Divine poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Th'Eternall Word of God, whose high Decree
Admits no change, and cannot frustrate be,
Came downe to Jonah, from the heavens above,
Came downe to Jonah, heavens anointed Dove;
Jonah, the flowre of old Amittai's youth,
Jonah, the Prophet, Sonne, and Heire to Truth,
The blessed Type of him, that ransom'd us,
That Word came to him, and bespake him thus:

“Arise; trusse up thy loynes, make all things meet,
“And put thy Sandals on thy hasty feet,
“Gird up thy reynes, and take thy staffe in hand,
“Make no delay, but goe, where I command;
“Me pleases not to send thee (Ionah) downe,
“To sweet Gath-Hepher, thy deare native Towne,
“Whose tender paps, with plenty overflow;
“Nor yet unto thy brethren shalt thou goe,

“Amongst the Hebrewes, where thy spredden fame
“Fore-runnes the welcome of thine honor'd name.
“No, I'le not send thee thither: Vp, arise,
“And goe to Niniveh, where no Allies,
“Nor consanguinity preserves thy blood;
“To Niniveh, where strangers are withstood:
“To Niniveh, a City farre remov'd
“From thine acquaintance, where th'art not belov'd
“J send thee to Mount Sinay, not Mount Sion,
“Not to a gentle Lambe, but to a Lion:
“Nor yet to Lydia, but to bloody Pashur,
“Not to the Land of Canaan, but of Ashur,
“Whose language will be riddles to thine eares,
“And thine againe will be as strange to theirs;
“J say, to Niniveh, the worlds great Hall,
“The Monarchs seat, high Court Imperiall.

“But terrible Mount Sinay will affright thee,
“And Pashurs heavy hand is bent to smite thee:
“The Lions rore, the people's strong and stout,
“The Bulwarkes stand a front to keepe thee out.
“Great Ashur minaces with whip in hand,
“To entertaine thee (welcome) to his land.

“What then? Arise, be gone; stay not to thinke:
“Bad is the cloth, that will in wetting shrinke.
“What then, if cruell Pashur heape on stroakes?
“Or Sinay blast thee with her sulph'rous smokes?
“Or Ashur whip thee? Or the Lions rent thee?
“Pish, on with courage; I, the Lord have sent thee:
“Away, away, lay by thy foolish pity,
“And goe to Niniveh, that mighty City:
“Cry loud against it, let thy dreadfull voice
“Make all the City eccho with the noise:
“Not like a Dove, but like a Dragon goe,
“Pronounce my judgement, and denounce my Woe:

“Make not thy bed a fonntaine full of teares,
“To weepe in secret for her sinnes. Thine eares
“Shall heare such things, will make thine eyes run over,
“Thine eyes shall smart with what they shall discover:
“Spend not in private, those thy zealous drops,
“But hew, and backe; spare neither trunke nor lops:
“Make heaven, and earth rebound, when thou discharges,
“Plead not (like Paul) but roare (like Boanarges:)
“Nor let the beauty of the buildings bleare thee,
“Let not the terrors of the Rampiers feare thee;
“Let no man bribe thy fist, (I well advise thee)
“Nor foule meanes force thee, nor let faire entice thee:
“Ramme up thine eares: Thy heart of stone shall be;
“Be deafe to them, as they are deafe to me:
“Goe, cry against it. If they aske thee why?
“Say, heavens great Lord commanded thee to cry:
“My Altars cease to smoke; their holy fires
“Are quencht, and where praiers should, their sin aspires;
“The fatnesse of their fornication fryes
“On coales of raging lust, and upward flies,
“And makes me seek: I heare the mournefull grones
“And heavy sighes of such, whose aking bones
“Th'oppressor grindes: Alas, their griefes implore me,
“Their pray'rs, prefer'd with teares, plead lowd before me:
“Behold, my sonnes, they have opprest, and kill'd,
“And bath'd their hands within the blood they spill'd:
“The steame of guiltlesse blood makes suit unto me,
“The voice of many bloods is mounted to me;

“The vile prophaner of my sacred Names,
“He teares my titles, and my honour maimes,
“Makes Rhet'rick of an oath, sweares and for sweares,
“Recks not my Mercy, nor my Iudgement feares:
“They eate, they drinke, they sleepe, they tire the night
“In wanton dalliance, and uncleane delight.

“Heavens winged Herald Ionas, up and goe
“To mighty Niniveh, Denounce my woe.
“Advance thy voice, and when thou hast advanc't it,
“Spare Shrub, nor Cedar, but cry out against it:
“Hold out thy Trumpet, and with louder breath,
“Proclame my sudden comming, and their death.