Divine poems Containing The History of Ionah. Ester. Iob. Sampson. Sions Sonets. Elegies. Written and newly augmented, by Fra: Quarles |
 |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
Medita. 10.
|
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
|
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
|
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
|
| 3. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
|
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
|
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IIII. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIIII. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIIII. |
| XXV. |
|
| I. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| II. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| III. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| IIII. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
 | Divine poems |  |
44
Medita. 10.
See, into what an ebbe of low estate
The soule that seekes to be regenerate,
Must first descend; before the ball rebound,
It must be throwne with force against the ground;
The seed increases not in fruitfull cares,
Nor can she reare the goodly stalke she beares,
Vnlesse bestrow'd upon a mould of earth,
And made more glorious by a second birth:
So man, before his wisedome can bring forth
The brave exploits of truly noble worth,
Or hope the granting of his sinnes remission,
He must be humbl'd first in sad contrition.
The plant (through want of skill, or by neglect)
If it be planted from the Sunnes reflect,
Or lacke the dew of seasonable showres,
Decayes, and beareth neither fruit, nor flowres:
So wretched Man, if his repentance hath
No quickning Sun-shine of a liuely Faith,
Or not bedew'd with showres of timely teares,
Or workes of mercy (wherein Faith appeares)
His prayers and deeds, and all his forced groanes,
Are like the howles of dogs, and works of Drones,
The wise Chirurgeon, first (by letting blood)
Weakens his Patient, ere he does him good;
Before the Soule can a true comfort finde,
The body must be prostrate, and the minde
Truly repentive, and contrite within.
And loathe the fawning of a bosome sin.
The soule that seekes to be regenerate,
Must first descend; before the ball rebound,
It must be throwne with force against the ground;
The seed increases not in fruitfull cares,
Nor can she reare the goodly stalke she beares,
Vnlesse bestrow'd upon a mould of earth,
And made more glorious by a second birth:
So man, before his wisedome can bring forth
The brave exploits of truly noble worth,
Or hope the granting of his sinnes remission,
He must be humbl'd first in sad contrition.
The plant (through want of skill, or by neglect)
If it be planted from the Sunnes reflect,
Or lacke the dew of seasonable showres,
Decayes, and beareth neither fruit, nor flowres:
So wretched Man, if his repentance hath
No quickning Sun-shine of a liuely Faith,
Or not bedew'd with showres of timely teares,
Or workes of mercy (wherein Faith appeares)
His prayers and deeds, and all his forced groanes,
Are like the howles of dogs, and works of Drones,
The wise Chirurgeon, first (by letting blood)
Weakens his Patient, ere he does him good;
Before the Soule can a true comfort finde,
The body must be prostrate, and the minde
Truly repentive, and contrite within.
And loathe the fawning of a bosome sin.
But Lord! Can Man deserve? Or can his best
Doe Iustice equall right, which he transgrest?
When Dust and Ashes mortally offends,
Can Dust and Ashes make eternall mends?
Is Heaven unjust? Must not the recompence
Be full equivalent to the offence?
What mends by mortall Man can then be given
To the offended Majesty of Heaven?
Doe Iustice equall right, which he transgrest?
45
Can Dust and Ashes make eternall mends?
Is Heaven unjust? Must not the recompence
Be full equivalent to the offence?
What mends by mortall Man can then be given
To the offended Majesty of Heaven?
O Mercy! Mercy! on thee my Soule relyes,
On thee we build our Faith, we bend our eyes;
Thou fill'st my empty strain, thou fill'st my tongue;
Thou art the subject of my Swan-like song;
Like pinion'd pris'ners at the dying tree,
Our lingring hopes attend and wait on thee;
(Arrain'd at Iustice barre) prevent our doome;
To thee with joyfull hearts wee cheerly come;
Thou art our Clergy; Thou that dearest Booke,
Wherein our fainting eyes desire to looke;
In thee, we trust to read (what will release us)
In bloody Characters, that name of Iesvs.
On thee we build our Faith, we bend our eyes;
Thou fill'st my empty strain, thou fill'st my tongue;
Thou art the subject of my Swan-like song;
Like pinion'd pris'ners at the dying tree,
Our lingring hopes attend and wait on thee;
(Arrain'd at Iustice barre) prevent our doome;
To thee with joyfull hearts wee cheerly come;
Thou art our Clergy; Thou that dearest Booke,
Wherein our fainting eyes desire to looke;
In thee, we trust to read (what will release us)
In bloody Characters, that name of Iesvs.
What shall we then returne the God of heaven?
Where nothing is (Lord) nothing can be given;
Our soules, our bodies, strength, and all our pow'rs,
(Alas!) were all too little, were they ours:
Or shall wee burne (untill our life expires)
An endlesse Sacrifice in Holy fires?
Where nothing is (Lord) nothing can be given;
Our soules, our bodies, strength, and all our pow'rs,
(Alas!) were all too little, were they ours:
Or shall wee burne (untill our life expires)
An endlesse Sacrifice in Holy fires?
My Sacrifice shall bee my Heart intire,
My Christ the Altar, and my Zeale the Fire.
My Christ the Altar, and my Zeale the Fire.
| Divine poems | |