Fons Lachrymarum or a fountain of tears: From whence doth flow Englands Complaint, Jeremiahs Lamentations paraphras'd with Divine Meditations and an elegy Upon that Son of Valor Sir Charles Lucas. Written by John Quarles |
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Meditatio in Capitulum. |
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Chap. IV.
Fons Lachrymarum |  |
Meditatio in Capitulum.
Distracted
Sion, having spent her days
In supine negligence, stands in a maze,
Not knowing what to do: her wonted joys
Yeeld torment, not contentment, seeming toys,
And childish trifles, which perplex her more,
Then thousand pleasures pleasur'd her before.
And now her alienated mind begins
To rumiuate upon her former sins:
Her studious thoughts recount what pretious time
She spent in folly; weighing every crime
In equal balance, poising them aright,
Finds them too heavy, and her self too light.
And like a frighted bird, her winged mind
Flies up and down, thinking some rest to find
In sorrows wilderness: But ah, who can
Find a lost jewel in the Ocean!
Now we may see how her embraced folly
Is quite dissolved into melancholly.
And those lascivious hours, which she hath spent,
Seems like grim Marshals giving punishment
To an offending wretch: As in a dream,
The fancy makes each object seem extream;
And why? because the judgment which should guide
Th'unruly fancy, sleeping's layd aside:
The senses once lock'd up, the fancy may
Not only claim a priviledg to play,
But to delude, and represent those things
To meanest Subjects, which belong to Kings;
Which makes the flatter'd Sences even dance,
And leap for joy, and striving to advance
Themselves, awake; and finding all's but vain,
Reason steps in, and makes them poor again.
In supine negligence, stands in a maze,
Not knowing what to do: her wonted joys
Yeeld torment, not contentment, seeming toys,
And childish trifles, which perplex her more,
Then thousand pleasures pleasur'd her before.
And now her alienated mind begins
To rumiuate upon her former sins:
Her studious thoughts recount what pretious time
She spent in folly; weighing every crime
In equal balance, poising them aright,
Finds them too heavy, and her self too light.
And like a frighted bird, her winged mind
Flies up and down, thinking some rest to find
In sorrows wilderness: But ah, who can
Find a lost jewel in the Ocean!
Now we may see how her embraced folly
Is quite dissolved into melancholly.
And those lascivious hours, which she hath spent,
Seems like grim Marshals giving punishment
56
The fancy makes each object seem extream;
And why? because the judgment which should guide
Th'unruly fancy, sleeping's layd aside:
The senses once lock'd up, the fancy may
Not only claim a priviledg to play,
But to delude, and represent those things
To meanest Subjects, which belong to Kings;
Which makes the flatter'd Sences even dance,
And leap for joy, and striving to advance
Themselves, awake; and finding all's but vain,
Reason steps in, and makes them poor again.
Even thus was poor Jerus'lem lull'd asleep
With fancy-pleasing pleasure, which did keep
A rendezvouz within her, lest that doubt
Should interpose, and put the fancy out
Of frame; And by a more diviner art
Should breed a Meditation in her heart.
For when the wak'ned Sences once have gain'd
The upper hand, the fancy is restrain'd,
And curb'd by judgment; Reason too survives
Again, and claims her own Prerogatives.
The apprehension with her new-got pow'r
Begins to taste and apprehend how sowre
Her sweets are grown: Ah then she cries! I see
I'm turn'd to nothing, being turn'd from thee,
My great Redeemer, I have quite exil'd
Thy mercies from my bosom, and revil'd
Thy just Commands, presuming oftentimes
To urge, with my reiterated crimes,
Thy long continued patience; and exprest
No grief at all from my obdurate brest.
My eyes were still laborious to discover
New vanities; and like a heedless lover,
Whose beauty-dazel'd eyes do only view
The Superficies, seeking not how true
The heart remaineth, but can fondly be
Content with beauties bare Epitomie.
And thus my rash advent'ring Soul went on,
(Pleasures admit no intermission
To them, whose hearts are envious to obtain
A present pleasure, but a future pain:)
And ah, how quickly's yeelding flesh and blood
Surpriz'd and conquer'd by a seeming good.
A Good that's good for nothing but t'invite
Fond souls to ruine, and o're-vail the light
Of real truth: and with enforc'd delusions
Makes them take pleasure in their own confusions.
