Divine poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

With that the Danite rose; and being guided
By his perplexed wife, they, both divided
Their heedlesse paces, till they had attain'd
The field, wherein the Man of God remain'd:
And, drawing neerer to his presence, stai'd
His weary steps, and, with obeysance, said:

Art thou the man, whose blessed lips foretold
Those joyfull tidings? Shall my tongue be bold,
Without the breach of manners to request
This boone, Art thou that Prophet, that possest
This barren woman, with a hope, that She
Shall beare a Sonne? He answer'd, J am He:
Said Manoah, then; Let not a word of thine
Be lost; let them continue to divine
Our future happinesse: let them be crown'd
With truth; and thou with honour, to be found
A holy Prophet: Let performance blesse
And speed thy speeches with a faire successe:
But tell me, Sir; when this great worke is done,
And time shall bring to light this promis'd Sonne,
What sacred Ceremonies shall we use?
What Rites? What way of bleeding shall we chuse

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T'observe? What holy course of life shall be
Be trained in? What shall his Office be?
Whereat th'attentive Angel did divide
The portall of his lips, and thus replide.

The child, that from thy fruitfull loynes shall come
Shall be a holy Nazarite, from the wombe;
Take heed; that wombe, that shall inclose this Childe,
Jn no case be polluted or defilde
With Law-forbidden meates: Let her forbeare
To taste those things that are forbidden there.
The bunch-back Camell shall be no repast
For her; Her palate shall forbeare to taste
The burrow haunting Cony, and decline
The swift foote-Hare, and mire-delighting Swine;
The griping Goshauke; and the towring Eagle;
The party-coloured Pye must not inveigle
Her lips to move; the brood-devouring Kite;
The croaking Raven; th'Owle that hates the light;
The steele-digesting Bird; the lasie Snaile;
The Cuckow, ever telling of one tale;
The fish-consuming Osprey, and the Want,
That undermines; the greedy Cormorant;
Th'indulgent Pellican; the predictious Crow;
The chattring Storke, and ravenous Vulter too;
The thorn-backt Hedge hogge, and the prating lay;
The Lapwing, flying still the other way;
The lofty-flying Falkon, and the Mouse,
That findes no pleasure in a poore mans house;
The suck-egge Weasell, and the winding Swallow,
From these she shall abstaine,, and not unhallow
Her op'ned lips with their polluted flesh;
Strong drinke she must forbeare, and to refresh
Her lingring palate, with lust-breeding Wine;
The Grape, or what proceedeth from the Vine,

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She must not taste, for feare she be defilde,
And so pollute her wombe-enclosed Childe:
When time shall make her mother of a Sonne,
Beware, no keen-edg'd Raisor come upon
His ballowed Crowne: the haire upon his head
Must not be cut: His bountious lockes must spred
On his broad shoulders: From his first drawne breath
The Childe shall be a Nazarite, to his death.

Meditat. 4.

What shallow judgment, or what easie braine
Can choose but laugh at those, that strive in vaine
To build a Tower, whose ambitious Spire
Should reach to heaven? what foole would not admire
To see their greater folly? who would raise
A Tower, to perpetuate the praise
And lasting Glory of their renowned Name,
What have they loft but Monuments of shame?
How poore and slender are the enterprises
Of man; that onely whispers and advises
With heedlesse flesh and blood, and never makes
His God, of counsell, where he undertakes!
How is our God and wee of late falne out!
We rather chuse to languish in our doubt,
Then be resolv'd by him; We rather use
The helpe of hell-bred wizzards, that abuse
The stile of wise men then to have recourse
To him that is the Fountaine and the sourse
Of all good Counsels, and from whom, proceeds
A living Spring, to water all our needs;

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How willing are his Angels to descend
From off their throne of Glory, and attend
Vpon our wants! How oft returne they back
Mourning to heaven, as if they griev'd for lack
Of our imployment! O how prone are they
To be assistant to us, every way!
Have wee just cause to joy? They'll come and sing
About our beds: Does any judgement bring
Iust cause of griefe? they'll fall a grieving too;
Doe we triumph? their joyfull mouthes will blow
Their louder Trumpets, Or doe feares affect us?
They'l guard our heads from danger, & protect us:
Are we in prison, or in Persecution?
They'l fill our hearts with joy, and resolution:
Or doe we languish in our sickly beds?
They'l come & pitch their Tents about our heads;
See they a sinner penitent, and mourne
For his bewail'd offences, and returne?
They clap their hands, and joyne their warbling voyces,
They sing, and all the Quire of Heaven rejoyces.

What is in us poore Dust and Ashes, Lord,
That thou should'st looke upon us, and afford
Thy precious favours to us, and impart
Thy gracious Counsels? what is our desert,
But Death, and Horror? What can we more clame,
Then they, that now are scorching in that flame,
That hath nor moderation, rest, nor end?
How does thy mercy, above thought extend
To thē thou lov'st! Teach me (great God) to prize
Thy sacred Counsels: open my blinde eyes,
That I may see to walke the perfect way;
For as I am, Lord, I am apt to stray
And wander to the gulph of endlesse woe:
Teach me what must be done, and helpe to doe.