The Glorious Lover A Divine Poem, Upon the Adorable Mystery of Sinners Redemption. By B. K. [i.e. Benjamin Keach] |
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| II. |
| III. | CHAP. III. |
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| VII. |
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| II. |
| I. |
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| III. |
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| VIII. |
 | CHAP. III. The Glorious Lover |  |
24
CHAP. III.
Shewing how upon the arrival of the glorious Prince, the Uice-Roy of that Country contrived in a barbarous maner to take away his Life. And of the horrid Massacre that fell out upon it in the Town of Bethlehem. And how the Prince escaped and fled into Egypt. Also discovering how the Creature he came; to be a suiter to, was preingaged by the black King to the Monster of deformity, a Bastard of his own begetting, called Lust. And of the great and fearful battel that fell out between the Prince of Light, and Apollyon Prince of Darkness; and how Apollyon was over-come and, after three amazing Incounters, forc'd to fly.
Though Goodness still's oppos'd by envious Hate,
Vertue (like Palms) thrives by th' oppressing weight.
Our Princes Welcome is in part exprest,
But what ensues is worse than all the rest.
Of his sad usage further I'le declare,
And the curs'd cruel Foes he met with there.
No sooner flutt'ring Fame the news had told
Of his arrive; and that some Seers of old
(Heralds of Fate) proclaim'd him on Record
To be a high-born Prince, and mighty Lord:
But presently the Voyce-Roy of that Land
Was fill'd with Indignation on each hand;
Fearing, 'tis like, he might deposed be,
Or much diminisht in his Dignitie;
That this great stranger might assume his Crown,
Or quite eclipse his perishing Renown.
For when the Sun doth rise and shine so clear,
The Moon and Stars do all straight disappear.
Not knowing what strange evils might arise;
He therefore did a bloody Plot devise.
Such was his Rage and undeserved spight,
He needs would butcher this sweet Lamb of Light;
Who though to none he thought one dram of ill,
Yet he resolves his precious Blood to spill:
But failing of one Treacherous Design,
He and his Gang do in a worse combine:
Which was by strict Inquiries for to hear,
When this bright Star did first to men appear?
That so he might exactly know the Day
When he arriv'd, and in a Manger lay.
Which known, to make all sure he straight contrives
To sacrifice a thousand harmless Lives,
And kill the Males, yea every one of them
Which had been born in famous Bethlehem,
From two years old or under, ever since
The late prediction of this new-born Prince.
Judging this way ('tis like) might be the best
To cut off him, unknown, amongst the rest.
Which horrid Massacre he brought to pass,
And one more bloody sure there never was:
If Circumstances were but weighed well,
Both what they were, and why that day they fell
On the poor Babes; they no compassion have,
But hurle them from the Cradle to the Grave.
The weeping Mothers rais'd a swelling flood
Of their own tears, mixt with their Childrens blood;
In every street are heard most dismal Cries,
Be wailing those untimely Obsequies:
As had been prophesied long before,
By Rachel's moans, refusing to give o're;
She sighs, and weeps, and has no comfort got,
Because her hopeful Children now are not.
Great was the slaughter; yet their hopes were crost,
The precious Prey these raging Blood-hounds lost:
For th' Prince of Peace had notice of this thing,
And fled to Egypt from this wrathful King;
And there remaining, graciously was fed,
Until this Savage Murderer was dead.
And when he heard what had that wretch befel,
He hastned back to'th Land of Israel.
But news being brought of Archilaus's Raign,
Soon found it needful to remove again.
So being warn'd of God, to Galilee
He turn'd aside; and there at present we
Shall leave him, whilst we may more fully hear
The great design of this his coming there.
Some possibly may say, was't not to take
Unto himself a Kingdom, and so make
Himself Renowned, Great and very High,
Above each Prince and Earthly Monarchy?
Was't not to take the Crowns of every King,
And all their Glory to the Dust to bring,
To set their Diadems on his own head,
That so the Nations might be better led?
Was't not to take Revenge upon his Foes,
And grind to Powder all that him oppose?
Was it not to commence his glorious Raign,
That so he might the pride of Nations stain?
Herod, tis like, as you before did hear,
Such things might dream, and it might vainly fear:
But wholly groundless: for (alas) he came
Not as a King to punish, but a Lamb,
To offer up in sacrifice his Life,
To put an end to all tormenting strife,
And only gain a poor, but long'd-for Wife.
His sole design, I told you, it was Love,
'Twas that alone which brought him from above,
These hardships, and these pains to undergo,
And many more, which yet we have to show:
For these are nothing, in comparison
Of those which must be told e're we have done.
Vertue (like Palms) thrives by th' oppressing weight.
Our Princes Welcome is in part exprest,
But what ensues is worse than all the rest.