Since then, my Soul, no pleasures can be found
In this base Center; let thy thoughts rebound
From this fastideous Orb; learn to advance
Thy self above the frowns, the reach of chance:
And let th'extent of thy ambition be
Only to purchase an Eternitie
Of happiness, which shall perpetuate,
And make thee glorious in a glorious state.
Divorce thy self from thy unsum'd-up faults,
Protract no time, but clarifie thy thoughts.
Command thy self, and thou shalt be reputed
A most deserving Victor: not confuted
By any, though their noble acts may claim
A true inheritance to a lasting Fame.
For he that gives himself an overthrow,
Conquers a Kingdom, and subdues a foe.
Then arm thy self, my Soul, and strive t'out-dare
Satans attempts; be studious to prepare
Thy self, and let thy adversary see
When he is strongest, th'art as strong as he.
Let not his vain delusions, interpose
'Twixt thee, and Heav'n: Oh do not thou expose
Thy self to wilful danger, but endeavor
T'accost his actions; but beleeve him never.
Thou seest how poor Jerusalem bewails
Her sad disasters; how she stoups, and fails
Beneath the burthen of her grief, and cries,
Oh boundless grief! Oh vainest vanities!
With fancy-pleasing pleasure, which did keep
A rendezvouz within her, lest that doubt
Should interpose, and put the fancy out
Of frame; And by a more diviner art
Should breed a Meditation in her heart.
For when the wak'ned Sences once have gain'd
The upper hand, the fancy is restrain'd,
And curb'd by judgment; Reason too survives
Again, and claims her own Prerogatives.
The apprehension with her new-got pow'r
Begins to taste and apprehend how sowre
Her sweets are grown: Ah then she cries! I see
I'm turn'd to nothing, being turn'd from thee,
My great Redeemer, I have quite exil'd
Thy mercies from my bosom, and revil'd
Thy just Commands, presuming oftentimes
To urge, with my reiterated crimes,
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No grief at all from my obdurate brest.
My eyes were still laborious to discover
New vanities; and like a heedless lover,
Whose beauty-dazel'd eyes do only view
The Superficies, seeking not how true
The heart remaineth, but can fondly be
Content with beauties bare Epitomie.
And thus my rash advent'ring Soul went on,
(Pleasures admit no intermission
To them, whose hearts are envious to obtain
A present pleasure, but a future pain:)
And ah, how quickly's yeelding flesh and blood
Surpriz'd and conquer'd by a seeming good.
A Good that's good for nothing but t'invite
Fond souls to ruine, and o're-vail the light
Of real truth: and with enforc'd delusions
Makes them take pleasure in their own confusions.
Since then, my Soul, no pleasures can be found
In this base Center; let thy thoughts rebound
From this fastideous Orb; learn to advance
Thy self above the frowns, the reach of chance:
And let th'extent of thy ambition be
Only to purchase an Eternitie
Of happiness, which shall perpetuate,
And make thee glorious in a glorious state.
Divorce thy self from thy unsum'd-up faults,
Protract no time, but clarifie thy thoughts.
Command thy self, and thou shalt be reputed
A most deserving Victor: not confuted
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A true inheritance to a lasting Fame.
For he that gives himself an overthrow,
Conquers a Kingdom, and subdues a foe.
Then arm thy self, my Soul, and strive t'out-dare
Satans attempts; be studious to prepare
Thy self, and let thy adversary see
When he is strongest, th'art as strong as he.
Let not his vain delusions, interpose
'Twixt thee, and Heav'n: Oh do not thou expose
Thy self to wilful danger, but endeavor
T'accost his actions; but beleeve him never.
Thou seest how poor Jerusalem bewails
Her sad disasters; how she stoups, and fails
Beneath the burthen of her grief, and cries,
Oh boundless grief! Oh vainest vanities!
Oh dream thou not of transitory things,
Which are unconstant, having secret wings
To fly away; and flying will confound
Thy better parts, and give thy Soul a wound.
Be wary then, and let thy thoughts concur
With Heav'ns commands, and so will he transfer
His Kingdom to thee, full of lasting treasure,
Where nothing's greater then the smallest pleasure.
Which are unconstant, having secret wings
To fly away; and flying will confound
Thy better parts, and give thy Soul a wound.
Be wary then, and let thy thoughts concur
With Heav'ns commands, and so will he transfer
His Kingdom to thee, full of lasting treasure,
Where nothing's greater then the smallest pleasure.
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Chap. IV.
Fons Lachrymarum | |