The Glorious Lover :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Excellencies and Perfections of the glorious King, the Lord JEHOVAH, discovered: Shewing how he had but one Son, the express Image of the Father, the delight and joy of his Heart; and of the glorious and eternal Design of this most High and Everlasting JEHOVAH to dispose of his Son in Marriage. Moreover, how the matter was propounded by the Father, and whom he had chose to be the intended Spouse. Shewing also how the Prince readily consented to the Proposal; and of his first grand and glorious Atchievements in order to the Accomplishment of this happy Design.

In the fair Regions of approachless Light,
Where unmixt Joys with perfect Love unite;
Where youth n'ere wasts, nor Beauty ever fades,
Where no disease, nor paining-grief, invades;
There reigns, and long hath reign'd, a mighty King,
From whom all Honours, and all Riches spring;
His vast Dominions reach from Pole to Pole,
No Realm nor Nation but he could controul;

So great his Pow'r, there never yet could be,
An absolute Monarch in the World but he.
What e're seem'd good to him, he freely did,
And nothing from his piercing Eye was hid.
To him the mighty Nimrods all did Bow,
And none durst boldly question, What dost Thou
Justice and Wisdom waited on his Throne,
And through the World his Clemency was known
His Glory so Illustrious and Bright,
It sparkled forth, and dazled Mortals sight.
Immense his Being; for in every Land
He present was, and by each Soul did stand.
No Spies he needed for Intelligence
In Foreign parts, to bring him Tydings thence.
And vain to him was Court-dissemblers Art,
He saw each corner of the subtlest heart,
View'd acts unborn, and plain discoveries wrought
E're labouring Fancy once could mould a Thought
Beheld mens minds clearly, as were their faces,
And uncontain'd, at once did fill all Places;
His awful frown could make the Mountains shake
And Stoutest hearts of Haughty Princes quake.
All things were his, who did them first compose,
And by his wisdom doth them still dispose;
To serve his Friends, and to destroy his Foes.
His Azure Throne with Holiness is spread,
The pure in heart alone his Court may tread;
No vitious Gallant, Proud, Imperious, Vain,
In Court, nor Kingdom will he entertain.

He's th' essence of true Vertue, spotless, pure,
And no ungodly one can he endure.
No wicked person to him dares draw nigh,
Though ne're so Rich, so Mighty, or so High;
'Tis Righteousness his blessed Throne maintains,
Who all Injustice utterly disdains;
Nay, Holiness doth this great Soveraigne cloath,
And such as weare it not, his Soul doth loath.
But above all the Glories which did wait
Upon this High and Peerless Potentate:
His Pity did the most transcendent prove,
Matchless his Power, but greater still his Love;
Such bowels of Compassion ne're were known,
Nor e're such proofs of vast Affection shown;
His kindness beyond all that Pen can write,
Or Heart conceive, or nimblest Brain indite.
This Sovereign Love our wond'rous Subject brings,
Our Hist'ry from those melting Ardours springs.

For this great King had a most lovely Son,
And had indeed no more save only one,
Who was begotten by him, and brought forth
E're Heav'ns blew curtains did surround the Earth;
Before the World's foundations yet were laid,
Times glass turn'd up, or the Sun's course displaid,
This Prince was brought up with him, and did lye,
In his dear Bosom from Eternity.
He was his only Joy, and hearts delight,
Who ever did behold him in his sight.
And as he made his Father's heart most glad,
He was sole Heir to all the Father had;

Who freely gave all things into his Hand,
And made him Ruler over every Land,
Designing still to raise his Dignity
Above each Earthly Prince, or Monarchy,
And him intitle with a glorious Name,
Which none of all the Heav'nly Host dare claim.
What glory is there in each Seraphim!
Yet must they all do Homage unto him;
The Cherubims likewise must all submit,
And humbly worship at his Royal Feet,
With trembling Reverence; for he doth bear
The express Image of his Father dear;
And his Majestick Glory doth unfold,

Too right for any creature to behold,
Untill transform'd into an Heav'nly mould.
The Lustre of his Face, the loveliness
Of compleat Beauty, and of Holiness.
His Personal Sweetness, and Perfections rare,
No tongue of men, or Angels, can declare:
For, 'tis recorded by unerring Pen,
He fairer was than all the Sons of men.
Which in its proper place will more appear:
But mind at present what doth follow here.

This mighty King, whose Glories thus did shine,
Had long on foot a very great Design,
Which was, in Marriage to dispose this Son,
The blessedst Work that ever could be done:
This Secret then to him he does disclose,
And whom for him he had already chose,

Tells him the way, and means, whereby to bring
About this strange and most important thing;
What he must do; and all things doth declare:
To which the Son doth lend attentive ear,
Who never did his Father disobey,
Nor him displease, would not in this say nay;
But straight-way shew'd with joy & chearful mind
He was that way himself long time inclin'd:
For with a Heav'nly smile he made reply,
That Creature is the Jewel of mine eye.
Great King of Kings, thy Sacred Sovereign Will
With greatest Joy I'm ready to fullfil.
My heart's inflam'd with love, and will be pain'd
Till she for my imbraces be obtain'd.
With secret transports long have I design'd
That happy Match in my Eternal Mind,
To people with a new and holy Race
Th' Immortal Mansions of this Glorious Place.
Such is the Love which unto her I have,
'Tis strong as Death, and lasts beyond the Grave.
Where e're she be (for well I understand
She's spirited of late to a strange Land)
Winged with Love I'le search the World about,
And leave no place unsought to find her out.
If any Foe doth Captive her detain,
I'le be her Rescue, and knock off her Chain:
Or, if half stifled, she in Prison lye,
I'le break the Bars, and give her liberty.
I will refuse no Labour, nor no pain,
Thee (dearest Soul!) into my Arms to gain.

Such was this Prince's love, and now tis fit
We tell you who the object was of it.

Within the Limits of the Holy Land,
Whose Glory once shone forth on every hand;
And near the Borders of rare Havelah,
Where Creatures of each kind first breath did draw;
Where Pison's streams with Euphrates did meet;
Where did abound all Joy and Comfort sweet,
Without the least perplexity or wo;
Where Bdellium and the Onyx Stone did grow;
Did a most choice and lovely Garden lye,
Renowned much for its antiquity:
For Sacred Story has proclaim'd its name,
And rais'd up Trophies to its lasting fame.
Within that Garden dwelt in Ancient time
A very lovely Creature in her Prime,
Mirror of Beauty, and the World's chief glory,
Whose rare composure did out-vy all Story:
Fair as the Lilly, e're rude hands have toucht it:
Or snow unfal'n, before the Earth hath smucht it:
The perfectst work which wondring Heav'n could see,
Of Nature's Volumn, blest Epitome;
Her glorious Beauty, and Admired Worth,
What mortal tongue is able to set forth?
True Vertue was the Object of her will,
There was no stain in her, no Feature ill,
No scarr, nor blemish, seen in any part;
Her Judgment uncorrupt, and pure her Heart;

Her thoughts were noble, words most wise, not lavish;
Her natural sweetness was enough to ravish
All that beheld her; from her sparkling Eye,
A thousand Charms, a thousand Graces fly:
No evill passion harbour'd in her breast,
Or with bold Mutinies disturb'd her rest;
For what's not borne yet, needs not be represt.
Her Lineage Noble, of such high degree,
None e're could boast a greater Pedigree:
A Dowry too she had, a fair Estate,
Conferr'd upon her at an easy Rate.
In brief, in all Indowments she did shine,
Stampt with his Image, who is all Divine:
But that which most unto her bliss did add,
Was the great Honour which some time she had,
Of the sweet presence of a glorious King,
From whom alone true Happiness doth spring;
He oft declar'd her his grand Favourite,
And that with her was his endear'd delight:
For precious love to her burn'd in his heart,
And nothing thought too dear for to impart,
Or unto her most freely to bestow,
Of all the Treasures he had here below.

This was her state at first, none can gain-say;
But then, mark what befell her on a day.
She did not long in this condition stand,
Before a cursed and most traiterous Band
Of Rebels, who shook off Allegiance,
And 'gainst their Sovereign did bold Arms advance;

Intic'd her to their Party, and destroy'd
All those rare Priviledges she injoy'd.
Which grand offence did so the King displease,
That she his wrath by no means could appease;
Nor had she any Friend to speak a word,
To stay the Tortures of the Flaming Sword.
No purpose 'twas, alas! for her to plead,
Why Sentence should not against her proceed;
Who well knew in her conscience 'twas but right
She should thenceforth be banisht from his sight,
And his most glorious Face behold no more,
As she with Joy had seen it heretofore.
The rightful Sentence passed, though severe,
Which might strike dead the trembling Soul to hear,
Exil'd she was from him with fearful Ire,
And laid obnoxious to Eternal fire:
Turn'd out of all her Glory with a curse,
No state of Mortal Creatures could be worse.
And now she's forc'd to wander to and fro,
Finding no rest, nor knowing what to do.
A foreign soile, alas! she must seek out,
And where to hide her self she looks about.
A wretched Fugitive she straight became,
A shame unto her self, to all a shame.
Yet this vile wretched Creature, so forlorn,
The Subject of contempt and general scorn,
She, she's the Object of this Prince's Love,
She 'tis to whom his warm Affections move.
'Twas in her fallen state he cast his eye,
Although he lov'd her from Eternity.

Who wandring thus into a Foreign Land,
Far off of him: he soon did understand
There was no other thing for him to do,
But must a Journy take, and thither go.
If he'l accomplish this his great Design,
Of making Love, a Love that's most divine.

The Father now doth part whith his dear Son,
Who's all on fire, and zealous to be gone:
And what though it a grievous Journy be,
Its bitterness he is resolv'd to see.
His high Atchievements nothing shall prevent,
His mind and purpose is so fully bent,
That he in his own Kingdom will not stay
One Minute after the appointed Day.

But that you may more fully yet discover
The matchless flames of this most glorious Lover,
Permit us to present unto your view,
The Court he left, the Dungeon he went to.

The Kingdom, where this High-born Prince did dwell,
All other Countries vastly doth excel,
Its Glory splendid is and infinite,
It cannot be beheld with fleshly sight.
Ten thousand Suns, ten thousand times more bright
Then ours is, could never give such light.
None ever there beheld a Cloud, nor shall;
Nor ever was there any Night at all.
No cold or heat did ever there displease,
No pain nor sorrow there, nor no disease.

No thirst nor hunger there do any know,
Nor any foes to seek their overthrow,
Disturb their peace, or them i'th least annoy;
Nor is there any Devil to destroy.
And if one would that Kingdom search about,
There is no finding of one poor Man out.
No sooner any such do thither get,
But on their Heads a glorious Crown is set.
Congratulating Angels round them wait,
And cloath them all in long white Robes of State.
They live in boundless Bliss, with such content,
It raises Joy unto a Ravishment.
There's Rivers too of Pleasures, fil'd to'th Brim,
In which the Prophets and Apostles swim.
There Beauty fadeth not, nor Strength decayes;
No weary old Age, neither end of Dayes.
Impossible it is for them to dye,
Whose Souls have tasted Immortality.
All there is Love, and Sempiternal Joys,
Whose sweetness neither gluts, nor fullness cloys.
Friends always by; for absence is not known,
Their loss, or departure, none can bemoan.

Within the confines of this blissfull Land
There doth a spacious foursquare City stand,
The noblest Structure 'tis that e're was rais'd,
By men admired, or by Angels prais'd.
The Founder of it was a mighty King;
Yet without hands t'was built, amazing thing!
As for th' Marterials, which did it prepare
From a good Author this description hear:

The Luke-warm Blood of a dear Lamb being spilt,
To Rubies turn'd, whereof its parts were built;
‘And what dropt down in a kind gellied Gore,
‘Became rich Saphire, and did pave her Floor.
‘The Brighter flames that from his Eyebals ray'd,
‘Grew Chrysolites, whereof her walls were made.
‘The Milder glances sparkled on the ground,
‘And grounsild every Door with Diamond:
‘But dying, darted upwards, and did fix
‘A Battlement of purest Sardonix.
‘Its Streets with Burnisht Gold are paved round,
‘Stars lye like Pebbles scattered on the ground.
‘Pearl mixt with Onyx, and the Jasper Stone,
‘The Citizens do alwayes tread upon.
Here he with's Father in great state did sit,
Whilst millions bow'd themselves unto his Feet.
Here 'twas he kept his Court, here was his Throne,
From hence through all the World his Glory shone.
And if ought could unto his Greatness add,
Mark what a rich Retinue there he had.
He Servants kept of very high Degree,
Who did bow down to him continually.
Though they were Nobles all, and far more high
Than proudest of the Roman Monarchy;
And mighty great in Power too are they;
For one alone did no less Number slay
Than near two hundred thousand in one night,
Of Valaint Souldiers, trained up to fight.
These Troops still ready stood at his command,
To execute his will in every Land.