Of his sad usage further I'le declare,
And the curs'd cruel Foes he met with there.
No sooner flutt'ring Fame the news had told
Of his arrive; and that some Seers of old
(Heralds of Fate) proclaim'd him on Record
To be a high-born Prince, and mighty Lord:
25
Was fill'd with Indignation on each hand;
Fearing, 'tis like, he might deposed be,
Or much diminisht in his Dignitie;
That this great stranger might assume his Crown,
Or quite eclipse his perishing Renown.
For when the Sun doth rise and shine so clear,
The Moon and Stars do all straight disappear.
Not knowing what strange evils might arise;
He therefore did a bloody Plot devise.
Such was his Rage and undeserved spight,
He needs would butcher this sweet Lamb of Light;
Who though to none he thought one dram of ill,
Yet he resolves his precious Blood to spill:
But failing of one Treacherous Design,
He and his Gang do in a worse combine:
Which was by strict Inquiries for to hear,
When this bright Star did first to men appear?
That so he might exactly know the Day
When he arriv'd, and in a Manger lay.
Which known, to make all sure he straight contrives
To sacrifice a thousand harmless Lives,
And kill the Males, yea every one of them
Which had been born in famous Bethlehem,
From two years old or under, ever since
The late prediction of this new-born Prince.
Judging this way ('tis like) might be the best
To cut off him, unknown, amongst the rest.
Which horrid Massacre he brought to pass,
And one more bloody sure there never was:
26
Both what they were, and why that day they fell
On the poor Babes; they no compassion have,
But hurle them from the Cradle to the Grave.
The weeping Mothers rais'd a swelling flood
Of their own tears, mixt with their Childrens blood;
In every street are heard most dismal Cries,
Be wailing those untimely Obsequies:
As had been prophesied long before,
By Rachel's moans, refusing to give o're;
She sighs, and weeps, and has no comfort got,
Because her hopeful Children now are not.
Great was the slaughter; yet their hopes were crost,
The precious Prey these raging Blood-hounds lost:
For th' Prince of Peace had notice of this thing,
And fled to Egypt from this wrathful King;
And there remaining, graciously was fed,
Until this Savage Murderer was dead.
And when he heard what had that wretch befel,
He hastned back to'th Land of Israel.
But news being brought of Archilaus's Raign,
Soon found it needful to remove again.
So being warn'd of God, to Galilee
He turn'd aside; and there at present we
Shall leave him, whilst we may more fully hear
The great design of this his coming there.
Some possibly may say, was't not to take
Unto himself a Kingdom, and so make
Himself Renowned, Great and very High,
Above each Prince and Earthly Monarchy?
27
And all their Glory to the Dust to bring,
To set their Diadems on his own head,
That so the Nations might be better led?
Was't not to take Revenge upon his Foes,
And grind to Powder all that him oppose?
Was it not to commence his glorious Raign,
That so he might the pride of Nations stain?
Herod, tis like, as you before did hear,
Such things might dream, and it might vainly fear:
But wholly groundless: for (alas) he came
Not as a King to punish, but a Lamb,
To offer up in sacrifice his Life,
To put an end to all tormenting strife,
And only gain a poor, but long'd-for Wife.
His sole design, I told you, it was Love,
'Twas that alone which brought him from above,
These hardships, and these pains to undergo,
And many more, which yet we have to show:
For these are nothing, in comparison
Of those which must be told e're we have done.
He in those parts had been but thirty year,
And little had he don that we can hear
About obtaining of the Creatures love,
But gloriously did then the matter move,
Unto the Soul, who little did it mind,
For she (alas) was otherwise inclin'd:
For the Black King that had usurp'd that Land,
An Ill shapt Bastard had, of proud command,
Whom having drest up in a much Gallantry,
He did appear so pleasant in her Eye,
That he before had her affections won,
And in her heart established his Throne;
Though he design'd no less than to betray
And murder her in an insidious way:
Of which the silly Soul was not aware,
But fondly blind could not discern the snare.
Too like (alas) to many now a dayes,
Whom fawning words and flattery betrays.
This Imp of Darkness, and first-born of Hell
Transform'd by Witchcraft, and a cursed Spell,
Like a brisk gawdy Gallant now appears,
And still false locks, and borrowed Garments wears:
Then boldly sets upon her, and with strong
And sweet lip'd Rhetorick of a Courtly tongue
Salutes her Ears, and doth each way discover
The Amorous Language of a wanton Lover.
He smiles, he toyes, and now and then lets fly
Imperious glances from his lustful Eye;
Adorns her Orient Neck with Pearly charms,
And with rich Bracelets decks her Ivory Arms:
Boasts the extent of his Imperial Power,
And offers Wealth and worldly pleasure to her.
