Divine poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

When time, (whose progresse mod'rates and out weares
Th'extreamest passions of the highest fears)
By his benignant power, had re-inlarg'd
Their captive senses, and at length discharg'd
Their frighted thoughts, the trembling couple rose
From their unquiet, and disturb'd repose:
Have you beheld a Tempest, how the waves
(Whose unresisted Tyranny out-braves
And threats to grapple with the darkned Skies)
How like to moving Mountaines they arise
From their distempred Ocean, and assaile
Heav'ns Battlements; nay when the windes doe faile
To breathe another blast, with their owne motion,
They still are swelling, and disturbe the Ocean:
Even so the Danite and his trembling wife,
Their yet confused thoughts, are still at strife
In their perplexed brests, which entertain'd
Continued feares, too strong to be refrain'd:
Speechlesse they stood, till Manoah that brake
The silence first, disclos'd his lips and spake;

What strange aspect was this, that to our sight
Appear'd so terrible, and did affright

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Our scattering thoughts? What did our eyes behold?
I feare our lavish tongues have bin too bold:
What speeches past betweene us? Can'st recall
The words we entertain'd the time withall?
It was no man; It was no flesh and blood;
Me thought, mine eares did single, while he stood,
And commun'd with me: At each word he spake,
Me thought, my heart recoil'd; his voyce did shake
My very Soule, but when as he became
So angry, and so dainty of his name,
O, how my wonder-smitten heart began
To faile! O, then I knew, it was no man:
No, no; It was the face of God: Our eyes
Have seene his face: (who ever saw't, but dies?)
We are but dead; Death dwells within his eye,
And we have seen't, and we shall surely die:
Where to the woman, (who did either hide,
Or else had overcome her feares) replide;

Despairing Man; take courage, and forbeare
These false predictions; there's no cause of feare:
Would Heaven accept our offerings, and receive
Our holy things; and, after that, bereive
His servants of their lives? Can he be thus
Pleas'd with our offerings, unappeas'd with us?
Hath he not promis'd that the time shall come,
Wherein the fruits of my restored wombe
Shall make thee father to a hopefull Sonne?
Can Heaven be false? Or can these things be done
When we are dead? No, no, his holy breath
Had spent in vaine, if they had meant our death:
Recall thy needlesse feares; Heaven cannot lye;
Although we saw his face, we shall not dye.
So said; they brake off their discourse, and went,
He, to the field; and she into her Tent:

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Thrice forty dayes not full compleat, being come,
Within th'enclosure of her quickned wombe,
The Babe began to spring; and, with his motion,
Confirm'd the faith, and quickned the devotion
Of his beleeving parents, whose devout
And heaven-ascending Orizans, no doubt,
Were turn'd to thanks, and heart-rejoycing praise,
To holy Hymnes, and heavenly Roundelaies:
The childe growes sturdy; Every day gives strength
Vnto his wombe-fed limmes; till at the length
Th'apparent mother, having past the date
Of her accompt, does only now awaite
The happy houre, wherein she may obtaine
Her greatest pleasure, with her greatest paine.
When as the faire directresse of the night
Had thrice three times repar'd her wained light,
Her wombe no longer able to retaine
So great a guest, betraid her to her paine,
And for the toilsome worke, that she had done,
She found the wages of a new borne Sonne:
Samson, she call'd his name: the childe encreast,
And hourely suckt a blessing with the brest,
Daily his strength did double: He began
To grow in favour both with God and Man:
His well attended Infancy was blest
With sweetnesse; in his Childhood, he exprest
True seeds of honour; and his youth was crown'd
With high and brave adventures, which renown'd
His honour'd name, His courage was suppli'd
With mighty strength: His haughty spirit defide
And hoast of men: His power had the praise
'Bove all that were before, or since his dayes:
And to conclude, Heav'n never yet conjoyn'd
So strong a body, with so stout a minde.

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Meditat. 6.

How pretious were those blessed dayes, wherein
Soules never startled at the name of Sin!
When as the voyce of death had never yet
A mouth to open, or to clame a debt!
When bashfull nakednesse forbare to call
For needlesse skins to cover shame withall;
When as the fruit-encreasing earth obay'd
The will of Man without the wound of spade,
Or helpe of Art! When he, that now remaines
A cursed Captive to infernall chaines,
Sate singing Anthems in the heavenly Quire,
Among his fellow Angels! When the Bryer,
The fruitlesse Bramble, the fast growing weed,
And downy Thistle had, as yet, no seed!
When labour was not knowne, and man did eate
The earths faire fruits, unearned with his sweate!
When wombs might have conceiv'd without the stain
Of sin, and brought forth children, without paine!
When Heaven could speak to mans unfrighted eare
Without the sense of Sin-begotten feare!
How golden were those dayes? How happy than
Was the condition and the State of man!
But Man obey'd not: And his proud desire
Cing'd her bold feathers in forbidden fire:
But Man transgrest; And now his freedome feeles
A sudden change: Sinne followes at his heeles:
The voice calls Adam: But poore Adam flees,
And trembling hides his face behind the trees:
The voice, whilere, that ravisht with delight
His joyfull eare, does now, alas, affright

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His wounded conscience with amaze and wonder:
And what, of late, was musicke; now, is Thunder.
How have our sinnes abus'd us! and betrai'd
Our desperate soules! What strangenes have they made
Betwixt the great Creator, and the worke
Of his owne hands! How closely doe they lurke
To our distempred soules, and whisper feares
And doubts into our frighted hearts and eares!
Our eyes cannot behold that glorious face,
Which is all life, unruin'd in the place:
How is our nature chang'd? That very breath
Which gave us being, is become our death:
Great God! O, whither shall poore mortalls flie
For comfort? If they see thy face, they dye;
And if thy life-restoring count'nance give
Thy presence from us; then we cannot live:
How necessary is the ruine, than,
And misery of sin-beguiled Man!
On what foundation shall his hopes relie?
See wee thy face, or see it not, we dye:

O let thy Word (great God) instruct the youth
And frailty of our faith; Thy Word is truth:
And what our eyes want power to perceive,
O, let our hearts admier, and beleeve.