Of them he'd an Innumerable Host,
Though some of them in ancient times were lost:
Yet the selected number Millions were,
Who still to him do true Allegiance bear:
True Love and Zeal burn'd in their breasts, like fire;
To do his Will's their business and desire:
'Tis his great Int'rest which they wholly mind,
Aiding his Friends, whose welfare they design'd:
And likewise evermore to frustrate those,
Who did their Prince's Soveraignty oppose.
Their Nature's quick and clear, as Beams of light
Creatures too pure for Mortals grosser sight.
And if we shall consider well their worth,
Meer Empty Nothings are all Kings 'oth Earth,
When to these Servants they compared be;
So much excells, their glorious Dignity.
What of their Sovereign Lord then shall we say,
On whom they do attend both night and day?
When they before his dazling Throne appear,
Their Heav'nly faces straightway cover'd are;
As if not able on his Face to look;
Or else with glorious blushings, Heaven-struck.

Such, such his Court, such his Attendants were:
Who could with this great Prince of light compare?
Oh what Celestial Glory didst thou leave,
Almost beyond mans credence to believe!
That thou shouldst thus thy Fathers house forsake,
And such a tedious dismal Journey make!

Could not that charming Melody above,
Allure thy thoughts and, hinder thy remove?
Oh no! there's nothing can retard thy Love.
Hark how the glorious Seraphims do sing,
Whose warbling notes do make the Heavens ring!
What Mortals ever did such Musick hear?
Spirits made perfect, are quite ravisht there.
Oh! how they listen whilst the Strains rise higher,
And joyning gladly with th' All-charming Quire,
Sing forth aloud, inspired with his flame,
All Glory, Glory, Glory to his Name.
One strain of this Celestial Harmony,
Could Mortals hear, they soon would thither fly:
They straight would shake off all their carnal shackles
And quit these dull and loathsom Tabernacles;
Like towring Larks, still upwards would they soar,
And ravished, would think of Earth no more:
Or like to herds of Cattel, great and small,
They'd leave their feedings, and run thither all.
But yet could not this lovely Paradise,
These Honours, or this Melody intice
The love-sick Prince unto a longer stay,
So much he longed for the Marriage day:
No thing could his Design divert, or move;
So constant was he in his Royal Love.

His Travels next will you be pleas'd to hear
Which raises wonder in me to declare.
Ten thousand millions, and ten thousand more
Of Angel-measur'd Leagues from th' Eastern shore:

Of Dunghil Earth this glorious Prince did come.
Did ever Lover go so far from Home
To seek a Spouse? What brave Heroick Spirit
That e're did love of vertuous Princess merit,
Would not have found his trembling heart to ake,
So vast an Enterprize to undertake;
Such dangers to expose himself unto,
Such pleasure, and such glory to fore-go!

But some 'tis like may ask a question here,
Unto what Parts or Region did he steer?
Or whither did he travel, whither go?
A very needful thing for all to know.
Was't to some Goshen-Land, of precious Light?
Or in to some Elysian Fields, which might
With Boundless Pleasures thither him invite?
Was it a Kingdom somewhat like his own
For Bliss and Glory? or what kind of one
Was this strange Land, to which this Lover went
To find the Soul, forc'd into Banishment?

Alas! dear Sirs! this may you still amaze,
And to a higher Pitch your wonder raise.
As far as Darkness differs from the Light,
Or dolesom Earth falls short of Heaven so bright;
As Heavens higher are than Earth or Seas,
A thousand times, ten thousand of Degrees;
So far that place where this sweet Prince did dwell
The other (to which he travel'd) did excel.
As that transcends for loveliness most rare:
So this in wickedness exceeds compare.

Egypt was once a dark and dolesom place,
When no one could behold his brother's face.
Though there the sacred stories plainly tel't,
The darkness was so great, it might be felt.
Yet was that but a figure, you must know,
Of the black horror of this Land of Wo,
Whither the wretched wandring Soul was gone,
And whence her Lover now must fetch her home:
It was indeed an howling Wilderness,
A Region of dispair, and all distress:
Where Dragons, Wolves, Lyons, and ravenous Beasts
Had their close Dens, and Birds of Prey their Nests.
Besides, throughout the ruinated Land
A Black and fearful King had great Command,
Who had revolted many years before
From his Liege Lord, and to him since has bore
Most cruel spight and curs'd malignity,
Assuming to himself the Soveraignty;
The greatst Usurper that e're being had:
Sylla, nor Nero never were so bad.
For 'tis well known he was th' original Syre
Of Tyrants all, and taught them to aspire;
Ambitious through the World to spread his Arms,
He fill'd the Earth with Blood and sad Alarms:
And like a ravenous Lyon rang'd about
To seek his Prey, and find new Conquests out.
Full of State-Policies, and Subtil wiles:
Where's Force attempts in vain, his Fraud beguiles.

Most cruel to those Slaves he can betray,
And yet the Fools, besotted to his sway,
Court their own ruine, and blindly obey.
His Antient Lord he hated most of all,
And such as were his offspring, great and small,
He was resolv'd to be reveng'd upon,
And them for to destroy e're he had done,
From whence his name was call'd Apollyon.
A name which doth his Nature full express,
And you of him thereby my further guess.
This greedy Dragon, hungry of his prey,
With wide-stretcht Jawes stood waiting for the day,
When this dear Prince should come; nay for the hour,
That so he might him instantly devour.
Oh Tyrant Love! dost thou no pity take!
Wilt thou the PHÆNIX of both worlds thus make
A prey to such a Fiend, who by some snare
Hopes to entrap this long expected Heir,
And then to take Possession, and alone
Rule on an undisturbed Hellish Throne?
See how the Troops of his Infernal Power
Combine, this Sacred Person to devour.
Needs must that be a sad and dismal Land,
Where this damn'd Monster hath so great Comand.
What Prince would come from such a Mount of bliss
Unto a Cave, where Poysonous Serpents hiss?
Come from his Father's Bosom where he lay,
To be the Wolves and Dragons chiefest prey?
To leave his glorious Robes and Cloth of Gold,
And clothed be with Raggs and Garments old!

From ruling men and Devils, now to be
Tempted by both of them, scarce ever free?
To leave a Paradise of all Delight,
And come into a Land as black as night?
A glorious Crown and Kingdom to forsake,
That he his bed might on a Dunghil make?
To leave a sweet and quiet Habitation,
To come into a rude distracted Nation?
Where Wars, Blood, and Miseries abound,
Where neither Truth, nor Faith, nor Peace is found?
To leave his Friends, who loved him most dear,
To dwell with such as mortal hatred bear
To him, and to his blessed Father, and
All such as do for them most faithful stand?
To come so many Millions of long miles
To be involv'd in Troubles and sad Broils?
And all this for a Creature poor and vile,
A Traiterous Vagabond, and in Exile?
Yea, one that still remain'd a stubborn foe,
Hating both him and his blest Father too?
Who ponders all in extasy, can't miss
To cry out, Oh! what manner of Love is this?
Sure this is Love that may our Souls amaze,
And to the height our wondring Spirits raise,
In grateful Hymns to celebrate its praise.

CHAP. II.

Shewing what entertainment the Prince of Light met with at his first arrival. How there being no room for him in the Inn, he was forced to lie in the Stable, and make his bed in the Manger. As also how he having laid aside his Glorious and Princely Robes, was not known by the people of that Country; and how he was wronged, and abominably abused by them.

Awake my Muse! I hear the Prince is come;
Go and attend him, view the very Room
Where he at first doth lodg: see how they treat
A King, whose Pow'r is so exceeding great.
Much Rumor of his coming, I am told,
Was spread abroad amongst them there of old,
And many waiting for him, long'd to see
What kind of King and Person he should be.
Oh! what provision now to entertain
Him did they make? my Soul's in grevious pain
To hear of this. Doth not the Trumpet sound,
And Joy and melody sweetly abound
I'th hearts of all, who heard of this good News?
How did they carry't to him, or how use
This lovely One, whom Angels do adore,
And Glorious Seraphims fall down before?

Ah! how methinks should they now look about
Some curious stately Structure to find out,
Some Prince's Palace for his Residence,
Or strong fair Castle for his safe Defence!
Don't people leap for Joy, whil'st Angels sing,
To welcome in their long expected King?
Do not the Conduits through all streets combine,
In stead of Water, wholly to run Wine?
Do not great Swarms of people 'bout him fly,
Like to some strange and glorious Prodigy?

What dos't thou say, my Muse, Art wholly mute?
Doth this not with thy present purpose suit?
Ah! yes, it does, but how shal't be exprest?
The grief that seizes on my panting Breast,
My heart into a trembling fit doth fall,
To think how he contemned was of all.
The Savage Monsters did this Prince reject,
And treat him with affronts and disrespect:
When he for them had taken all this pain,
They neither would him know nor entertain:
The very Inn, where first he went to lie,
For to vouchsafe him Lodging did deny.
No Room (alas!) had they; but if 'twere so
He would be there, to th' Stable he must go.
To'th' Stable then goes he contentedly,
Without the least reflection or reply.
The silly Ass, and labouring Ox must be
Companions now to Sacred Royalty;

Expos'd by Greater Brutes, he must (alas)
Take up with the Dull-Oxe, and painful Ass,
Who their great Maker and Preserver was;
And in the Manger's forc'd to make his bed,
Without one Pillow to support his Head.
Let Heav'n astonisht, Earth amazed be
At this ungrateful Inhumanity
Let Seas rise up in heaps, and after quit
Their Course, these Barbarous people to affright.
Oh! what a mighty condescention's here!
What story may with this, with this, compare?
Is this the entertainment, they afford!
And this a Palace for so great a Lord!
Is this their kindness to so dear a friend!
Do they him to a filthy Stable send!
Is that a Chamber suiting his Degree!
Or fit the Manger should allotted be,
For him to lay his Glorious Body in,
(Of whom the Prophet saith he knew no Sin?)
Whose footstool's Earth, and Heaven is his Throne,
What ne're a better Bed for such an one!
That has so vast a Journey undertook,
And for their sakes such Glory too forsook!
Is this great Prince with such mean Lodging pleas'd
So that he may of love-sick pains be eas'd!
O what a Lover's this! Almighty Love!
How potently dost thou affections move!
What shall a Prince be thus ore-come by thee,
And brought into contempt to this degree!

Sure this may melt an heart of hardest Stone,
When 'tis consider'd well and thought upon.
But no less worthy note is it to hear
The manner how this Soveraign did appear.
Was it in Pomp and outward Splendor bright?
Which doth the sensual heart of man invite,
To cast a view, and deep respect to show,
As unto haughty Monarchs here they do:
Like to a Prince, or like himself, did he
His beams display that every eye might see
In his blest Face most radiant Majesty?
No, no, so far was he from being proud,
That he thought fit his Glories all to shroud;
And, like the Sun, invelop'd in a Cloud,
Did vail his Heav'nly Lustre, would not make
Himself of Reputation, for the sake
Of that poor Soul he came for to seek out:
He saw 'twas good, that he might work about
His blest Design, himself thus to deny,
And shew a pattern of humility.
His glorious Robes he freely did lay off,
Though thereby made th' object of men's scoff,
Who viewing his despised mean condition,
Welcom'd him with contempt, scorn, and derision:
For 'twas 'ith form of a poor servant he
Appear'd to all, the very low'st degree,
Which amongst all the sons of Adam are
And doth not this still wondrous Love declare!
The people of that Country too I find
To gross mistakes so readily inclin'd,

They judg'd him a poor Carpenters Son born,
And stigmatiz'd him with it in great scorn.
Nay, some affirm he worked at the Trade,
For which they did him mightily upbraid.
How ever this we must to all proclaim,
He that all Riches had, most poor became;
That so the Soul through his sad poverty
Might be enriched to Eternity.
The Foxes of the Earth, and Birds of th' Air
Had more (alas!) than fell unto his share.
In holes the one, in nests the other fed;
But he, (poor he! no where to lay his head.
Not one poor Cottage had this precious King,
Although the rightful Heir of every thing.
The meanest man almost of Adam's Race
Seem'd to be in as good, nay better case,
Respecting outward Wealth and Glory here;
Those things no Price in his affections bear.
Silver and Gold (the Muckworm Wordling's Gods
He knew to be but more refined Clods
Of that same Earth, which he himself had made
Ripe by a Sun, scarce fit to be his shade.
No Mony, doubtless, had this Prince at all
In purse or coffer: for, when some did call
For Cæsars Tribute, then, behold, must he
Dispatch in haste a Servant to the Sea
In an uncertain Fishes mouth to spy
A piece of Coyn (Oh wondrous Treasury!)
With which he straight did Cæsars Tribute pay,
(Though small Engagement on the Children lay

Rather than hee'l be disobedient thought,
To raise the Tax, a Miracle is wrought.

But here tis like some may desire to know
The cause why he abas'd himself so low?

The Answer to which Query's very plain;
His Errand so requir'd, if he'd obtain
The Soul, for whom his Country he did leave,
He of his Glory must himself bereave.
'Twas Love that brought him into this disguise,
To come incognito to haughty Eyes,
To lay aside awhile his Robes of State,
And thus in Pilgrims weeds upon her wait:
Without this Form assum'd, these Raggs put on,
The mighty Work could never have been done.
She grov'ling lay below, unable quite
Once to aspire unto his Glorious Sight.
Therefore must he a Garb suitable take
To raise her up, and his dear Consort make;
He must descend, that she might mount above,
And joyn in a fit Entercourse of Love.
So the kind Sun beams do the Dunghil gild,
That it to Heaven may Exalations yeild,
With pregant Show'rs to fertilize the Field.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Apollyon King of Darkness.
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.

