Divine poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Th'Eternall Word of God, whose high Decree
Admits no change, and cannot frustrate be,
Came downe to Jonah, from the heavens above,
Came downe to Jonah, heavens anointed Dove;
Jonah, the flowre of old Amittai's youth,
Jonah, the Prophet, Sonne, and Heire to Truth,
The blessed Type of him, that ransom'd us,
That Word came to him, and bespake him thus:

“Arise; trusse up thy loynes, make all things meet,
“And put thy Sandals on thy hasty feet,
“Gird up thy reynes, and take thy staffe in hand,
“Make no delay, but goe, where I command;
“Me pleases not to send thee (Ionah) downe,
“To sweet Gath-Hepher, thy deare native Towne,
“Whose tender paps, with plenty overflow;
“Nor yet unto thy brethren shalt thou goe,

“Amongst the Hebrewes, where thy spredden fame
“Fore-runnes the welcome of thine honor'd name.
“No, I'le not send thee thither: Vp, arise,
“And goe to Niniveh, where no Allies,
“Nor consanguinity preserves thy blood;
“To Niniveh, where strangers are withstood:
“To Niniveh, a City farre remov'd
“From thine acquaintance, where th'art not belov'd
“J send thee to Mount Sinay, not Mount Sion,
“Not to a gentle Lambe, but to a Lion:
“Nor yet to Lydia, but to bloody Pashur,
“Not to the Land of Canaan, but of Ashur,
“Whose language will be riddles to thine eares,
“And thine againe will be as strange to theirs;
“J say, to Niniveh, the worlds great Hall,
“The Monarchs seat, high Court Imperiall.

“But terrible Mount Sinay will affright thee,
“And Pashurs heavy hand is bent to smite thee:
“The Lions rore, the people's strong and stout,
“The Bulwarkes stand a front to keepe thee out.
“Great Ashur minaces with whip in hand,
“To entertaine thee (welcome) to his land.

“What then? Arise, be gone; stay not to thinke:
“Bad is the cloth, that will in wetting shrinke.
“What then, if cruell Pashur heape on stroakes?
“Or Sinay blast thee with her sulph'rous smokes?
“Or Ashur whip thee? Or the Lions rent thee?
“Pish, on with courage; I, the Lord have sent thee:
“Away, away, lay by thy foolish pity,
“And goe to Niniveh, that mighty City:
“Cry loud against it, let thy dreadfull voice
“Make all the City eccho with the noise:
“Not like a Dove, but like a Dragon goe,
“Pronounce my judgement, and denounce my Woe:

“Make not thy bed a fonntaine full of teares,
“To weepe in secret for her sinnes. Thine eares
“Shall heare such things, will make thine eyes run over,
“Thine eyes shall smart with what they shall discover:
“Spend not in private, those thy zealous drops,
“But hew, and backe; spare neither trunke nor lops:
“Make heaven, and earth rebound, when thou discharges,
“Plead not (like Paul) but roare (like Boanarges:)
“Nor let the beauty of the buildings bleare thee,
“Let not the terrors of the Rampiers feare thee;
“Let no man bribe thy fist, (I well advise thee)
“Nor foule meanes force thee, nor let faire entice thee:
“Ramme up thine eares: Thy heart of stone shall be;
“Be deafe to them, as they are deafe to me:
“Goe, cry against it. If they aske thee why?
“Say, heavens great Lord commanded thee to cry:
“My Altars cease to smoke; their holy fires
“Are quencht, and where praiers should, their sin aspires;
“The fatnesse of their fornication fryes
“On coales of raging lust, and upward flies,
“And makes me seek: I heare the mournefull grones
“And heavy sighes of such, whose aking bones
“Th'oppressor grindes: Alas, their griefes implore me,
“Their pray'rs, prefer'd with teares, plead lowd before me:
“Behold, my sonnes, they have opprest, and kill'd,
“And bath'd their hands within the blood they spill'd:
“The steame of guiltlesse blood makes suit unto me,
“The voice of many bloods is mounted to me;

“The vile prophaner of my sacred Names,
“He teares my titles, and my honour maimes,
“Makes Rhet'rick of an oath, sweares and for sweares,
“Recks not my Mercy, nor my Iudgement feares:
“They eate, they drinke, they sleepe, they tire the night
“In wanton dalliance, and uncleane delight.

“Heavens winged Herald Ionas, up and goe
“To mighty Niniveh, Denounce my woe.
“Advance thy voice, and when thou hast advanc't it,
“Spare Shrub, nor Cedar, but cry out against it:
“Hold out thy Trumpet, and with louder breath,
“Proclame my sudden comming, and their death.

The Authors Apology.

It was my morning Muse; A Muse whose spirit
Transcends (I feare) the fortunes of her merit;
Too bold a Muse, whose fethers (yet in blood)
She never bath'd in the Pyrenean Flood;
A Muse unbreath'd, unlikely to attaine
An easie honour, by so stout a Traine;
Expect no lofty Hagard, that shall flye
A lessning pitch, to the deceived eye;
If in her Downy Soreage, she but ruffe
So strong a Dove, may it be thought enough;
Beare with her; Time and Fortune may requite
Your patient sufferance, with a fairer flight.

The generall Application.

To thee (Malfido) now I turne my Quill;
That God is still that God, and will be still.
The painfull Pastors take up Ionah's roome:
And thou the Ninivite, to whom they come.

Medit. 1.

How great's the love of God unto his creature?
Or is his Wisedome, or his Mercy greater?

I know not whether: O th'exceeding love
Of highest God! that from his Throne above
Will send the brightnesse of his grace to those
That grope in darknesse, and his grace oppose:
He helpes, provides, inspires, and freely gives,
As pleas'd to see us ravell out our lives;
He gives us from the heape, He measures not,
Nor deales (like Manna) each his stinted lot,
But daily sends the Doctors of his Spouse,
(With such like oyle as from the Widowes cruse
Did issue forth) in fulnesse, without wasting,
Where plenty still was had, yet plenty lasting.
I, there is care in heaven, and heavenly sprights,
That guides the world, and guards poore mortall wights,
There is; else were the miserable state
Of Man, more wretched and unfortunate
Than salvage beasts: But O th'abounding love
Of highest God! whose Angels from above
Dismount the Towre of Blisse, flye to and fro,
Assisting wretched Man, their deadly foe.
What thing is Man, that Gods regard is such?
Or why should heaven love rechlesse Man so much?

Why? what are men? but quickned lumps of earth?
A Feast for Wormes; a bubble full of mirth;
A Looking glasse for griefe; A flash; A minute;
A painted Toombe, with putrifaction in it;
A mappe of Death; A burthen of a song;
A winters Dust; A worme of five foot long:
Begot in sinne; In darknesse nourisht; Borne
In sorrow; Naked; Shiftlesse, and forlorne:
His first voice (heard) is crying for reliefe;
Alas! He comes into a world of griefe:
His Age is sinfull; and his Youth is vaine;
His Life's a punishment; His Death's paine;

His Life's a houre of Ioy; a world of Sorrow;
His death's a winters night, that findes no morrow:
Mans Life's an Hower-glasse, which being run,
Concludes that houre of joy, and so is done.
Jonah must goe; nor is this charge confinde
To Jonah, but to all the world enjoyn'd;
You Magistrates, arise, and take delight
In dealing Iustice, and maintaining Right;
There lyes your Niniveh: Merchants arise,
And mingle conscience with your Merchandise:
Lawyers arise, make not your righteous Lawes,
A tricke for gaine; Let Iustice rule the cause:
Tradesmen arise, and plye your thriving shops,
With truer hands, and eate your meate with drops:
Paul to thy Tents, and Peter to thy Net,
And all must goe that course, which God hath set.

Great God awake us, in these drowsie times,
Lest vengeance finde us, sleeping in our Crymes,
Encrease succession in thy Prophets liew,
For loe, thy Harvest's great, and workmen few.

Sect. 2.

The Argvment.

But Ionah toward Tharsis went,
A Tempest doth his course prevent:
The Mariners are sore opprest,
While Ionah sleepes and takes his rest.
Bvt Ionah thus bethought: The City's great,
And mighty Ashur stands with deadly threat;

Their hearts are hardued, that they cannot heare:
Will greene wood burne, when so unapt's the seire?
Strange is the charge: Shall I goe to a place
Vnknowne and forraigne? Aye me! hard's the case,
That righteous Isr'el must be thus neglected,
When Miscreants and Gentiles are respected:
How might I hope my words shall there succeed,
Which thrive not with the flockes I daily feed?
I know my God is gentle, and enclinde,
To tender mercy, apt to change his minde
Vpon the least repentance: Then shall I
Be deem'd as false, and shame my Prophecie.
O heavy burthen, of a doubtfull mind!
Where shall I goe, or which way shall I wind?
My heart like Ianus, looketh to and fro;
My Credit bids me, Stay; my God bids, Goe:
If Goe; my labour's lost, my shame's at hand:
If stay, Lord! I transgresse my Lords command:
If goe; from bad estate, to worse, I fall.
If stay, I slide from bad, to worst of all.
My God bids goe, my credit bids me stay:
My guilty feare bids fly another way.

So Jonah straight arose, himselfe bedight
With fit acoutrements, for hasty flight:
In stead of staffe, he tooke a Shipmans weed;
In stead of going, loc, he flyes with speed.