Jocund he seem'd, and full of sprightly Mirth,
And the poor Soul never inquir'd his Birth.
She lik'd his Face, but dream't not of the Dart
Wherewith he waited to transfix her Heart.
There is no foe to such a Dalilaw,
As pretends love, yet ready is to draw
The Poysonous Spear, and with a treacherous kiss
Be reaves the Soul of everlasting Bliss.
If you would know this treacherous Monster's name
(As you before have heard from whence he came)
'Tis he by whom thousands deceiv'd have bin,
Heav'ns foe, and Satan's cursed Off-spring, SIN.
A violater of all Righteous Laws,
And one that still to all Uncleaness draws;
Author of Whored omes, Perjuries, Disorders,
Thefts, Rapines, Blood, Idolatries, and Murders.
From whom all Plagues, and all Diseases flow!
And Death it self to him his be'ng doth ow.
This Monster of Pollution, the undone
Poor Soul too long had been enamour'd on;
And by the Craft his Sire Apollyon lent,
Doubted not to obtain her full Consent.
But when Apollyon saw this Prince of Peace,
His wrathfull spight against him did encrease:
So brave a Rival he could not endure,
But sought all means his Ruine to procure.
Shall I, saith he, thus lose my hop'd-for prey,
See my Designs all blasted in one day,
Which I have carried on from Age to Age,
With deepest Policy, and fiercest Rage?
My utmost Stratagems I first will try,
And rather on the very Spot Ile dye.
Thus Hellishly-resolv'd, he does prepare
Straight to commence the bold and Impious War,
And now the sharp Encounter does begin
A Fight so fierce no eye had ever seen,
Nor shall hereafter ere behold agen.
But first be pleas'd to take a prospect here,
Of the two Combatants as they appear:
The first a Person of Celestial Race,
Lovely his shape, ineffable his Face;
The frown with which he struck the trembling Fiend
All smiles of humane Beauty did transcend:
His head's with Glory arm'd, and his strong hand
No power of Earth or Hell can long withstand.
He heads the mighty Hosts in Heav'n above,
And all on Earth, who do Jehovah love.
His Camp's so great, they many millions are,
With whom no one for Courage may compare,
They are all chosen men, and cloath'd in white,
Ah! to behold them, what a lovely sight
Is it! And yet more grave and lovely far
To joyn and make one in this Holy War.
The other was a King of Courage bold,
But very grim and ghastly to behold;
Great was his power, yet his garb did show
Sad Symptoms of a former overthrow:
But now recruited with a numerous Train,
Arm'd with dispair, he tempts his fate again.
Under his Banner the black Regiments fight,
And all the Wicked Troops which hate the light:
His Voluntiers are spread from North to South,
And flaming Sulphur belches from his Mouth.
Such was the grand Importance of their fight,
It did all eyes on Earth and Heaven invite
To be spectators, and attention lend:
So much did ne're on any Field depend;
No not Pharsalia's Plains, where Cæsar fought,
And the Worlds Empire at one conquest caught.
Alas, the Issue of that famous Fray,
May not compare with this more fatal Day.
And little had he don that we can hear
About obtaining of the Creatures love,
But gloriously did then the matter move,
Unto the Soul, who little did it mind,
For she (alas) was otherwise inclin'd:
For the Black King that had usurp'd that Land,
An Ill shapt Bastard had, of proud command,
28
He did appear so pleasant in her Eye,
That he before had her affections won,
And in her heart established his Throne;
Though he design'd no less than to betray
And murder her in an insidious way:
Of which the silly Soul was not aware,
But fondly blind could not discern the snare.
Too like (alas) to many now a dayes,
Whom fawning words and flattery betrays.
This Imp of Darkness, and first-born of Hell
Transform'd by Witchcraft, and a cursed Spell,
Like a brisk gawdy Gallant now appears,
And still false locks, and borrowed Garments wears:
Then boldly sets upon her, and with strong
And sweet lip'd Rhetorick of a Courtly tongue
Salutes her Ears, and doth each way discover
The Amorous Language of a wanton Lover.
He smiles, he toyes, and now and then lets fly
Imperious glances from his lustful Eye;
Adorns her Orient Neck with Pearly charms,
And with rich Bracelets decks her Ivory Arms:
Boasts the extent of his Imperial Power,
And offers Wealth and worldly pleasure to her.
Jocund he seem'd, and full of sprightly Mirth,
And the poor Soul never inquir'd his Birth.
She lik'd his Face, but dream't not of the Dart
Wherewith he waited to transfix her Heart.
There is no foe to such a Dalilaw,
As pretends love, yet ready is to draw
29
Be reaves the Soul of everlasting Bliss.
If you would know this treacherous Monster's name
(As you before have heard from whence he came)
'Tis he by whom thousands deceiv'd have bin,
Heav'ns foe, and Satan's cursed Off-spring, SIN.