Nay, with one stroke, thou very well dost know,
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,

Although so meek, when I did him engage,
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.

Prince of Light.
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.

Prince of Light.
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.

Prince of Light.
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.

Prince of Light.
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.

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?

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.

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.
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;

And doubt not but I there shall hold her fast,
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. IIII.

Shewing what joy there was in Heaven amongst the Angels, upon the great Victory obtained over the black King. Shewing also how affectionately in a sweet heavenly manner, the Prince of light after this saluted the Soul he came to save, for whose sake he had passed throw all these sorrows. And how the ungrateful blind & deluded wretch slighted and dispised him in her Heart; choosing rather to hearken to, and side with Apollyon, King of Darkness, and to entertain the Monster of pollution, sensual Lusts, than to become a Spouse to so glorious a Prince; pretending she knew him not, neither would she believe he was the son of God, the blessed and eternal Potentate; demanding signs of him. Shewing upon this what strange and wonderful Miracles he wrought amongst the people, who notwithstanding all, went about to kill him. And how he was forc'd to fly from one Country to another, to preserve his life. And what hardships and difficulties he passed through, for love he bore to the poor Creature.

No sooner had this Overthrow been given,
But Troops of Angels did descend from Heaven,
Unto this Prince with great Congratulation,
Yeilding to him all humble Adoration.

Ah! how the glorious Seraphims did sing,
Bringing fresh Bayes of Triumph to their King.
They come to serve him, as was just and right,
Because his En'emy he hath put to flight.
Let Heaven rejoyce, and Earth resound his praise,
For victory or'e him, who did always
Disturb the Earth, and whom none could withstand;
Such was his strength and force in ev'ry Land.
Now might one hope the Prince from trouble's freed
And quickly will in his Affairs succeed,
Wherein he hath such great obstructions met,
Since first his feet upon the Earth were set.
Kindly he now doth the poor Soul salute,
And with such fervency begins his suit;
And in such sort he did himself declare
That none in Woing could with him compare.
No Orator on Earth like him could speak,
So powerfully, and sweet enough to break
And melt a breast of Steel, or heart of Stone,
If well his words be weigh'd and thought upon.
He to this purpose doth salute her Ears
Some times with sighs, sometimes with bitter tears.

Prince of Light.

Look unto me, dear Soul! behold 'tis I,
Who lov'd thee deeply from Eternity;
Who at at thy doors do stand, oh let me in,
And do not harken to that Monster, SIN.

Refuse me not, because my thoughts descend
Below themselves, so far to recommend
My dearest Love to thee; although that I
No Beauty can at all in thee espy:
I love not as your Earthly Lovers doe;
'Tis Beauty that engages them to woo,
Or the great Portion, or the Vertuous mind:
There's none of these in thee that I can find.
Yet my Affections burn, and Love's so much,
No mortal ever did experience such.
Why dost thou frown? Ah doth thy hardned Brow,
Not made at first to wrinkle, wrinkle now?
I am a Person of no mean Degree,
Although my heart is fixt and set on thee.
My Father, who hath sent me, is most high;
He rules above, and all beneath the Sky.
All Kingdoms of this World they are his own,
Whether inhabited, or yet unknown.
To this great Monarch (Soul) I am most dear,
What ere he has is mine, I am his Heir,
His choice Delight, his Joy, and only Son,
Moreover, He and I am only one.
My Father is in me, in him am I,
And was with him from all Eternity.
There's many Mansions in his House, and there
Of all Delight thou shalt enjoy thy share.
I'le raise thee unto Honour and Renown,
And arch thy Temples with a radiant Crown:
In Robes of State I'le clothe thee every day,
All glorious within shall thy Array

Be wrought of finest needle-work so bright,
As shall transcend and dazle mortals sight.
Then clear thine Eyes, and purifie thy Mind,
Accept my Love, and to thy self be kind,
All these Advantages thou sure shalt find.
But oh! such stubborn dulness who can bear?
This Soul seem'd not to mind, or lend an Eare
To any thing the Lord did thus declare;
But lay like one a sleep or rather dead,
Being by other Lovers falsely led.
She rather entertains him with a scoff,
And frames slight Answers for to put him off;
Would not believe he was of such descent;
His sighs, nor Tears, could move her to relent,
But joyns in League with other bitter Foes,
Who did contemptuously his Grace oppose.
Signes they demand, and tokens to be given,
To make it known that he was sent from Heaven.
He graciously to this did condescend,
That from Reproach he might himself defend,
To manifest he no Deceiver was,
Strange things in sight of all he brought to pass.
The Miracles he wrought did all amaze,
And highest wonder in the People raise.
The Lame and Impotent he made to walk,
The Blind he caus'd to see, the Dumb to talk;
Nay, such as were born blind, he made to see;
Which never any did, nor could, but he.
His Love was such, he daily went about
To find the Sick, and the Distressed out.

All kind of sad Diseases he did heal;
No Friend like him unto the Common-weal.
The Feaver, Phrensy, and the Leprosy,
Were all remov'd by him most speedily;
Yea, Bloody-fluxes too by him were cur'd,
When all the Doctors could no help afford:
Though all they had were on Physicians spent,
Yet whole by him they all were gratis sent.
'Twas meer Compassion, Bowels, and sweet Love,
And not Reward, did this Physician move.
By these bless'd deeds he soon obtain'd a Name,
And all the Country Eccho'd with his Fame;
So that vast multitudes did daily croud
After Him, and implore his Help aloud.
Poor wretches who with Devils were possest;
And sorely griev'd, could see no hopes of rest,
Were all deliver'd by his mighty Hand.
Such Pow'r had he Hell's power to Command,
That if he said, Satan, come out, straight-way
He forced was this Prince for to obey.
Thus as with smallest touch he heal'd their Evils,
He with a word cast out the foulest Devils.
Nay, more than this, that he might quite remove
All doubts from her he did so dearly love,
That she might know he power had to save,
He rais'd the dead to Life, though in the Grave
The Corps had buried been full four days;
This very thing must needs his Glory raise.
He still went on, and more strange things did do,
Though very few to him did kindness show.

Is it not plain he can do what he list,
Who holds the mighty Winds as in his fist?
He that gave bounds unto the Sea and Land,
What is not in his Power to command?
He that doth suck the Clouds out of the Seas,
And makes them fall again where e're he please;
He that doth brake th' amazing Thunder-Crack,
And bid the raging frightful Seas go back;
That doth the dreadful angry Ocean still,
And call Heavn's Meteors to obey his Will;
That counts the Sands, and doth the Stars survey,
And Hills and Mountains in a Ballance weigh;
No other Name for him can be Assign'd,
But God most high, Jehovah unconfin'd.
The precious Name, which to this Prince is given,
Shews who he is; he's call'd The Lord from Heaven.
Another Title doth the same express
He is Jehovah, our Righteousness.
Do not his Works, and his most glorious Name,
His blessed Nature unto all proclaim?
Shall not the Soul this gracious Lord receive?
Who worketh Wonders, that she may believe.
Sure if the Soul did doubt of his descent,
She now has cause with sorrow to repent.
The vilest Atheist it might satisfie,
Touching his glorious Birth and Dignity;
But not withstanding this those Evil men
In most base sort did this great Prince contemn:
Him impiously they grand Impostor call,
And with foul Blasphemies upon him fall.

Though in his life there was no stain nor spot,
Yet they would needs his Conversation blot:
Behold, said they, a person gluttonous!
You seldom read of any charged thus.
But that's not all, Drunkenness next did they
Unto the charge of this Just Person lay.
They did him often a Wine-bibber call,
That odious they might render him to all.
His holy Doctrine too they did despise,
And horrid things on that Account devise,
As if he taught all men to violate
God's holy Law, and thereby tolerate
All kind of sin, pollution, and offence;
Though of the Law he had such reverence,
As none had more, and daily shew'd his Love
Unto the same, in striving to remove
Those false and evil Glosses, whereby they
Its purer spiritual part had thrown away.
His Company and Country they upbraid,
Yea, and the Education which he had.
But that which may all persons most amaze,
Was those Reports which they of him did raise,
As if that he some curs'd Familiar had.
They cry, he hath a Devil, and is mad:
When he the unclean spirits does cast out,
By th' Prince of Devils he brings it about;
Those strange and wondrous things we see are done,
Are all perform'd by Belzebub alone.
Thus did Apollyon shew his hellish spight,
And them to coyn Black-slanders still invite,
Against this glorious Prince of Peace and Light.

But though they did blaspheme, and him disdain;
He bore it all, reviling not again;
But still retains his kindness, hopes to find
The Soul hereafter in a better mind.
For now he saw she was of sense bereav'd,
And by the Devil grievously deceiv'd.
But oh! consider what a Lover's here,
Who all these oft-repeated wrongs would bear,
And not be gone in fury and disdain,
Leaving her subject to Eternal pain.
To suffer thus in's Person, and his Name,
And undergo all this Reproach and Shame,
And yet continue constant in his Love,
This from her breast might sure all scruple move;
Nor was this all, for still he's tost about,
And Malice daily finds new projects out,
How to torment and grieve his tender heart,
Yet nothing could from her his kindness part.
They now with slie temptations on him set,
To draw him in, and some Advantage get.
This with kind Anger curled his blest Blood,
To see how stoutly they withstood their good.
It fill'd his Heart with sorrow, made him grieve,
They so hard-hearted were not to believe;
Tho he most mighty works among them wrought,
Yet to ensnare him they occasions sought.
Their tempting him, I find did grieve him more,
Than all the vile Affronts he met before.

Here might I stop, to reason with the Jews,
Who him deny, and slight the Gospel news.

May not his Miracles convince you quite,
He was the true Messias, Prince of Light;
How dare you to deny matter of Fact,
That he those great and mighty things did act?
For they were not in private Corners done,
But before all, in open face 'oth Sun.
Your Fathers might with ease laid o'pe the cheat,
Shame the Imposture, and the plot defeat,
If any grounds they had for to decry,
The Man himself, or his strange works deny.
Besides (you know) Josephus he doth own,
There was at that same time such a blest One,
And for him had so great a veneration,
That thus I find of him he makes Relation:
In the time of Tiberius's Reign (saith he)
One JESUS liv'd, a Man (if't lawful be
To call him so) for He strange things did do,
Yea mighty Miracles—This Records show.
But you perhaps in your forefathers stead,
Are apt to think he by the Devil did
Those great and wondrous things of which we read.
Now this is so absurd, ridiculous,
And vain, 'tis strange men should be cheated thus.
Can any think the God o'th Universe
Would be unfaithful, as to change the course
Of Nature, meerly to assert a Lye?
What Odium here is thrown on's Majesty!
Could Satan all these real Wonders do,
He all Religion quickly might o're-throw:

The foulest Errors make the world believe;
And him for the true God men would receive.
This is to set the Devil in God's place,
And bring the Holy One into Disgrace;
T' ascribe his glorious Attributes to one
That fain would be exalted in the Throne.
What Help or Touchstone then can Mortals have,
Their precious Souls from Satan's wiles to save,
If real Miracles perform he can?
This too would show God mindless were of Man:
And Moses who in Egypt Wonders wrought,
Might into Shame and great contempt be brought;
If this once granted be, which you would have,
Moses of old your Fathers might deceive.
Why might not he by th' Devil's power do
Those mighty Miracles, which Scriptures Show
He wrought in Egypt, and at the Red-Sea?
Against your Law 'twould be as strong a plea,
And thus both Testaments 'twould throw away.
To the Magicians could the Devil have given
Such power as Moses had receiv'd from Heaven,
He would such equal works have made appear;
None should have cry'd, The finger of God is here.
But now as Moses did this way confute
His faithless foes, who did with him dispute,
By greater deeds, and all their Arts o're-throw,
The self-same thing did JESUS also do.
The strongest Arguments he then did use,
For to convince the unbelieving Jews,

Were the great Signs & wonders which he wrought,
And did this way refell what e're they thought,
Against his Person, or his Doctrine either,
And they thereby were silenc'd all together:
My works, saith he, to me do witness give,
And for their sake you ought me to believe.
For if that I such mighty works do'nt do,
As none e're did or can pretend unto,
Believe me not: but if they witness give,
How unexcusable then will they you leave?
He also had a witness from Great John,
Besides his works which were divinely done;
And God himself from Heaven witness bore,
So great a Witness ne're was heard before.
The written Word likewise this Truth did tell,
If they the same would have consider'd well:
And therefore search the Scriptures, Sirs, saith he,
For they are those which testifie of me.
Thus every way you see the proofs are plain,
He was the true Messias you have slain;
Therefore repent you unbelieving Jews;
With fained scandals longer don't abuse
Your blessed Lord, nor's Gospel more refuse.

The dangerous troubles of the Prince of Light,
The scandals that he met with, and the spight;
The hatred by that Soul unto him shown,
Whom he design'd the Consort of his Throne;
Her weak pretences for this causeless scorn,
And with what wond'rous patience it was born!