Like as a Hawke (that overmatcht with might)
Doing sad penance for th'unequall fight,
(Answ'ring the Falkners second shout) does flee
From fist; turnes tayle to foule, and takes a tree:
So Ionah baulks the place where he was sent
(To Nineveh) and downe to Iaffa went:

He sought, enquired, and at last, he found
A welcome Ship, that was to Tharsis bound,
Where he may flye the presence of the Lord:
He makes no stay, but straightway goes aboord,
His hasty purse for bargaine findes no leisure,
(Where sinn delights, there's no account of treasure)
Nor did he know nor aske, how much his Fare:
He gave: They tooke: all parties pleased are:
(How thriftlesse of our cost, and paines, are we,
Great God of heaven and earth, to fly from thee!)
Now have the sailors drunke their parting cup,
They goe aboord; The Sailes are hoisting up;
The Anchor's wayd; the keele begins t'obey
Her gentle Rudder; leaves her quiet Key,
Divides the streames, and without winde or oare,
She easly glides along the moving shore:
Her swelling Canvace gives her nimbler motion,
Sh'outstrips the Tide, and hies her to the Ocean:
Forth to the deepe she launches, and outbraves
The prouder billowes, rides upon the waves;
She plies that course, her Compas hath enjoind her,
And soone hath lest the lessned land behind her;
By this, the breath of heaven began to cease;
Calme were the Seas; the waves were all at peace;
The flagging mainsaile flapt against her yard,
The uselesse Compasse, and the idle Card
Were both neglected: Vpon every side
The gamesome Porpisce tumbled on the Tide.
Like as a Mastisfe, when restrain'd a while,
Is made more furious, and more apt for spoile,
Or when the breath of man, being bard the course,
At length breakes forth, with a farre greater force,
Even so the milder breath of heaven, at last,
Lets flye more fierce, and blowes a stronger blast:

All on a sudden darkned was the Sky
With gloomy clouds; heavens more refulgent eye
Was all obscur'd: The aire grew damp and cold,
And strong mouth'd Boreas could no longer hold:
Eolus lets loose his uncontrouled breath,
Whose language threatens nothing under death:
The Rudder failes; The ship's at random driven;
The eye no object ownes, but Sea and Heaven:
The Welkin stormes, and rages more and more,
The raine powres down; the heavens begin to rore
As they would split the massie Globe in sunder,
From those that live above, to those live under;
The Pilot's frighted; knowes not what to doe,
His Art's amaz'd, in such a maze of woe;
Faces grow sad: Prayers and complaints are rife;
Each one's become an Orator for life:
The Windes above, the waters underneath,
Ioyne in rebellion, and conspire death.

The Seamens courage now begins to quaile;
Some ply the plump, whilst others strike the saile,
Their hands are busie, while their hearts despaire,
Their feares and dangers move their lips to praier:
They praid, but winds did snatch their words away,
And lets their pray'rs not go to whom they pray:
But still they pray, but still the wind and weather
Do turn both ship & prai'rs they know not whether:
Their gods were deafe, their danger waxed greater;
They cast their wares out, and yet ne're the better:
But all this while was Ionah drown'd in sleepe,
And in the lower decke was buried deepe.

Medita. 2.

Bvt stay: this was a strange and uncouth word:
Did Ionah flye the presence of the Lord?
What mister word is that? He that repleats
The mighty Vniverse, whose lofty seat's
Th'imperiall Heaven, whose footstoole is the face
Of massie Earth? Can he from any place
Be barr'd? or yet by any meanes, excluded,
That is in all things? (and yet not included)
Could Ionah finde a resting any where
So void, or secret, that God was not there?
I stand amaz'd, and frighted at this word:
Did Ionah flye the presence of the Lord?
Mount up to Heaven, and there thou shalt discover
The exc'lent glory of his kingly power:
Bestride the earth beneath (with weary pace)
And there he beares the Olive branch of Grace:
Dive downe into th'extreme Abisse of Hell,
And there in Iustice doth th'Almighty dwell.
What secret Cloister could there then afford
A screene 'twixt faithlesse Ionah, and his Lord?

Ionah was charg'd, to take a charge in hand;
But Ionah turn'd his backe on Gods command;
Shooke off his yoke, and wilfully neglected,
And what was strictly charg'd, he quite rejected:
And so he fled the power of his Word;
And so he fled the presence of his Lord.

Good God! how poore a thing is wretched man?
So fraile, that let him strive the best he can,
With every little blast hee's overdon:
If mighty Cedars of great Lebanon,
Cannot the danger of the Axe withstand,
Lord! how shall we, that are but bushes, stand:

How fond, corrupt, how senselesse is mankinde?
How faining deafe is he? How wilfull blinde?
He stops his eares, and sinnes: he shuts his eyes,
And (blindfold) in the lap of danger flyes:
He sinnes, despaires; and then to stint his griefe,
He chuses death, to baulke the God of life.

Poore wretched sinner, travell where thou wilt,
Thy travell shall be burthen'd with thy guilt:
Climb tops of hils, that prospects may delight thee,
There wil thy sins (like wolves & bears) afright thee,
Fly to the vallies, that those frights may shun thee,
And there, like Mountains, they will fall upon thee:
Or to the raging Seas, (with Ionah) goe;
There will thy sinnes like stormy Neptune flow.
Poore shiftlesse Man! what shall become of thee?
Wher'ere thou fly'st, thy griping sinne will flee.

But all this while, the ship where Ionah sleepes,
Is tost and torne, and batter'd on the Deeps,
And well-nigh split upon the threatning Rocke,
With many a boistrous brush, and churly knocke:
God helpe all desp'rate voyagers, and keepe
All such as feele thy wonders on the deepe.

Sect. 3.

The Argvment.

The Pilot thumps on Ionah's brest,
And rowzeth Ionah from his rest:
They all cast Lotts, (being sore afrighted)
The sacred Lott on Ionah lighted.

The amazed Pilot finding no successe,
(But that the storme grew rather more than lesse,

For all their toilsome paines, and needlesse praiers,
Despairing both of life, and goods) repaires
To Ionahs drowsie Cabbin; mainly cals;
Cals Ionah, Ionah; and yet lowder yawles;
Yet Ionah sleepes; and gives a shrug, or two,
And snores, (as greedy sleepers use to doe.)
The wofull Pylot jogs him, (but in vaine.)
(Perchance he dreames an idle word, or twaine;)
At length he tugs and puls his heavy coarse,
And thunders on his brest, with all his force:
But (after many yawnes) he did awake him,
And (being both affrighted) thus bespake him:

“Arise, O Sleeper; O arise and see,
“There's not a twiny thred'twixt death, and thee:
“This darkesome place (thou measur'st) is thy grave,
“And sudden Death rides proud on yonder wave;
“Arise, O sleeper, O arise, and pray;
“Perhaps thy God will heare, and not say, Nay:
“Repaire the losse of these our ill spent houres,
“Perchance thy God's more powerfull than ours;
“Heavens hand may cease, and have compassion on us,
“And turne away this mischiefe it hath done us.

The sturdy Saylors (weary of their paine)
Finding their bootlosse labour lost, and vaine,
Forbare their toilesome task and wrought no more,
Expecting Death, for which they lookt before;
They call a parley, and consult together,
They count their sinnes, (accusing one another)
That for his sinne, or his, this ill was wrought:
In fine, they all proove guilty of the fault:
But yet the question was not ended so:
One sayes, 'Twas thine offence; but he sayes, No,
But 'twas for thy sake, that accuses me;
Rusht forth a third (the worser of the three)

And swore it was another, which (he hearing)
Deny'd it slat, and said, 'Twas thine for swearing:
In came a fift, accusing all; (replying
But little else) they all chid him for lying;
One said it was, another said 'twas not:
So all agreed, to stint the strife by Lott:
Then all was whist, and all to prayer went;
(For such a bus'nesse a fit complement)
The Lott was cast; t'pleas'd God by Lots to tell,
The Lott was cast; the Lott on Ionah fell,

Medita. 3.

O sacred subject of a Meditation!
Thy Workes (O Lord) are full of Admiration,
Thy judgements all are just, severe, and sure,
They quite cut off or else by lancing, cure
The festring sore of a rebellious heart,
Lest soule infection taint th'immortall part.
How deepe a Lethargy doth this disease
Bring to the slumbring soule, through carelesse ease!
Which once being wak't, (as from a golden dreame)
Lookes up, and sees her griefes the more extreme.
How seeming sweet's the quiet sleepe of sin?
Which when a wretched man's once nuzzled in,
How soundly sleepes he, without feare, or wit?
No sooner doe his armes infolded knit
A drowzy knot upon his carelesse brest,
But there he snorts, and snores in endlesse rest;
His eyes are closed fast, and deafe his eares,
And (like Endymion) sleepes himselfe in yeares;
His sense-bound heart relents not at the voice
Of gentle warning, neither does the noise

Of strong reproofe awake his sleeping eare,
Nor louder threatnings thunder makes him heare;
So deafe's the sinners eare, so numb'd his sense,
That sinne's no corrosive, breeds no offence;
For custome brings delight, deludes the heart,
Beguiles the sense, and takes away the smart.

But stay; Did one of Gods elected number,
(Whose eies should never sleep, nor eie lids slūber)
So much forget himselfe? Did Ionah sleepe,
That should be watchfull, and the Tower keepe?
Did Ionah (the selected mouth of God)
In stead of roaring judgements, does he nod?
Did Ionah sleepe so sound? Could he sleepe then,
When (with the sudden sight of Death) the men
(So many men) with yelling shrikes, and cryes,
Made very heaven report? Were Ionah's eyes
Still clos'd, and he, not of his life bereaven?

Hard must he wink that shuts his eies from heavē.
O righteous Isr'el, where, O where art thou?
Where is thy Lampe? thy zealous Shepheard now?
Alas! the rav'nous Wolves will worr' thy Sheepe;
Thy Shepheard's carelesse, and is falne asleepe;
Thy wandring flockes are frighted from their fold,
Their Shepherd's gone, and Foxes are too bold:
They, they whose smooth-fac'd words become the altar,
Their works dissent, & first begin to faulter;
And they that should be watchlights in the Temple
Are snuffes, and want the oyle of good example;
The chosen Watch-men that the tow'r should keep
Ate waxen heavy-ey'd, and falne asleepe.