A violater of all Righteous Laws,
And one that still to all Uncleaness draws;
Author of Whored omes, Perjuries, Disorders,
Thefts, Rapines, Blood, Idolatries, and Murders.
From whom all Plagues, and all Diseases flow!
And Death it self to him his be'ng doth ow.
This Monster of Pollution, the undone
Poor Soul too long had been enamour'd on;
And by the Craft his Sire Apollyon lent,
Doubted not to obtain her full Consent.
But when Apollyon saw this Prince of Peace,
His wrathfull spight against him did encrease:
So brave a Rival he could not endure,
But sought all means his Ruine to procure.
Shall I, saith he, thus lose my hop'd-for prey,
See my Designs all blasted in one day,
Which I have carried on from Age to Age,
With deepest Policy, and fiercest Rage?
My utmost Stratagems I first will try,
And rather on the very Spot Ile dye.
Thus Hellishly-resolv'd, he does prepare
Straight to commence the bold and Impious War,
30
A Fight so fierce no eye had ever seen,
Nor shall hereafter ere behold agen.
But first be pleas'd to take a prospect here,
Of the two Combatants as they appear:
The first a Person of Celestial Race,
Lovely his shape, ineffable his Face;
The frown with which he struck the trembling Fiend
All smiles of humane Beauty did transcend:
His head's with Glory arm'd, and his strong hand
No power of Earth or Hell can long withstand.
He heads the mighty Hosts in Heav'n above,
And all on Earth, who do Jehovah love.
His Camp's so great, they many millions are,
With whom no one for Courage may compare,
They are all chosen men, and cloath'd in white,
Ah! to behold them, what a lovely sight
Is it! And yet more grave and lovely far
To joyn and make one in this Holy War.
The other was a King of Courage bold,
But very grim and ghastly to behold;
Great was his power, yet his garb did show
Sad Symptoms of a former overthrow:
But now recruited with a numerous Train,
Arm'd with dispair, he tempts his fate again.
Under his Banner the black Regiments fight,
And all the Wicked Troops which hate the light:
His Voluntiers are spread from North to South,
And flaming Sulphur belches from his Mouth.
31
It did all eyes on Earth and Heaven invite
To be spectators, and attention lend:
So much did ne're on any Field depend;
No not Pharsalia's Plains, where Cæsar fought,
And the Worlds Empire at one conquest caught.
Alas, the Issue of that famous Fray,
May not compare with this more fatal Day.
Should the Black monstrous Tyrant Prince prevail,
The Hearts and hopes of all man-kind must fail:
But above all, she who caus'd their contest
Would be more miserable than all the rest;
Shee, she, poor soul! for ever were undone,
And never would have help from any one;
Twas for Her sake alone the War begun.
The Hearts and hopes of all man-kind must fail:
But above all, she who caus'd their contest
Would be more miserable than all the rest;
Shee, she, poor soul! for ever were undone,
And never would have help from any one;
Twas for Her sake alone the War begun.
Some fabulous Writers tell a wonderous story,
And give I know not what St. George the Glory
Of rescuing bravely a distressed Maid
From a strange Dragon, by his Generous aid.
This I am sure our blessed Captain fought
With a fierce Dragon, and Salvation wrought
For her, who else had been devoured quite
By that Old Serpents subtility and spight.
But now tis time their Combate to display
Behold the Warriers ready in Array.
Apollyon well stor'd with crafty wit
Long time had waited for a season fit,
That so he might some great advantage get.
And knowing well the Prince of Light had fasted
Ful forty days, then presently he hasted
To give him Battle, and a Challenge makes,
Which no less cheerfully Christ undertakes.
The King of Darkness the first onset gave,
Thinking his foe to startle, or out-brave.
He flung at him a very cruel Dart,
And aym'd to hit him just upon the Heart.
He'd have him doubt or question, if twere so?
Whether he were the Son of God or no?
But the blest Lord did use his Sword so well,
That down the others weapons straight way fell:
It made him reel, and forc'd him back to stand,
And beat his Lance at once out of his hand.
At which this disappointed wrathful King
Doth gnash his threatning teeth, and shews his sting;
Is mad and foams, and fain the Dog would bite:
He swells like to a Toad, enough to fright
A mortal man, on him to cast an eye
And then breaks out with sad and hideous cry.
And give I know not what St. George the Glory
Of rescuing bravely a distressed Maid
From a strange Dragon, by his Generous aid.
This I am sure our blessed Captain fought
With a fierce Dragon, and Salvation wrought
For her, who else had been devoured quite
By that Old Serpents subtility and spight.
But now tis time their Combate to display
Behold the Warriers ready in Array.
Apollyon well stor'd with crafty wit
Long time had waited for a season fit,
That so he might some great advantage get.
