University of Virginia Library

Threnodia II.

Eleg. 1.

Alas! my torments, my distracted feares
Have no commerce, with reasonable teares:
How hath Heavens absence darkned the renowne
Of Sions glory! with one angry frowne.
How hath th'Almighty clouded those bright beams
And chang'd her beauties streamers, into streames!
Sion, the glory of whose refulgent Fame
Gave earnest of an everlasting name,
Is now become an indigested Masse,
And ruine is, where that brave glory was:
How hath heaven strucke her earth-admired name
From th'height of honour, to the depth of shame;

Eleg. 2.

Beautie, nor strength of building could entice,
Or force revenge from her just enterprise;
Mercy hath stopt her eares, and Iustice hath
Powr'd out full vialls of her kindled wrath;
Impatient of delay, she hath strucke downe
The pride of Sion, kickt off Iuda's Crowne;
Her streets unpeopled, and disperst her powres,
And with the ground hath levell'd her high towres;
Her priests are slaine, her captiv'd Princes are
Vnransom'd pris'ners; Slaves her men of warre;
Nothing remaines of all her wonted glory,
But sad memorialls of her tragicke story.

Eleg. 3.

Confused horror, and confounding shame,
Have blur'd the beauty, and renowned name
Of righteous Israel; Israels fruitfull land,
Entail'd by Heaven, with the usurping hand
Of uncontroled Gentiles, is laid waste,
And with the spoile of ruine is defac't;
The angry mouth of Iustice blowes the fires
Of hasty vengeance, whose quicke flame aspires,
With fury to that place, which heaven did sever,
For Iacob and his holy seed for ever;
No part, no secret angle of the Land,
Which beares no marke of heavens enraged hand.

Eleg. 4.

Darts, thrild from heavē, transfix my bleeding heart
And fill my soule with everlasting smart,
Whose festring wound, no fortune can recure;
Th'Almighty strikes but seldome, but strikes sure;
His finowy arme hath drawne his steely bow,
And sent his forked shafts to overthrow
My pined Princes, and to ruinate
The weakened Pillars, of my wounded State;
His hand hath scourg'd my deare delights, acquited
My soule, of all, wherein my soule delighted;
I am the mirrour of unmasked sin,
To see her (dearely purchas'd) pleasures in.

Eleg. 5.

Even as the Pilot, whose sharpe Keele divides
Th'encountring waves of the Cicilian Tides,
Tost on the lists of death, striving to scape
The danger of deepe mouth'd Charybdis rape,
Rebuts on Scylla, with a forc'd careere,
And wrecks upon a lesse suspected feare;
Even so poore I, contriving to withstand
My Foemans, fall into th'Almighties hand;
So I, the childe of ruine, to avoid
Lesse dangers, by a greater am destroy'd:
How necessary, Ah! How sharp's his end,
That neither hath his God, nor man, to friend!

Eleg. 6

Forgotten Sion hangs her drooping head,
Vpon her fainting brest; Her soule is fed
With endlesse griefe, whose torments had depriv'd her
Long since, of life, had not new paines reviv'd her:
Sion is like a Garden, whose defence
Being broke, is left to the rude violence
Of wastefull Swine, full of neglected waste;
Nor having flowre for smell, nor herbe for taste;
Heaven takes no pleasure in her holy Feasts,
Her idle Sabbaths, or burnt fat of beasts;
Both State and Temple are despoil'd, and fleec't
Of all their beauty; without Prince, or Priest.

Eleg. 7.

Glory, that once did Heavens bright Temple fill,
Is now departed from that sacred Hill;
See, how the emptie Altar stands disguis'd,
Abus'd by Gentiles, and by heaven despis'd;
That place, wherein the holy One hath taken
So sweet delight, lies loathed, and forsaken;
That sacred place, wherein the precious Name
Of great Iehovah was preserv'd, the same
Is turn'd a Den for Theeves; an open stage
For vice to act on; a defiled Cage
Of uncleane birds; a house of priviledge
For sin, and uncontrolled sacriledge.

Eleg. 8.