Lord if thy watchmen wink too much, awake thē,
Although they slumber, do not quite forsake them;
The flesh is weake, say not (if dulnesse seize
Their heavy eyes) sleep henceforth: take your ease:

And we poore weaklings, when we sleepe in sin,
Knocke at our drowzy hearts; and never lin,
Till thou awake our sin-congealed eyes;
Lest (drown'd in sleepe) we sinke and never rise.

Sect 4.

The Argvment.

They question Ionah whence he came,
His Country, and his peoples Name.
He makes reply: They mone their woe,
And aske his counsell what to doe.

As when a Thiefe's appr'hended on suspect,
And charg'd for some supposed malefact,
A rude concourse of people, straight accrewes,
Whose itching eares even smart to know the newes;
The guilty pris'ner (to himselfe betraid)
He stands dejected, trembling and afraid:
So Ionah stood the Sailers all among,
Inclosed round amid the ruder throng.
As in a Summers evening you shall heare
In Hives of Bees (if you lay close your eare)
Confused buzzing, and seditious noise,
Such was the murmure of the Saylers voice.

“What was thy sinfull act, that causes this,
“(Sayes one) wherein hast thou so done amisse?
“Tell us, What is thine Art (another sayes)
“That thou professest? Speake man, Whences awayes,
“From what Confines cam'st thou? (A third replyes)
“What is thy Country? And of what allies?
“What, art thou borne a Iew? or Gentile? whether?
“(Ere he could lend an answer unto either)

“A fourth demands; Where hath thy breeding beene?
All what they askt, they all askt o're agen:
In fine, their eares (impatient of delay)
Becalm'd their tongues to hear what he could say.

So Ionas (humbly rearing up his eyes)
Breaking his long-kept silence, thus replyes:
“I am an Hebrew, sonne of Abraham,
“From whom my Land did first derive her name,
“Within the Land of Iury was I borne,
“My name is Ionah, retchelesse and forlorne:
“I am a Prophet: ah! but woe is me,
“For from before the face of God I flee;
“From whence (through disobedience) I am driven:
“I feare Iehovah, the great God of Heaven:
“J feare the Lord of Hosts, whose glorious hand
“Did make this stormy Sea, and massie Land.

So said, their eares with double ravishment,
Still hung upon his melting lips, attent,
Whose dreadful words their harts so neer impierc't,
That from themselves, themselves were quite divers't:
As in a sowltry Summers eveningtide,
(When lustfull Phœbus re-salutes his Bride,
And Philomela 'gins her caroling)
A Herd of Deere are browzing in a Spring,
With eger appetite, misdeeming nought,
Nor in so deepe a silence fearing ought:
A sudden cracke, or some unthought-of sound,
Or bounce of Fowlers Peece, or yelpe of Hound,
Disturbs their quiet peace wth strange amaze
Where (senslesse halfe) through feare, they stand at gaze
So stand the Sea-men, (as with Ghosts affrighted,)
Entraunc'd with what this man of God recited:
Their tyred limbes doe now waxe faint, and lither,
Their harts did yern, their knees did smite together:

Congealed blood usurpt their trembling hearts,
And left a faintnesse in their feeble parts:
Who (trembling out distracting language,) thus:

“Why hast thou brought this mischiefe upon us?
“What humour led thee to a place unknowne,
“To seeke forraigne Land, and leave thine owne?

“What faith hadst thou, by leaving thine abode,
“To thinke to flye the presence of thy God?
“Why hast thou not obey'd (but thus transgrest)
“The voyce of God, whom thou acknowledgest?
“Art thou a Prophet, and dost thou amisse?
“What is the cause? and why hast thou done this?

“What shall we do? The tempest lends no eare
“To fruitlesse chat, nor doe the billowes heare,
“Or marke our language: Waves are not attent:
“Our goods they float, our needlesse paines are spent,
“Our Barke's not weather proofe: no Fort's so stout,
“To keepe continuall siege and battry out.
“The Lot accuses thee, thy words condemne thee,
“The waves (thy deaths men) strive to overwhelme thee:
“What she we doe? Thou Prophet, speake, we pray thee:
“Thou fear'dst the Lord; Alas! we may not slay thee:
“Or shall we save thee? No, for thou dost flye
“The face of God, and so deserv'st to dye:
“Thou Prophet, speake, what shall be done to thee,
“That angry Seas may calme, and quiet be?

Medita. 4.

Give leave a little to adjoyne your text,
And ease my soule, my soule with doubts perplext.
Can he be said to feare the Lord, that flyes him?
Can word confesse him, when as deed denies him?

My sacred Muse hath rounded in mine eare,
And read the mystery of a twofold feare:
The first, a servile feare, for judgements sake;
And thus hells Fire-brands doe feare and quake:
Thus Adam fear'd, and fled behinde a tree:
And thus did bloody Cain feare and flee.

Vnlike to this there is a second kinde
Of feare, extracted from a zealous minde,
Full fraught with love, and with a conscience clear
From base respects: It is a filiall feare;
A feare whose ground would just remaine, & level;
Were neither Heaven, nor Hel, nor God, nor devil.
Such was the feare that Princely David had;
And thus our wretched Ionah fear'd, and fled:
He fled asham'd, because his sinnes were such;
He fled asham'd, because his feare was much.
He fear'd Iehovah, other fear'd he none:
Him he acknowledg'd; him hee fear'd alone:
Vnlike to those who (being blinde with errour)
Frame many gods, and multiply their terrour.
Th'Egyptians, god Apis did implore.
God Assas the Chaldeans did adore:
Babel to the Devouring Dragon seekes;
Th'Arabian, Astaroth; Iuno, the Greekes;
The name of Belus, the Assyrians hallow,
The Troians, Vesta; Corinth, wise Apollo;
Th'Arginians sacrifice unto the Sunne;
To light-foot Mercury bowes Macedon;
To god Volunus, Lovers bend their knee:
To Pavor, they that faint and fearefull bee:
Who pray for health, and strength, to Murcia those,
And to Victoria, those that feare to lose:
To Muta, they that feare a womans tongue:
To great Lucina, women great with young:

To Esculapius, they that live opprest:
And such to Quies, that defier rest.

O blinded ignorance of antique times,
How blent with errour, and how stuft with crimes
Your Temples were! And how adulterate!
How clogg'd with needlesse gods! How obstinate!
How void of reason, order, how confuse!
How full of dangerous and foule abuse!
How sandy were the grounds, and how unstable!
How many Deities! yet how unable!

Implore these gods, that list to howle and barke,
They bow to Dagon, Dagon to the Arke:
But hee to whom the seale of mercy's given,
Adores Iehovah, the Great God of Heaven:
Vpon the mention of whose sacred Name,
Meeke Lambs grow fierce, & the fierce Lions tame:
Bright Sol shall stop, & heaven shal turn his course:
Mountains shall dance, and Neptune slake his force:
The Seas shall part, the fire want his flame,
Vpon the mention of Iehovah's Name:
A Name that makes the roofe of Heaven to shake,
The frame of Earth to quiver, Hell to quake:
A Name, to which all Angels blow their Trumps:
A Name, puts frolicke man into his dumps,
(Though ne're so blythe) A Name of high renown:
It mounts the meeke, and beats the loftie downe;
A Name, divides the marrow in the bone;
A Name, which out of hard, and flintie stone
Extracteth hearts of flesh, and makes relent.
Those hearts that never knew what mercy ment,

O Lord! how great's thy Name in all the Land:
How mighty are the wonders of thy hand?
How is thy glory plac't above the heaven?
To tender mouthes of Sucklings thou hast given

Coercive pow'r, and boldnesse to reproove,
When elder men doe what them not behoove.
O Lord,! how great's the power of thine hand?
O God! how great's thy Name in all the Land!

Sect. 5.

The Argvment.

The Prophet doth his fault discover,
Perswades the men to cast him over:
They row, and toyle, but doe no good,
They pray to be excus'd from blood.
So Ionah fram'd this speech to their demand,
“Not that I seeke to traverse the command
“Of my deare Lord, and out of minde perverse,
“T'avoid the Ninivites, doe I amerce
“My selfe: Nor that I ever heard you threat,
“(Unlesse I went to Niniveh (the great)
“And doe the message sent her from the Lord)
“That you would kill, or cast me over-boord,
“Doe, I doe this; 'Tis my deserved fine:
“You all are guiltlesse, and the fault is mine:
“Tis J, 'tu I alone, 'tis I am he:
“The tempest comes from heaven, the cause from me;
“You shall not lose a haire for this my sin,
“Nor perish for the fault that mine hath bin;
“Lo, I the man am here: Lo, I am be,
“The root of all; End your revenge on me;
“J fled th'Eternall God; O, let me then
“(Because I fled my God) so flie from men:
“Redeeme your lives with mine; Ah, why should I,
“Not guiltlesse, live; and you not guilty, die?

