flew
To Palestine, and back again, with Thee;
Forsaking all that while the sphere where I
In sovereign Blessedness was wont to fly.

190

But He who both my Master is and thine
Call'd me away; if yet it were away:
For this my late Employment less was mine,
Than thine, for whose sweet sake thy Spouse did lay
That charge upon me: Courage then, my Dear,
And to my happy News give cheerly ear.

213

191

When I in heav'n had long Attendance paid
To Jesus's Pleasure, most propitious He
Hearing my Sighs, in Gentleness array'd
His Looks, and to his Footstool beckned Me?
Where having on my Face ador'd him thrice,
He blessed me as oft, and bad me rise.

192

Then smiling towards his right Hand, at which
His gracious Mother shin'd; who makes the Light
Of Heav'n it self with her mild Luster rich;
Behold, said he to me, my Dearest Sight;
Behold the Queen of all this Joy and Bliss,
Which by my Regal Title I possess.

193

But her Retinue's yet not so complete
As she deserves, and I must therefore grant:
Soft snowy Followers, answering her sweet
And ever-virgin Self, she still doth want;
And from my Nursery below must I
Her worthy Train with fitting Plants supply.

194

And one of those is humble Psyche, she
Whose Watering, and whose Pruning is thy Charge:
Her from unworthy Dust's Captivity,
And her now bitterer Straits, will I enlarge,
When I have thoroughly proved her to be
By Fire's true Witness, fitting Gold for me.

195

In that bright Station shall her Dwelling be,
(To Mary's right hand his he pointed here,)
There shall the Clouds of her Humility
Break up into a Day of Glory; there
Shall all her gloomy Suff'rings shine: and go,
And from my Mouth assure thy Pupil so.

196

I prostrate fell, and took my leave; and flew,
More on Joy's wings than these, through our vast Sea
Of glorious Blessedness: but as I drew
Near thine old Friend Vranius, (for he
Reigns on a lower Throne than thine,) he cry'd,
What Fortune Phylax doth thy Charge betide?

197

That shall you shortly see, said I; and so
Posted directly hither unto Thee.
And if this News cannot outlook thy Wo,
Tell me why thus thou slight'st Felicity;
Why Phylax ne'r less welcome seem'd than now
He of thine highest Hopes the Dawn doth show:

198

Why thou against the meek ingenuous Law
Of Gratitude, refrainest to embrace
With joyous heart, and with unfurrowed brow
This mighty Token of Heav'n's royal Grace;
Why thou thine own Ambition contradictest,
Whilst with his Promise thou thy Spouse rejectest.

199

So spake the Angel. But the heavy Maid
Grown deaf to every word that sounded Joy;
Her hand upon her dolefull Bosom laid,
And overpress'd with Mountains of Annoy,
Hung down her head; replying by a Flood
Of Tears, how little Him she understood.

200

But seeing his Demand unsatisfy'd
With that dumb Answer, first an heavy Groan
She helped forth; then flinging open wide
Her lamentable Arms, Let me alone,
She cry'd, and to my domineering Grief
Afford at least in Pity this Relief.

201

I know you were of old, and still would be
My faithfull Friend; I well remember you
Are Phylax, and what blessed Suavity
Your constant Love did to my heart allow.
But this was when that heart alive you found,
Which now in Desolation's Sea is drown'd.

202

What Comfort tastes a Carcase cold and dead
In th'ardent Courtesy of Fomentations?
In vain are Tables sumptuously spread,
With Luxury's own proudest Preparations,
To court a Stomach, when her Appetite
By Nauseousness is slain to all Delight.

203

Blame me not Phylax, for I love you still,
And of your Presence fain the Sweets would reap;
But now my greater Joy is damp'd, my Will
Reacheth her Arms to this in vain; you heap
But Torments on me whilst before my face
You rank those Pleasures I cannot embrace.

204

Should I but strive to grasp them, envious They
Would shrink to Emptiness, and mock my Hand;
Or from their lovely selves quite fly away,
Degenerating into Sorrows and
Rightdown Vexations, rather than impart
One Taste of Joy to Psyche's hated heart.

205

For what, what Rellish can there be to Me
In any Dainties Daintiness can cook;
So long's the Lord of my Felicity
From my devorced Eyes himself doth cloke?
If Phebus once withdraws his sovereign Ray,
What can poor Candles do to cheer up Day?

214

206

Wonder not Phylax at my bold Complaint;
Psyche in Sorrow's School's more learn'd than Thou:
Thy privileged Heart did ne'r acquaint
With Desolation's company, nor know
What mine now feels: It feels, and no Pretence
It findeth to distinguish Loss and Sense.

207

Thy News a potent Cordial would appear
If fann'd on any fainting Wight but Me;
But I in Heav'n's and Bliss's Name can hear
No Melody at all, since Misery
Hath seal'd and frozen up my Breast, and I
To my dead self alone abandon'd lie.

208

Were I now perch'd upon the Battlement
Of highest Glory, and beneath me saw
The Seraph's flame; yet I should not resent
That Throne as glorious: still, still Below
Should I esteem my self, so long as I
Am muffled up from seeing my Most High.

209

Did but the wonted Beams of heav'nly Grace
Vouchsafe to smile upon my Hemisphere
They eas'ly would outdare the sourest face
Of all the Sorrows which are frowning there:
But since sweet Charis is eclips'd to me
Phylax is absent though he Present be.

210

Yet now great Jesus, whose poor Worm I am,
Is pleas'd to leave me to my arid Dust;
His Pleasure I must not presume to blame,
Which though most Bitter, yet is surely Just.
His mighty Name I still adore and bless,
His heavy Rod which plough's my Soul, I kiss.

211

Here manly Sadness stopt her mouth, and she
From Phylax having turn'd her ghastly Eyes,
With folded Arms embrac'd her Agony.
When He, who could no Antidote devise
For Her, turn'd sick himself; and hanging down
His pensive head, tun'd by her Groans his own.

215

CANTO XXIV. The Consummation.

The ARGUMENT.

Restor'd to Grace's Light, and Ravish'd by
The splendor of Beatitude, which shin'd
In her sleep-closed eyes, Psyche with high
Desire's Impatience, feels her fervent Mind
Fall all on fire: and thus She nobly dies,
As she before had Liv'd, Love's Sacrifice.

1

Sweet END, thou Sea of Satisfaction, which
The weary Streams into thy Bosom tak'st;
The Springs unto the Spring Thou first dost reach,
And by thine inexhausted Kindness mak'st
Them fall so deep in love with thee, that through
All Rocks and Mountains to thy Arms they flow.

2

Thou art the Center, in whose close Embrace,
From all the wild Circumference, each Line
Directly runs to find its resting Place,
Upon their swiftest Wings, to perch on thine
Enobling Breast, which is their only Butt,
The Arrows of all high Desires are shot.

3

All Labours pant and languish after Thee,
Stretching their longest Arms to catch their Bliss;
Which in the Way, how sweet soe'r it be,
They never find; and therefore on they press
Further and further, till desired Thou,
Their only Crown, meet'st their Ambition's brow.

4

With smiles the Plowman to the smiling Spring
Returns not Answer, but is jealous till
His patient Hopes thy happy Season bring
Unto their Ripeness with his Corn, and fill
His Barns with plenteous Sheaves, with Joy his Heart;
For Thou, and none but Thou, his Harvest art.

5

The no less sweating and industrious Lover
Lays not his panting heart to rest upon
Kind Looks and gracious Promises, which hover
On Love's Outside, and may as soon be gone
As easily they came: but strives to see
His Hopes and Nuptials ratify'd by Thee.

6

The Traveller suspecteth every Way,
Though they thick trac'd and fairly beaten be;
Nor is secure but that his Leader may
Step into some Mistake as well as He;
Or that his strength may fail him; till he win,
Possession of Thee his wished Inn.

7

Nobly besmeared with Olimpick Dust,
The hardy Runner prosecutes his Race
With obstinate Celerity, in trust
That Thou wilt wipe and glorify his face:
His Prize's Soul art Thou, whose precious sake
Makes him those mighty Pains with Pleasure take.

8

The Mariner will trust no Winds, although
Upon his Sails they blow fair Flattery;
No Tides, which with all fauning Smoothness flow,
Can charm his Fears into Security;
He Credits none but Thee, who art his Bay,
To which through Calms and Storms he hunts his way.

9

And so have I, cheer'd up with Hopes at last
To double Thee, endur'd a tedious Sea;
Through publick foaming Tempests I have past;
Through flattering Calms of private Suavity;
Through interrupting Companies' thick Press;
And through the Lake of mine own Laziness;

10

Through many Sirens' Charms, which me invited
To dance to Ease's Tunes, the Tunes in fashion;
Through many cross misgiving Thoughts which frighted
My jealous Pen; and through the Conjuration
Of ignorant and envious Censures, which
Implacably against all Poems itch.