How she receiv'd him with a scornful Brow,
We have in part set forth, and also how
By mighty Signs and Wonders he did prove
Both his divine Ascent, and matchless Love.

But now the Reader with attentive Ear,
And longing mind, desires, 'tis like, to hear
How the poor blinded Soul behav'd her now:
Does she not straight unto his Scepter bow?
Doth she not yield, and readily consent
To close with him, and heartily repent
She ever did his precious Love abuse,
And such a Proffer wilfully refuse?
He ample proof and witness now hath given,
That he was sent down to her out of Heaven;
His Noble Birth, and Sovereign Dignity
Sure now she can't, nay dares not to deny:
What can she further say, I pray what more
Hath she to urge, to keep him out o'th Door?
Or, has he left her, and will come no more?
What Prince would ever put up so much wrong,
Or wait upon a stubborn Soul so long?
Or who would ever make another tryal,
That has so often had such flat denyal?
Ah, no! he can't, his Love's so great and strong,
He hopes still to obtain her Love e're long.
See how with tears and sighs, and melting heart,
He woos, intreats, and doth his Love impart,
As one resolv'd he'l no denial have:
True Lovers press their suit ev'n to the Grave.

Prince of Light.

'Tis not Ungratefulness which yet can change
My purpose, or my heart from thee estrange.
My strong Affections on thee are so fixt,
That nought has them remov'd, or come betwixt
My Soul and thine; but had I lov'd thy face,
And that alone, my kindness had giv'n place;
My slighted suit should long e're this have ended,
And never more on thee had I attended.
Or, did I love thee for thine Heav'nly Eye,
I then might court Angelick Majesty:
Or, if the smoothness of thy Whiter Brow
Could charm mine eyes, or mine affections bow
To outward Objects, pollisht Marble might
Have given as much content, as much delight.
No, no, 'tis neither brow, nor lip, nor eye,
Nor any outward thing I can espy,
That has or could surprize my tender heart:
I know thy Nature, who, and what thou art.
Nor is it Vertue in a homely Case;
Wherein lies hid much rich and precious grace,
Together rarely mixt, whose worth doth make
Me love the Casket for the Jewels sake:
'Tis none of this! My eye doth pierce within,
But nothing there can I behold but Sin.
The reason of my Passion wholly lies
Within my Self, from whence it first did rise.

And though thou canst not it at present see,
Thou shalt, if thou wilt hearken unto me.
O come, poor Soul! and give me but thy heart,
And unto thee choice Love I will impart.
I come to call thee, and do call again:
O shall I not of thee my Suit obtain!
Dost not perceive what I for thee endure?
And may not all this thy Love to me procure?

The Soul seem'd not at all to mind this Friend,
Nor would she yet to him attention lend:
She could not in him any beauty see,
Nor did she know her own sad misery.
She bid him then depart, and said to all,
He had no form nor comeliness. And shall
I 'gainst my fancy foolishly admire,
Where I no beauty see to tempt desire?

Whilst he was thus extending forth his Love,
And studying all obstructions to remove,
That so he might the Souls affections get,
Behold, his Enemies with malice set
Themselves against him with such horrid rage,
It seems no less than's ruin to presage.
Ah! for this Prince methinks my heart doth ake,
To see what head against him they do make.
But that which doth the greatest trouble bring,
Is to see th' Soul combine against the King.
Did ever creature deal thus by a Lover,
Or ever such inhumaneness discover?
What hurt did this dear Prince unto her do,
That she would seek his utter overthrow?

Is this to recompence his fervent Love?
What will she now a Traitor to him prove?
If she his Love will not accept, must she
Expose him thus to shame and misery?
Is love to Sin, and filthy Lust so sweet,
That Jesus must be trodden under feet?
Because he would that Contract break asunder,
This surely is Earth's shame and Heavens wonder.
What? he that went about still doing good,
And in the gap of danger always stood
Them to Defend from Ruin, ah! shall he
The object of their Rage and Malice be?
He that to them no harm did do or think,
And yet must he this bitter potion drink?
Ah, precious Lord! how doth my spirit grieve,
To think what wrong from them thou didst receive:
So strange their malice, and so fierce their spight,
That if God's Word did not the same recite,
Who thereunto would any Credence give,
Or the Relation of their Deeds believe?

But, how was he expos'd, what did they do?
'Tis that (say some) that we would have you show.
Their hearts were fill'd with wrath, & up they rise,
And thrust him out o'th City: then devise
To get him up to th' brow of a great Hill,
And cast him headlong down, from thence they will
Break all his bones, and kill him out o'th way;
This they designed Holy Authors say.
Not that their Cruelty performed was,
For through the midst of them he free did pass.

His Pow'r Divine did his Protector stand,
And rescued him from all this treacherous Band.
Again, as he stood tendering his Love,
Striving their vain Objections to remove,
That so they might not all be ruin'd quite,
And blind-fold led to shades of endless night.
The common Rabble in a Tumult got,
Threaten to kill him on the very spot;
With hearts more hard than stone, up stones they take,
And throwing, vow they'l his Sepulcre make:
By which cruel show'r of Flints he now must die,
Unless through them he's able to 'scape by;
Which by his mighty Power indeed he did,
And carefully from them himself he hid:
And yet all this was on no other ground,
But because he their wisdom did confound:
'Cause he stood up the Truth to testifie,
And witness to his own Divinity:
Because he said, he was sent down from Heaven,
From Place to Place this Prince was daily driven.
No sooner were his feet out of one snare,
But ten i'th room thereof devised were.
Of killing him in Jury was a talk,
To Galilee therefore he thought fit to walk:
But staid not long, for to Jerusalem
He quickly went to shew himself to them:
And though he knew his Life they daily sought,
Yet in the Temple openly he taught,
And did again his Suit of Love renew,
Yet would the Soul no kindness to him shew.

Long had he not been here, but presently
The Scribes and Pharisees did him espy,
And straight agreed their Officers to send,
Him without any cause to apprehend:
But when they came, and did him see and hear,
Poor Souls! they all most strangely smitten were
With awful Reverence, and trembling fear!
Untoucht, they leave him, and return again
To tell their Masters, Violence was vain;
They highly spake in his just Commendation,
And told his Wonders, worthy Admiration.
Have you not brought him then? the Scribes do cry:
No Sirs, (alas) we see no reason why;
We never saw, nor heard the like: Who can
Lay hands on such a blest and God-like Man?
Thus did the Prince escape their Rage that day,
But other Snares Apollyon still did lay.

CHAP. V.

Shewing how the people of that Land in a base manner used John the beloved servant of Jesus, the Prince of Light, who (for his Master's sake) was barbarously murthered; And how narrowly the Prince himself escaped. As also shewing how he again and again tendered his indeared love to the Soul, and how unkindly she denied his Suit. Moreover, how Vicinius—(a Neighbor) hearing of this great News, enquired of Theologus concerning the Creature this Prince in such a manner had set his affections upon. The miserable and deplorable condition of the Soul discovered and laid open, being infected with a loathsome Disease full of Ulcers and Running sores from head to foot, naked, wounded, and in her blood, her eyes also being put out; and this the Prince knew before he came from Heaven, his own Country: shewing, that as she was in her fallen state, she was the object of his love and desire.

Before this Prince did in that Land appear,
His servant came his way for to prepare.
Such an Ambassadour he was indeed,
That we of him in Sacred Story read;

That of all those that born of Women are,
None was so great, nor with him might compare.
Yet was the King of that same Land so bold,
As on this gracious Person to lay hold,
And into a vile Prison cast is he,
For witnessing against Iniquity.
Herod would marry one most near of Kin,
But John affirms that 'tis an horrid sin,
For him to have his Brother Philip's Wife:
And for asserting this, he lost his Life.
To please a wanton Harlots Dancing pride,
The Prophet's head from's body they divide.
This doubtless did his Master greatly grieve,
To see they should him thus of John bereave;
His servant John, whom all the people own
To be a Prophet, yea a mighty one;
Though the chief work that he was sent about,
Was to describe and point this Saviour out.
He faithful was, and show'd his constant Love,
Told them his Prince descended from above:
So Great, in pow'r, the Latchets of his shoes
He was not worthy to unty, or loose.
The loss of such a Servant needs must be
Great ground of sorrow. But, alas! If we
With care do mind what after came to pass,
We shall conclude with him much worse it was.
For Herod now, like to his Predecessor,
Proceeds from sin to sin, until no lesser
A Crime he does attempt, than for to kill
The Prince of Light himself; Thereby to fill

His measure up, as some before had done,
For seeking the dear Life of this Just one.
But of this Plot he had such Information,
As quite defeated their black Combination.
Ah! to and fro, how was he daily hurld,
Whilst he abode in this ungrateful World.
His persecutions were so great, that He
Was often forced for his Life to flee,
To flit from Town to Town, from place to place;
For, Blood-hound like, they did him daily chase.
From Jury to Samaria he did go,
And down from thence to Galilee below.
From Nazareth he fled to Capernaum,
And long he staid not when he thither came:
For he was tost about continually,
And found no Harbor nor security.
Sometimes quite beyond Jordan he would get,
Yet even there with dangers was beset.
Small Rest, alas, he had in full three years,
His days were fill'd with sorrow, sighs and tears.
Oft may we read he wept, but never find
He laught, or was to merriment inclin'd.
The Prophet said, with grief he was acquainted,
When long before he forth his Person pointed.
And few there were did him at all regard,
So blinded were their Eys, their Hearts so hard.
He was despis'd almost by every one,
Rejected scornfully and trod upon.
And the poor Soul, for Love of whom he came,
Expos'd him daily to the greatest shame

No countenance would she to him afford,
Although so high a Prince, so great a Lord.
She bid him hold his peace, his Suit desist,
And all's indearing proffers did resist.
No more would she vouchsafe his face to see,
But hid her self from him continually.
Far from his presence with delight she rouls
In filthy Puddles, and in Loathsom holes:
Nay, did combine with his most Cruel Foes,
To lay upon him stripes and bitter Blows;
To break his heart with often saying Nay;
Or by surprize him bloodily to slay.

Object.
But some may ask, Why th' people of that Land
Did rise against him thus on every hand?
Why should they manifest such causeless hate,
When he'd not injure them at any rate,
But sought their peace and everlasting good?
'Tis pity such a Prince should be withstood.

Answ.
One Reason, Sirs, of this their baneful spight,
Was meerly 'cause he was the Prince of Light.
'Twas from that bitter enmity you read
Between the Serpent's and the Woman's seed.
Another cause of the Contempt they show,
Is 'cause they neither him, nor's Father know.
But that which most of all their Hatred breeds,
Is his reproving of their Evil deeds:
Because he did expose each horrid Sin,
Yea, and ript up their filthiness within:

Through each Religious Mask, and trim disguise,
Their canker'd Breasts lay open to his Eys.
He knew their Hearts, & them he would not spare,
And thence to him such Malice they did bear.
But 'twas Apollyon, (whose deceit and Lies
Abroad amongst the people did devise)
Most of these Troubles which on him did rise.
No stone that Monster left unturn'd, that he
Might bring this Soveraign Prince to misery,
Though all in vain: For he miscounts his sum,
Alas! the fatal hour's not yet come.
Christ still persists the stubborn Soul to woo,
Intreats her, not her self thus to undo.
He is not gone, behold, he's at her door,
And patiently Admission doth implore.
He knocks, he calls, and doth his Suit renew,
Until the Heavens his gracious Head bedew,
Until his Locks with drops o'th Night are wet,
And yet from her can no kind Answer get.
Oh! hark I pray unto his melting words,
Enough to pierce ones heart, like sharpest swords.

Prince of Light.

Soul! Harken to me or thou art undone,
I cannot leave thee thus, nor yet be gone,
I see thy state; thy state I pity too,
Thy treacherous Lovers seek thine overthrow.
It is in vain for me to ask thy Love,
Until thou breakst with them, and dost remove

Thy Heart from those that thy Affections have,
Who to vile Lusts thy Faculties inslave.
What dost thou think I can have in mine Eye?
What self-advantage will accrew thereby?
What gain I, if thou grantest my request?
All that I beg's thy greatest Interest.
I ever happy was, and so shall be,
Although at present thus distrest for Thee.
How can'st thou, cruel Soul, thus let me stand,
Barr'd out of Doors, whilst others do command
The choicest Room within thy yielding Breast,
Lodgings too good for such destructive Guests.
Believe me, poisonous Toads and Serpents lurk
Within thine Arms, which will thy ruin work:
Those Lovers which thou keep'st so close within
Are Murderers. Trust not that Monster SIN,
Nor any of his Hellish Company;
For though no harm thou dost at present spy,
But wantonly presum'st to sport and play,
And canst not see the fatal snares they lay:
Soul! o'pe the Door, and I'le discover all
The secret Plots, devised for thy fall;
Or, push the Window back, let in some light,
And I will shew thee a most dismal fight:
Thy self I'le shew thee, which couldst thou behold,
Thou'dst see thou art undone, betray'd and sold
To slavery, from whence there's no Redemption,
Torments, from wch ther's not the least exemption.
Then wake, look now, behold thy wretched plight,
Or straight thou r't seized with eternal Night.