32
Ful forty days, then presently he hasted
To give him Battle, and a Challenge makes,
Which no less cheerfully Christ undertakes.
The King of Darkness the first onset gave,
Thinking his foe to startle, or out-brave.
He flung at him a very cruel Dart,
And aym'd to hit him just upon the Heart.
He'd have him doubt or question, if twere so?
Whether he were the Son of God or no?
But the blest Lord did use his Sword so well,
That down the others weapons straight way fell:
It made him reel, and forc'd him back to stand,
And beat his Lance at once out of his hand.
At which this disappointed wrathful King
Doth gnash his threatning teeth, and shews his sting;
Is mad and foams, and fain the Dog would bite:
He swells like to a Toad, enough to fright
A mortal man, on him to cast an eye
And then breaks out with sad and hideous cry.
Shall I be foiled thus? or thus give o're,
Whom never any could yet stand before?
Have not the Mighty fallen by my hand,
Enforc'd to yeild to me in every Land?
Whole Kingdoms (Sir) have trucled to my pow'r:
If once I'm mov'd, Millions I can devour.
33
I all the World at once did overthrow.
My very Name is frightful unto all,
Who trembling fly, if I upon them fall.
My voyce is like unto a mighty Thunder,
And with a word I keep the Nations under.
See how they faint, and shrink, and shreek for fear,
If of my coming once they do but hear:
They quiver all, and like a Leaf do shake,
And dare not stand when I approaches make.
Besides all this, much more I have to boast:
Which of the Champions of thy Earthly Host
Have I not overcome, and put to flight?
None ever able were with me to fight.
Noah that Servant (Holy Just) of thine,
I did o'recome by 'th juce of his own Vine:
And Righteous Lot I next may reckon up,
A Trophy unto my victorious Cup,
Whereby he into Incest fell two Times:
And these thou know'st are no Inferiour Crimes.
Thy Jacob too, though he could wrestle well,
Yet by my Arm most grievously he fell:
And so likewise did his most Zealous Mother:
By Lies I made him to supplant his Brother.
Joseph for thee, although he was sincere,
I quickly taught by Pharoah's Life to swear.
And Judah, from whose Loins thou dost proceed,
I worsted much, do but the Story read.
Moses himself, thy Captain Generall,
By me receiv'd a shrew'd and dismal fall,
34
I mov'd him into passion and great rage,
By which I did so vex his troubl'd mind,
That he could not the Land of Promise find.
Sampson was very strong, I know, yet he
Was overcome by Dalilah and me.
And David, though a King, and most devout,
Sustain'd by me almost a total Rout;
Although he slew a Lyon, and a Bear,
And my Goliah likewise would not spare,
But with his fling that Champion did destroy,
Who did the Camp of Israel annoy:
For all these mighty Acts, when once I came
To try his strength, I brought him unto shame:
The people numbred, and his God forsaken,
By Adult'ry and Murder over-taken.
And Solomon, a mighty King and wise,
Did I by force and subtilety surprize;
I planted for him such a curious Net,
As soon Intangled his unwary feet;
Strange Womens charms withdrew his heart from thee
To doting Lust, and curs'd Idolatrie.
The time would fail me, should I number all
The Noble Worthies, I have caus'd to fall.
Ne're any yet upon the Earth did dwell,
But by my conquering sword they vanquisht fell.
And thinkst thou, Man, that I to thee will yield,
When flesht with Vict'ories, basely quit the Field.
Mistake not thus, Ile have the other blow,
I want no strength nor Courage thou shalt know.
35
Thy pride, Apollyon, and thy Hellish Rage,
Long since thy utter Downfal did presage.
Vain are thy Boasts, these Rants no good will doe,
I know thou art a cowardly bragging Foe.
Forbear with Lies my Servants to condemn,
'Twere only foils, not falls, thou gavest them.
Lurking in Secret, thou didst treacherously
At unawares sometimes upon them fly;
But rallying straight they did renew the Fight,
Quencht all thy Darts, and soon put thee to flight:
And now beyond thy reach, in full renown,
For their reward, enjoy an endless Crown.
And though on some thou hast prevail'd too far,
With me thou art unable to wage War.
'Tis for their sakes that forth my wrath is spread;
Thou bruisdst their Heels, but I will bruise thy Head.
Apollyon.
Stop there I pray, let's try the other Bout,
And see if thou canst me so quickly rout.
I am resolv'd my utmost force to try,
For all my hopes I find at Stake do ly:
E're I'le be baffled thus, and lose my Prey,
Upon thy back still sharper Strokes I'le lay.
36
What is the Cause thou art so furious now,
And thus on me dost bend thy Brazen brow?
What is thy fear? why dost thou rage? or why
Dost tremble thus, and look so gashfully?