216

11

But chiefly Those which venture in a Way
That yet no Muse's feet have chose to trace;
Which trust that Psyche and her Jesus may
Adorn a Verse with as becoming Grace
As Venus and her Son; that Truth may be
A nobler Theme than Lyes and Vanity.

12

Which broach no Aganippe's Streams, but those
Where Virgin Souls without a Blush may bathe;
Which dare the boistrous Multitude oppose
With gentle Numbers; which despise the Wrath
Of galled Sin; which think not fit to trace
Or Greek or Roman Song with slavish pace.

13

And seeing now I am in ken of Thee,
The Harbour which enflamed my Desire,
And with this stedy Patience ballas'd Me
In my uneven Road; I am on fire,
Till into thy Embrace my Self I throw,
And on the shore hang up my finish'd Vow.

14

Nor will thy Pleasantness less welcome be
To worried Psyche, who so long hath sail'd
Through deepest Oceans of Calamity,
And over many a boistrous Storm prevail'd;
Who through the Smiles, and through the Frowns of heaven
With equal Meekness hath till now been driven.

15

For still on Thee She fix'd her longing Eye;
On Thee, who only couldst her Soul afford
The Plenitude of her Felicity;
The dear Enjoyment of her precious Lord;
Which made Thee nobly change thy fading Name
Of End, and firm Eternity become.

16

As She sate teaching Phylax how to grieve,
Who faithfully her Sorrows copyed;
The Time approach'd when Heav'n would her reprieve
From this sad Duty, and upon her Head
Let fall the Crown, which in this tedious Fight
She bravely earned by her constant Might.

17

With joyeuse Horror on the sudden she
Started and trembled, and leapt from the ground:
The Angel wonder'd what the Cause might be
Whose quick Effect did upon Him rebound;
For up he sprung and in suspense expected
What rais'd the Maid so much before dejected.

18

When lo, the Joy thus kindled in her breast
Broke forth and flamed in her cheerful Eye:
For blessed Charis, who so long supprest
Deep in the centre of her Heart did lie,
Was now unlock'd by Jesus, and had leave
To her sweet Influence the Reins to give.

19

So when thick sullen Clouds have damm'd up Day
And dolefull Blackness vail'd the Welkin's face;
If Phebus through those Curtains rends his way
And chides home Darkness to its proper Place;
The Air surprised with her sudden Bliss
At first with frightfull Gladness startled is.

20

So when the unexpected virgin Light
Broke from the glorious Mouth of God upon
The rude disconsolate Heap of first-born Night;
That flashing Morn with chearfull Terror ran
About the Universal Deep, which was
Astonish'd at the Dint of Luster's face.

21

Psyche with Pleasure's strong Incursion seiz'd
And shaken thus; before she leisure had
To vent her Gladness, was anew surpris'd:
For Charis through her breast a passage made,
And in th'exuberance of Suavity
Her smiling self presented to her Eye.

22

But humane Souls are in Capacity
So poor and dull whilst here they dwell below;
They know not how to bear ev'n Courtesy,
Unless by slow degrees on them it grow.
Delights, if rushing in a sudden stream,
A Deluge of amazing Torments seem.

23

This Spectacle bred such Extremities
Of mighty Comforts in the Virgin's Mind,
That she, alas, too narrow to comprise
Her own most sweetly-raging Sea, resign'd
Her self to Delicacie's Wrack, and down
These pleasing Depths sunk gently by a S[w]own.

24

But Charis being Mistress of the Tide,
So bridled in the swelling Floods, that they
Submitted to her hand their dainty Pride,
And for her gentler Complement made way:
This was a soft Embrace, by which the Maid
She girded, and her fainting Passion staid.

25

Allaying then her glorious Aspect by
More tolerable Sweets, she thus began:
Has short Disuse such nauseous Potency
That it upon my cheerly Presence can
Disrellish cast; or are my Beams too strong
For One who hath in Darkness grop'd so long?

217

26

Henceforth take Courage, for no more will I
(And here I pawn to thee my royal Word,)
Leave me to wade in gloomy Misery,
But trusty Light to all thy Ways afford;
Full broad-day Light: for all this while I gave
Thee secret Beams which thou didst not perceive.

27

Had I not help'd thee so; had I not lain
Close at the bottom of thy Heart, to keep
Thy Soul's Foundation firm and sure; in vain
Laborious Zeal had duely broke thy sleep,
In vain had all thy Sighs and Tears been spent,
In vain thy Prayers had to Heav'n been sent.

28

Unto its dismal Name too truly true
Thy Dereliction would have prov'd, had I,
With never-sleeping Care not lain perdu
To watch the Motions of thine Enemy;
That Enemy, whose Company alone
Is that which perfects Desolation.

29

When that infernal Hag, the damned Queen
Of Hideousness, advanced to the fight
Armed both Hand and Tongue; had I not been
In thy main Fort, her potent Engins might
Have eas'ly undermined it, and Thou
Had'st by Despair been quite blown up e'r now.

30

For Humane Constitution, alas
Is fram'd of faint and frail Materials; no
Immortal Adamant, or sturdy Brass,
Secures thy fabrick, and defies thy Fo:
Thy Walls are crumbling treacherous Dust, which flies
In thy Soul's face, and blinds thy Reason's eyes.

31

Yet close I lurk'd, thy Courage so to try
When thou no Second could'st perceive at hand.
This was the Plot of LOVE himself, and I
My Ambush placed but at his Command:
LOVE hid my face, and so he did his own;
But all that while He weav'd for thee a Crown.

32

The Crown which thy long loyal Patience
I'th' highest Realm of humblest Saints shalt wear:
And till thou thither art translated hence,
I in thy Breast my open Tent will rear;
That till the greater Heav'n receiveth Thee,
Thou may'st contain it in Epitomy.

33

This said: She gather'd up her Train of light,
Which in an Orb was all about her spread;
And shrinking up her self by Heav'nly slight
Within her sprightfull self, re-entered
The Virgin's Breast; where her Dominion she
Began to show by entheous Energie.

34

Forthwith a Tumult boil'd in Psyche's Heart,
But boil'd and foam'd in vain; for instantly
The Rout by Charis's most victorious Art
Was forc'd from that usurped Hold to fly.
Vain Dread was first who shrunk and turned head,
And so these Cowards flying Army led.

35

For she her self no sooner shiver'd out,
But at her heels lamenting Sorrow came,
Accompany'd with blind and groping Doubt;
Then lear-ey'd Jealousy, unworthy Shame,
Palefac'd Disconsolation, and Frigidity,
With Indevotion's dead and stiff Aridity.

36

But in the Rear rush'd forth Forgetfulness,
A dim-ey'd swarthy Crone; and hand in hand
Led her Compatriots and Complices,
Gross sluggish Mists, dull Night, thick Blackness, and
What ever is of kin to them, whatever
Can block up Heav'n, and Souls from Light dissever.

37

Compar'd with these, all Soot and Ink, and Pitch,
Were Compositions of Milk and Snow;
So was the tough and triduan Darkness, which
Beclogg'd the Impudence of Memphis's brow;
And that which lock'd up Sodom's eyelids more
Close than Lot's Care and Fear had done his Door.

38

Psyche with blushing Joy admiring stood
Her own Heart's strange fertility to see.
She little dreamt so hideous a Brood
Could nestling in her Virgin Bosom be;
Whose foul mishapen features while she read,
She thought her self Delivered indeed.

39

But they remembring where they first were bred,
And hoping for more quiet harbour there;
In scrambling haste from Psyche's triumph fled,
Whose gladsome Eye with Torments scorch'd them here:
Downward they fled, and in Sin's proper Womb,
Hell's gloomy furnace, sought their cooler Home.

40

And now she found her Bosom's Orb as clear
As when to Heav'n she Thelema presented;
Now all her Passions unhamper'd were,
And every Bond to Liberty relented:
All things look'd sweet and fair within, and she
Rejoyc'd in her complete Serenity.

218

41

Love, Anger, Hatred, Jealousy, and Fear,
And all the rest of that swiftwinged Crew,
With Sprightfulness revived were,
And to their proper Objects nimbly flew:
Nor clash'd they any more their Wings together,
But kindly help'd and cheered one another.

42

Hope, which had grop'd and languished till now
In deplorable Mists; fresh courage took,
And challeng'd every Wind its worst to blow,
Since she perceiv'd her Cable was not broke,
But that her trusty Anchor held its hold,
Whilst Desolation's Sea about her roll'd.

43

And Logos too, sad heretofore and dry,
Felt cheerly Vigor leaping in his Heart;
Which spurr'd his Zeal to beg Her leave to try,
Whither he could not now perform his part
With more successful strength, and from the Treasures
Of Heav'n, fetch Contemplation's solid Pleasures.