The Soul is deaf, or certainly she's dead,
Or by some pow'rful Magick Charms misled:
For she no Answer in the least doth give:
Sad 'tis with them whom Satan doth deceive.

How blind are Creatures in their natural state?
Oh! how insensible and desperate!
They sleep securely, and will never hear,
Till direful Thunder bore their stupid Ear:
Boldly they frollick on Hell's smoaky Brink,
And never on its gaping dangers think,
Till swallow'd down, to endless flames they sink.

But silence now! Here comes a Reverend Friend,
A Servant to the Prince, pray, Sirs, attend:
He's sent about the Business that's depending,
Oh! that it might obtain an happy ending:
He is a man his Master loves most dear,
And he to him doth like Affection bear:
His int'rest he will now be sure t' improve,
That all obstructions he may quite remove,
Which in the way of the poor Soul doth lie,
For whose sad state, lo! tears stand in his Eye:
His Heart is full, his Spirit greatly griev'd,
To think how she by crafty Sin's deceiv'd;
And seeing what his glorious Master bears,
His Soul's almost dissolved into Tears.

Theologue.

I from the Great and mighty Prince am sent,
To see, vile Soul! If thou wilt yet repent,
And o'pe thy Eyes to view what thou hast done,
In piercing the dear heart of such an one,
As is that Soveraign Lord thou dost abuse,
And all his offers shamefully refuse.
Two things consider throughly: first of all,
Thy sad and wretched state under the Fall,
Which thou receivedst many years ago,
When Eden's Groves bewail'd thine overthrow.
Ah! Didst thou know thy lost undone Condition,
Sure it must move thee unto great Contrition;
'Twould make thee roar, and mightily condole
Thy woful state, O! thou condemned Soul!

The second thing is this, O! mind with speed,
The worth of him whose Soul for thee doth bleed!
Didst thou but know his Dignity and Birth,
Soon wouldst thou say, none's like him upon Earth.
Nor is this all: for further I declare
No other help thou hast, far off, or near;
'Tis he who is thy choice and only Friend;
Reject him still, and sad will be thine end.
Shall he such grief and sorrow undergo?
And unto him wilt thou no kindness show?
Would he thy guilty Soul from Treason free,
By making of a marriage-League with thee?

Shall not his Love, nor thy distressed Case,
Court thee in prudence to his safe Embrace?
Will nothing work upon thee to Relent,
Nor be a means to bring thee to Repent?
I pray thee, Soul! these things lay to thy heart,
And unto me thy true Resolve impart.

Soul.

What mean you thus to vex and grieve my mind?
My Heart's to other Lovers more inclin'd.
It lies not in your power, to command
Against my will: and well I understand
What's best for me; I am for present ease:
He suits not my Conditions, doth not please
My curious fancy; I'le content mine Eye.
Will you the liberty of Choice deny?
You must indeed have some mysterious Arts,
To change the secret sympathies of Hearts:
If that you ever make me to comply,
So as to loath the Jewel of mine Eye.
What! force Affection? who can violate
The Law of Nature? weigh my present state:
Can Earth forget her burthen, and ascend?
Or yet, can Flames aspiring downward bend?
For if Fire should descend, and Earth aspire;
Earth were no longer Earth, nor Fire, Fire.
Even so, dear Sir! I find it is with me;
Consenting, I no more my self shall be.

As Love is free, so are its bonds as strong
As Death; to break them is a grievous wrong.
Can the kind Heavens do a damage greater,
Than to destroy and ruin their poor Creature?
Or, shall I think the Righteous God will fill me
With such strange Joys, which if enjoy'd, will kil me?
Can I believe things 'bove my sense and reason?
And ignorant be when guilty of high Treason?
How can I think my self a Criminal,
When of the fact I nothing know at all?
My present state is good, I know no cause
To blame my self for breach of unknown Laws.
Why shall injurious Friends such things alot,
To have me place my Heart where I love not,
And break the League with those I love so dear?
These hardships are too great for me to bear.
Those Joys therefore in which I have delighted,
Shall not for fancied sweetness e're be slighted.
He whom you call The glorious Prince of Light,
Is not a person lovely in my sight;
He's not so modish, pleasant, Debonair,
As those brisk Gallants, whom my Fancy share.
I must have other Eys wherewith to see,
Before he can be countenanc'd by me.

This said, away the foolish Soul doth fly;
Will hear no more, but with a scornful Eye
Neglects her Bliss, & Death's dark paths doth trace,
Rather than saving Truths of Life imbrace.
Who being gone, a Neighbour does appear,
That would be glad fully her Case to hear;

And that he clearly might have it exprest,
He thus himself to Theologue Addrest.

Vicinus.
Grave Sir! Since in your Reverend face I read
All works which do from Curtesy proceed,
I am emboldned to desire of you
Some satisfaction in a point or two.
I late have heard some Rumours of such News,
As puts my wondring spirits to a muse:
'Tis of a Prince unparallel'd for Love,
That took a Journey down from Heav'n above
To seek himself a Spouse; and as I hear
She unto him will no Affection bear;
Though for Descent, Riches and Beauty too,
Never the like did mortal Creatures know.
This Soul-amazing, Sense-bereaving story,
Has fill'd my ravisht Ears: What matchless Glory
Is his, whose Love is far beyond Expression?
And what Creature is this must have possession
Of such a glorious Heart? Sure she's no less
Than one of High Descent, some Emperess,
Or Virgin Queen at least, whose Beauty's rare,
Mixt with choice Vertue, both beyond compare:
The total sum doubtless of every Grace,
Makes a composure in her Heav'nly Face;
And there all true Perfection is united,
To make one Phœnix, that has thus invited

This mighty Prince to do her so much Honour,
As seek her Love and set his Heart upon her,
To sue so earnestly, and undertake
Mighty Atchievements only for her sake;
For to encounter with a wrathful Foe,
That sought an universal overthrow
Of mortal Creatures, and in every Land
Subjected all unto his proud Command.
The strangeness of it sets me all on fire,
And kindles in my heart a strange desire,
Impatient of delay, till you discover
The Creature that has got so rare a Lover.

Theologue.
To put a period to thy Admiration,
Come let thy Wonder-smitten Cogitation;
Now give attention, and I soon will show
The truth of what thou dost desire to know.
The Creature whom this mighty Prince doth grace
With Love, lives very near unto this place.
We all do her as our next Neighbour own;
Much is she talkt of, yet but seldom known.
You sure have heard before, she was by Birth
Of high descent, the splendor of the Earth,
Unblemisht Beauty, neither spot nor stain,
Whilst in her Virgin state she did remain.
To speak her pedigree, in Truth she springs
From no less Root than from the King of Kings:

Whom Scriptures call The Father of all Spirits;
And none but he that Blessed Name inherits.
From him she did at first derive her Name,
And Heaven and Earth eccho'd her glorious Fame:
Fair Cynthia, Illustrious Queen of Night,
With all her borrowed Rays, ne're shone so bright.
The King's true Image in her face did shine.
No Glory like to Glory that's Divine.
But that which doth the greatest Wonder raise,
And may the quick'st profoundest Wits amaze,
Is the sad change, and miserable state
She's in, since first she did degenerate;
Her Lustre tarnisht, and her Beauty faded,
Filth and Corruption every part invaded:
Oh! it was then on her this Prince did look,
When of her God and guide she was forsook:
For though she was indeed thus nobly born,
Her Blood is tainted, and her state forlorn.
She that in splendor once appear'd so bright,
Is now deform'd, and blacker than the Night.
Foul putrifaction doth her Beauty cover,
She's full of Ulcers, and defil'd all over.
Th' infection spreads it self in every part,
Her eyes, her hands, her head, but most her heart;
Her feet, whose loyal steps she once divided
To follow the great God, have so backslided,
That they most swiftly from him run astray
In every sinful and forbidden way.
Her Arms are filled with unchast Embraces,
She's stain'd her Beauty, and lost all her Graces.

Her Breath once sweeter than Arabian Spices,
Whose rare Perfumes make Houses Paradises,
Offensive is to all that come but near her,
Her Tongue, is so unclean, God loaths to hear her.
Which was her Glory in her youthful days,
When she with joy sung forth his blessed Praise.
But that which may sound stranger in thine Ear,
And seem indeed too hard for Love to bear,
Is her Adult'ries, her unchast delights
Her Amorous Kisses, wherewith she invites
Her wanton Lovers; nothing else can prove
So much distastful to unspotted Love;
As when the Embers of Lusts raging fires
Burn in the Bosom of unchast desires.

Vicinus.
But stay, Dear Sir! What Lover is't would kiss
A Creature loathsom, and so vile as this?
And how came she into so sad a Case,
That once adorned was with so much Grace?

Theologue.

If you kind Neighbour, please to lend an Ear,
These things in order I will fully clear.
Her Lovers are more loathsom far than she,
With whom she's joyned in Affinity.
From them she took the foul disease at first,
And ever since remains vile and accurst.

The Serpent did beguile her with such fruit,
As did her Vitals poison, and pollute.
Not that the fruit in 'moral sense was evil:
But 'cause she took it, tempted by the Devil,
After on pain of Death it was forbid:
Ah! t'was from hence it so much mischief did.
Besides, she's guilty of another Deed,
She's made a League with one that did proceed
From Hell's black Region, where her wanton Eye
Could see no Object but Deformity;
A Contract she has made, I say, with one,
Begot by proud, but curs'd Apollyon;
Monstrous by Nature, and as vile by Name,
Ah! she has chosen him unto her shame:
His nature's poisonous, his very Breath
Is so infectious, that it threatens Death
To every one to whom he is united;
Yet with this Monster is her heart delighted:
Who to my Prince is a most desperate Foe,
And to speak plain, the cause of all his woe.
Since first the Soul was with base Lust acquainted,
From Top to Toe all over is she tainted.
She that was once so rare a comely Creature,
Sin has not left her now one lovely Feature.
The Splendid Beauty of the whole Creation,
Is thus become a meer Abomination.
For since her self to Lust she prostituted,
Her inward Faculties are so polluted,
That she's become unto Jehovah's Eye,
The truest pourtraict of Deformity.

She that sometimes no Evil understood,
Is now become an Enemy to Good:
For this vile Monster by Apollyon's pow'r,
Did not only corrupt the Soul all ov'r,
But very cruel they did further prove,
Whilst they pretended kindnesses and Love;
For they most wickedly put out her Eyes,
She might not see her own Deformities:
And being thus both blinded, and defil'd,
Was also rob'd, and treacherously spoil'd
Of all the Jewels which her Soveraign gave her,
Whilst she remained in his Love and favour;
Of all her goodly Vestments they bereft her,
And stript her naked, she had nothing left her.
Nothing to hide her shameful nakedness,
But filthy Rags, how loathsom you may guess.
Besides all this, they wounded her full sore,
And left her sadly weltring in her Gore,
Expecting Death each moment she did lie,
A loathsom spectacle to passers by,
Unhelpt, unpitied too by every Eye.

Each humane Soul that is not born again,
In this sad state doth certainly remain.
The rich, the poor, the wise, the old, the young,
Though ne'r so high, so beautiful and strong
They seem, or think themselves, in truth they are
In as bad Case as we've described here.

Vicinus.
Sir! You have fully answer'd my Desire;
Yet let me be so bold as to inquire
One passage more, since happily I see
You can inform all such as ign'rant be
Of these weighty Affairs; blest be the Lord
That so much Wisdom doth to you afford.
O! that there were more of you in our Land,
That to the Truth might always faithful stand.
But tell me, if it mayn't too tedious prove,
Whether this Prince that manifests such Love,
Knew her sad state when he came from above?
Did he her filthy bad Condition know
Before he came from Heaven, or did show
That precious kindness which his Breast retain'd
Unto her, even after she was stain'd?
May be his Eye upon the Soul was plac'd,
Before God's Image in her was defac'd:
And as consider'd so, then doubtless he
Might find some Cause to her so kind to be.
But, if as she did in pollution lie,
And so consider'd, he did cast his Eye
Upon the Creature; then I must declare
It may astonish all that of it hear.

Theologue.
The Question you propound is very good;
And would t' were throughly weigh'd and understood.
The Answer's easy; But I greatly fear
Some mind it not enough, who chosen are.
Before the World was made he fully knew
Ev'n what below would afterwards insue:
He knew the Creature, Man, would sin and fall,
And in sad misery himself inthral.
The time therefore when first he cast an Eye
To be her Suiter, (our Security)
It was not when she did her Grace inherit,
Then one would think she might his favour merit;
'Twas not when she was in prosperity,
But when she in her Blood and filth did lie.
Her time of sorrow, was his time of Love,
Her misery did bring him from above.
Whilst she in actual bold Rebellion lives,
His Grace and offer'd Pardon then he gives.

Vicinus.
Sir! You have said enough, I am amaz'd,
Strange wonderment within my Spirit's rais'd.
The nature of his Love who can conceive?
Such Love as this no mortal Creatures have.

I pray go on, and further now let's know
Concerning her estate, her Bliss, or Woe.

Theologue.
You'l find it worse and worse; and what's behind
Will strange Impressions make upon your Mind:
For now you'l hear what Justice has to say,
What horrid Crimes he to her charge will lay.
And though she seems undaunted without fear,
Once more I'e try if she will lend an Ear.