“I am the man, for whom these billowes dance,
“My death shall purchase your deliverance;
“Feare not to cease your feares; but throw me in;
“Alas! my soule is burthen'd with my sin,
“And God is just, and bent to his Decree,
“Which certaine is, and cannot alter'd be;
“I am proclaim'd a Traitor to the King
“Of heaven an earth: The windes with speedy wing
“Acquaint the Seas: The Seas mount up on high,
“And cannot rest, untill the Traytor die;
“Oh, cast me in, and let my life be ended;
“Let Death make Justice mends, which Life offended;
“Oh, let the swelling waters me enbalme;
“So shall the Waves be still, and Sea be calme.
So said, th'amazed Mariners grew sad,
New Love abstracted, what old Feare did adde;
Love called Pity: Feare call'd vengeance in;
Love view'd the Sinner; Feare beheld the Sin;
Love cry'd out, Hold; for better sav'd than spil'd;
But Feare cry'd, Kill; O better kill, than kill'd:
Thus plung'd with Passions they distracted were
Betwixt the hopes, and doubts of Love and Feare;
Some cry'd out, Savé: if this foule deed we doe,
Vengeance that haunted him, will haunt us too:
Others cry'd, No; May rather death befall
To one (that hath deserv'd to dye) then all:
Save him (sayes one) Oh save the man that thus
His dearest blood hath profer'd to save us;
No, (sayes another) vengeance must have blood,
And vengeance strikes most hard, when most withstood.
In fine (say all:) Then let the Prophet die,
And we shall live; For Prophets cannot lye.
Loth to be guilty of their owne, yet loth
To haste poore Ionahs death, with hope, that both

Th'approching evils might be at once prevented,
With prayers and paines reutter'd, reattented,
They try'd new wayes, despairing of the old,
Love quickens courage, makes the spirits bold;
They strove, in vaine, by toile to win the shore,
And wrought more hard than er'e they did before:
But now, both hands and hearts begin to quaile,
(For bodies wanting rest, must faint and faile;)
The Seas are angry, and the waves arise,
Appeas'd with nothing but a Sacrifice;
Gods vengeance stormeth like the raging Seas,
Which nought but Ionah (dying) can appease:
Fond is that labour, which attempts to free,
What Heaven hath bound by a divine decree:
Ionah must die, Heaven hath decreed it so,
Jonah must die, or else they all die too;
Jonah must die, that from his Lord did flie;
The Lott determines, Ionah then must die;
His guilty word confirmes the sacred Lott,
Ionah must die then, if they perish not.
“If Iustice then appoint (since he must die,
“Said they) us Actors of his Tragedy,
“(We beg not (Lord) a warrant to offend)
“O pardon blood-shed, that we must intend;
“Though not our hands, yet shall our hearts be cleare;
“Then let not stainlesse consciences beare
“The pond'rous burden of a Murders guilt,
“Or pay the price of blood that must be spilt;
“For loe, (deare Lord) it is thine owne decree,
“And we sad ministers of Iustice be.

Meditat. 5.

Bvt stay a while; this thing would first be known:
Can Ionah give himselfe, and not his owne?
That part to God, and to his Countrey this
Pertaines, so that a slender third is his;
Why then should Ionah doe a double wrong,
To deale himselfe away, that did belong
The least unto himselfe? or how could hee
Teach this, (Thou shalt not kill) if Ionah be
His lifes owne Butcher? What, was this a deed
That with the Calling he profest, agreed?
The purblinde age (whose workes (almost divine)
Did meerely with the oyle of Nature shine,
That knew no written Law, nor Grace, nor God,
To whip their conscience with a steely rod,)
How much did they abhorre so foule a fact?
When (led by Natures glimpse) they made an act,
Selfe-murderers should be deny'd to have
The charitable honour of a Grave:
Can such doe so, when Ionah does amisse?
What, Ionas, Isr'els Teacher! and doe this?

The Law of Charity doth all forbid,
In this thing to doe that which Ionah did;
Moreo're, in charity, 'tis thy behest,
Of dying men to thinke, and speake the best;
The mighty Samson did as much as this;
And who dare say, that Samson did amisse,
If heavens high Spirit whisper'd in his eare
Expresse command to doe't? No wavering feare
Drew backe the righteous Abram's armed hand
From Isaacks death, secur'd by heavens command.

Sure is the knot that true Religion tyes,
And Love that's rightly grounded, never dyes;

It seemes a paradoxe beyond beliefe,
That men in trouble should prolong reliefe;
That Pagans (to withstand a Strangers Fate)
Should be neglective of his owne estate.

Where is this love become in later age?
Alas! 'tis gone in endlesse pilgrimage
From hence, and never to returne (I doubt)
'Till revolution wheele those times about:
Chill brests have starv'd her here, and she is driven
Away; and with Astræa fled to heaven.
Poore Charity, that naked Babe is gone,
Her honey's spent, and all her store is done;
Her winglesse Bees can finde out ne're a bloome,
And crooked Ate doth usurpe her roome:
Nepenthe's dry, and Love can get no drinke,
And curs'd Ardenne flowes above the brinke.
Brave Mariners, the world your names shal hallow,
Admiring that in you, that none dare follow;
Your friendship's rare, and your conversion strāge,
From Paganisme to zeale? A sudden change!
Those men doe now the God of heaven implore,
That bow'd to Puppets, but an houre before;
Their zeale is fervent, (though but new begun)
Before their egge-shels were done off, they runne:
And when bright Phœbus in a Summer tide,
(New risen from the bosome of his Bride)
Enveloped with misty fogges, at length
Breakes forth, displaies the mist, with Southerne strength;
Even so these Mariners (of peerlesse mirrour)
Their faith b'ing veil'd within the mist of errour,
At length their zeale chac'd ignorance away,
They left their Puppets, and began to pray.

Lord how unlimited are thy confines,
That still pursu'st man in his good designes!

Thy mercy's like the dew of Hermon hill,
Or like the Oyntment, dropping downward still
From Aarons head, to beard; from beard to foote:
So doe thy mercies drench us round about:
Thy love is boundlesse; Thou art apt and free,
To turne to Man, when Man returnes to thee.

Sect. 6.

The Argvment.

They cast the Prophet over boord:
The storme alay'd: They feare the Lord;
A mighty Fish him quick devoures,
Where he remained many houres.

Even as a member, whose corrupted sore
Infests, and rankles, eating more and more,
Threatning the bodies losse (if not prevented)
The wise chirurgion (all faire meanes attented)
Cuts off, and with advised skil doth choose,
To lose a part, then all the body lose;
Even so the feeble Sailors (that addresse
Their idle armes, where heaven denyes successe)
Forbeare their thrivelesse labours, and devise
To roote that Evill, from whence their harms arise:
Treason is in their thoughts, and in their eares
Danger revives the old, and addes new feares;
Their hearts grow fierce, and every soule applies
T'abandon mercy from his tender eyes:
They cease t'attempt what heaven so long withstood,
And bent to kill, their thoughts are all on blood:
They whisper oft, each word is Deaths Alarme;
They hoyst him up; Each lends a busie arme,

And with united powers they entombe
His out-cast body in Thetis angry wombe:
Whereat grim Neptune wip't his somy mouth,
Held his tridented Mace upon the South;
The windes were whist, the billows danc't no more,
The storme allay'd, the heavens left off to rore,
The waves (obedient to their pilgrimage)
Gave ready passage, and surceast their rage,
The skie grew cleare, and now the welcome light
Begins to put the gloomy clouds to flight:
Thus all on sudden was the Sea tranquill,
The Heav'ns were quiet, and the Waves were still,
As when a friendly Creditor (to get
A long forborne, and much concerning debt)
Still plies his willing debter with entreats,
Importunes daily, daily thumps, and beates
The batter'd Portals of his tyred eares,
Bedeasing him with what he knowes, and heares;
The weary debter, to avoid the sight
He loathes, shifts here, and there, and ev'ry night
Seekes out Protection of another bed,
Yet ne'rethelesse (pursu'd and followed)
His eares are still laid at with lowder volley
Of harder Dialect; He melancholy,
Sits downe, and sighs, and after long foreslowing,
(T'avoid his presence) payes him what is owing;
The thankfull Creditor is now appeas'd,
Takes leave, and goes away content, and pleas'd.
Even so these angry waves, with restlesse rage,
Accosted Ionas in his pilgrimage,
And thundred Iudgement in his fearefull eare,
Presenting Hubbubs to his guilty feare:
The waves rose discontent, the Surges beat,
And every moments death, the billowes threat,

The weather-beaten Ship did every minuit
Await destruction, while hee was in it:
But when his (long expected) corps they threw
Into the deepe, (a debt, through trespasse, due)
The Sea grew kinde, and all her frownes abated,
Her face was smooth to all that navigated.
'Twas sinfull Ionah made her storme and rage,
'Twas sinfull Ionah did her storme asswage.

With that the Mariners astonisht were,
And fear'd Iehovah with a mighty feare,
Offring up Sacrifice with one accord,
And vowing solemne vowes unto the Lord.
But he whose word can make the earth's foundatiō
Tremble, and with his Word can make cessation,
Whose wrath doth moūt the waves, & toss the Seas,
And make thē calme & smooth, whē e're he please:
This God, (whose mercy runs on endlesse wheele,
And puls (like Iacob) Iustice by the heele)
Prepar'd a Fish, prepar'd a mighty Whale,
Whose belly was both prison-house, and baile,
For retchlesse Ionah. As the two leaf'd doore
Opens, to welcome home the fruitfull store,
Wherewith the harvest quits the Plowmans hope,
Even so the great Leviathan set ope
His beame-like Iawes, (prepar'd for such a boone)
And at a morsell, swallow'd Jonah downe,
'Till dewy-check't Aurora's purple dye
Thrice dappell'd had the ruddy morning skie,
And thrice had spred the Curtaines of the morne,
To let in Titan, when the day was borne,
Ionah was Tenant to this living Grave,
Embowel'd deepe in this stupendious Cave.

Meditat. 6.

Lo, Death is now, as alwaies it hath bin,
The just procured stipend of our sinne:
Sinne is a golden Causie, and a Road
Garnisht with joyes, whose pathes are even & broad
But leads at length to death, and endlesse griefe,
To torments, and to paines without reliefe.
Iustice feares none, but maketh all afraid,
And then fals hardest, when tis most delaid,
But thou reply'st, thy sinnes are daily great,
Yet thou sittst uncontrold upon thy seat;
Thy wheat doth flourish, and thy barnes do thrive,
Thy sheepe encrease, thy sonnes are all alive,
And thou art buxom, and hast nothing scant,
Finding no want of any thing, but want,
Whil'st others, whom the squint-ey'd world counts holy,
Sit sadly drooping in a melancholy,
With brow dejected, and downe-hanging head,
Or take of almes, or poorely begge their bread:
But young man, know there is a Day of doome,
The Feast is good, untill the reck'ning come.
The time runnes fastest, where is least regard,
The stone thats long in falling, falleth hard;
There is a dying day, (thou prosp'rous foole)
When all thy laughter shall be turn'd to Doole,
Thy roabes to tort'ring plagues, & fel tormenting
Thy whoops of Ioy, to howles of sad lamenting:
Thy tongue shall yell, and yawle, and never stop,
And wish a world, to give for one poore drop,
To flatter thine intolerable paine;
The wealth of Pluto could not then obtaine

A minutes freedome from that hellish rout,
Whose fire burnes, and never goeth out:
Nor house, nor land, not measur'd heaps of wealth,
Can render to a dying man, his health:
Our life on earth is like a thred of flax,
That all may touch, and being toucht, it craks.