Why doth thy fading Colour come and go?
Speak, Hellish Fiend! what I command thee, do.
Apollyon.
Great Reason's for't; I partly understand
The Cause why thou art come into this Land:
And having found what thy intentions are,
Needs must the same me terrify and scare.
I do perceive what did thee chiefly move
To leave the Glory which thou hadst above;
'Twas love that thou didst to a Creature bear,
Which unto me in truth is very dear;
And I will make my glistering Spear to bend,
E're I to thee in this will condescend;
Before I will her lose, I'le tear and roar,
And all Infernal Pow'rs I will Implore,
That I Assistance of them may obtain,
Against a Foe I do so much disdain.
37
But why should this stir up thy hellish rage,
If I in love am moved to engage
The precious Soul, and her betroth to me,
What wrong can that (vile monster) do to thee?
Thy horrid pride hath wrought thy overthrow,
And thou wouldst fain have her be damned too.
But know this Match in Heav'n's made, & thy hand
Can not prevent nor break this Sacred Band.
Apollyon.
She's preingag'd to one, whom I do Love,
And I concern'd am; for 'twas I did move
The question to her, did first the Contract make,
And I'm resolv'd she never shall it break.
The party too is my own offspring dear,
And I to him most true Affections bear:
And reason there is for't, 'twas he alone
Founded my Kingdom, and first rais'd my Throne.
'Tis he who every where doth for me stand,
Yea and maintains my Cause in every Land.
My Subjects he brings in both great and small;
Without his Aid soon would my Kingdom fall.
And if this contract should be broke, I see
But little Service more can he do me.
Blame me not therefore, if I grow inrag'd,
And thus in furious battel am engag'd.
38
Thou canst not hide from me thy curst design,
Most horrid hatred is that love of thine.
Thou seek'st her life, her blood, nought else will do
But her most desperate final overthrow.
I likewise see how the sad game is laid,
How she by treacherous Loves to Sin's betraid:
But I that League resolve to break asunder,
Dissolve your Charms, & quickly bring thee under;
Although I know thou art a Son of Thunder.
I'le spoyl all your designs, and make appear
That only I that Soul do love most dear.
I'le spill my dearest blood upon the Ground,
But your Infernal Plots I will confound.
I am her friend, and will so faithful prove,
That all shall say I'm worthy of her love.
My Life is in my hand. I'le lay it down
E're she shall miss of the Eternal Crown.
Thou damned art, and wouldst (I fully know)
Bring her into the same eternal wo:
But know, vile Fiend, 'tis more than thou canst do,
Unless thou can'st this day prevail o're me,
Those dreadful Torments she shall never see.
At this Apollyon's parched Lips did quiver,
These words, like darts, struck through his heart and liver,
He gnaw'd his very tongue for pain and wo,
And stampt, and foam'd, and knew not what to do,
Till e're a while, like to a Lyon bold,
Upon his Spear he furiously takes hold,
And doth the second time the Lord engage,
With greater violence and fiercer rage.
As when loud Thunder roars, and rends the Skie,
Or murdering Cannons let their Bullets fly:
So did he cause as 'twere the Earth to quake,
When he at him the second time did make;
And by the force of his permitted power,
Snatches him up, as if he would devour
Him, like the prey which hungry Lyons eat;
But not prevailing, down he did him set
Upon a Pinacle 'oth Temple high,
And then again upon him does let fly:
But finding he no hurt to him could do,
He strives him headlong down from thence to throw
Pretending if he were so great an one,
His foot could not be dasht against a Stone.
But then our Prince did draw his Sword again,
Not doubting in the least he should obtain
Another victory against this foe;
And did indeed give him so great a blow,
That he fell down, being forced to give ore,
And shamefully retreated, as before.
These words, like darts, struck through his heart and liver,
He gnaw'd his very tongue for pain and wo,
And stampt, and foam'd, and knew not what to do,
39
Upon his Spear he furiously takes hold,
And doth the second time the Lord engage,
With greater violence and fiercer rage.
As when loud Thunder roars, and rends the Skie,
Or murdering Cannons let their Bullets fly:
So did he cause as 'twere the Earth to quake,
When he at him the second time did make;
And by the force of his permitted power,
Snatches him up, as if he would devour
Him, like the prey which hungry Lyons eat;
But not prevailing, down he did him set
Upon a Pinacle 'oth Temple high,
And then again upon him does let fly:
But finding he no hurt to him could do,
He strives him headlong down from thence to throw
Pretending if he were so great an one,
His foot could not be dasht against a Stone.
But then our Prince did draw his Sword again,
Not doubting in the least he should obtain
Another victory against this foe;
And did indeed give him so great a blow,
That he fell down, being forced to give ore,
And shamefully retreated, as before.