CHAP. VI.

Shewing how Theologue, the Prince's Spokesman, indeavour'd to obtain the love of this poor Creature for his blessed Master, by whom the aggravation of the Creatures sin and misery is layed open; the Soul is in debt ten thousand Talents, worse than nothing. Moreover, shewing how the Creature was guilty of high Treason against the Soveraign Lord Jehovah; is also Arraigned and condemned to be burned alive. A Dialogue or discourse between the Divine Attributes: Justice cryes for Execution, to have the fatal blow struck; Mercy steps in. Justice must be satisfied. Goodness and Mercy will not lose their Glory, being alike esteemed by God. Divine Wisdom

reconciles all the other Attributes, and makes them meet together in a sweet harmony: the Soul being condemned to die, the Prince sees no other way to obtain her for his own, but by satisfying Justice, and becoming Surety, and yielding himself up to die for her.

Theologue.
How is it Soul! art minded yet to leave
Thy Lusts, and Lovers, and to Jesus cleave?
Dost not perceive the sad state thou art in
By curs'd Apollyon, and his off-spring, SIN?
Wilt thou for evermore thy self destroy,
And not accept of Health? wilt not enjoy
One who in value doth all Worlds excel?
Wilt thou refuse in Paradise to dwell?
Dost see thy state, thy bloody state? oh speak!
My bleeding heart for thee doth greatly ake.

Soul.
You had my Answer plain enough before:
Forbear, I pray, and trouble me no more.
I do'nt believe what you have said is true;
Such pains I never felt, nor sickness knew:
But if my state were worse than yet I see,
I will not have you thus to trouble me.
I have all things which naturally delights me,
And from them you shall not deter, nor fright me;

You know the Proverb used in our Land,
Each Tub shall upon its own Bottom stand.

Theologue.

Soul, b' not so rash, be more considerate;
Ponder on things before it be too late.
Sith what I said before no good can do,
More of thy wretchedness I now will show;
And if that fails, then afterwards I'le leave thee,
And o're into the hands of Justice give thee.

First, from God's Word I have Authority
To lay before thee thy great poverty.
Thy Soveraign Lord most highly is distasted
For all the precious Treasure thou hast wasted.
First, of his Glory thou hast him bereav'd,
And to rebel against him been deceiv'd.
Next, thy whole self to him 'tis thou dost owe,
Yea all thou either art, hast, or canst do,
Which thou hast not regarded hitherto:
But to thy self, and not to him dost live,
Who did thy self at first unto thee give,
And from whom thou dost ev'ry thing receive.
Thy knowledg, judgment, and thy memory,
Th' excellent nature of each Faculty,
Should all have to, and for him, been laid out,
As being all his Goods; Soul! look about,
For time, for Health, and for the day of Grace;
Thou must be brought before the Judge's Face:
And for thy Riches, and all things thou hast,
Which thou Imbezel'st, and dost vainly wast,

A strict Account must at the Bar of Heaven
By thee in a short time be surely given.
Ten thousand Talents doth thy God demand;
Which thou canst neither pay, nor yet withstand
His dire proceedings, 'cause he is most Just,
And thou but sinful Ashes and vile Dust.
Thou wilt be seiz'd, and in a Prison laid,
Till the last Mite be satisfi'd and paid.
Canst thou, poor Soul! dost think quit the old score,
When thou contractst new debts still more & more?
Would not a Friend that's able to defray
All thy vast Debts, and a full Ransom pay
To thy just Creditor, most welcom be,
If such an one could be found out for thee?
But things yet worse, I fear, there are behind,
The truth of which most certainly thoul't find.

Hark, trembling Soul! thou to the Bar art cited,
And for high Treason there dost stand Indicted,
Committed by thee 'twas in antient time,
When thou didst dwell in Eden, in thy prime:
When thou hadst flourisht there but a short season,
Thou didst contract that guilt of horrid Treason
Against thy Soveraign, in whose Princely Eye
Was Grace and favour mixt with Majesty:
Gracious to pardon many great Offences,
And yet severe to punish Insolences.
But thou both Grace and Justice didst despise,
And in thy Heart didst evil things surmise
Against thy Soveraign Lord, and secretly
Join'st with his Foes in close Conspiracy.

'Twas with the King of Darkness thou didst close,
Obeyd'st his will, and didst thy God oppose.
A dreadful Sentence then against thee past,
Which ne're by humane Art could be reverst.
Thy Sentence was in Prison long to lie,
And for thy fact at last Condemn'd to die.
And Death on thee did seize the self-same time,
When thou commitst that high and fearful Crime;
The sad effects of it I this Day see,
Thou still ly'st dead in thine Iniquity.
Ah! I may preach untill my heart doth ake,
And it on thee will no Impression make.
Thou art depriv'd of Life and Light of God,
And long hast thou in this estate abode.
But a worse Death doth in thy Sentence lie,
(Though very few on it will cast an Eye)
Condemn'd to suffer everlasting pains,
And on thee then were fastned heavy Chains.
And though thy Execution be delay'd,
Yet 'tis by means of Jesus only stay'd.
His precious Grace preserves thee from that fire,
Whose torments once begun, shall ne'r expire.
That Soul-amazing Sentence who can bear
The thoughts of it, and not let fall a tear?
What Malefactors are Condemn'd to die,
But on the sense of Death's approaching nigh,
Contracts not horrour on their Souls thereby?
What then to suffer Death for evermore,
Where Torments ne're abate, nor will be o're?

To be a thousand tedious Ages Rackt,
Not Dead, yet always in the dying Act.
A fiery Furnace with a sevenfold heat
We read of, yet its flames were not so great,
But that they soon would languish and grow cold;
Whereas these Tortures, still increasing, hold.
If e're thou shouldst be cast into that place,
Before thou dost take hold of Love and Grace,
There's this will then thy sorrows aggravate,
None will thee pity in that wretched state.
Never was Malefactor in distress,
But met with pity either more or less;
And though it do not take away the grief,
Yet where there's pity, there's some small Relief.
But if thou dost this fearful Sentence bear,
There's none to pity, none to shed a tear.
O think of this, alas! thy wretched Eyes
Are blinded now, thou basely dost despise
The best of Comfort, Joy and Consolation,
For love to Sin, horrid Abomination!
Thou swell'st in pride, unmindful of thine end,
And seest no need of comfort from a Friend:
But what wouldst thou for such a Friend then give,
And for those Comforts thou mayst now receive?
Dost not thou tremble at this frightful news?
Tremble at least at that which next ensues.
Three things there are, three Circumstances great,
Which much thy final woe will aggravate:
Which severally unto thee I'le relate,
That thou mayst think upon thy future state.

First, from thy high Descent thy birth did crown
Thee with the greatest Honour and Renown,
That ever any had upon the Earth,
Thou being own'd a Soveraign Queen by Birth.
Yet that which did so much advance thy fame,
Was not alone the Honour of thy Name,
As the rare properties of thy sweet Nature,
A most transcendent and accomplisht Creature;
An Heav'n-composed frame, as if thou'dst bin
Deriv'd from some Celestial Seraphim.
When great Jehovah's fruitful Word had made
The whole Creation, touching thee, he said,
This Creature shall alone our Image bear,
Whom all things else shall reverence and fear;
Our Sacred Portraiture we solely place,
In this sweet Creatures Heaven-erected face.
And when he sent his first-begotten down,
No other form or Image must he own.
The Angels Nature wholly he refuses,
And rather Humane Soul and flesh he chuses.
Alas! there's not a greater aggravation,
Than for a person of the highest station
To be thrown down into the deep'st Abyss
Of woe and sorrow! oh! how sad is this?
Thy self caus'd change a miserable Creature,
Will surely make thy Torments far the greater.

The second Circumstance of Aggravation,
Is worthy of thy serious observation.
And that I may more fully make it known,
Under two Heads I'le briefly lay it down.

First, from the timely notice that was given,
By thy most Soveraign Lord, the King of Heaven,
When with his glorious Image he had grac'd thee,
And in fair Eden's fruitful Garden plac'd thee;
Ordain'd thee Mistress of that famous Bower,
Where thou mightst see his Glory every hour;
Granting whatever might accommodate
Thy pure perfect spotless Virgin state;
Excepting one reserved Fruit alone,
Which did indeed of Right belong to none
But to himself; that hidden Mysterie,
Which in the midst of Paradise did lie;
To know what Evil was as well as Good,
Which never could by men been understood,
But by an Art of the most horrid Evil,
And hearkning to, and siding with the Devil;
The dire effects to thee were told most plain,
The danger and the loss thou shouldst sustain;
The loss of Life, the loss of Eden's Glory,
The loss of God; a lamentable Story.
Warning was giv'n, God strictly did require,
On pain of Death, thou shouldst not once desire,
Nor tast, nor touch, nor cast a longing Eye
Upon this fatal Fruit, which certainly
Would straight procure thy final overthrow:
This timely notice shall augment thy Woe.
Fore-warn'd, fore-arm'd, you know we use to say:
Thou wast fore-warn'd, and yet didst go astray.
Contemptuous Soul! alas, how couldst thou think
The mighty God would at Rebellion wink?

Though he is said to wink at Ignorance,
Presumption is a different Circumstance.
Thou knew'st before-hand if thou didst trangress,
Assured Death would follow, and no less;
The Lord had said it, he that gave us breath,
Said, thou shouldst die, & yet thou feardst not Death.
This is the height, as well as spring of Evil,
To doubt and mistrust God, yet trust the Devil.
Against God's sacred Truth to shut ones Eyes,
And credit blindfold th' Father of all Lies.
Ah Soul! 'twas listning to a wanton lust,
That was the cause thou didst at first distrust
The glorious Lord, and falsely to surmise,
He was unwilling that thou shouldst be wise;
Afraid that thou shouldst know as much as He,
And grow a Rival to his Deity.
This blasphemous Conceit the Devil first,
In thine already wicked fancy nurst:
“'Tis (saith this Prince of Darkness) God's intent
“In this unjust Restraint, but to prevent
“Thy being like himself: for he doth know
“If once thou taste this Fruit, it will be so.
“Do thou but try, and taste, and presentlie
“Thou'lt find thy dim, dark Eye shall open'd be.
“This hidden Secret will be understood,
“And thou'lt know Evil, as thou now know Good
“You shall become as Gods: and I pray when
“'Tis so, what fear you? who can punish then?
“Your wisdom may the threatned Death evade,
“And with an equal pow'r Heav'ns pow'r upbraid

Thus spake the Tempter, and thou straight didst yield,
And treacherously to him didst quit the field.
Forthwith the fatal Fruit with impious hand,
Thou pluckst, and eatst, against thy God's command,
Branding thy self, and thy posterity,
With Treasons Guilt and endless misery.
And here, vile Soul! I cannot chuse but tell
Thee one thing more that will increase thy Hell,
The Devil had no power to compell
Thee to have tasted this his poisonous Feast,
But wilfully thou hast God's Law transgrest:
For though thou hadst a pow'rful Sword to weild,
Tempted to Lust, thou cowardly didst yield:
Thou to thy self dost thy destruction owe,
And this doth greatly aggravate thy woe.
If want of strength or weapons, if oppression
Do force a Man to give up his possession,
He is excus'd, and his unhappy fall
Condol'd, lamented, and bewail'd of all.
But he deserveth neither love nor pity,
That unconstrain'd surrenders up a City;
When he has pow'r to make strong opposition,
Furnisht with Arms and warlike Ammunition,
Yet at one slender Summons yields his Fort;
The mis'ries he sustains in such a sort,
Reflect upon himself, and do redouble
His conscious Anguish, self-accusing Trouble.
Just as the Southern Sun with burning beams,
Reflecting from a Wall with fierce extreams,

Above its natural strength or wonted course,
Scorches and burns with a far greater force:
So do those Flames, first kindled with desire,
Grow dangerous, and prove the stronger fire.
The wounds receiv'd from self-confounding Arms,
Have ever done poor Souls the greatest harms.

There's yet another Circumstance behind,
That aggravates thy smart, which, prethee mind.
When once thy fearful Torments are begun,
Thy fatal Glass will never cease to run;
Years fill'd with months, and months with weeks retire,
Weeks fill'd with days, & days with hours expire;
And hours in nimble minutes swiftly fly
Unto their End. But in Eternity
There is no End, nor will thy woes diminish,
Although years, moneths, weeks, and hours finish.
The toilsome Day when once it does expire,
All Creatures here to pleasing rest retire,
Slaves, Bondmen, Prisoners, Captives, all have ease,
No Drudgery so great, but then doth cease,
Each bustling Day ends in a Night of peace.
But thou must look to be with pains opprest,
Where mid-day torments find no night of Rest.
Death puts a period to the greatest grief,
I'th silent Grave the weary find relief:
But wish't-for Death from thee shall fly away,
Eternity's a never-ending Day.
Where th' angry mouth of Justice loud doth cry,
Here must thou ever, ever, ever lie.

