Divine raptvres or piety in poesie :: :: University of Virginia Library

VVhen God the floods from lands did undivide
And made the skye aspiring mountaines hide,
When heaven raind seas, and fountaines were unbound,
And all mankind except eight soules were drownd;
Then did Ioves Pilot Noah make an Arke
And thrust this little world into a barke:
Yea then he sent a Dove to range about
The Floods, to answer his uncertaine doubt:
O how shee wanders up and downe the Seas,
Fluttring her weary wings but findes no ease!
Shee sees no food, no resting place, no parke,
But soone returnes into her wished Arke.
Observe how tender Noah, full of Love,
Opens the window to this weary Dove.

Puts forth his hands to meete her, takes her in,
But by and by shee flutters out agin:
Shee findes an Olive leafe, and that shee brings
Betweene her bill, hov'ring her tyred wings
Vpon the Arke: still Noah is the same,
Lets in his wandring Dove thats now made tame
With restlesse flight; once more shee gets away,
And now shee spies the earth (that lately lay
Sok'd in the impartiall deluge) in her pride,
Adornd with dainty hearbes on every side;
When food is plenty, this ungratefull Dove
Forgets her Noah, and his former love:
Minds nothing but her selfe, shee that before
Did crouch unto thee Arke, returnes no more.
Thou art that Noah Lord, and Christ the boate,
Afflictions are the waters that doe floate:
Man is that wandring Dove, that often flies
Vnto his Christ for shelter, else he dyes.
How apt are we good God to use our wings,
And flye to thee when all these outward things
With floods are drowned up, though we have bin
So vile, how apt art thou to catch us in?
O how our God when we have bin astray
Puts forth his armes to meete us in the way,
And take us home! we are no sooner in
But by and by we flutter out agin:
This time by chance like Noahs Dove we see,
The upper branches of some Olive tree,
I meane some petty shelter: still we flye
Vnto our God for aide or else we dye.
How apt are we, when outward things forsake us,
To haste to God? how apt's our God to take us?

The third time we are gone, now floods are husht
The Sun-confronting mountaines bravely washt,
The Seas give place, the lowest vallies seene,
Yea all the earth most sweetly deckt in greene:
Now we forget our God and post away,
And after make an everlasting stay:
When worldly wealth comes in, and we can rest
Vpon the creature: O how we detest
Our former refuge! if we find a Parke,
We ne're returne unto our wonted Arke.