As when an Archer shooteth for his sport,
Sometimes his shaft is gone, sometimes 'tis short,
Somtimes o'th'left hād, wide, sometimes o'th right
At last, (through often tryall) hits the White;
So death sometimes with her uncertaine Rover,
Hits our Superiours (and so shoots over)
Sometimes for change, shee strikes the meaner sort,
Strikes our Inferiours (and then comes short)
Sometimes upon the left hand wide shee goes,
And so (still wounding some) shee strikes our foes;
And sometimes wide upon the right hand bends,
There with Imperiall shafts, she strikes our friends;
At length (through often triall) hits the White,
And so strikes us into Eternall night.

Death is a Kalender compos'd by Fate,
Concerning all men, never out of Date:
Her dayes Dominicall, are writ in blood;
She shewes more bad daies, than she sheweth good:
She tels when dayes, & monthes, & termes expire,
Meas'ring the lives of mortals by her squire.

Death is a Pursivant, with Eagles wings,
That knocks at poore mens door, & gates of Kings.
Worldling, beware betime; death sculks behind thee
And as she leaves thee, so will Iudgement find thee.

Sect. 7.

The Argvment.

Within the bowels of the Fish,
Ionah laments in great anguish;
God heard his pray'r, at whose command,
The fish disgorg'd him on the Land.

Then Ionah turn'd his face to heav'n, and pray'd
Within the bowels of the Whale, and said,
“J cry'd out of my balefull misery
“Vnto my God, and he hath heard my cry;
“From out the paunch of hell J made a noyse,
“And thou hast answer'd me, and heard my voyce:
“Into the Deeps and bottome thou hast throwne me,
“Thy Surges, and thy Waves have past upon me.

“Then Lord (said I) from thy refulgent sight
“I am expell'd, I am forsaken quite,
“Nay'thelesse while these my wretched eyes remaine,
“Vnto thy Temple will J looke againe.

“The boystrous Waters compast me about,
“My body threats to let her pris'ner out,
“The boundlesse depth enclosd me, (almost dead)
“The weeds are wrapt about my fainting head,
“I liv'd on earth rejected at thine hand,
“And a perpetuall pris'ner in the Land;
“Yet thou wilt cause my life t'ascend at length,
“From out this pit, O Lord, my God, my Strength.
“When as my soule was over-whelm'd and faint,
“I had recourse to thee, did thee acquaint
“With the condition of my woefull case,
“My cry same to thee, in thine holy Place.

“Whose to Vanities themselves betake,
“Renounce thy mercies, and thy love forsake:
“To thee I'le sacrifice in endlesse dayes,
“With voyce of thankes, and ever-sounding praise:
“I'le pay my vowes; for all the world records
“With one consent, Salvation is the Lords.

But he (whose word's a deed, whose breath's a law;
Whose just command implies a dreadfull awe,
Whose Word prepar'd a Whale upon the Deepe,
To tend, and wait for Ionah's fall, and keepe
His out-cast body safe, and soule secure)
This very God (whose mercy must endure,
When heaven, & earth, when sea, & all things faile)
Disclos'd his purpose, and bespake the Whale,
To redeliver Ionah to his hand;
Whereat the Whale disgorg'd him on the land.

Medita. 7.

I well record, a holy Father sayes,
He teaches to deny, that faintly prayes:
The suit surceases, when desire failes,
But whoso prayes with fervency, prevailes;
For Prayr's the key that opes th'eternall gate,
And findes admittance, whether earl' or late;
It forces audience, it unlockes the eare
Of heavens great God (though deafe) it makes him heare.

Vpon a time Babel (the worlds faire Queene
Made drunk with choller, and enrag'd with spleen)
Through fell disdaine, derraigned war 'gainst them
That tender homage to Jerusalem:
A maiden-fight it was, yet they were strong
As men of Warre; The Battaile lasted long,

Much blood was shed, an spilt on either side,
That all the ground with purple gore was dyde:
In fine, a Souldier of Ierusalem:
Charissa hight, (the Almner of the Realme)
Chill'd with an ague, and unapt to fight,
Into Iustitia's Castle too her flight,
Whereat great Babels Queene commanded all,
To lay their siege against the Castle wall;
But poore Tymissa (not with warr acquainted)
Fearing Charissa's death, fell downe, and fainted;
Dauntlesse Prudentia rear'd her from the ground,
Where she lay (pale and senselesse) in a swound,
She rub'd her temples, and at length awaking
She gave her water, of Fidissa's making,
And said, Cheare up, (deare sister) though our foe
Hath tane us Captives, thus besieg'd with woe,
We have a King puissant, and of might,
Will see us take no wrong, and doe us right,
If we possesse him with our sad complaint,
Cheare up, wee'l send to him, and him acquaint.
Tymissa (new awak'd from swound) replies,
Our Castle is begirt with enemies,
And troops of armed men besiege our walls,
Then suer Death, or worse than death befalls
To her, (who ere she be) that stirs a foote,
Or rashly dares attempt to venture out,
Alas! what hope have wee to finde reliefe,
And want the meanes that may divulge our griefe?
Within that place a jolly Matron dwell'd,
Whose lookes were fixt and sad; her left hand held
A paire of equall ballances; her right
A two-edg'd sword; her eyes were quicke & bright,
Not apt to squint, but nimble to discerne;
Her visage lovely was, yet bold and sterne;

Her name Iustitia; to her they make
Their moane; who, well advis'd, them thus bespake:

Faire Maidens, more beloved then the light,
True the suffrance of your wofull plight,
But pitty's fond alone, recures no griefe,
But fruitlesse fals, unlesse it yeeld reliefe.
Cheare up, I have a Messenger in store,
Whose speed is much, but faithfull trust is more,
Whose nimble wings shall cleave the flitting skies,
And scorne the terrour of your enemies,
Oratio hight, well knowne unto your King,
Your message she shall doe, and tydings bring,
Provided that Fidissa travaile with her,
And so (on Christs name) let them goe together.
With that Fidissa having ta'ne her errant,
And good Oratio with Iustitia's Warrant,
In silence of the midnight tooke her flight,
Arriving at the Court that very night;
But they were both as flames of fier hot,
For they did fly as swift, as Cannon shot,
But they (lest sudden cold should do them harme)
Together clung, and kept each other warme:
But now, the kingly gates were sparr'd, and lockt,
They call'd, but none made answer thē they knockt
Together joyning both their force in one,
They knockt againe; Yet answer there was none;
But they that never learn'd to take deniall,
With importunity made further triall;
The King heard well, although he lift not speake,
Till they with strokes the gate did wel-nie breake:
In fine, the brazen gates flew open wide;
Oratio moov'd her suit; The King replide,
Oratio was a faire, and welcome guest;
So heard her suit, so granted her request.

Fraile man, observe; In thee the practice lies,
Let sacred Meditation moralize:
Let Pray'r bee fervent, and thy Faith intire,
And heaven, at last, will grant thee thy desire.

Sect. 8.

The Argvment.

The second time was Ionah sent
To Niniveh: now Ionah went:
Against her crying sinnes he cry'd,
And her destruction prophesi'd.

Once more the voyce of heavens high-Cōmander,
(Like horrid claps of heav'ns-dividing thunder
Or like the fall of waters breach (the noise
Bring heard farre distant off) such was the voyce),
Came downe from heav'n to Ionah, new-borne-Mā,
To re-baptized Ionah, and thus began;
Am I a God? Or art thou ought but Dust?
More than a man? Or are my Lawes unjust?
Am I a God, and shall I not command?
Art thou a man, and dur'st my Lawes withstand?
Shall I (the motion of whose breath shall make
Both earth, and Sea, and Hell, and Heaven quake)
By thee (fond man) shall I be thus neglected;
And thy presumption scape uncorrected?
Thy faith hath sav'd thee (Ionah:) Sin no more,
Lest worse things happen after, than before;
Arise; let all th'assembled pow'rs agree
To doe th'Embassage I impose on thee;
Trifle no more; and, to avoid my sight,
Thinke not to baulke me with a second flight.

Arise, and goe to Niniveh (the great)
Where broods of Gentiles have ta'ne up their seat,
The great Queene regent mother of the Land,
That multiplies in people like the sand;
Away, with wings of time, (J'le not essoyne thee)
Denounce these fiery Iudgements, I enjoyne thee.

Like as a youngling that to schoole is sent,
(Scarce weaned from his mothers blandishment
Where he was cockerd with a stroking hand)
With stubborne heart denyes the just command.
His, Tutor wils: But being once corrected,
His home-bred stomack's curb'd, or quite ejected:
His crooked nature's chang'd, and mollifi'd,
And humbly seekes, what stoutly he deny'd;
So Jonah's stout, perverse, and stubborne heart,
Was hardned once, but when it felt the smart
Of heav'ns avenging wrath, it straight dissolv'd,
And what it once avoyded, now resolv'd,
T'effect with speed, and with a carefull hand
Fully replenish'd with his Lords Command,
To Niniveh he flyeth like a Roe,
Each step the other strives to overgoe;
And as an Arrow to the marke does flie,
So (bent to flight) flies he to Niniveh.