How miserable! ah how sad's thine end!
When thou in vain shalt court Death for thy friend.
Men now do fly from Death, whilst Death pursues,
But then shall seek to Death, who will refuse
At their Request such favour to afford,
As frees them from that Breath giv'n by the Lord.
Death knows no pity: Nay, observe it well,
'Tis Death that opens wide the Gates of Hell,
Where thou must be tormented with the Devils,
As the just punishment of all thy evils.
Distressed Soul! oh unto what shall I
Compare thy easeless, endless misery!
In various Volumes of the World's Records,
Strange Tortures we may find exprest by words;
But Oh! so great, so sore is thy distress,
As flesh can't bear't, so words can't it express.
Devils rejoyce, and welcom in the Day
That crown'd their Conquests with so rich a prey;
To see thee thus quite buried in thy spoils,
Bereft of Earthly joys, and Heav'nly smiles;
And I do fear th' incensed God above
With direful Wrath will quickly thee remove
Into that place—. But hark! methinks I hear
Some dreadful noise—see how the Mountains tear,
And rending Hills, do into pieces fly,
Whilst Thunder bellows through the troubled sky:
The Stars and Planets in confusion hurl'd,
Have banisht Natures order from the World.
See how the melting Orbs of Heaven sweat,
Like Parchment parch'd, & shrivel'd up with heat,

Swift Lightning flashes through the Air appear,
And now, O hark! the dreadful Trump I hear,
It sounds exceeding loud, enough to make
The Dead from their deep silent Graves awake,
And stoutest Sinners stubborn hearts to quake.
Ah! 'tis Mount Sinai, God himself is come
Now to convince thee of thy final Doom.
The Law and Justice will thee now Arraign:
Poor Soul! for thee my Soul's in bitter pain.
From them be sure no Mercy thou wilt meet,
Although thou shouldst turn Suppli'nt at their feet.
Their method is so rigid, so severe,
The Guilty by no means they ever spare.
Awake, awake, poor Soul! and look about,
Jehovah doth command the Sinner out,
And active Justice having seiz'd her fast
Doth hale her to the Judgment-seat in hast.

Justice.
Most Soveraign Lord! who dares i'th least gainsay
What thou commandst? thy Word I must obey.
Lo! here I bring this wretched Prisoner forth
Unto thy Bar, who mad'st both Heaven and Earth,
See! with what dread the trembling wretch doth stand,
To know thy Sacred Pleasure & Command.

Jehovah.
Justice; What is her Fact? her Crimes declare:
I patiently will now the matter hear.

Justice.
Then will I legally, my Lord, proceed,
And presently her black Indictment reade.
Come forth thou Conscious wretch, and hear thy Crimes,
In wicked deeds thou didst begin betimes.
By th' name of Soul, thou standst indicted here,
Being without true Grace and godly fear,
Most treacherously in Eden long ago,
Didst then and there, with God's most horrid Foe,
Conspire against his Soveraign Majesty,
To the dethroning of him privily;
Then setst thou up a Traitor in his place,
And traiterously his Image didst deface,
And ever since hast in Rebellion stood,
Pursuing Evil, and forsaking Good.
For Treason, Murder, Theft, thou standst Indicted:
These Crimes were all in thy first fact united.
Nay, more then this, yet worser is thy Cause,
Thou art Arraign'd for breach of all those Laws,
Which in thy Nature God at first ingrav'd,
The same thou hast in every point deprav'd.
This Royal Law much hast thou violated,
And every Day thy Crimes are aggravated.
That Spirit's still in thee which was at first,
When God did thee out of his Garden thrust;
Thou sid'st with Satan, and dost him obey,
Not minding what, or God, or good men say.
All Evil Rebels in thy House remain,
And nobly there thou dost them entertain,

Whilst God thou hat'st, his proffer'd Love refuse,
And precious Patience daily dost abuse.
Therefore, my Lord! she worthy is of Death,
As ever any that on Earth drew Breath.

Jehovah.
Soul! What dost say, hold up thy guilty head,
Thou unto this Indictment now must plead:
Guilty, or not Guilty, I charge thee, speak;
Lest Justice doth severer Courses take.

Soul.
I dare not say I am not Guilty, Lord,
Of some of these foul Crimes which I have heard
Read in my Charge, 'tis vain for to deny,
My Conscience makes me Guilty, Guilty, cry.
Thy Law is broke, which doth all Lust forbid;
My Sin I know from thee cannot be hid.
Although methinks Justice seems too severe,
For the whole Charge hee'l scarcely make appear.

Jehovah.
Art guilty of that first and hainous Crime,
Which was committed, Soul, in Ancient time,
By him who was thy Representative,
From whom thy evil Nature didst derive?
If guilty of that one horrid Offence,
'Tis easie for thee to perceive from thence
Thou art under my Just and fearful Curse,
Condemned by thy God, what can be worse?

Soul.
To Adam's Sin, Lord, I must guilty plead;
Nay, and to many an actual Evil Deed.

Divine Justice.
The Prisoner does confess her vile offence,
And now there needs no further Evidence.
Shall Execution, Lord, on her be done?
How canst thou bear such a Rebellious one?
Lord, let me straight way strike the fatal blow,
Let her with vengeance to Hell-torments go.
She's guilty, even by her own Confession,
Of heaping up Transgression on Transgression.
She's in my Debt, she cannot it disown,
And I demand my Right, Come, pay it down.
Ten thousand Talents; Soul, thou owest me,
Which must be paid, and that full speedily.

Soul.
That I am in thy Debt I don't gainsay,
But I have not one farthing now to pay.
Some pity show, I for forbearance cry,
Since thy Demands I cannot satisfy.

Justice.
Full satisfaction 'tis that I must have,
In vain from me you compositions crave;
My Name is Justice, and my Nature so,
I never did, nor can I mercy show.

Soul.
If there's no mercy, then my state is sad,
And never was there any News so bad

For Adam's seed, who under Sin do lie,
All then must perish to Eternity.

Theologue.
That God is gracious, Soul, is not deny'd,
Yet Justice will also be satisfy'd.
Consider if thou canst the matter reach;
One Attribute God never will impeach
To magnify another; He's so Just,
As to take vengeance on each Sin and Lust;
Each Attribute know thou assuredly
Must meet together in sweet Harmony.

Soul.
What will thy Wrath, O Justice! then appease?
Upon what terms wilt thou afford some ease
To me, after this terrifying News?
Vouchsafe to tell the means that I must use,
To satisfie a Judge that's so severe,
And will not of sweet Acts of pardon hear.

Justice.
There's nothing can appease me, that is less
Than a compleat and perfect Righteousness;
Like that thou hadst whilst thou in Eden stood:
Nothing, save this, will do thee any good.
What e're is due to me of the old score,
Must be paid down, or never any more
Will the great God with thee concerned be
On gracious terms of Peace and Amitie;

A Sacrifice can only make thy peace,
That, that alone, will cause my wrath to cease.

Soul.
If that be all, I'le get a Sacrifice;
Let me consider, what shall I devise?
A thousand Rams, and Rivers of sweet Oil,
I'le offer up but for one gracious Smile;
With fat of firstling Lambs I'le Heaven invoke,
And purest Incense up like Clouds shall smoke;
Each Morn I'le sacrifice whole Hecatombs,
With Frankincense, and sweet Arabian Gums.
In these, O Lord! I offer up to thee;
May they atone for mine Iniquity?

Justice.
Oh no! give o're those trifling low designs;
The Eastern Spices and the Western mines
United, are too mean an Offering
To satisfy this great incensed King.
In such poor offerings God does take no pleasure;
Couldst thou therefore procure all Europes Treasure;
Nay, all the Wealth that in the World has bin,
'Tould not his wrath appease for one small sin.
Shouldst thou thy dearest Son or Daughter take
For Sacrifice, 'twould no Atonement make:
The fruit of thine own Body were in vain
For thy Soul's sin a pardon to obtain.
No Friend or Brother can'st thou now find out
To pay thy Ransom, or release thee out;

Their Riches never can be help for thee,
Nor once redeem thy Soul from misery.
Nay, couldst thou yet ascend to Heaven above,
And holy Angels with compassion move
For to engage for thee, and signify
That in thy stead, and for thy sake they'd die,
It would not do; for in them's no such worth
As to remove thy guilt, appease God's wrath.
Their Glory's great, as holy Scriptures show;
Yet all they have and are to God they owe.
They cannot help thee in thy great distress,
Nor satisfy the Law thou dost transgress.
In brief, look where thou wilt; no Balsam's found
In any Creature for to cure thy wound.
No Surety can'st thou get; then come away,
Eternal Torments must thy Reckoning pay.

Soul.
Hold, hold, thou art too hasty and severe,
To one word more I pray thee lend an Ear.
I will amend my life, if this be so.
The Promise runs to such as truly do
Their Evil courses leave; I hope hereby
Thou wilt some pity show, not let me die.

Divine Justice.
Fond Soul! though such thy promises indeed
So often broke, deserve but little heed;
Yet grant thou shouldst henceforth with strictest care
Endeavour thine offences to repair,

Couldst thou so live, as never to sin more,
Will this, dost think, pay off thy former score?
Can thine imperfect Righteousness to come,
Discharge of by-past ills, so vast a sum?
When even that which thou callst Righteousness
It self wants pardon, and must Guilt confess.
When thy Bond's su'd, thou dost thy self forget,
To offer menstruous Rags to pay thy Debt;
For what is past, not future, I demand,
And thou shalt feel the rigors of my hand.

Soul.
Lord! then I'm drown'd in an Abyss of fears,
If hearty Sighs, nor penitential Tears
Can wash me clean, nor yet relieve my wo:
My case is desp'rate, what shall Mortals do?

Divine Justice.
If thou with Tears couldst the vast Ocean fill,
Or grieve till thou thy self with sorrows kill,
And make ten thousand Rivers with thy blood,
'Twould not contribute the least dram of Good.
Nay, couldst thou live, and never more offend,
Yet for old sins to Hell I must thee send,
To th' place of Execution thou must go:
Lord, shall I strike, O shall I strike the blow?
Lo, here the Soul, condemned wretch doth stand;
My Ax is up, if thou but giv'st command,
I presently will cut her down with Ire,
Fit fewel for an Everlasting fire.

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Divine Mercy.
Stay, Justice! hold, forbear to strike; shall I
My Glory lose to all Eternity?
Though thou art just, as just as God can be,
Yet something Mortals still expect from me.
'Tis gracious Love and pity I afford,
In me shines forth the Glory of the Lord:
In me God doth (O Justice) take delight,
Though thou art pleasant also in his sight.
How shall we both then meet in Harmony,
And shine in spendor to Eternity?

Divine Wisdom.
I have found out the way, which will you both
With equal Majesty and Glory cloath.
God is as just as Justice doth require,
And yet as kind as Mercy can desire.
Here is a glorious Prince come from above,
Who all obstructions quickly will remove,
Which in the way of the poor Soul doth lie,
And you appease, and jointly satisfy;
To save her now from the infernal pit,
I have a Ransom found, a Ransom fit.

Divine Justice.
I cannot hold,—I'le strike the fatal Blow:
Hell she deserves; with vengeance let her go
Unto the place appointed for all them
Who do God's holy Laws and Grace contemn.

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Jesus Prince of Light.
O who is this? What Traitor's at the Bar,
That is condemn'd, and Justice wo'nt defer
The Execution? speak, hold up thy head;
Hast any thing to say? What canst thou plead?
Methinks, methinks, I should this Creature know:
Ah! Soul, is't thee? What shall I for thee do?
I told thee what thy state would be i'th end,
When first my Love to thee I did commend.
Soul! Speak, 'tis I, why dost thou not look up?
I'm sorely griev'd to think upon the Cup
That is prepar'd for thee; What dost thou say?
Shall I step in, that Justice may delay
To strike the stroke, for then too late 'twill be
To show my Love and pity unto thee?
Hast any kindness for me in thine Heart?
I doubt that still thou the same Creature art
Thou wast before? and hast no love at all:
Why speakst thou not? shall vengeance on thee fall?
Ah! how can I see Execution done,
And Tears not from mine Eyes like Rivers run?

Divine Justice.
Lord, be n't concern'd, she is thy bitter Foe;
Oh let me therefore freely strike the blow.
There's nought in her but Sin, and poisonous Evil;
To God a Foe, and Friend unto the Devil.

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JESUS.
I know not how to let this stroke be given,
For I am come on purpose down from Heaven
To make Atonement, and to satisfy
For all her sins and foul Iniquity.
Though she to me doth no affection bear,
Yet her I pity, and do love most dear.

Justice.
Blest JESUS! hold, 'tis my just Master's sense,
Abused Mercy must have recompence.
There is no other way but she must die,
Unless thou wilt be her Securitie:
If in her stead thy life thou wilt give up,
Then mayst thou save her from this bitter Cup.
The price which thou on that account wilt pay,
Will make a Compensation, and defray
All her vast Debts, yea plenarily
God's wrath appease, and Justice satisfy.
What must be done? Who is't the stroke must bear?
Is't not most fit such should who guilty are?
I cannot hold my hand, nor longer stay,
Law must be satisfy'd, what dost thou say,
Thou wretched Soul? behold the knife and spear!
Can'st thou, dost think, God's fearful vengeance bear?
Now, Soul! look to thy self, this Spear I'le run
Into thy Bowels, ere I it return.