44

His Motion She embrac'd with joyeuse Ear;
And turn'd to Heav'n her sparkling Eye, to see
Whether the Way to it companion were
In her brisk Bosom's new Serenity:
She turn'd her Eye, and in Heav'n's Volumes read
A Lesson, which did ev'n her wish exceed.

45

For lo, the sullen Clouds which heretofore
Had damm'd the Road to her rejected Sight,
Down in repentant Tears themselves did poure,
Contending which should first clear up a bright
And undisturbed Passage to that Sphere
Where Psyche's Jewels all inshrined were.

46

In bounteous Beams of royal Influence
Her open Sun bestow'd himself upon her;
And this awak'd her long-astonish'd sense
To revel in this Feast of sweetest Honor.
This swell'd her Bosom with such Ravishment
That through her Lips she hast's to give it vent.

47

And now, O my delicious Lord, said she,
I thank thee for that Famin I endured:
What Hope could fancy this Felicity
Would by that torturing Anguish be procured!
But in the Prudence of thy Love didst Thou
Then make me Fast, the more to Feast me now.

48

Thou by that wholesom Tempest tossedst me,
That I might thoroughly understand the Bliss
Of this pure Calm: by that Severity
Of tedious breathing Death, didst Thou suppress
My secular Spirits, that revived I
Might Live to Thee, as to the World I die.

49

Now, now, I taste this Life indeed, which I,
Though I possest, enjoyed not before.
Alas, we fools are best instructed by
Absence and Loss to prize the richest Store:
These Thanks my Dereliction I owe
That thus I rellish my Fruition now.

50

So deep I rellish't, that convinced I
Would not for all the Streams of Paradise
But have been drown'd in that Aridity,
Whence to the Bliss of mine own Bliss I rise.
For what were Paradise to me, unless
I feelingly perceiv'd its Pleasantness?

51

Wise King of Souls! who knowest how to make
Severity the sweetest way of Love;
And nearest drawst when thou dost most Forsake
Thy fainting Worms. How far, how far above
Our Retribution is thy Goodness, which
Transcends our highest Comprehension's reach!

52

O that more Thelemas I had, which I
Might sacrifice as Tokens of this Debt;
Since thy revealed Count'nance upon my
Unworthy Head this mighty Score hath set!
Yet what do our poor Wills by being Thine,
But only make Themselves, not Thee, divine?

53

Thy vast Munificence on Me bestows
All that Ambition could desire, and more:
Whence is it Jesu then that Psyche grows
Ev'n in this Ocean of Abundance poor?
I have—, What have I not in having Thee?
Yet still me thinks I Covetous could be.

54

I could be Covetous, and wish that all
The Wealth of Heav'n and Earth were soley mine,
That with this Off'ring I might prostrate fall,
And dedicate it at thy Favour's Shrine.
Yet what were all this World to that which I
Owe to thy sovereign Benignity!

55

Had I ten thousand Lives to spend on thee,
That vast Expence would but my Gains augment:
How then, where Gratitude her self must be
Ingrate, can needy I due Thanks present!
Sweet Lord inform and help my Soul, which fain
Would render something back to Thee again.

219

56

She ceased here; and Phylax, who attended
The leisure of her fervent Exultation;
With equal Heat and Gladness, where she ended
Began her Praises and Congratulation:
Joy, Joy, dear Pupil, of this Morn, said He,
Which hath dispell'd thy Night of misery.

57

I see what reason forc'd thee to be sad
Beyond my Comfort's reach: because I see
The high occasion which hath made thee glad:
Such mighty Grief could only chased be
By that meridian all-potent Ray
Which drives the life of Wo, ev'n Death, away.

58

And here th'Excess of his triumphant Joy
Would let him speak no more, but spurr'd him on
With Kisses and Embraces to allay
The dainty fierceness of his Passion;
Full close he chain'd her in the tender Bands
Of Zealous Love, his blessed Arms and Hands.

59

The Maid, who would not to this Compliment
Be long in debt, thus in a smile reply'd:
The begging of my Pardon you prevent,
But must not stop my Thanks most bounden Tide;
The only Tide which can returned be
Upon your mighty Flood of Love to me.

60

Surely the other day you were the same
Which you are now, in every Ornament
Of gracious sweetness, when you hither came
With ready Cordials of divine Content:
But clownish senseless I could not embrace
Your undeserved yet obtruded Grace.

61

Had this Behaviour quench'd your Charity,
To none but my rude self had Blame been due.
Yet you with faithful patient Fervency
More careful still, and still more tender grew:
My very Griefs into your bosom you
Admitted, and for me with tears did flow.

62

Though I by Heav'n and Earth abandon'd was,
And plung'd into the Gulf of Desolation;
To own me in that despicable Case
You blushed not; but by your sweet Narration
Of what Love destin'd to relieve my smart
Endeavor'd to advance my drooping heart.

63

Well I remember how I then forgot
My self and you; how dead and cold I lay
Before that flaming News, which would have shot
Life into any Soul but mine; away
I turn'd my foolish head from that which through
A thousand Deaths I would run after now.

64

For what is Death? which is not when it is;
A dreadful Nothing, ending where it 'gins,
And dead as soon as We: But heav'nly Bliss
In its own boundless Circle lives, and shines
With endless Glory; yet without Regard
Thy Proffer of this Happiness I heard.

65

But now, O indefatigable friend,
I feel thy Comforts thrilling in my heart,
Which there with Charis's quickning Influence blend,
And to my soul another soul impart.
Surely my mind can never thee forget
Who helpest to revive and double it.

66

When Earth denies her Vapors to repay
To Heav'n, whose Bounty sent her down the Rain;
When Fountains bid their posting Currents stay,
Whose Thanks were flowing to their Mother Main;
Their faithful Buttresses when Buildings scorn;
Then I'l upon thy Love, Neglect return.

67

In this Contention of Court'sy they
Their Words and Kisses sweetly bandied;
Until the dim decrepit Time of Day,
Which common mortals summoneth to bed,
Admonish'd Psyche of her Compline; who
Obey'd the Item, and to Pray'rs did go.

68

Which most sublime and holy bus'ness she
Perform'd no more with cold and fruitless pains;
But mounting with encourag'd fervency,
Reap'd in the middle of her Work, its Gains,
And found her Intercessions wellcom'd were
Into her Spouse's ready open Ear.

69

Phylax mean while by Heav'n's appointment flew
To learn her Parents' fortunes out: which he
No sooner had descry'd, but fill'd with new
Powers of Joy, he posted back as she
From her Devotions rose; and thus display'd
The blessed Tidings to the reverend Maid:

70

News Psyche, happy News! for now I come
From holy Valor's Scene, that signal Place
Where thy Uranius his brave Martyrdom
Of late atchiev'd, and finish'd Virtue's Race;
That Race thou feardst had been too hard for thy
Decrepit Parents limping Piety.

220

71

But at the Stake I found them both, where they
Before the face of Heav'n and Earth, to thy
Sole Charge that Resolution's strength did lay,
Which fir'd them to contemn those Flames; for by
Our Daughter's Zeal, said they, this sacred Heat
In our old frozen fearful Veins doth beat.

72

Here we acknowledge, that right nobly she
Hath more than quit the Debt she us did ow:
'Twas but the Life of poor Mortality
Which from our Loins she borrowed; but now
Her generous Love embraves us to ascend
Where flourisheth that Life which knows no End.

73

That heav'nly Answer from her Dungeon she
Gave to our cruel Kindness, though with shame
It sent us weeping home; yet instantly
Those causeless Tears it dried by this flame
Of Christian Courage, whilst admonish'd by
Our second Thoughts our first we did defy.

74

Where e'r she is, may Heav'n her Care requite,
Who whilst we tempted her to idolize,
Us from Idolatry did wisely fright;
And teach us how we safelier might despise
Both Life and Death, than Jesus, who alone
Holds over Both supreme Dominion.

75

Then let him shew it now; the Soldiers cry'd,
Kindling the Pile; and shouting loud, that they
Had, malgrè Darkness, leave to turn the Tide
Of Night, by Christian Bonfires, into Day.
O blessed Pair! said I, who in a new
Marriage are joined thus: and hither flew.

76

So Phylax spake: when She surprised by
This blessed News's shock, could not contain
The pious fountain of her loyal Eye,
Nor yet her Tongue's more swelling streams restrain:
Abundant Tears she shed; but larger far
Her Thanks to Jesus, and her Praises were.

77

Before, alas, her thoughts could not bestow
A Visit on her Parents, till they had
Travell'd into the heart of Hell: but now
A grateful Progress they in triumph made,
Climbing the Pinacle of Heav'n, where She,
Since they were there, aforehand seems to be.