Now Niniveh a might Citie was,
Which all the Cities of the world did passe,
A Citie which o're all the rest aspires
Like midnight Phœbe 'mongst the lesser fires;
A Citie, which (although to men was given)
Better beseem'd the Majestie of Heaven:
A City Great to God, whose ample wall,
Who undertakes to mete with paces, shall
Bring Phœbus thrice to bed, ere it be done,
(Although with dawning Hesperus begun.

When Ionas hath approacht the City gate,
He made no stay to rest, nor yet to bait,
No supple oyle his fainting head anoints,
Stayes not to bathe his weather-beaten joynts,
Nor smooth'd his countenance, nor slick' his skin,
Nor craved he the Hostage of an Inne,
To ease his aking bones (with travell sore)
But went as speedy, as he fled before;
The Cities greatnesse made him not refuse,
To be the trump of that unwelcome newes
His tongue was great with; But (like thūders noise)
His mouth flew ope, and out there rusht a voyce.

When dewy-cheek't Aurora shall display
Her golden locks, and summon up the day
Twice twenty times, and rest her drowzy head
Twice twenty nights, in aged Tithons bed,
Then Niniveh this place of high renowne,
Shall be destroy'd, and sackt, and batterd downe.

He sate not downe to take deliberation,
What maner people were they, or what Nation,
Or Gent', or Salvage; nor did he enquier
What place were most convenient for a Cryer,
Nor like a sweet-lipt Orator did steare,
Or tune his language to the peoples eare,
But bold, and rough, yet full of Majesty,
Lift up his trumpet, and began to cry,

When forty times Don Phœbus shall fulfill
His Iournall course upon th'Olympian Hill,
Then Niniveh (the Worlds great wonder) shall
Startle the Worlds foundation with her fall.

The dismall Prophet stands not to admire,
The Cities pompe, or peoples quaint attire,
Nor yet (with fond affection) doth pity
Th'approaching downfall of so brave a City,

But dauntlesse he his dreadfull voice extends,
Respectlesse, whom this bolder cry offends,

When forty daies shall be expir'd, and run,
And that poore Inch of time drawne out and done,
Then Niniveh (the Worlds Imperiall throne)
Sall not be left a stone, upon a stone.

Meditat. 8.

Bvt stay; Is God like one of us? Can he
When he hath said it, alter his Decree?
Can he that is the God of Truth, dispence
With what he vow'd? or offer violence
Vpon his sacred Iustice? Can his minde
Revolt at all? or vary like the winde?
How comes this alteration then that He
Thus limiting th'effect of his Decree
Vpon the expiring date of forty daies,
He then performes it not? But still delaies
His plagues denounc't, & Iudgement stil forbeares,
And stead of forty dayes gives many yeares?
Yet forty dayes, and Niniveh shall perish?
Yet forty yeares, and Niniveh doth flourish:
A change in man's infirme, in God 'tis strange;
In God, to change his Will, and will a Change,
Are divers things: When he repents from ill,
He wils a change; he changes not his Will;
The subject's chang'd, which secret was to us,
But not the mind, that did dispose it thus;
Denounced Iudgement God doth oft prevent,
But neither changes counsell, nor intent:
The voyce of heaven doth seldome threat perdition
But with expresse, on an imply'd condition,

So that, if Niniveh returne from ill,
God turnes his hand, he doth not turne his Will.

The stint of Niniveh was forty dayes,
To change the Byas of her crooked wayes:
To some the time is large, To others, small;
To some 'tis many yeares; And not at all
To others; Some an houre have, and some
Have scarce a minute of their time to come:
Thy span of life (Malfido) is thy space,
To call for mercy, and to cry for grace.

Lord! what is man, but like a worme that crawles
Open to danger every foote that fals?
Death creepes (unheard) and steals abroad (unseen)
Her darts are sudden, and her arrowes keene,
Vncertaine when, but certaine she will strike,
Respecting King and Begger both alike;
The stroke is deadly, come it soone, or late,
Which once being strucke, repenting's out of date;
Death is a minute, full of sudden sorrow:
“Then live to day, as thou maist die to morrow.

Sect. 9.

The Argvment.

The Ninivites beleeve the word,
Their hearts returne unto the Lord;
In him they put their onely trust:
They mourne in Sackcloth, and in dust.

So said; the Ninivites beleev'd the Word,
Beleeved Jonas, and beleev'd the Lord;
They made no pause, nor jested at the newes,
Nor slighted it, because it was a Iew's

Denouncement: No, nor did their gazing eyes
(As taken captive with such novelties)
Admire the strangers garb, so quaint to theirs,
No idle chat possest their itching eares,
The whil'st he spake: nor were their tongues on fier
To raile upon, or interrupt the Cryer,
Nor did they question whether true the message,
Or false the Prophet were, that broght th'embassage
But they gave faith to what he said; relented,
And (changing their mis-wandred wayes) reptented;
Before the searching Ayre could coole his word,
Their hearts returned, and beleev'd the Lord;
And they, whose dainty lips were cloy'd while ere
With cates, and viands, with wanton cheare,
Doe now enjoyne their palats not to tast
The offall bread, (for they proclaim'd a Fast)
And they, whose looser bodies once did lye
Wrapt up in Robes, and Silkes of Princely Dye,
Loe now, in stead of Robes, in rags they mourne,
And all their Silkes doe into Sack-cloth turne,
They read themselves sad Lectures on the ground,
Learning to want, as well as to abound;
The Prince was not exempted, nor the Peere,
Nor yet the richest, nor the poorest there;
The old man was not freed, (whose hoary age
Had ev'n almost outworne his Pilgrimage;)
Nor yet the yong, whose Glasse (but new begun)
By course of Nature had an age to runne:

For when that fatall Word came to the King,
(Convay'd with speed upon the nimble wing
Of flitting Fame) he straight dismounts his Throne,
Forsakes his Chaire of State he sate upon,
Disrob'd his body, and his head discrown'd
In dust and ashes grov'ling on the ground,

And when he rear'd his trembling corps againe,
(His haire all filthy with the dust he laie in)
He clad in pensive Sackcloth, did depose
Himselfe from State Imperiall, and chose
To live a Vassall, or a baser thing,
Then to usurpe the Scepter of a King:
(Respectlesse of his pompe) he quite forgate
He was a Monarch mindlesse of his State,
He neither sought to rule, or be obay'd,
Nor with the sword, nor with the Scepter sway'd.

Meditat. 9.

Is fasting then the thing that God requires?
Can fasting expiate, or slake those fires
That sinne hath blowne to such a mighty flame?
Can sackcloth cloth a fault? or hide a shame?
Can ashes, clense thy blot? or purge thy'offence?
Or doe thy hands make heaven a recompence,
By strowing dust upon thy bryny face?
Are these the trickes to purchase heavenly grace?
No, though thou pine thy selfe with willing want;
Or face looke thinne, or Carkas ne're so gaunt,
Although thou worser weeds then sackcloth weare:
Or naked goe, or sleepe in shirts of haire,
Or though thou chuse an ash-tub for thy bed,
Or make a daily dunghill on thy head,
Thy labour is not poys'd with equall gaines,
For thou hast nought but labour for thy paines:
Such holy madnesse God rejects, and loathes,
That sinkes no deeper, than the skin, or cloathes:
'Tis not thine eyes which (taught to weepe by art)
Looke red with teares, (not guilty of thy hart)

'Tis not the holding of thy hands so hye,
Nor yet the purer squinting of thine eye;
'Tis not your mimick mouths, your antick faces,
Your Scripture phrases, or affected Graces,
Nor prodigall up-banding of thine eyes,
Whose gashfull bals doe seeme to pelt the skyes;
'Tis not the strict reforming of your haire
So close, that all the neighbour skull is bare;
'Tis not the drooping of thy head so low,
Nor yet the lowring of thy sullen brow,
Nor wolvish howling that disturbs the aire,
Nor repetitions or your tedious prayer;
No, no, 'tis none of this, that God regards;
Such sort of fooles their owne applause rewards,
Such puppet-plaies, to heaven are strange, & quaint,
Their service is unsweet, and foully taint,
Their words fall fruitlesse from their idle braine;
But true repentance runnes in other straine;
Where sad contrition harbours, there the heart
Is truly'acquainted with the secret smart
Of past offences, hates the bosome sin
The most, which most the soule tooke pleasure in;
No crime unsifted, no sinne unpresented
Can lurke unseene; and seene, none unlamented;
The troubled soule's amaz'd with dire aspects
Of lesser sinnes committed, and detects
The wounded Conscience; it cryes amaine
For mercy, mercy, cryes, and cryes againe;
It sadly grieves, and soberly laments,
It yernes for grace, reformes, returnes, repents;
I, this is incense, whose accepted savour
Mounts up the heavenly Throne, & findeth favour:
I, this is it, whose valour never failes,
With God it stoutly wrestles, and prevailes:

I; this is it, that pearces heaven above,
Never returning home (like Noah's Dove)
But brings an Olive leafe, or some encrease,
That workes Salvation, and Eternall Peace.

Sect. 10.

The Argvment.

The Prince and people fasts, and prayes;
God heard, accepted, lik'd their wayes:
Upon their timely true repentance,
God rever'st, and chang'd his sentence.