Heaven hath decreed; his angry brest doth boile,
His time's expired, and he's arm'd to spoile;
His secret Will adjourn'd the righteous doome
Of threatned Sion, and her time is come;
His hand is arm'd with thunder, from his eyes
A flame more quicke than sulphrous Etna, flyes;
Sion must fall: That hand which hath begun,
Can never rest, till the full worke be done.
Her walls are sunke, her Towres are overthrowne,
Heaven will not leave a stone upon a stone;
Hence, hence the flouds of roaring Iudah rise,
Hence Sion fills the Cisternes of her eyes.

Eleg. 9.

Ioy is departed from the holy Gates
Of deare Ierusalem, and peace retraits
From wasted Sion; her high walls, that were
An armed proofe against the brunt of feare,
Are shrunke for shame, if not withdrawne, for pity,
To see the ruine of so brave a City;
Her Kings, and out-law'd Princes live constraind
Hourely to heare the name of Heaven profan'd;
Manners and Lawes, the life of government
Are sent into eternall banishment;
Her Prophets cease to preach; they vow, unheard:
They howle to heaven, but heaven gives no regard.

Eleg. 10.

King, Priest, and People, all alike are clad
In weeds of Sack-cloth, taken from the sad
Wardrobe of sorrow, prostrate on the earth,
They close their lips, their lips estrang'd to mirth:
Silent they sit, for dearth of speech affords
A sharper Accent, for true griefe, than words:
The Father wants a Son, the Son a Mother;
The Bride, her Groom: the brother wāts a brother;
Some, Famine: Exile some: and some the sword
Hath slaine: All want, when Sion wants her Lord:
How art thou all in all! There's nothing scant
(Great God) with thee, without thee, all things want.

Eleg. 11.

Launch forth my soule, into a sea of teares,
Whose ballanc'd bulke, no other Pilot steares,
Then raging sorrow, whose uncertaine hand,
Wanting her Compasse, strikes on every sand;
Driven with a storme of sighes, she seekes the Haven
Of rest, but like to Noahs wandring Raven,
She scowres the Maine: and, as a Sea-lost Rover,
She roames, but can no land of peace discover:
Mine eyes are faint with teares, teares have no end,
The more are spent, the more remaine to spend:
What Marble (ah) what Adamantine eye,
Can looke on Sions ruine, and not cry?

Eleg. 12.

My tongue? the tongues of Angels, are too faint
T'expresse the causes of my just complaint;
See, how the pale-fac'd sucklings roare for food,
And from their milkles mothers brests, draw blood:
Children surcease their serious toyes, and plead
With trickling teares, Ah mothers, give us bread:
Such goodly Barnes, and not one graine of corne?
Why did the sword escape's? Why were we borne
To be devour'd and pin'd with famine? save us:
With quicke reliefe, or take the lives, you gave us:
They cryde for bread, that scarce had breath to cry,
And wanting meanes to live, found meanes to dye.

Eleg. 13.

Never, ah! never yet, did vengeance brand
A State, with deeper ruine, than thy Land;
Deare Sion how could mischiefe beene more keene,
Or strucke thy glory with a sharper spleene?
Whereto (Ierusalem) to what shall I
Compare this thy unequall'd misery?
Turne backe to ages past; Search deepe Records:
Theirs are, thine cannot be exprest in words:
Would, would to God, my lives cheape price might be
Esteem'd of value, but to ransome thee;
Would I could cure thy griefe; but who is able
To heale that wound, that is immedicable?

Eleg. 14.

O Sion, had thy prosperous soule endur'd
Thy Prophets scourge, thy joyes had bin secur'd;
But thou (ah thou) hast lent thine itching eare
To such as claw'd, and onely such, wouldst heare;
Thy Prophets, 'nointed with unhallow'd oyle,
Rubd where they should have launcht, and did beguile
Thy abused faith, their fawning lips did cry
Peace, peace, alas, when there was no peace nigh;
They quilted silken curtaines for thy crimes,
Belyde thy God, and onely pleas'd the times:
Deare Sion, oh! hadst thou but had the skill
To stop thine eares, thou hadst beene Sion still.

Eleg. 15.

People, that travell through thy wasted Land,
Gaze on thy ruines, and amazed stand,
They shake their spleenfull heads, disdaine, deride
The sudden downefall of so faire a pride;
They clap their joyfull hands, & fill their tongues
With hisses, ballads, and with Lyrick songs;
Her torments give their empty lips new matter,
And with their scornfull fingers, point they at her;
Is this (say they) that place, whose wonted fame
Made troubled earth to tremble at her name?
Is this that State? are these those goodly Stations?
Is this that Mistris, and that Queene of Nations?