78

But as she oft had wearied been before
With Heavinesse's cumbrous Burden; so
Surcharged now with Joy's unbounded store,
She laid her down in sweet submission to
This pleasing Load, and sunk into the deep
But soft untroubled gulf of downy sleep.

79

When Charis, upon whose eternal Eye
No slumber ever creeps, begun a new
Mysterious Work; for with activity
About Imagination's Orb she flew,
And cull'd and crop'd those Fancies here and there
Which for her Purpose serviceable were.

80

Thus furnished, with all Materials, she
Upon the theater of Psyche's breast
By orderly degrees the Gallantry
Of an incomparable Pageant drest.
She first rear'd up a goodly Throne, whose Light
Outvy'd the hyperborean Snow in white.

81

Forthwith she placed on that royal Seat
A Prince, who with more Beauty garnish'd it.
No Monarch ever in more awful State
On his imperial glistering Chair did sit.
Indeed all Potentates but shadows be
To this authentick sovereign's Majesty.

82

His copious Robe down from his shoulders flow'd
To his fair Feet with streams of Gracefulness;
A Girdle of illustrious Gold, which ow'd
Its birth not unto Earth, but Heav'n, did kiss
And closely hug his blessed Loins, which yet
In goodly Richness far outshined it.

83

No Fuller's Labour ever made so white
The finest Wool, as was his daintier Hair;
Which poured down the volumes of its bright
And curled Wealth with curious careless Care
About his Alabaster Neck; which stood
Like some white Pillar in that snowy Wood.

84

As in their venerable Sockets on
The sacred Altar glorious Tapers flame,
So look'd his Eyes; whose reverend Beams alone
About the Temple of his Face did stream;
Which parallel'd the Sun's best Looks when He
Is awful in his highnoon Clarity.

85

The most refin'd Corinthian Brass which in
The bosom of th'incensed Furnace glows,
With such fair Terror ne'r was known to shine
As from his burning Feet of Glory flows.
Thus was this radiant King from foot to head
With Majesty's Excess embellished.

221

86

Innumerable Angels then she brought
To furnish out his Court and fill his Train;
Who their bright Stations took as quick as Thought,
And with their golden Trumpets in a strain,
Which through the roused Universe rebounded,
The glory of their mighty Sovereign sounded.

87

Forthwith His Standard to the open Air
She poured out; in which embroider'd stood,
Most dreadfully-illustrious and fair,
His Arms Imperial stained all with blood:
For 'twas his Cross, encompass'd now with more
Notorious Honor than with Shame before.

88

As thus He sate triumphant on his Throne,
He lifted up his Face and look'd about:
Straitway the frighted Earth confus'dly ran
From his intollerable Eyes; the stout
And hardy hearts of Rocks were split with Dread;
The proudest Hills and Mountains trembling fled.

89

To their salt Home all Floods forgot their way,
And tumbled into Nothing's deeper Deep:
The highest Tides, seiz'd with profound Dismay,
Into an universal Eb did creep;
The Sands devour'd the Waves they fear'd before,
And now the middle of the Sea was Shore.

90

The Spheres above, his Aspect's Power felt,
And breaking off their lofty Harmony,
In Dissolution's final Tears did melt:
The dazel'd Sun and Stars, abash'd to see
There was no need of them by Day or Night,
Fell headlong down, and choaked their own Light.

91

Yet in this hudling Haste, the Sea and Land
Were mindful of their Faith, and honestly
Restor'd all Pledges put into their hand
By Fate, Sin, Vengeance and Mortality;
Giving up punctually a true and just
Account of every Dram of Human Dust.

92

When lo, Corruption started from the Heap
Of Ashes, and fled after Earth and Sea:
Forthwith the Mass threw off its deadly Sleep,
And waked into Life's Activity:
Each Piece awak'd, and nimbly Rose, and shew'd
For one cold Lump, a vigorous Multitude.

93

Adam and Eve, the Springs of all the Rest,
Led up the Front: on whom attended all
The Senior World; Then Noah forward prest,
Who reimpeopled th'ancient shipwrack'd Ball:
And after Him step'd every Nation forth
Whose Colonies had swarm'd through all the Earth.

94

Not One was missing now, who ever drew
The breath of Life, or saw the face of Light:
Yea They whom Nature's self yet never knew,
As lying in Futurity's blind Night
Lock'd up to furnish after Ages, there
In their Ideal Beings did appear.

95

But yet the Proudest bore his head as low
As did the poorest and ignoblest Wight;
Nor was the starch'd and silken Gallant now
More sprucely than the leathern Shepherd dight:
This Day had rased such Distinctions out,
And All to one just garb and fashion brought.

96

They whom their tedious Age had bowed down,
Were to their brisker years remanded back;
And they who in their Bud were crop'd, and thrown
Into untimely Graves, did nothing lack
Of full-grown and accomplish'd Vigor; which
Fix'd all and every One in equal Pitch.

97

Yet still so different their Conditions were,
That now the ready Angels, who attended
Their Sovereign's Beck, with quick unerring Care
Parted the Crowd, which was together blended;
To his Right hand the harmless Sheep they drew,
But to his Left the stinking Goats they threw.

98

Psyche rejoyc'd her Parents here to see
Rank'd in the Dexter Wing: but fuller was
Her holy Exultation, when she
Perceiv'd her own Effigies had the grace
There to be marshalled; and though she slept,
Her waking Soul at that sweet Omen leapt.

99

When lo, as thus her Hopes and Joys grew high
At this illustrious Spectacle; before
The Throne two mighty Books were open by
The Angels flung: no Volumes ever bore
So huge a bulk as these, which written be
With all the World's eternal Destiny.

100

The One was black as Horror's darkest Face,
The Book of Death daub'd with the Ink of Hell;
Wherein each Word some ugly Trespass was,
Scor'd on their sad account, who needs would spil
Their pains to gain Vexation, and in spight
Of offer'd Bliss, against their Maker fight.

222

101

The other shew'd as fair, as this was foul;
The beauteous Book of Life; where every Line
Shin'd brighter than those Notes that made the Scroul
Of Heav'n appear so glorious and divine.
No Letters here, but Part of God express
Character'd in his Servant's Holyness.

102

These blessed Leaves the King no sooner read,
But to the Right-hand Troop he turn'd his Eye,
Which with majestick sweetness prefaced
To these high Words: Come ye whose Piety
Is by my Father's Benediction grown
Mature, and of full age to wear its Crown.

103

Come take your due Possession now with me
Of that bright Kingdom, whose Foundations were
Lay'd upon stable Perpetuity
Long e'r the Earth sunk down beneath, long e'r
The Air and Fire grew light and upward fled,
Long e'r the Curtains of the Heav'ns were spred.

104

For in this faithful Register I see
Your brave Deserts recorded full and fair:
When I exposed lay to Misery,
Your pious Charity made me your Heir:
The Debt I here acknowledge, and to Day
Both Principal and Use I must repay.

105

I grant, in person I did never crave
Your tender Love's Assistance; yet what you
To any of my needy Members gave,
Has Me their mindful Head oblig'd: and now
Your Souls shall find I'l full Requital make
For whatsoe'r by Proxy I did take.

106

Then turning to the gloomy Book, and to
The Lefthand Squadrons who stood all aghast;
With frowns of killing Wrath He cryed, Go
Ye cursed Brood, this Evidence hath cast
Your Plea, and these true Leaves full witness bear
Of your foul Crimes which all stand staring here.

107

Your Eyes no Pity would afford to Me
When Prison, Hunger, Thirst, and Nakedness
Call'd for Compassion: and strict Equity
Now seals up Mine against your due Distress.
Go, and your deeply-earned Places take
Amidst the everburning Brimstone Lake.

108

The Lake my Fury kindled to requite
With challeng'd Vengeance that rebellious Pride,
Which flam'd against my Self in open fight,
When Satan and his Crew their Stomachs try'd.
For you I meant it not; but you alone
Have snatch'd your shares in their Damnation.

109

The adamantine Doom thus being past;
The guardian Angels with impatient Joy
Their several and well-known Saints embrac't,
Applauding this their Coronation Day:
And then their Tongues they join'd with Them to sing
Ecstatick Praises to their gracious King.

110

But as this Melody was sweet and high;
So were the Outcries horrid, which did tear
The throats and hearts of all that Company
Who to Death's living Furnace sentenc'd were:
Numberless Devils strait about them flew,
And in their face Dispairs and Terrors threw.

111

But dressed in a more affrighting shape
Than ever yet infernal Hag deformed,
Their monstrous Consciences on them did clap
Their Tallons of eternal Wrath, all armed
With thousand Stings, which on the wretches prey'd,
And in their Souls outrageous havock made.