Then suddenly, with holy zeale inflam'd,
He caus'd a generall Act to be proclaim'd,
By sage advice, and counsell of his Peeres;

“Let neither man, or child, of youth, or yeares,
“From greatest in the Citie, to the least,
“Nor Herd, nor pining Flocke, nor hungry beast,
“Nor any thing that draweth ayre, or breath,
“On forfeiture of life, or present death,
“Presume to taste of nourishment, or food,
“Or move their hungry lips to chew the cud;
“From out their eyes let Springs of water burst,
“With teares (or nothing) let thē slake their thirst:
“Moreo're, let every man (what e're he be)
“Of higher quality, or low degree,
“D'off all they weare (excepting but the same
“That nature craves, & that which covers shame)
“Their nakednesse with sackcloth let them hide,
“And mue the vest'ments of their silken pride;
“And let the brave cariering Horse of Warre,
“(Whose rich Caparisons, and Trappings are
“The glorious Wardrobe of a Victors show)
“Let him disrobe, and put on sackcloth too;

“The Oxe (ordain'd for yoke) the Asse (for load)
“The Horse (as well for race, as for the roade)
“The burthren-bearing Camell (strong and great)
“The fruitfull Kine, and every kinde of Neate,
“Let all put sackcloth on, and spare no voyce,
“But cry aloud to heaven, with mighty noise;
“Let all men turne the bias of their wayes,
“And change their fiercer hands to force of praise:
“For who can tell, if God (whose angry face
“Hath long bin waining from us) will embrace
“This slender pittance of our best indeavour?
“Who knowes, if God will his intent persever?
“Or who can tell, if he (whose tender love
“Transcends his sharper Iustice) will remove
“And change his high decree, & turn his sentence
“Vpon a timely, and unfain'd repentance?
“And who can tell, if heaven will change the lot,
“That we, and ours may live, and perish not?

So God perceiv'd their workes, & saw their waies,
Approv'd the faith, that in their workes did blaze,
Approv'd their works, approv'd their workes the rather
because their faith & works wēt both together:
He saw their faith, because their faith abounded;
He saw their works, because on faith they grounded
He saw their faith, their workes, and so relented,
H'approv'd their works, their faith & so repented;
Repented of the plagues they apprehended;
Repented of the evill, that he intended:
So God the vengeance of his hand withdrew,
He tooke no forfeiture although 'twere due;
The evill, that once hee meant, he now forgot,
Cancell'd the forfeit bond, and did it not.

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.

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?

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.

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?

My Sacrifice shall bee my Heart intire,
My Christ the Altar, and my Zeale the Fire.

Sect 11.

The Argvment.

The Prophet discontented prays;
To God, that he would end his dayes;
God blames his wrath so unreprest,
Reproves his unadvis'd request.

Bvt this displeasing was in Ionah's eyes,
His heart grew hot, his blood began to rise,
His eyes did sparkle, and his teeth strucke fire,
His veines did boyle, his heart was full ire:
At last brake forth into a strange request.
These words he pray'd, and mumbl'd out the rest;

Was not, O was not this my thought (O Lord)
Before J fled? Nay was not this my word,
The very word, my jealous language vented,
When this mis-hap might well have beene prevented?
Was there, O was there not a just suspect,
My preaching would procure this effect?
For Lord, I knew of old, thy tender love;
I knew the pow'r, thou gav'st my tongue, would move
Their Adamantine hearts; I knew 'twould thaw
Their frozen spirits and breed relenting awe;
I knew (great God) upon their true repentance,
That thou determin'dst to reverse thy sentence;
For well I knew, thou wert a gracious God,
Of long forbearance, slow to use the Rod;
I knew, the power of thy Mercies bent
The strength of all thy other workes outwent;
I knew thy tender kindnesse, and how loath
Thou wert to punish, and how slow to wrath;

Turning thy Judgements, and thy plagues preventing,
Thy minde reversing, and of ev'll repenting:
Therefore (O therefore) upon this perswasion,
I fled to Tarshish, there to make evasion,
To save thy credit (Lord) to save mine owne:
For when this blast of zeale is over-blowne,
And sackcloth left, and they surcease to mourne,
When they (like dogs) shall to their vomit turne,
They'll vilipend thy Sacred Word, and scoffe it,
Saying, was that a God, or this a Prophet?
They'll scorne thy judgements, and thy threats despise,
And call thy Prophets, Messengers of lyes.

Now therefore (Lord) bow downe attentive eare,
(For ah my burthen's more than flish can beare)
Make speed (O Lord) and banish all delayes,
T'extinguish now the Taper of my dayes:
Let not the minutes of my time extend,
But let my wretched houres finde an end;
Let not my fainting spirits longer stay
Jn thu fraile mansion of distempered clay:
The threds but weake, my life depends upon,
O, cut that thred, and let my life be done;
My brest stands faire, strike then, and strike againe,
For nought but dying can asswage my paine:
O may I rather dye, than live in shame;
Better it is to leave, and yeeld the game,
Than toyle for what, at length, must needs be lost,
O, kill me, for my heart is sore imbost:
This latter boone unto thy servant give;
For better 'tis for me, to dye than live.

So wretched Ionah: But Iehovah thus;
What boot's it so to storme outragious:
Becomes it thus my servants heart to swell:
Can anger helpe thee, Ionah? dost thou well?

Medita. 12.

How poore a thing is mā! How vain's his mind!
How strāge, how base! & wav'ring like the wind
How uncouth are his wayes! how full of danger!
How to himselfe, is hee himselfe a stranger!
His heart's corrupt, and all his thoughts are vaine,
His actions sinfull, and his words prophane,
His will's deprav'd, his senses are beguil'd,
His reason's darke, his members all defil'd,
His hasty feet are swift and prone to ill,
His guilty hands are ever bent to kill.
His tongue's a spunge of venome, (or of worse)
Her practice is to sweare, his skill to curse;
His eyes are fire-bals of lustfull fire,
And outward helps to inward foule desire,
His body is a well erected station,
But full of folly and corrupted passion:
Fond love; and raging lust; and foolish feares;
Griefes overwhelmed with immoderate teares;
Excessive joy; prodigious desire,
Vnholy anger, red and hot as fire;
These daily clog the soule, that's fast in prison,
From whose encrease this lucklesse brood is risen,
Respectlesse pride, and lustfull idlenesse,
Base ribbauld talke, and loathsome drunkennesse,
Faithlesse Despaire, and vaine Curiosity;
Both false, yet double-tongu'd Hypocrisie;
Soft flattery, and haughty-ey'd Ambition;
Heart-gnawing Hatred, and squint-ey'd Suspition,
Selfe-eating Envy, envious Detraction,
Hopelesse distrust, and too-too sad Dejection;
Revengefull Malice, hellish Blasphemy,
Idolatry, and light Inconstancy;

Daring Presumption, wry-mouth'd Derisson,
Damned Apostasie, Fond superstition,

What heedfull watch? Ah what continuall ward?
How great respect, and howerly regard,
Stands man in hand to have; when such a brood
Of furious hel-hounds seeke to suck his blood?
Day, night, and hower, they rebell and wrastle,
And never cease, till they subdue the Castle.

How slight a thing is man? how fraile and brittle?
How seeming great is he? How truly little?
Within the bosome of his holiest works,
Some hidden Embers of old Adam lurkes,
Which oftentimes in men of purest wayes,
Burst out in flame, and for a season blaze

Lord, teach our hearts, and give our soules directions,
Subdue our passions, curb our stout affections,
Nip thou the bud, before the bloome begins:
Lord, shield thy servants from presumptuous sins.

Sect. 12.

The Argvment.

A Booth for shelter Ionah made;
God sent a Gourd for better shade;
But by the next approching light,
God sent a Worme consum'd it quite.

So Ionah (sore opprest, and heavie-hearted)
From out the Cities circuit straight departed,
Departed to the Easterne borders of it,
Where sicke with anguish sate this sullen Prophet;
He built a Booth, and in the Booth he sate,
(Vntill some few dayes had expir'd their date

With over-tedious pace) where he might see,
What would betide to threatned Nineveh.

A trunke that wanteth sap, is soone decay'd;
The slender Booth of boughes and branches made,
Soone yeelding to the Sun's consuming Ray,
Crumbled to dust, and early dry'd away:
Whereat, the great Iehovah spake the word,
And over Ionah's head there sprang a Gourd,
Whose roots were fixt within the quickning earth,
Which gave it nourishment, as well as birth;
God raised up a Gourd, a Gourd should last,
Let winde, or scorching Sun, or blow or blast:

As coales of fier rak'd in embers lye
Obscure, and undiscerned by the eye;
But being stirr'd, regaine a glimm'ring light,
Revive, and glow, burning afresh and bright;
So Ionah' gan to cheere through this reliefe,
And joyfull was, devoyded all his griefe;
He joy'd to see that God had not forgot
His drooping servant, and forsooke him not;
He joy'd, in hope the Gourds strange wonder will
Perswade the people, hee's a Prophet still;
The fresh aspect did much refresh his sight;
The herball savour gave his sense delight;
Thus Ionah much delighted in his Gourd,
Enjoy'd the pleasures that it did affoord.

But, Lord! what earthly thing can long remaine?
How momentany are they! and how vaine!
How vaine is earth, that man's delighted in it!
Her pleasures rise, and vanish in a minit:
How fleeting are the joyes, we finde below,
Whose tides (uncertaine) oftner ebbe than flow!
For see! this Gourd (that was so faire, and sound)
Is quite consum'd, and eaten to the ground;

No sooner Titan had up-heav'd his head,
From off the pillow of his Saffron bed,
But heav'n prepar'd a silly, silly worme,
(Perchance brought thither by an Eastern storme)
The worme that must obey, and well knew how,
Consum'd the Gourd, nor left it root, nor bough;
Consum'd it straight within a minutes space,
Left nought, but (sleeping) Ionas in the place.

Medit. 12.

The pleasures of the world, (which soon abate)
Are lively Emblemes of our owne estate,
Which (like a Banquet at a Fun'rall show)
But sweeten griefe, and serve to flatter woe.

Pleasure is fleeting still, and makes no stay,
It lends a smile or twaine, and steales away:

Man's life is fickle, full of winged haste,
It mockes the sense with joy and soone does waste:

Pleasure does crown thy youth, & luls thy wants;
But (sullen age approaching) straight avaunts:

Man's life is joy, and sorrow seekes to banish,
It doth lament and mourne in age, and vanish.