Now would one think the Battel quite were done,
And time for the black Prince away to run:
But he reviv'd, and did fresh Courage take;
As men would do, when all doth ly at stake,
And a third Battel was resolv'd to see,
What ere the fatal Consequence might be.
Apollyon now to his last shift was driven,
Almost of all his Magazine bereaven.
But one poor Weapon more he had to try;
If worsted there, resolved was to fly.
And here indeed God suffer'd him once more
To take him up, as he had done before.
Ah! twas a sight most dismal to behold,
What foe was e're thus impudently bold!
That so was bafled, forced to retreat,
And found his Enemie too wise and great
A thousand times for him, yet would essay
By force of Arms to carry him away.
Don't Heaven and Earth, and all amazed stand
To see the Prince of Light in Satan's hand,
Or rather in his Arms carry'd on high,
As if he would have kill'd him secretly;
But on a mighty Mountain him he set,
Hoping he might some great advantage get;
A cunning Stratagem he did devise,
Thinking thereby our Saviour to surprize,
And him 'orecome by subtile Policy,
And that was to present unto his Eye
The Glory of this World, the only Snare
By which poor Mortals often ruin'd are.
This Hellish Prince is full of Craft and Wiles,
And with's inventions all the World beguiles.
From him the Politick Achitophel,
And our more modern famous Machiavel,
With other States-men learn't their puzling Arts
To plague the World, that Science he imparts,
To imbroil Nat'ions, and cheat honest Hearts.
Sly Stratagems in War, most wise men know
Have oft prevail'd, where Force no good could do.
The Walls sometimes of Castles down do fall,
When n'ere a Bullet hath been shot at all,
Unless discharged from a Silver Gun;
Thousands (alas!) this way have been undone.
Strong Citties Gates (we know) have open'd been
With Golden Keyes, and Enemies let in,
Which force nor strength could ne're have made to fly,
Nor been broke down by fiercest Battery.
The Maxime's true, which frequently we read,
That Policy doth very far exceed
The Strength and pow'r of great & haughty Kings;
And to subjection mighty Nations brings.
But all the Strength, nor Craft, nor power either,
Which Satan hath with all his fiends together,
Could with this Glorious Lord prevail i'th least,
Who hath the strength of Heaven to assist,
And was himself Omnipotent in power:
Doth Satan think he can a God devour?
Can fading Glories of vile Earth intice,
Or break his purpose off, when Paradise
Could not upon him any Influence have,
To turn his love from her he came to save?
And time for the black Prince away to run:
But he reviv'd, and did fresh Courage take;
As men would do, when all doth ly at stake,
40
What ere the fatal Consequence might be.
Apollyon now to his last shift was driven,
Almost of all his Magazine bereaven.
But one poor Weapon more he had to try;
If worsted there, resolved was to fly.
And here indeed God suffer'd him once more
To take him up, as he had done before.
Ah! twas a sight most dismal to behold,
What foe was e're thus impudently bold!
That so was bafled, forced to retreat,
And found his Enemie too wise and great
A thousand times for him, yet would essay
By force of Arms to carry him away.
Don't Heaven and Earth, and all amazed stand
To see the Prince of Light in Satan's hand,
Or rather in his Arms carry'd on high,
As if he would have kill'd him secretly;
But on a mighty Mountain him he set,
Hoping he might some great advantage get;
A cunning Stratagem he did devise,
Thinking thereby our Saviour to surprize,
And him 'orecome by subtile Policy,
And that was to present unto his Eye
The Glory of this World, the only Snare
By which poor Mortals often ruin'd are.
This Hellish Prince is full of Craft and Wiles,
And with's inventions all the World beguiles.
From him the Politick Achitophel,
And our more modern famous Machiavel,
41
To plague the World, that Science he imparts,
To imbroil Nat'ions, and cheat honest Hearts.
Sly Stratagems in War, most wise men know
Have oft prevail'd, where Force no good could do.
The Walls sometimes of Castles down do fall,
When n'ere a Bullet hath been shot at all,
Unless discharged from a Silver Gun;
Thousands (alas!) this way have been undone.
Strong Citties Gates (we know) have open'd been
With Golden Keyes, and Enemies let in,
Which force nor strength could ne're have made to fly,
Nor been broke down by fiercest Battery.
The Maxime's true, which frequently we read,
That Policy doth very far exceed
The Strength and pow'r of great & haughty Kings;
And to subjection mighty Nations brings.
But all the Strength, nor Craft, nor power either,
Which Satan hath with all his fiends together,
Could with this Glorious Lord prevail i'th least,
Who hath the strength of Heaven to assist,
And was himself Omnipotent in power:
Doth Satan think he can a God devour?