112

Just, Just, cry'd they, your Sentence is; and though
In Life you needs would stop your squeamish ear
Against the Clamor of our Truth; yet you
In Death for evermore our Cry shall hear.
Thus their own Bosom's Verdict roar'd, forestalling
Hell's hideous yellings whether they were falling.

113

For on the sudden that infernal Pit
Opening its Mouth, and gaping for its Prey;
Their Flames' Firstfruits began on Them to spit,
And warn'd the Feinds to hasten them away
To their full Harvest. O what Tongue can tell
The Anguish which these Captives now befel!

114

Upon their shrieking Throats, and frighted Hair
Damnation's Sergeants flung their fiery Paws;
Whilst Troops of Furies, who appointed were
With burning Whips of Snakes, and Harpies' Claws,
Lash'd them so sore, that haste they made to Hell
In hopes less salvage Torments there did dwell.

115

In plung'd the mighty Rout, and almost split
The greedy Throat of black Perdition's Deep:
Loud was the Noise of this great Fall; but yet
Far louder was their Cry, who down the steep
Eternal Precipice still tumbled, and
No Bottom saw to bid their Ruin stand.

223

116

The hasty Fire soon flew upon this Feast,
And with unbounded Riot gormandised;
Resolving thenceforth never more to Fast,
Nor yet with all this store to be sufficed;
Although th'o'rcharged Grot its Fulness spoke,
By belching up contagious Stink and Smoke.

117

About the brink some Devils hanker'd still;
So did two Monsters uglier far than They,
Thin ghastly Death, and pois'nous Sin; until
The King design'd an Angel Them to slay,
Who threw them headlong down the Pit; for this
And this alone, eternal Slaughter is.

118

That done: the Sentence firm and sure to make,
Upon the Cave's wide Mouth his Seal he set:
A Seal which no Reluctancy can break
Since his Omnipotence hath temper'd it
Of such a mixture that Eternity
It self, as soon as that, shall brittle be.

119

The Saints and Angels seeing Nothing now
But Joy, and Life, and Bliss, and Holyness;
Before the Conquerer's Throne their faces threw,
In meek Ambition hasting to profess
Their thankful Souls in Triumph's stateliest Song;
Whence all the World with Hallelujahs rung.

120

When lo, a Flood of new and gorgeous Light
Pour'd sweetly down from th'everlasting Hill;
Which drown'd the Scene, and swallow'd up from sight
Th'outshined Luster of that Spectacle.
This fetch'd a sigh from Psyche, who had view'd
With hearty Joy that holy Multitude.

121

But Charis, to revive her fainting Cheer,
Whom empty Claritude could not suffice;
A sudden City on the Stage did rear,
Whose Beauty so enamor'd Psyche's eyes
That she was sad no longer for the Change,
But joy'd about the stately Pile to range.

122

For ne'r did sweeter Graces trip about
The blooming Count'nance of a royal Bride,
Who by all strength of Delicacy sought
To ravish her great Spouse; than beautify'd
This virgin City's face, which pleas'd the Eye
Of th'awful Sovereign of Eternity.

123

Square shew'd the Platform, destin'd for the Seat
Of everlasting Firmitude; for this
Substantial Figure feareth no Defeat
By any bold Concussion's boistrousness:
Whereas the Round and eas'ly rolling World,
Alas, before was into Nothing whirld.

124

The Fabrick of the Wall rose fair and high;
Much higher than the proudest Battlement
Of th'ancient Heav'ns, whose lofty Majesty
Down unto Mortall Eyes such Wonder sent;
For they were but the Tipe and Shade of This
Which Heav'n of Heav'ns, and Glory's Glory is.

125

And with this princely Height the mighty Base
Held correspondence; for on Twelve Foundations
All most unmov'd, the Building mounted was,
And laught at any Thought of Perturbations.
The only Garrison of Rest was this,
And stable Peace's grand Metropolis.

126

The First Foundation was of Jasper green;
For Florid must this Structure ever be:
The next of Sapphir, in whose face were seen
The proper Lines of heav'nly Clarity;
A Stone which fortifies all drooping Hearts,
And friendly Help to Chastity imparts.

127

The Third, of radiant Chalcedony; which
Judiciously upon the Sapphir set,
With Constellations doth its Ground enrich.
A cheerly Gem is this, and scorns to let
The tedious Insultations of Fear
Or bold Dispair, entrench upon its sphere.

128

The Fourth of Emerald, of filthy Lust,
And every other Poison too, the Fo:
The Fifth of Sardonix, in Blushes drest:
The Sixth of Sardy, Antidote of Wo,
Quickner of Wit: the Seaventh of Chrysolite,
Which frights away dull Melancholy's Night.

129

The Eight of Beril, rich in Modest Grace:
The Ninth of Topaz, full of flaming Gold:
The Tenth, his sparkling Cousen Chrysoprase:
The next, the cordial Jacinth, which the cold
And sinking Heart invigorates: the Last,
The sober and the healthful Amethist.

130

On these Foundations fairly graven stand
Twelve honored Names; the Names of Them who spred
The Lamb's bless'd Blood through thousand Chanels, and
The Stones to build this City gathered
From every soil, and from the furthest shores
On which the barbarous Ocean foams and roars.

224

131

As Psyche reach'd her Wonder round about
This gallant Structure; she on every side
Three most magnifick Gates, each carved out
Of one intire and masty Pearl, espy'd:
By these great LOVE kept open House, and all
The East and West, the North and South did call.

132

Invited therefore thus, she enter'd in;
Where pav'd with solid Gold she found the Street;
With Gold not of our earthly Metals kin,
But of a higher purer Breed, and meet
Saints feet to kiss: for more tralucid 'twas
Than is the fairest Cheek of virgin Glass.

133

But strait a brighter Spectacle she met,
A River all of living Crystal, which
Came smiling down the glorious Street; and beat
Its rugged Path of Gems with Musick: such
Chastly-enamoring Loves and Joys did ne'r
Sport it in Fancy's Spring, as bathed there.

134

Each Bank was guarded by a goodly Row
Of one divinely multiplied Tree;
Whose wide-stretch'd Arms did courteously bestow
Upon the Flood a fair green Canopy,
Whose ever-verdant Twigs, though sound and strong,
Bow'd with the blessed Fruit which on them hung.

135

Twelve sorts of Fruits it duly bore, and yet
Fail'd not each Month again to bud and blow;
Such endless Vigor liv'd and reign'd in it
As with more sovereign Virtue did endow
The smallest Leaves, than e'r was known to drop
From famous Gilead's all-balmy Top.

136

They ne'r were mustered against the wound
Of any Nations, but the conquer'd Pain
Fled from its Hold, and left it whole and sound,
When humane Surgery had sought in vain.
O noble Tree! whose only Shadow is
Th'eternal Roof of sure substantial Bliss.

137

Under these mighty Boughs, and on this Shore
Of flowing Life, walk'd Psyche to descry
What Spring could be the Mother to such Store
Of pure and everteeming Suavity:
When lo, a glorious Throne she spy'd, from whence
Gush'd out these vivid Blisses' Influence.

138

A Throne of pure and solid splendor framed,
On which the Monarch of Immensity
With such intollerable Brightness flamed
That none of all the purest Standers by
Could with Cherubick or Seraphick eyes
His vast Irradiations comprise.

139

But at his right Hand, mitigated by
His marriage with Flesh, there sate the Lamb;
Whose spotless Fleece was sweetned Majesty;
Whose Scepter smiled with Love's gentle flame;
Whose Hand, to poure his Blessings forth, was spread;
Whose Crown was Honor, wreath'd about his Head.

140

From this fair Throne flow'd that eternal Day
Which all this new Jerusalem doth gild:
No other Phebus needed to display
Himself upon this Region, which was fill'd
With such enlivening Fires as could refine
Ev'n gross and mortal Eyes into Divine.

141

Here Psyche clearly read those wonders she
Before by Logos, her Embassador,
Through Distance's large Veil did dimly see:
God's naked Attributes were marshal'd here;
Deep Mysteries in one another wove,
Infinitudes, and Miracles of Love.

142

Here vast oraculous Profoundities,
And wondrous Words from Wisdom's lips she heard;
Such Words, as taught her what the reason is
Why God himself doth wear the Name of Word;
Words raised to so sovereign a pitch
As Mortal Tongues must never hope to reach.

143

Here she beheld how from Divinity
Beatitude her glorious Self display'd;
And unto all the holy Company
A Deluge of Munificence convey'd,
For Millions of Millions th'honor had
About th'illustrious Throne themselves to spread.

144

Most matchless was the Equipage in which
Their Ranges shined: that symmetrious Grace
Which through all Heav'n and Earth did Beauty reach,
To this far fairer World gave willing place,
When, guilty only of it self, it slunk
Aside, and into Inanition sunk.

