University of Virginia Library

PENTELOGIA.

Mors tua 1.

Me thinkes, I see the nimble-aged Sire
Passe swiftly by, with feet unapt to tire,
Vpon his head an Hower-glasse he weares,
And in his wrinkled hand a Sythe he beares,
(Both Instruments, to take the lives from Men)
Th'one shewes with what, the other sheweth when.
Me thinkes I heare the dolefull Passing-bell,
Setting an onset on his louder knell;
(This moody musick of impartiall Death
Who dances after, dances out of breath.)
Me thinkes I see my dearest friends lament,
With sighs, and teares, and wofull dryriment,
My tender Wife, and Children standing by,
Dewing the Death-bed, whereupon I lie:
Me thinkes, I heare a voyce (in secret) say,
Thy glasse is runne, and thou must die to day.

Mors Christi. 2.

Fraus Mundi. 3.

Gloria Cœli. 4.

VVhen I behold, and well advise upon
The Wisemans speech, There's nought beneath the Sun,
But vanity, my soule rebels within,
And lothes the dunghill prison she is in:
But when I looke to new Ierusalem,
Wherein's reserv'd my Crown, my Diadem,
O what a Heaven of blisse my Soule enjoyes,
On sudden rapt into that heaven of Ioyes!
Where ravisht (in the depth of meditation)
She well discernes, with eye of contemplation,
The glory' of God, in his Imperiall Seat,
Full strong in Might, in Majesty compleat,
Where troops of Powers, Vertues, Cherubims,
Angels, Archangels, Saints, and Seraphims,
Are chaunting prayses to their heavenly King,
Where Hallelujah they for ever sing.

Dolor Inferni. 5.

Let Poets please to torture Tantalus,
Let griping Vultures gnaw Prometheus,
And let poore Ixion turne his endlesse wheele,
Let Nemesis torment with whips of steele;
They far come short, t'expresse the paines of those
That rage in Hell, enwrapt in endlesse woes;
Where time no end, and plagues finde no exemption;
Where cryes admit no helpe, nor place redemption;
Where fier lacks no flame, the flame no heat,
To make their torments sharpe, and plagues compleat,
Where wretched Soules to tortures bound shall bee,
Serving a world of yeares, and not be Free;
Where nothing's heard but yells, and sudden cryes;
Where fier never flakes, nor Worme e're dyes:
But where this Hell is plac'd (my Muse) stop there;
Lord, shew me what it is, but never where.

Mors tua. 1.

Mors Christi. 2.

I thurst ; and who shall quench this eager Thurst?
I grieve; and with my griefe my heart will burst;
I grieve, because I thurst without reliefe;
I thurst, because my Soule is burnt with griefe;
J thurst; and (dry'd with griefe) my heart will dye;
I grieve, and thurst the more, for Sorrow's dry:
The more I grieve, the more my thurst appeares:
Would God I had not griev'd out all my teares;
I thurst; and yet my griefes have made a Floud;
But teares are salt; I grieve, and thurst for blood;
I grieve for blood, for blood must send reliefe;
I thurst for blood, for blood must ease my griefe;
I thurst for sacred blood of a deare Lambe;
I grieve to thinke from whence that deare blood came;
'Twas shed for me, O let me drinke my fill,
Although my griefe remaine entier still:
O soveraigne pow'r of that Vermilian Spring,
Whose vertue, neither heart cōceives, nor tongue can sing.

Fraus Mundi. 3.

I love the World (as Clients love the Lawes)
To manage the uprightnesse of my Cause;
The World loves me, as Shepheards doe their flockes,
To rob, and spoile them of their fleecy lockes;
I love the World, and use it as mine Inne,
To bait, and rest my tyred carkeise in:
The World loves me: For what? To make her game;
For filthy sinne, she sels me timely shame;
She's like the Basiliske, by whose sharpe eyes
The living object, first discover'd, dyes;
Forth from her eyes empoysoned beames do burst
Dyes like a Basiliske, discerned first;
We live at jarres as froward Gamesters doe,
Still guarding, nor regarding others foe;
I love the World, to serve my turne, and leave her,
'Tis no deceit to coozen a Deceiver;
She'll not misse me; I, lesse the world shall misse,
To lose a world of griefe, t'enjoy a world of Blisse.

Gloria Cœli. 4.

Earth stands immov'd, and fixt; her situation
Admits no locall change, no alteration,
Heaven alway moves, renewing still his place,
And ever sees us with another Face;
Earth standeth fixt, yet there I live opprest;
Heaven alway mooves, yet there is all my rest:
Enlarge thy selfe, my Soule, with meditation,
Mount there, and there bespeake thy habitation;
Where joies are full, & pure, not mixt with mourning
All endlesse, and from which is no returning:
No theft, no cruell murther harbours there,
No hoary-headed-Care, no sudden Feare,
No pinching want, no (griping-fast) oppression,
Nor Death the stipend of our first transgression:
But dearest Friendship, Love, and lasting Pleasure,
Still there abides, without or stint, or measure;
Fulnesse of Riches, comfort sempeternall,
Excesse without a surfetting; And Life Eternall.

Dolor Inferni. 5.

The Trump shall blow, the dead (awak'd) shal rise,
And to the Clouds shall turn their wondring eies;
The heav'ns shal ope, the Bridegroom forth shal come,
To judge the World, and give the World her doome:
Joy to the Iust, to others endlesse smart;
To those the Voyce bids Come; to these, Depart;
Depart from Life, yet (dying) live for ever;
For ever dying be, and yet Dye never;
Depart like Dogs, with Devils take your lot;
Depart like Devils, for I know you not;
Like Dogs, like Devils goe, Goe howle and barke;
Depart in darknesse, for your deeds were darke;
Let roaring be your Musicke, and your Food
Be flesh of Vipers, and your drinke, their blood;
Let Fiends afflict you, with Reproach and Shame,
Depart, depart into Eternall Flame:
If Hell the Guerdon then of Sinners be,
(Lord give me Hell on earth, (Lord) give mee heav'n with thee.