Can fading Glories of vile Earth intice,
Or break his purpose off, when Paradise
Could not upon him any Influence have,
To turn his love from her he came to save?
How soon deep Policy is overthrown,
And crafty fraud to foolish madness come!
Art thou, Apollyon, such a wretched Sot?
Hast thou no other Bait, nor weapon got?
Is this thy wit, and can'st thou do no more
Than give him that which was his own before?
How prodigal thou seem'st? wilt thou bestow
At once on him all Kingdomes here below?
What then will all thy flattered Subjects do?
If thus thou rashly giv'st them all away,
What wilt thou do thy self another day?
What! is poor Soul worth more than all the world?
That all thou hast shall thus away be hurld,
Rather then thou of Soul would'st be bereav'd?
'Tis time for her to see she ben't deceiv'd.
What! all the Kingdoms of the world! Pray who
Did give them all, or any unto you?
Ah! what a Traytor's here! Is't not a shame
Before thy Soveraign's face to make a Claim
Unto those Kingdoms, where thou hast no right?
Thou know'st they do belong to 'th Prince of light.
Thine if thou call'st them, 'tis by Usurpation,
No other right hast thou to any Nation.
And crafty fraud to foolish madness come!
42
Hast thou no other Bait, nor weapon got?
Is this thy wit, and can'st thou do no more
Than give him that which was his own before?
How prodigal thou seem'st? wilt thou bestow
At once on him all Kingdomes here below?
What then will all thy flattered Subjects do?
If thus thou rashly giv'st them all away,
What wilt thou do thy self another day?
What! is poor Soul worth more than all the world?
That all thou hast shall thus away be hurld,
Rather then thou of Soul would'st be bereav'd?
'Tis time for her to see she ben't deceiv'd.
What! all the Kingdoms of the world! Pray who
Did give them all, or any unto you?
Ah! what a Traytor's here! Is't not a shame
Before thy Soveraign's face to make a Claim
Unto those Kingdoms, where thou hast no right?
Thou know'st they do belong to 'th Prince of light.
Thine if thou call'st them, 'tis by Usurpation,
No other right hast thou to any Nation.
But we discourse too long: behold a sight,
Apollyon rallies all his scattered might.
Now nothing else than a full Conquest will
The haughty Wretch his wild Ambition fill.
How fain would he Majestick Steps have trod,
And worship'd be, nay worship'd by a God?
But the wise Prince of Light doth straight advance
To check his bold and vain Extravagance,
Declares his pow'r, and shakes the awfull Rod;
Thou shalt not (what?) tempt (who?) the Lord thy God?
This well-plac'd stroak did Satan quite confound;
He cannot stay, yet's loth to quit the ground.
But seeing that he needs must now be gone;
Looks back, and grins, and howling, thus goes on.
Apollyon rallies all his scattered might.
Now nothing else than a full Conquest will
The haughty Wretch his wild Ambition fill.
How fain would he Majestick Steps have trod,
And worship'd be, nay worship'd by a God?
But the wise Prince of Light doth straight advance
To check his bold and vain Extravagance,
43
Thou shalt not (what?) tempt (who?) the Lord thy God?
This well-plac'd stroak did Satan quite confound;
He cannot stay, yet's loth to quit the ground.
But seeing that he needs must now be gone;
Looks back, and grins, and howling, thus goes on.
Although I find thou art for me too strong,
Yet I'le revenged be, for all the wrong
I have sustain'd, either on thee or thine;
For which the powers of Hell shall all combine,
T' engage thee in another sort of Fight,
Although at present I am bafled quite.
Moreover, this I further have to say,
So long as thou dost in this Country stay,
Be sure of troubles thou shalt have thy fill,
I'le sett my Servants on thee; and they will,
By help from me, add sorrows to thy dayes,
Strew all thy Paths with Thorns, and cross thy ways.
I'le render thee as odious as I can,
That thou mayst be disown'd by every man.
What I, and all Infernal Powers can do,
To make thee miserable, or o'rethrow
The great Design, which thou art come about,
We are resolved now to work it out.
And though thou thinkst this Soul for to obtain,
I tell thee now I have her in my Chain;
44
Till tired out, thy love be over-past.
Nay let me tell thee further in thine Ear,
She unto thee doth perfect hatred bear:
Thee, nor thy Portion doth she like at all,
Although for her thou dost thy self inthrall,
And into Troubles and afflictions bring:
What wise man ever would do such a thing?
What love, where thou no love art like to have,
Tho thou the same a thousand times shouldst Crave?
If this proves not most true, then me you shall
The Father of Lies hereafter Justly call.
Boast not this Conquest, though I go my way,
I'le meet the better Arm'd another day.
A hideous Clapy of Thunder then was heard,
And streight the cursed Spirit disappeard.
| CHAP. III. The Glorious Lover | |