145

Nor e'r was Grecian or Roman Court
(Through Fame had trumpeted their Praises high)
Contrived in such wise majestick Port
As this, Perfection's own Polity,
Which by one universal Spirit moves,
And by no Laws is governed but Loves.

225

146

All Saints and Angels knew their proper Station,
And lov'd it best, because it was their own:
Among them all no jarring Inclination
E'r aimd at Discord; for each one had thrown
His Will down at his Sovereign's footstool, and
Own'd no Desires but only His Command.

147

In Him they liv'd, and lov'd, and joy'd, and by
That Resignation received were
Into their Master's own Immensity;
Since Jesus's Fulness had enough to spare,
Nor was his Diadem diminish'd, though
To all of them their Crowns He did allow.

148

They All were Crown'd, and yet not flattered
With titular and empty Sovereignty:
O no! such cheating Honors all were fled
Away, and with the mouldering World did die.
This Sea of Bliss, of Kingdoms was the Spring,
And every Subject made a mighty King.

149

For what was proper unto every one
Prov'd both the Joy and Riches of the Rest:
That Glorie's Excellence which flam'd upon
The Head of Jesus, fully was possest
By all this Multitude; for bounteous He
In Common laid his own Propriety.

150

Thus whatsoever Honor decks the Brow,
Or Consolation smileth in the Heart;
Its Beams are not confined there, but flow
With brotherly Delight to every Part;
That all the Body may engaged be
To make a private Comfort, publick Glee.

151

And yet these so united Spirits were
Diversify'd by Classical Degrees;
Nine goodly Orders shin'd distinctly there,
Which in Three Hierarchick Unities
Conjoin'd again, and by their single Three
Thrice copyed th'eternal Trinity.

152

With these the mingled Saints had leave to reign,
And fill those Spirits' Rooms, who traiterously
Hoping against their Maker to maintain
Their Stomach's Quarrel, needs their Arms would try;
But overwhelm'd by His Almighty Tide,
Their Ruin only gained by their Pride.

153

Nor did the Angels' noble Hearts repine
To see the lowborn Sons of rotten earth
Made their Companions, and advanc'd to shine
Above the Heavens: for since the mighty Birth
Of their Incarnate God, they could not say
But Dust it self was more Divine than They.

154

By that proportion of Humility,
And holy Love they practis'd here below,
Their Guerdons Measures on these Saints the high
And righteous King of Bounty modell'd now:
Which though much gradual Difference they shew'd,
Yet every One enjoyed Plenitude.

155

So of a thousand Vessels great and small
Into the Ocean thrown, though some receive
A larger portion of the Waves, yet All
Brim full are fill'd; nor can the Meanest grieve
Their Brethren's fairer Amplitude to see,
Since they no fuller than the smallest be.

156

But how to blazon these bright Honors; how
To sound this boundless Sea of equal Pleasures;
How to compute this vast Account, and know
The total Sum of perfect Bliss's Treasures;
Pos'd all their highest strength and deepest wit
Who were infeofed and possest of it.

157

Yet all the Homage that they paid for this
Supremacy of Glory, was but Praise,
Pour'd forth in high ecstatick Chanting His
Eternal Name and Fame, who them did raise
To this Capacity of Exultation.
O blessed Life! whose Task is Acclamation.

158

Through this illustrious Maze of Joy and Bliss
As Psyche laboured, and seem'd to be
In Heav'n afresh at every step; by this
Unwearied Quir's heroick Peans she
Fancy'd the Entertainment near as high,
Which rouz'd her Ear, as that which fill'd her Eye.

159

The sweetest Powers of mortal String and Voice
Had courted oft and complemented Her;
But charmed now by this soul-cheering Noise,
She thinks she ne'r true Musick heard but here:
Nor can she grant that Blessedness doth so
In Vision reign, as not in Hearing too.

160

The strong Assault of that all-glorious Sight,
And this strange Harmony, perplexed Her
In sweet Confusion: for by This Delight
She tempted was to wish her self all Ear;
By that, intirely Eye; or else that she
Could teach her Eyes to hear, her Ears to see.

226

161

At length her Wonder could endure no Rein,
But sacrific'd her Soul to Ecstacy:
When lo, the Seraphs Pipes let flie a strein
Of holy Triumph so exceeding high,
That starting at the mighty Song, she shaked
Her precious Dream in sunder, and awaked.

162

As when unhappy Adam was expell'd
From Bliss's Scene, joy-planted Paradise,
And on the sudden all the World beheld
Set thick with helpless thorny Miseries:
With Sighs and Sobs his woful hands he wrung,
To think from Whence, and Whether he was flung.

163

Thus Psyche seiz'd with lamentable fright
To see the face of gross Mortality;
To see the glaring Beams of Nature's Light;
To see her self on her poor pallet lie,
So far remov'd from Bliss's royal sphere
That on dull Earth she still was groveling here:

164

Cry'd out, Alas what injury have I
E'r done to Sleep, that it should mock me thus?
To heave me up into the glorious Sky
Why should my Dreams be so industrious,
If me by this Defection treacherous They
Back to this Deep intended to betray?

165

Unhappy Life! which whilst we are Awake
With nothing else but Dreams enchantst our eyes.
The burly Show this Mortal World doth make,
Is but a puffed Bulk of Vanities,
Where whilst we hope substantial Worth to find
We cheated are with foolish empty wind.

166

But when by Sleep we robbed are of more
Than half our Selves, and in Death's Emblem lie,
Then only wilt thou suffer us to sore
To solid Joys; which yet deserted by
Our flitting faithless Dreams that buoy'd them up,
Strait into wretched Nothing headlong drop.

167

Deceitful Sleep, which wear'st the Name of Rest,
Why wilt thou never make it good to me?
Why was I with thy highest Favors blest,
If they must but my waking Torture be?
Why slept I, if I needs must start, and miss
By setting ope mine eyes, my sight of Bliss?

168

How much more Comfort is it to be Blind
Than that our eyes should only witness be
Of what our Souls must needs abhor to find,
The Flight and Loss of our Felicity!
And can such Eyes be dry? which said, she wept,
And her Complaints in briney currents steep'd.

169

But Phylax, who had with his piercing eye
Div'd through her breast, and was Spectator there
Whilst Charis order'd all that Pageantry
Upon her wondring Soul's fair theatre,
Stop'd with a Kiss that Tide of Grief which ran
From her complaining Lips; then thus began:

170

To Joy this Morning sacred is, my Dear;
And if thy Bottles thou wouldst rightly spend,
On Sorrow lavish not the smallest Tear,
But all thy Streams to Exultation lend.
Thy Dream has not deceiv'd thee; all was true
Which it display'd to thine admiring View.

171

It is enough that Heav'n hath condescended
To act it self aforehand unto Thee:
Nor canst thou think thy Savior e'r intended
To put thee off with Dreams: No; royal He
Prepares thine Eyes by this short glimpse of Bliss
Henceforth to see its endless bright Excess.

172

In patience then thine humble Soul possess;
For sure this Prize is worth thine Expectation,
Yea though it should attended be till this
Firm World grows weak, and stoops to Consummation:
Time at its utmost Tether cannot be
More than a Span to vast Eternity.

173

Eternity, is that which shall inhance
Beatitude, and crown its Diadems:
In hopes of which do thou thy Soul advance,
And ne'r dejected be to think that Dreams,
Which on thin Fancy their foundation lay,
Are fickle fluid things, and start away.

174

Courageous Friend, the Maid to this reply'd,
Brave is the Metal of thy sprightful Heart;
Which easly beats back all Misfortune's Tide,
And can the Streams of Grief to Joy convert:
Full well with Thee those Looks of Triumph suit,
Who all my Loss canst with a Smile confute.

175

But I can not do so; Mischances throw
Their cruel Smiles on mine with high Disdain:
My deep Passivity will not allow
Me any power or cunning to maintain
A fight with Suff'rings so as not to feel
The Wound, when in my heart I find the Steel.

227

176

It is but lately since unhappy I
Was lost, quite lost in Mists of Desolation:
And heavy was that blind Calamity
Which muffled up my quick-ey'd Contemplation,
And clipt those Wings that had been us'd before
Unto the Pinnacles of Heav'n to sore.

177

But now her eyes again unmasked are,
And unto useful strength her feathers grown;
No sooner I in Heav'n's illustrious sphere
Or read, or fly, but I am tumbled down,
And by my journy (to complete my Cross)
No Profit reap but Knowledge of my loss.

178

O I acquit my Dream from any Guilt
Of fairfac'd Fraud; in every blessed Part
The genuine pulse of Truth I clearly felt
Which beat right time with my exultant Heart.
I would not have it False for Heav'n, and yet
Its being True begets this deep Regret.