Eleg. 16.

Qvencht are the dying Embers of compassion,
For empty sorrow findes no lamentation:
When as thy Harvest flourisht with full eares,
Thy sleightest griefe brought in a tide of teares;
But now, alas! thy Crop consum'd, and gon,
Thou art but food, for beasts to trample on;
Thy servants glory in thy ruine, those
That were thy private friends, are publike foes;
Thus, thus (say they) we spit our rankrous spleene,
And gnash our teeth upon the worlds faire Queene;
Thrice welcome this (this long expected) day,
That crownes our conquest, with so sweet a prey.

Eleg. 17.

Rebellious Iudah! Could thy flattring crimes
Secure thee from the dangers of the times?
Or did thy summer Prophets ere foresay
These evills, or warn'd thee of a winters day?
Did not those sweet-lipt Oracles beguile
Thy wanton eares, with newes of Wine, and Oile?
But heaven is just: what his deepe counsell wild,
His prophets told, and Iustice hath fulfill'd:
He hath destroy'd; no secret place so voyd,
No Fort so sure, that Heaven hath not destroy'd:
Thou land of Iudah! How's thy sacred throne
Become a stage, for Heathen to trample on!

Eleg 18.

See, see, th'accursed Gentiles doe inherit
The Land of promise; where heavens Sacred Spirit
Built Temples for his everlasting Name,
There, there, th'usurping Pagans doe proclaime
Their idle Idols, unto whom they gave
That stolen honor which heavnes Lord should have
Winke Sion; O let not those eyes be stain'd
With heavens dishonour, see not heaven profan'd;
Close, close thine eyes, or if they needs must be
Open, like flood-gates, to let water flee,
Yet let the violence of their flowing streames
Obscure thine open eyes, and mask their beames.

Eleg. 19.

Trust not thy eye-lids, lest a flattering sleepe
Bribe them to rest, and they forget to weepe:
Powre out thy heart, thy heart dissolv'd in teares,
Weepe forth thy plaints, in the Almighties eares;
Oh, let thy cries, thy cries to heaven addrest,
Disturbe the silence of thy midnight rest;
Prefer the sad petitions of thy soule
To heaven, ne'er close thy lips till heaven condole
Confounded Sion, and her wounded weale;
That God that smit, oh, move that God to heale;
Oh, let thy tongue ne're cease to call, thine eye
To weepe, thy pensive heart ne're cease to cry.

Eleg. 20.

Vouchsafe, oh thou eternall Lord of pitty,
To looke on Sion, and thy dearest City,
Confus'd Ierusalem, for thy Davids sake,
And for that promise, which thy selfe did make
To halting Isr'el; loe, thy hand hath forc'd
Mothers (whom lawlesse Famine hath divorc'd
From deare affection) to devoure the bloomes,
And buds, that burgeond frō their painful wombs;
Thy sacred Priests and Prophets, that while-ere
Did hourely whisper in thy neighbouring eare,
Are falne before the sacrilegious sword,
Even where, even whilst they did unfold thy word,

Eleg. 21.

Wounded, and wasted, by th'eternall hand
Of heaven, I grovell on the ground; my land
Is turn'd a Golgotha; before mine eye,
Vnsepulchred my murthred people lye;
My dead lye rudely scattred on the stones,
My Cawsies all are pav'd with dead mens bones;
The fierce Destroyer doth alike forbeare
The maidens trembling, and the Matrons teare,
Th'imperiall sword spares neither Foole, nor Wise,
The old mans pleading, nor the Infants cries:
Vengeance is deafe, and blinde, and she respects
Nor Young, nor Old, nor Wise, nor Foole, nor Sex.

Eleg. 22.

Yeares heavie laden with their months, retire;
Months, gone their date of numbred daies, expire;
The daies, full houred, to their period tend;
And howers, chac'd with light-foot Minutes, end;
Yet my undated evills, no time will minish,
Though yeares & months, though daies and howers finis:
Feares flocke about me, as invited guests
Before the Portalls, at proclamed feasts;
Where heavē hath breathd, that man, that state must fall,
Heaven wants no thunder-bolts to strike withall:
I am the subject, of that angry Breath,
My sonnes are slaine, and I am mark'd for death.