Divine poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

No sooner was the Brides attentive eares
Resolv'd, and pleas'd; but her impetuous fears
Cals in the Bridemen; and to them betraid,
The secret of the Riddle thus, and said:

You Sonnes of Thunder; Twas not the loud noise
Of your provoking threats, nor the soft voice
Of my prevailing feares, that thus addrest
My yeelding heart to grant your forc'd request;
Your language needed not have bin so rough
To speake too much, when lesse had bin enough:
Your speech at first was hony in mine eare;
At length, it prov'd a Lyon, and did teare
My wounded soule: It sought to force me to
What your entreaties wsre more apt to doe:
Know then (to keepe your lingring eares no longer
From what ye long to heare;) Ther's nothing stronger
Then a fierce Lyon: Nothing more can greet
Your pleased palats, with a greater sweet,
Then Hony: But more fully to expound,
In a dead Lyon, there was Hony found.

Now when the Sun was welking in the West,
Whose fall determines both the day, and Feast)

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The hopefull Bridegroome (he whose smiling brow
Assur'd his hopes a speedy Conquest now)
Even thirsting for victorious Triumph, brake
The crafty silence of his lips, and spake:

The time is come whose latest hower ends
Our nuptiall Feast, and fairely recommends
The wreathe of Conquest to the victors brow:
Say, Is the Riddle read? Expound it now;
And, for your paines, these hands shall soone resigne
Your conquer'd prize: If not, The prize is mine:
With that, they join'd their whispring heads, and made
A Speaker; who in louder language, said;

Of all the sweets that ere were knowne,
Theres none so pleasing be,
As those rare dainties which doe crowne
The labour of the Bee:
Of all the creatures in the field;
That ever man set eye on,
There's none, whose power doth not yeeld
Vnto the stronger Lyon.

Where to th'offended Challenger, whose eye
Proclaim'd a quicke Revenge, made this reply:
No Hony's sweeter then a womans tongue;
And, when she list, Lyons are not so strong:
How thrice accurs'd are they, that doe fulfill
The lewd desiers of a womans will!
How more accurs'd is he, that doth impart
His bosome-secrets to a womans heart;
They plead like Angell, and, like Crocadiles,
Kill with their teares; They murther with their smiles:
How weake a thing is woman? Nay how weake
Is senslesse Man, that will be urg'd to breake
His counsells in her eare, that hath no power
To make secure a secret, for an hower!

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No, Victors, no: Had not a womans minde
Bin faithlesse, and vnconstant, as the winde,
My Riddle had, till now, a Riddle bin;
You might have mus'd, and mist; and mus'd ag'n,
When the next day had heav'd his golden heat
From the soft pillow of his Sea-greene bed;
And, with his rising glory, had possest
The spatious borders of th'enlightened East,
Samson arose, and in a rage, went downe
(By heaven directed) to a neighbring towne:
His choller was inflam'd, and from his eye
The sudden flashes of his wrath did flye,
Palenesse was in his cheekes, and from his breath,
There flew the fierce Embassadours of death;
He heav'd his hand, and where it fell, it slew:
He spent, and still his forces would renew:
His quick-redoubled blowes fell thick as thunder:
And, whom he tooke alive, he tore in sunder:
His arme nere mist: And often, at a blow,
He made a Widow, and an Orphane too:
Here, it divides the Father from the child,
The husband from his Wife: there, it dispoild
The friend on's friend, the Sister of her brother:
And, oft, with one man, he would thrash another:
Where never was, he made a little flood,
And where there was no Kin, he joyn'd in blood,
Wherein, his ruthlesse hands he did imbrue:
Thrice ten, before he scarce could breath, he slue:
Their upper Garments, which he tooke away,
Were all the spoyles the Victor had, that day:
Wherewith, he quit the wagers that he lost,
Paying Philistians, with Philistians cost:
And thus, at length, with blood he did asswage,
But yet not quench the fier of his rage,

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For now the thought of his disloyall wife,
In his sad soule, renew'd a second strife,
From whom, for feare his fury should recoile,
He thought most fit t'absent himselfe a while;
Vnto his fathers Tent, he now return'd;
Where, his divided passion rag'd, and mourn'd;
In part, he mourned; and, he rag'd, in part,
To see so faire a face; so false a heart:
But marke the mischiefe that his absence brings;
His bed's defiled, and the nuptiall strings
Are stretcht and crackt: A second love doth smother
The first; And she is wedded to another.

329

Meditat. 13.

Was this that wombe, the Angel did enlarge
From barrennesse? And gave so strict a charge?
Was this that wōbe, that must not be defil'd
With uncleane meates, lest it pollute the child?
Is this the Nazarite? May a Nazarite, then,
Embrue and paddle in the bloods of men?
Or may their vowes be so dispens'd withall,
That they, who scarce may see a funerall,
Whose holy foot-steps must beware to tread
Vpon, or touch the carkasse of the dead?
May these revēge their wrongs, by blood? may these
Have power to kill, & murther where they please?

Tis true: A holy Nazarite is forbid
To doe such things as this our Nazarite did:
He may not touch the bodies of the dead,
Without pollution; much lesse, may shed
The blood of man, or touch it, being spilt,
Without the danger of a double guilt:
But who art thou, than art an undertaker,
To question with, or plead against thy Maker?
May not that God, that gave thee thy creation,
Turne thee to nothing, by his dispensation?
He that hath made the Sabbath, and commands
It shall be kept with unpolluted hands;
Yet if he please to countermand agin,
Man may securely labour, and not sin;
A Nazarite is not allow'd to shed
The blood of man, or once to touch the dead;

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But if the God of Nazarites, bids kill
He may; and be a holy Nazarite still:

But stay! Is God like Man? Or can he border
Vpon confusion, that's the God of order?
The Persian Lawes no time may contradict;
And are the Lawes of God lesse firme and strict?

An earthly Parent wills his child to stand
And waite; within a while he gives command
(Finding the weaknesse of his sonne opprest
With wearinesse) that he sit downe and rest;
Is God unconstant then, because he pleases
To alter, what he wild us, for our eases?
Know, likewise, O ungratefull flesh and blood,
God limits his owne glory, for our good:
He is the God of mercy, and he prizes
Thine Asses life above his Sacrifices;
His Sabbath is his glory, and thy rest;
Hee'l lose some honour, ere thou lose a Beast:

Great God of mercy; O, how apt are wee
To rob thee of thy due, that art so free
To give unaskt! Teach me, O God, to know
What portion I deserve, and tremble too.