179

Had it not prov'd it self th'unfeined scene
Of brave Beatitude in full display;
Without this stinging Torment that had been
Snatched from Me, or I from that, away:
But now what Comfort's breath can blow Content
When from my Heart my Heart it self is rent?

180

If Lucifer had never walk'd upon
Complete Felicitie's transcendent Stories,
If he had ne'r beheld Heav'n's radiant Throne,
Nor grown acquainted with the Court of Glories;
His Loss had finite been; and though he fell
To Ruin's Gulf, his Hell had not been Hell.

181

I might have dwelt contented in dead Night
Had I not known and seen Life's royal Day:
These rotten rags of Dust and Ashes might
Have pleased me, had not the rich Array
Of Immortality which shines so bright
Upon the backs of Saints, ravish'd my sight.

182

The Ardor of my Thirst might eas'ly by
That simple Brook have cool'd, and quenched been,
Had not that Crystal run into mine Eye,
Whose all-enlivening Current glides between
Those two Plantations of tall Life, which flourish
With sovereign Health, and all faint Nations cherish.

183

Yon Phebus, who with virgin Gold doth gild
The Morning's cheeks, with some delight might I
Have gazed on; If I had not beheld
My Lord's more sunlike Eyes, with Majesty
Sparkling, and Joy, and Love, and everything
Which can accomplish Glorie's gracious King.

184

Then since I fully understand my Loss;
O do not envy me, sweet Guardian, leave
Not to be fondly stupid; do not cross
My Wo's carreer who have such cause to grieve:
For Grief their Daughter's only dowry is,
Whilst my dear Parents reign in joyous Bliss.

185

These words with such commanding Passion she
On facil Phylax blew, as made him yield;
And this the rather, since deep-pondering He
Mark'd now how wisely LOVE his Plot conceal'd:
For Psyche knew not He for her this kind
Of softest-hardest Martyrdom design'd.

186

But Charis (to augment her Agony,)
Although the blessed Dream had taken wing,
Yet on the Tables of her Memory
Fairly transcrib'd and fastned every thing.
There shin'd the total Apparition still,
And all her Thoughts with Ravishment did fill.

187

With Ravishment, which proved fuel to
Her ancient fire of Love: a Fire that now
Flash'd resolutely out, and feasted so
On this vast Banquet, which had leave to flow
With fresh Infinitude upon it, that
The Flames all bridles and all bounds forgot.

188

Like Wax which yields before the Summer's Sun;
So in the presence of this scorching Heat
Her Bowels melted, and her Heart did run
About her Bosom, labouring to get
Releasment from the Furnace: but in vain;
Heav'n still to these sweet Torments her did chain.

189

Still she beheld what yet she might not see;
Still there she walk'd whence she was snatch'd away;
Her Eyes still feasted on Life's absent Tree;
Still on the Crystal River's shore her stay
She made, though on gross Earth she prostrate were,
Being in sunder torn 'twixt Here and There.

190

In dainty Anguish thus she lay and fried,
Till through her lips at last the Bonfire brake,
And unto Phylax thus aloud she cryed:
O why to Persecution's gentler stake
Was I not bound; why might I not expire
Amidst the bosom of that courteous Fire?

228

191

That Fire would soon have drunk up all my breath
And into Ashes parch'd my Life; but This
Plays with my Pangs, and freshly furnisheth
My fainting Heart with passive Vigorousness:
This, woful Immortality doth give
To mouldering Dust, and teacheth Death to Live.

192

Nor Etna's nor Vesuvius's bowels were
E'r gravid with such teeming Flames, as mine:
Should Humber, Thames, and Severn, by thy care
Their everflowing Mouths together join,
And empty out their Torrents on my Heart,
Alas they could not quench my burning Smart.

193

Flatter me not with vainly smiling Eye;
Compassion is the utmost thou canst lend.
He, He alone can cure my Malady
Who plung'd me in this flaming Fever; and
If Thou canst hasten down his Help, O do!
Or tell me when He will conclude my Wo.

194

The Angel, who her blessed Sickness knew,
Had now no longer power to pity her;
But strait invisible, away he flew,
That her Seraphick Pains might domineer;
And she, thus left alone, might sooner prove
The perfect Holocaust of generous Love.

195

When lo, her modest tender Jealousy
Could not interpret his Discession so:
She fear'd that by indecent Passion she
Had wrong'd his Patience, and forc'd him to
Withdraw; till troubled she grew calm again,
And fit his Company to entertain.

196

This made her check her boiling Fervor by
Deep Recollection of her Spouses's Will:
She knockt her Breast, which made its first reply
In Sighs, the next in these sad Words: O still
This tumult of my Soul, dear Lord, whose heat
Hath all my Bosom in combustion set.

197

I love the cause of my Destemper, yet
Would fain more quietly disturbed be:
I know my Torment can no Cure admit
While I am Pris'ner to Mortality:
Yet Thou canst find a way to make me dwell
In Pain with Ease, with heav'nly Joy in Hell.

198

Although my long'd-for Union with Thee
More precious is than thousand Lives; although
Desire and Languor all my Essence be
Till to Fruition of Thee I grow;
Yet since thy Will prolongs my banishment
From thy dear Sight, (peace Heart) I am Content.

199

I am Content: for all I am is Thine.
The freedom of thy Pleasure use on Me;
If I thine Arrows' smartest dint decline,
Then say I lov'd my self, but lov'd not Thee:
Pour on this Heart, pour all thine amorous Might
And slay me if thou wilt, from Morn to Night.

200

But if I still must Live this Death, O may
I live to Thee, my God, to Thee alone!
O let some hard heroick Task allay
The Fervor's edge, which thou hast set upon,
My ravish'd Soul; that soundly busied, I
May less resent the Flames in which I fry.

201

Shall I confront whate'r defyeth Thee?
Shall I go check the Gallantry of Sin,
And tell the boldest Crimes what Misery
Waits at the desperate Goal to which they run?
Shall I go sell my self, to ransome thy
More worthy Servants from Captivity?

202

Shall I to Persecution's Court, and there
Erect thy Standard in the Tyrant's face?
Shall I her Racks, and Arts of Torture dare,
And to the ground her Gods and Altars rase?
Thy Majesty's Commands and Declarations,
Shall I promulge against her Proclamations?

203

Shall all the Bruses, Wounds, Boyls, Ruptures, Pains,
With every Grief, Distemper, and Mischance;
Shall all the Hungers, Thirsts, and Stripes and Chains,
Which always were the sure Inheritance
Of Thine abused patient Members, join
And domineer in this sole Corps of mine?

204

Shall I be made the Hate of Man and Beast?
Shall I be scorn'd and kicked round about
Th'insulting Universe? shall I be prest
Down to the dismal ever-yelling Rout
Of Feinds and Hags, and dragged through the Deep
Where Horrors reign, and Torments never sleep?

205

This, this, and more, for thy all-precious sake
Thy bounden Psyche surely could sustain:
Speak then, O most deserving Sovereign speak,
And by some suff'rings mitigate my Pain.
Set me my hardy Task, that I may prove
On any terms how much I love thy Love.

229

206

Thus panted loyal She: till tired by
Her Fervor's high Intension, she descended
Into her self again: but instantly
That strong Combustion she hop'd was ended,
Met her amidst her Breast; for new Desire
Kindled afresh her most impatient Fire.

207

By Resignation to her Spouse she hasted
Again to quench its Rage; yet day by day
Her self she found in amorous Languor wasted,
And waking night by night, and Longing lay:
Or, when from place to place she hunted Rest,
Her Torments' Spring still bore she in her Breast.

208

As Conscience's quick Book, which flyeth in
Their guilty faces, who have stained it
With hideous Blots of Mercy-daring Sin,
Before their eyes doth armed Vengeance set,
With Snakes, and Furies, Dread, and Desperation,
And all Attendants of complete Damnation:

209

Thus, thus her restless Memory to her
The beautious Wonders of her Dream objected,
With all Beatitude's bright Furniture:
In vain her eyes she studiously deflected,
Which were in every corner crost by this
Intrusion of strange importunate Bliss.

210

When to her Prayers she went, she could not Pray;
Heav'n and Amazement strait were crowding in:
When to her Book, alas, she could not say;
Love's Languor stop'd her e'r she could begin:
When to her Course of Psalms, she could not sing;
Loud in her ears the Angels' Anthem rung.

211

When to her Meat she went, she could not Eat;
The Tree of endless Life her thoughts took up:
When to the Fountain of her Drink, the sweet
River of Heav'n prov'd her tormenting Stop:
When to her sleep, she was disturbed by
The undisturb'd Rest of Eternity.

212

Oft she resolved with Content to wait
Heav'n's leisure, till her Heart might thither sore;
Yet her Resolves but mock'd themselves, for strait
She found her Heart was settled there before:
And still the more she check'd and downward bent
Her Thoughts, the more she felt them upward rent.