The time of pleasure's like the life of Man;
Both joyfull, both contained in a span;
Both highly priz'd, and both on sudden lost,
When most we trust them, they deceive us most;
What fit of madnesse makes us love them thus?
We leave our lives, and pleasure leaveth us:
Why, what is pleasure? But a golden dreame,
Which (waking) makes our wāts the more extreme?
And what is Life? A bubble full of care,
Which (prickt by death) straight empties into ayre:

The flowers (clad in farre more rich aray,
Than e're was Salomon) doe soone decay;
What thing more sweet, or fairer then a flowre?
And yet it bloomes, and fades within an houre;
What greater pleasure then a rising Sun?
Yet is this pleasure every evening done:
But thou art heyre to Crœsus, and thy treasure
Being great, and endlesse, endlesse is thy pleasure;
But thou (thou Crœsus heyre) consider must,
Thy wealth, and thou, came from, and goes to dust;
Another's noble, and his name is great,
And takes his place vpon a lofty seat;
True 'tis, but yet his many wants are such,
That better 'twere he were not knowne so much.
Another binds his soule in Hymens knot,
His Spouse is chast, unblemisht with a spot,
But yet his comfort is bedasht, and done,
His grounds are stockt, and now he wants a sonne.

How fickle and unconstant's Mans estate!
Man fain would have, but then he knows not what;
And having, rightly knowes not how to prize it,
But like that foolish Dunghill-cock imployes it;
But who desires to live a life content,
Wherein his Cruze of joy shall ne're be spent,
With fierce pursuit, let him that good desire,
Whose date no change, no fortune can expire.
For that's not worth the craving, to obtaine
A happinesse, that must be lost againe;
Nor that, which most doe covet most, is best;
Best are the goods, mixt with contented rest;
Gasp not for honour, wish no blazing glory,
For these will perish in an ages story;
Nor yet for power; power may be carv'd
To fooles, as well as thee, that hast deserv'd.

Thirst not for Lands nor Money; with for none,
For wealth is neither lasting, nor our owne:
Riches are faire inticements to deceive us;
They flatter, while we live, and dying, leave us.

Sect. 13.

The Argvment.

Ionas desires to die, the Lord
Rebukes him, he maintaines his word,
His anger hee doth justifie,
God pleads the cause for Ninevie:

When ruddy Phœbus had with morning light
Subdu'd the East, & put the stars to flight,
Heav'ns hand prepar'd a fervent Easterne winde,
Whose drought together with the Sun combin'd,
The one as bellowes blowing t'others fire,
With strong united force, did both conspire
To make assault upon the fainting head
Of helplesse Ionah, that was well nye dead,
Who turning oft, and tossing to and fro,
(As they that are in torments use to doe)
And (restlesse) finding no successe of ease,
But rather that his tortures still encrease;
His secret passion to his soule betraid,
Craving no sweeter boone then death, and said,
O kill me (Lord) or loe, my heart will rive;
For better 'tis for me to dye than live.

So said, The Lord did interrupt his passion,
And said, How now, is this a seemely fashion?
Doth it become my servants heart to swell?
Can anger helpe thee? Ionah, dost thou well?

Js this a fit speech? or a well-plac'd word?
What, art thou angry (Ionah) for a Gourd?
What, if th'Arabians with their ruder traine,
Had kild thine Oxen, and thy Cattell slaine?
What if consuming fier (falne from heaven)
Had all thy servants of their lives bereaven,
And burnt thy sheepe? What, if by strong oppression
The Chaldees had usurp'd unjust possession
Vpon thy Camels? Or had Boreas blowne
His full-mouth'd blast, and cast thy houses downe,
And slaine thy sonnes amid their jollities?
Or hadst thou lest thy Vineyard full of trees?
Hadst thou beene ravisht of thine onely Sheepe,
That in thy tender bosome us'd to sleepe?
How would thine hasty spirit then bin stirr'd,
Jf thou art angry, Ionah, for a Gourd?
To which, thus Ionah vents his idle breath,
Lord, I doe well to vexe unto the death;
I blush not to acknowledge, and professe
Deserved rage, I'm angry, I confesse;
'Twould make a spirit that is thorow frozen,
To blaze like flaming Pitch, and fry like Rozen:
Why dost thou aske that thing that thou canst tell?
Thou know'st I'm angry', and it beseemes me well.

So said; the Lord to Ionah thus respake;
Doest thou bemoane, and such compassion take
Vpon a Gourd, whose seed thou didst not sow,
Nor mov'd thy busie hands to make it grow,
Whose beauty, small; and value was but slight,
Which sprang, as also perisht in a night?
Hadst thou (O dust and ashes) such a care,
Such in-bred pitty, a trifling plant to spare?
Hadst thou, (O hard and incompassionate,
To wish the razing of so brave a State)

Hadst thou (I say) compassion to bewaile
The extirpation of a Gourd so fraile?
And shall not I (that am the Lord of Lords)
Whose Fountain's never dry, but still affords
Sweet streames of mercy, with a fresh supply,
To those that thirst for grace: What shall not I,
(That am the God of mercy, and have sworne
To pardon sinners, when soc're they turne?
(I say) shall J disclaime my wonted pitty,
And bring to ruine such a goodly City,
Whose hearts (so truely penitent) implore me,
Who day and night powre forth their soules before me?
Shall I destroy the mighty Ninevie,
Whose people are like sands about the Sea?
'Mong which are sixe score thousand Babes (at least)
That hang upon their tender Mothers brest,
Whose pretty smiles could never yet descry
The deare affection of their mothers eye?
Shall I subvert, and bring to desolation
A City, (nay, more aptly term'd a Nation)
Whose walls boast lesse their beauty than their might?
Whose hearts are sorrowfull, and soules contrite?
Whose Infants are in number, so amounting?
And beasts, and cattell endlesse, without counting?
What, Ionah, shall a Gourd so move thy pity?
And shall not I spare such a goodly Citie?

Meditatio ultima.

My heart is full, my vent is too too straight;
My tongue's too trusty to my poore conceit,
My mind's in labour, and finds no redresse;
My heart conceives, my lips cannot expresse;

My organs suffer, through a maine defect;
Alas! I want a proper Dialect,
To blazon forth the tythe of what I muse;
The more I meditate, the more accrewes;
But lo, my faultring tongue must say no more,
Vnlesse she step where she hath trod before.
What? shall I then be silent? No, Ile speake
(Till tongue be tyred, and my lungs be weake)
Of dearest mercy, in as sweet a straine,
As it shall please my Muse to lend a vaine;
And when my voice shall stop within her source,
And speech shall faulter in this high Discourse,
My tyred tongue (unsham'd) shall thus extend,
Onely to name; Deare Mercy, and so end.

Oh high Imperiall King, heavens Architect!
Is Man a thing befitting thy respect?
Lord, thou art Wisedome, and thy wayes are holy,
But Man's polluted, full of filch, and folly;
Yet is he (Lord) the fabricke of thy hand,
And in his Soule he beares thy glorious Brand,
Howe're defaced with the rust of Sin,
Which hath abus'd thy stamp, and eaten in;
'Tis not the frailty' of Mans corrupted nature,
Makes thee asham'd t'acknowledge Man thy Creature;
But like a tender Father, here on earth,
(Whose Childe by nature, or abortive birth,
Doth want that sweet and favourable relish,
Wherewith, her creatures, Nature doth imbelish)
Respects him nerethelesse; even so thy Grace
(Great God) extends to Man; though sin deface
The glorious pourtraiture that man doth beare,
Whereby he loath'd and ugly doth appeare,
Yet thou, (within whose tender bowels are
Deepe gulfes of Mercy, sweet beyond compare)

Regard'st, and lov'st (with rev'rence be it said)
Nay seem'st to dote on Man; when he hath straid,
Lord, thou hast brought him to his Fold againe;
When he was lost, thou didst not then disdaine
To thinke upon a vagabond, and give
Thy dearest Sonne to dye, that he might live.
How poore a mite art thou content withall,
That Man may scape his downe-approching fall?
Though base we are, yet thou dost not abhorre us,
But (as our Story speaks) art pleading for us,
To save us harmelesse from our Foe-mans jawes;
Art thou turn'd Orator to plead our cause?

How are thy Mercies full of admiration!
How soveraigne! how sweet's their application!
Fatning the Soule with sweetnesse, and repayring
The rotten ruines of a Soule despairing.

Lo here (Malfido) is a Feast prepar'd;
Fall to with courage, and let nought be spar'd;
Tast freely of it, Here's no Misers Feast;
Eate what thou canst, and pocket-up the rest:
These precious Viands are Restoritie,
Eate then; and if the sweetnesse make thee drie,
Drinke large Carouses out of Mercies Cup,
The best lies in the bottome, Drinke all up:
These Cates are sweet Ambrosia to thy Soule,
And that which fills the brim of Mercies bowle,
Is dainty Nectar; Eate and drinke thy fill;
Spare not the one, nor yet the other spill;
Provide in time: Thy Banquet is begun,
Lay up in store against the Feast be done:
For loe, the time of banquetting is short,
And once being done, the world cannot restor't;
It is a feast of Mercy, and of Grace;
It is a Feast for all, or high, or base:

A feast for him that begs upon the way,
As well for him that does the Scepter sway;
A feast for him that howerly bemoanes
His dearest sins, with sighs, and teares and groanes;
A feast for him, whose gentle heart reformes;
A feast for Men; and so a Feast For Wormes.

Deare liefest Lord, that feast'st the World with grace,
Extend thy bounteous hand, thy glorious face:
Bid ioyfull welcome to thy hungry guest,
That we may praise the Master of the Feast;
And in thy mercy grant this boone to mee,
That I may dye to sinne, and live to thee.

FINIS.

S. Ambrose.

Misericordia est plenitudo omnium virtutum.