Natures Embassie Or, The Wilde-mans Measvres: Danced naked by twelve Satyres, with sundry others continued in the next Section [by Richard Brathwait] |
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THE THIRTEENTH SATYRE.
[OF IDOLATRIE.]
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 | Natures Embassie |  |
145
THE THIRTEENTH SATYRE. [OF IDOLATRIE.]
Protagoras both wicked and profane,
Wicked in life, profane in worshipping,
Adored stones: (see Pagans, see your shame)
And thought them worthie too of reuerencing;
For if the gods be honoured, said He,
Needs must the stones whereof their Temples be.
Wicked in life, profane in worshipping,
Adored stones: (see Pagans, see your shame)
And thought them worthie too of reuerencing;
For if the gods be honoured, said He,
Needs must the stones whereof their Temples be.
The like conceit He had of altars too,
And of the stones whereof they were erected,
To which He oft would solemne worship doe,
And taxe such men by whom they were neglected;
Wishing sometime He were an altar stone,
That to himselfe like honour might be done.
And of the stones whereof they were erected,
To which He oft would solemne worship doe,
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Wishing sometime He were an altar stone,
That to himselfe like honour might be done.
Thou senslesse man depriu'd of reasons lore,
What grace art thou (forlorne) endewd withall,
That thou shouldst shrines and senslesse stones adore,
That haue no eares to heare when thou doest call?
Thou deemes these relikes happie, when god wot,
If they were happie, yet they know it not.
What grace art thou (forlorne) endewd withall,
That thou shouldst shrines and senslesse stones adore,
That haue no eares to heare when thou doest call?
Thou deemes these relikes happie, when god wot,
If they were happie, yet they know it not.
The Altar is the shrine thou offrest to,
Thy incense, sacrifice, and fat of beasts,
Which on the altar thou art wont to do,
Not to the altar where thou makes request;
For it's enioynd thee by expresse command,
To kneele to nothing fashion'd by mans hand.
Thy incense, sacrifice, and fat of beasts,
Which on the altar thou art wont to do,
Not to the altar where thou makes request;
For it's enioynd thee by expresse command,
To kneele to nothing fashion'd by mans hand.
The Manuall artist sets vp heapes of stones,
Erecting curious Statues to adore,
But what are these, can they attend our mones?
No, they haue eares to heare, but heare no more
Then rubbish, clay, or stone, whereof they'r said,
(And such were Pagan Idols) to be made.
Erecting curious Statues to adore,
But what are these, can they attend our mones?
No, they haue eares to heare, but heare no more
Then rubbish, clay, or stone, whereof they'r said,
(And such were Pagan Idols) to be made.
Turne thee vnto the East, from whence the Sunne
Hath his arising, whence He doth proceed,
As Bridegroome from his chamber, and doth run
His spacious course with such a passing speed,
As twentie foure houres He doth onely borrow,
To post the world from end to end quite thorow.
Hath his arising, whence He doth proceed,
As Bridegroome from his chamber, and doth run
His spacious course with such a passing speed,
As twentie foure houres He doth onely borrow,
To post the world from end to end quite thorow.
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Each plant on earth, each creature in the sea,
From whence haue they their grouth, I pray thee say?
Do they deriue't from stones or imagerie?
Nay, I must tell thee, thou art by the way,
It's no inferiour power brings this to passe,
But his, who is, shall be, and euer was.
From whence haue they their grouth, I pray thee say?
Do they deriue't from stones or imagerie?
Nay, I must tell thee, thou art by the way,
It's no inferiour power brings this to passe,
But his, who is, shall be, and euer was.
And he it is who notes thy errors past,
And can reuenge, though He the time adiourne,
Whose loue vnto his sheepe doth euer last,
And still expects and waits for thy returne;
But how can He to thee in kindnesse shew him,
That giues thee hands, yet will not lift them to him?
And can reuenge, though He the time adiourne,
Whose loue vnto his sheepe doth euer last,
And still expects and waits for thy returne;
But how can He to thee in kindnesse shew him,
That giues thee hands, yet will not lift them to him?
Ungratefull thou to haue that ill conceit,
Of his all-being and all-seeing power,
Whose blest tuition guards vs and our state,
Whose surest hold is like a fading flower,
That springs and dies, such is the pompe of man,
As there He ends in earth where He began.
Of his all-being and all-seeing power,
Whose blest tuition guards vs and our state,
Whose surest hold is like a fading flower,
That springs and dies, such is the pompe of man,
As there He ends in earth where He began.
Horror of men, contempt to thy beginning,
Shame to the world, wherein thou doest suruiue.
Whose best religion is an act of sinning,
In which thou meanes to die, and loues to liue;
What shall these shrines affoord thee after death,
The breath of life? no, for they haue no breath.
Shame to the world, wherein thou doest suruiue.
Whose best religion is an act of sinning,
In which thou meanes to die, and loues to liue;
What shall these shrines affoord thee after death,
The breath of life? no, for they haue no breath.
Then here Ile leaue thee, yet with sorrow too,
Thy Image moues compassion, though't may be,
Thou'lt aske the reason why I should do so,
Since sorrowes source hath lost her course in thee;
To which, I may in reason thus reply,
My eyes are wet, because thy eyes are dry.
Thy Image moues compassion, though't may be,
Thou'lt aske the reason why I should do so,
Since sorrowes source hath lost her course in thee;
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My eyes are wet, because thy eyes are dry.
Yet will I to the altar, not t'adore it,
But offer incense to assoile thy sin;
Where full of teares I'le weepe, and weeping ore it,
Wish thy returne, that thou may honour him,
Whose worship thou prophan'd (as was vnfit)
Entitling any creature vnto it.
But offer incense to assoile thy sin;
Where full of teares I'le weepe, and weeping ore it,
Wish thy returne, that thou may honour him,
Whose worship thou prophan'd (as was vnfit)
Entitling any creature vnto it.
| Natures Embassie | |