213

The dear Remembrance of her Sovereign Lord
Boil'd in her Soul, and would not slaked be:
So that while tortur'd She could not afford
Her Body what Recruits Necessity
Crav'd at her hands; she faint and feeble grew,
And by degrees her Mortal Self she slew.

214

She slew her Flesh, which pin'd and sunk away;
She slew the Vigor of her Senses, which
Like unbent Bows, all damp'd and useless lay:
Yet by these Slaughters she did but inrich
The Life of her afflicted Heart, which still
Found out a way with stouter Fire to swell.

215

So high it swell'd, that whatsoe'r came near
The raging Torrent, strait became its Prey:
Yea ev'n the Bridles too subdued were,
Which still she hop'd and strove on it to lay;
Her Meditations all to Passions turned;
And whatsoe'r she did, or Fancy'd; Burned.

216

Since Man receiv'd Capacity to be
The Vassal of Diseases, He was ne'r
In bondage to so deep a Malady
As when imperious fiery Love doth bear
The scepter of his Thoughts, and is possest
Of all the Realm of his soft yielding Breast.

217

I know, alas, I know for certain, I
Believed am by every genuine Heart
Whose Tenderness hath been transfixed by
The violence of Love's mysterious Dart.
These, these will justify my Song, and be
Condolers with my Psyche, and with Me.

218

Inamoration, be it of a Thing
But weak and mortal, and Dust's wretched Heir;
Can with immortal Pains and Wishes sting,
And spur the Soul into unwearied Care;
Doubts and Discouragements in vain lead up
Their Troops of Obstacles its way to stop.

219

No, no: the generous Lover's Heart disdains
Not to approve his Passion infinite:
With gallant Obstinacy he maintains
Against the Will of Heav'n and Earth the fight,
To win his Idol; for whose sake, had He
Millions of Lives, Millions should ventur'd be.

220

For in Her Image, which he hath inshrin'd
High in the Temple of his loyal Breast,
Such mighty Charms his zealous Fancies find
As rob him of all Power to resist.
On, on he runs; and in such furious wise,
That Love is slandered with want of Eyes .

230

221

Knows not the World how Hamor's royal Son
His Foreskin scorn'd and his Religion too,
When Dinah's Love got full possession
Of his subdued Soul? How David, who
Was Heav'n's choise Darling, durst Heav'n's Law despise
For what he read in Bathsheba's fair Eyes?

222

Who hath not heard what power one Helen had
Upon two mighty Nations, both content,
For love of Her to run so strangly mad
Upon a War of Hate; whose Fury rent
Up Ilium by the roots; which to the flame
Of Lust a woful Holocaust became?

223

No marvel then the Fire of heav'nly Love
With such intollerable Fervor reigns;
Whose ravishing Sweetness is so far above
All sublunary Charms; whose mystick Chains
Draw with almighty Force, and cannot be
Outvy'd by feeble Man's Reluctancy.

224

Sick, desperatly Sick is Psyche now,
And finds no Physick to aswage her Pain:
Did any Salve in furthest India grow,
Through all the Seas she thither would amain:
But Earth breeds no such Herb as can relieve
The Wounds which Heav'n's inamoring Arrows give.

225

For all those Wounds bleed nothing else but Fire;
Fire, which remembring its original Flame,
With neverwearied strugling must aspire
Back to the radiant Home from whence it came;
Its proper Element are Jesus's Eyes,
And thither in heroick Zeal it Flies.

226

And what can racked Psyche do, who by
This most unruly Heat to Heav'n is haled;
And yet by mortal Life's repugnancy
Fast to her Body and dull Earth is sealed?
What can she do in this Extremity
Of raging Life and Death at once; but Cry?

227

Hardy and bold she grows in her Complaint:
For lifting up her love-encourag'd eyes,
Although her sickly Voice were low and faint,
Yet full of sinews were her serious Cries:
Which thus she suting to her flaming Passion,
Tun'd by the stout Key of Expostulation:

228

O Lord of Gentleness, O why dost thou
Make Love so cruel to tormented me?
O Lord of Justice, canst thou me allow
No other Torturer but Suavity?
Why must my Gall be only Honey? why
Of nothing else but Life must Psyche die?

229

Why didst thou not permit me to Decease
When thou hadst left me to my Self alone?
So had thine Handmaid been repriev'd from these
Riddles of charming Pangs; so had I gone
Whole to my grave, who now must Melted be
By thine unsufferable sweets, and thee.

230

O might thy Presence but consume me, I
Should drop into my Nothing with Delight,
But thus to be dissolv'd and murder'd by
Thine only Absence, duplicates the weight
Of my strange Death, whilst in my killing woes
I all the Pleasure of my Ruin loose.

231

And am I not a Worm, and worse than so?
What Triumph then canst thou atchieve on me!
Why dost thou not pick out some Seraph, who
With this sublime and blessed Misery
Might bravely grapple? or why mightst thou not
At Phylax's nobler Breast my Dart have shot?

232

O be not angry! 'tis not I that speak,
But tortured Necessity: my Heart
A thousand times desir'd, but could not break;
My Lips had not presumed else to part
And ope into these bold Complaints; wherein
Excuse (I hope) is woven with my Sin.

233

Not for innumerable Worlds would I
Have miss'd that splendid Apparition: but
Should full as many Worlds their Tyranny
Combine against my Soul, they could not put
Poor Me to any Torture so extream
As this Remembrance of my blessed Dream.

234

Yet though in Ravishments thy Kingdom be
So truly Sovereign: Psyche could forbear
From reaching her ambitious Ardency
To any glorious Joys which triumph there,
Wert Thou away: but pardon, pardon Me
If I profess I needs must Covet Thee.

235

In Sweetness why art thou so Infinite?
Or why must that Infinitude appear
To any Soul to fire her with Delight,
If to the Front she may not come, and there
Quench her impatient Thirst? O Jesu be
Still what thou art; but then be so to Me!

231

236

Be so to Me; and O be so with speed!
Death is not Death compared with Delay:
This teacheth every Moment to excede
All those long Years I till this cruel Day
Have tediously measured; and now
I older by an Age each Minute grow.

237

Fain fain would I let thee alone, and be
Content to wait thy longest Leisure still:
But O, all-lovely Thou now urgest me,
And violently dragg'st my conquer'd Will.
Thou dragg'st me; yet wilt not permit that I
Should follow home to my Felicity.

238

If thou wilt kill me; lo thy Worm's content:
But O, vouchsafe to let my slaughter be
By Death, not by this breathing Banishment
From my best Life, most ameable thee!
O pity, pity thy poor Handmaid's Cry,
Whose Tongue cleaves to her mouth, whose throat is dry.

239

Here hop'd she to have fainted: but her Pain
Whose load so heavy on her shoulders lay,
With cruel Kindness helped to sustain
Her parched Vigor, that it still might prey
Upon her Patience, and consume her still.
O strange Disease which canst by Curing Kill!

240

Phylax mean while unseen, perceiv'd that she
To Heav'n's fair Suburbs was arrived now;
And that the Strings of her Mortality
By this high stretch would quickly crack: for though
Her Self her Change's Dawn could not descry,
He saw her final Hour was drawing nigh.

241

His Love this roused timely to prepare
For's precious Pupil's never-ending End:
About her Funeral kind and decent Care
He took; because himself could not attend
Those Rites, when She had once Expir'd; for He
Her noble Paranymphus was to be.

242

He was to be her Convoy when she flew
Up to her royal Spouse's marriage Bed:
This made him dress his Count'nance with a new
Festivity; his Wings this made him spread
With fresh and snowy Down, that's Master's Bride
In that soft Coach of Triumph home might ride.

243

And in this joious Hue to her he came;
Yet She his sweet Approach regarded not:
For, burning in her more delicious Flame,
The Sense of all things else she quite forgot.
The Phenix thus, amidst her funeral Fires,
Sees nothing else, and nothing else desires.

244

Flat on the ground, though wholly snatch'd from Earth,
The most subdued Prize of Zeal she lay:
Her tired Blood no longer sally'd forth,
But to her Heart retreating back, gave way
To overpowring Pallor's deadly Chase,
Who strait set up his Colours in her face.

245

The double Fountain of her Tears was dry;
Her Groans were tired; and her Languishment
It self did languish: but her Ecstasy
Outrageous grew, and like a Giant bent
The mighty Bow of her Desires, by which
The Mark of all her Hopes she was to reach.

246

To loathed Earth then having bid Adieu,
And firmly fixt her loving longing Eye
On her dear Heav'n, to keep her Aim in view;
Her Flame's triumphant Tempest swell'd so high
That She, unable to contain its Tide,
With three deep sighs cry'd out O LOVE, and dy'd.

Δοξα Θεω.

FINIS.