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JESUS.
Stay Justice, stay, withold thy furious Dart,
And, let its glitt'ring point first pierce my Heart.
Her guilty state aloud calls for relief,
It wounds my Soul and fills my Heart with grief.
My Bowels yearn, my inward parts do move,
Now, now's the time to show her my great Love.
Let Law and Justice be suffic'd in me,
'Tis I will die, to set the Sinner free.
Behold me, Soul! my life shall go for thine,
I will redeem thee with this Blood of mine,
Although most Precious, Sacred, and Divine.

CHAP. VII.

Shewing what Consultations there were amongst the infernal Spirits to bring Jesus, Prince of Light, under the power of Death; a Council called in Hell: the Princes of the fallen Angels in a deep combination against him, for fear their Kingdom should fall, and the poor Creature be delivered. The grand Counsel of Old Satan is taken. He enters into Judas. Judas's sin discovered. Jesus is apprehended. A terrible battel, or Christ's

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Agony before his Passion. Sin and Wrath combine together: shewing the Prince's Conquests over them both. Seven aggravations of Christ's sorrows in the Garden; and a Dialogue between the Devil, King of Darkness, and Death, the King of Terrors.

Here let's a while reflect with careful heed;
What! doth the guiltless for the guilty bleed?
This may astonish all, here's Love indeed!
Do Mortals ever greater love extend,
Then to lay down their lives for a dear Friend?
But for a Prince, a mighty Prince to die,
Not for a Friend, but for an Enemy,
Convicted and condemn'd for horrid Treason,
Thus to step in at that most Critick season,
When just the fatal blow was to be given;
This Love's above our Reach, higher than Heaven,
Deeper than Ocean Seas, so Infinite,
As well deserves our wonder day and night.
What? Was the Father free his Son to give,
His dear and only Son, that she might live?
And doth the Son i'th midst of Enemies
Yield up himself to be a Sacrifice?
Yet who can be so bold to lay their Hands
Upon this Prince, that Heaven & Earth commands?
How shall this thing be now accomplished?
And by what means shall his dear Blood be shed?
Let's now inquire who is't that will consent
To be the grand and chiefest Instrument

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To execute this precious spotless Lamb,
Who for this purpose down from Heav'n came?
Has he on Earth any such spightful Foe,
As dare's attempt this 'mazing thing to do?

You heard before he daily was beset,
And with what Enemies he often met;
But now his hour is drawing very near.
Great Consultations 'mongst his Foes there were,
How they might take his blessed Life away,
Who seem'd himself impatient of delay.
He long'd until his work were finished,
Which could not be until his blood were shed:
And though he had most raging Enemies,
Yet knew they not what project to devise
To bring this bloody traiterous deed to pass,
Which long before by them designed was:
Until Apollyon finding by his Art
The dire Intentions harbour'd in their Heart,
Doth rouse them up, and first the matter start
To the Infernal powers, to wake them all
A second time upon this Prince to fall.
Then Belzebub, Satan, and Lucifer,
Consult afresh how to renew the War,
And to this purpose wee'l suppose they spake:

Apallyon.
Shake off your fears, and speedily let's make
The strongest Head that possibly we can
Against this strong, this Devil-amazing man.
Now, now's the day, let's bring him to Death's sting,
And then with shouts of Triumph we may sing:

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For over Death 'tis we the power have,
And we may sure secure him in the Grave.
'Tis he alone who frights us in our station,
And puts us all into great Consternation.
Our Kingdom by this means is like to fall,
And we thereby be ruin'd great and small.
I have engag'd him once, but could not stand,
I know his strength, he has a pow'rful Hand.

Belzebub.
My Sentence is for War; this Enterprize
Well managed, will make our Kingdom rise,
And re-inthrone us in our Antient Skies,
To a great Height and flourish, as before:
When he is down, we'l let him rise no more.
Can we but once deprive him of his Life,
'Twill put an end to all our fears and strife.

Lucifer.

Dominions, Pow'rs, and Principalities
You all in danger are; awake and rise
From off your Seats, and lazy Beds of Down:
Sleep you secure, or, fear not the dread frown
Of him who cast you down, and joys to see
Your abject state confess his Victory?
Shall all our brave infernal Regiments yield,
And basely quit the even yet doubtful Field?
What? by one man shall such a pow'rful Host
Be overcome, and all at once be lost?

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Come, shew your valour, I'le command the Van,
Tho we're to engage with one that's more than Man,
Yet fear him not; why doth each spirits hand
Shake thus? why do you all amazed stand?
Has none found out a way to make him yield,
And either by fraud or force to quit the Field?

At this old Satan rose from off his Seat,
Ready to burst with Rage and Malice great,
And cast a terrible look (if minded well)
Enough to fright all th' Devils out of Hell.

Satan.

You mighty Lords of the Infernal Lake,
Hark unto me, who for our Empires sake
Have now devis'd a Stratagem, that may
(If I mistake not) prove the only way
To bring about the Ruin of our Foe,
Whom I both hate and dread, as you well know:
There is his Servant Judas, he's our Friend,
And into him forthwith will I descend,
Who by my strong persuasions soon will do
That which may make for's Master's overthrow.
He will betray him to our Servants hand,
Who will secure him safe at your Command,
And put him unto Death, who when destroy'd,
We never any more shall be annoy'd.

They all agreed to what old Satan said,
Combining jointly to assist and aid
Him in this great, though cursed enterprise,
And bid him make what hast he could devise.

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Delays are dangerous, Devils well know that:
But why need they Grim Satan instigate?
He needs not be provoked to make haste,
When 'tis to injure Souls; or them to waste;
Or wreck his Malice, Rage, and Hellish spight
On the sweet person of the Prince of Light.
For now, alas! is come the dismal hour,
The time of Darkness. And Hell's direful pow'r
No sooner spoke, but Satan flew away,
Winged with spight, impatient of delay.
He takes possession of poor Judas heart,
And unto him in secret doth impart
The grand Design of this Cabal of Hell;
Who presently consents, and likes it well.
Away he goes, resolv'd the work to do:
A work, Lord, did I say? sad work! Oh who
Could think that a Disciple could do this,
Betray his Lord with a false treach'rous kiss?
Perfidious wretch! what villany is here?
Who can conceive the Crime? or who declare
The horrid nature of this vile offence?
Transcending all degrees of insolence.
No treacherous Act like it was done on Earth,
Since Man first from enliv'ned Clay took breath.
Where was thy Conscience, wretch, it did not fly
Into thy face for this Impiety?
Were all his wondrous works out of thy mind,
His tender Love and pity to mankind?
Betray the Son of Man! Can this be so?
What hadst thou in thine Eye? what made thee do

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This horrid deed? Was't mony did thee move
To forfeit thy Allegiance, and thy love?
'Twas from that filthy Root, Root of all Evil!
Base sordid Gain, thou soldst Christ to the Devil;
(That is to those vile men he did employ
To perpetrate this cursed Tragedy.)
This shew'd thy malice, and how thou didst hate him;
But tell us, Judas! at what price didst rate him?
What price didst set upon his blessed Head?
Are Thirty pence enough? What, valued
At this low price?—Is Jesus worth no more?
Such a sad Bargain ne're was made before.
A Box of Ointment's worth, in thy esteem,
Three hundred pence; and dost thou value him
Not to amount in worth 'bove the Tenth part?
Thou shew'st how blind, and how deceiv'd thou art?
He whose most precious personage out-shines
The fading Lustre of all Ophirs Mines.
And carries sweeter Odours in his Breast,
Than all the Spices that perfume the East;
He that's Omnipotencies choice delight,
Whom trembling Angels worship day and night;
He that the Saints above all Worlds do prize,
In whom all worth and true enjoyment lies;
Shall he be sold at such a rate? O fie!
Thou wilt repent it to Eternitie,
That thou didst ever such a Bargain make:
What? Thirty Bits of cursed Silver take
For th' Pearl of matchless price; thou sordid Sot!
Wilt thou be trading, when thou knowest not

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What 'tis thou sell'st? Fool, 'tis a precious stone,
The Indian Quarries yield not such an one,
Worth more than Heaven & Earth. But it is gone?
So rich a Jewel lost?—Go howl and cry;
Thou'lt hang thy self; next in Hell-torments fry.
And who can pity thee? I prethee who
To such a Traytor will compassion show?
Now 'tis too late thou dost begin to mourn;
Better (vile wretch) thou never hadst been born.

Under incensed wrath, ah! now he lies,
Where flames torment, and Conscience terrifies.
Be not offended, Sirs, I judg him not;
But his own Master's words can't be forgot,
Who speaking of his sad and sinful fall,
Doth him the Son of black perdition call,
And says that he is lost. Christ is the Judge,
And to repeat his Sentence who can grudge?

But to proceed—how can my spirits hold?
I need Relief, my heart (alas) grows cold,
Whilst I with wonder look on what's behind,
Soul-melting pity overwhelms my mind.
Who can of such heart-breaking suff'rings hear,
And not dissolve each Eye into a Tear?
But, ah! methinks something doth intervene,
The thought of which puts me to as much pain,
As doth the sad, but useful Contemplation
Of his unhappy happy bloody passion.
Then let's retreat, and to the Garden go,
For in that place began his grievous woe:

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Before he doth with th' King of Terrors fight,
Another King sets on him full of spight,
Whose powr's great, by cursed usurpation,
He domineers and rules o're every Nation;
He brings the Mighty down unto his feet,
And makes them all with rigour to submit:
The good, the bad, the wise, the old, the young,
The rich, the poor, the beautiful, and strong,
All that live, or e're liv'd, have worsted bin
By this proud lofty one, whose name is SIN.
A Bastard Devil of most monstrous Birth,
Begot in Hell, by Satan first brought forth;
Already you have of his Malice heard,
And how in wrath he never Mortal spar'd.
A crafty Foe, who oftner steers his course
In all his wars, by fraud than open force:
'Tis he that keeps the Soul in Iron Chains,
And robs her of all Sense; lest those great pains
She otherwise might feel, should make her cry
To be deliver'd from his slavery;
Unless our Jesus doth this Foe destroy,
The Soul he loves he never can enjoy.
He had with him before oft a hard Duel,
And worsted him, escaping all his cruel
Attaques, but rallying now with other Foes
He joyns, to lay on more impetuous blows.
Well may we dread here an amazing Fight,
For lo! with him confederate in our sight
The Wrath of God, most fearful to behold:
Both these sad Enemies, with courage bold,

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Are making all the Head that e're they can
Against this blessed Prince, the Son of Man.
Oh! let our Souls be arm'd with courage bold,
Whilst we this furious Battel do behold.
Before the Fight begins, do you not hear
How he doth cry unto his Father dear;
O let this Cup from me, Lord, pass away,
If it be possible; Let it, I pray,
Pass from me, that of it I may not drink.
Until this time he never seem'd to shrink
From any pain, conflict, or suffering;
This Combat is, alas, a different thing,
From what before he ever met withal;
From hence he did unto his Father call
Once and again, repeating of his cry,
It'h sense of what was now approaching nigh.
Some may at this 'tis likely much admire,
That our dear Saviour should so loud desire
To be deliver'd from that bitter Cup,
Which was prepared for him to drink up.
It did not rise for his unwillingness;
But from the pain, the anguish, and distress
'Twould bring him to: this humane Nature's weak,
From thence he might such supplications make.
Ah! wrath Divine, what humane Soul can bear?
But of Divinity he hath his share,
Which doth again his fainting spirit chear.
And such support he needs—Cast but an Eye,
See how the Combatants with fury fly

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Upon each other; What a Battel's here,
Enough to melt our Souls into a tear.
Lo! the first blow that Sin and Wrath doth give,
It is the worst he ever did receive.
Behold! how frightfully grim Wrath doth frown;
Nay, more, the Prince seems by their strength cast down.
Now Sin & Wrath upon him both do lie,
Which makes him groan, and bitterly to cry,
With panting breast, and half-expiring Breath,
My Soul is sorrowful, ev'n unto Death.

Can the great Prince of Earth and Heaven feel
Such heavy strokes, as thus to make him reel?
The dismal weight of Sin this doth declare;
None but a JESUS could it fully bear.
Happy are we, as the blest Prophet said,
Our Help was upon One that's mighty laid.
Could man or Angel ev'r have born all this,
And not have been cast down to th' deepst Abyss?
Nay of this mighty One, Saint Mark hath rais'd
Our Wonder higher, He was sore amaz'd:
Nay more than this, he fell upon the Ground:
No Soul before such anguish ever found,
To see the Lord of Life brought to the Earth,
Under the pressure of God's heavy Wrath;
And that he suffer'd all this in our stead,
May make our Souls to stand astonished;
Especially, if to these Trials we
Shall add his great and bloody Agony,
Wherein the sweat fell from him as he stood,
In Crimson dy, like trickling drops of blood.

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Ah! precious Lord! this work was very sore;
But still thy Love, and its blest Vertue's more;
Through all these Toils thou graspst at Victory,
And Captive lead'st at last Captivity.
If Sin that day had not receiv'd a fall,
Grim Death and Hell had quickly swallow'd all
The race of Man; we all had been undone,
No help, no hope, no life for any one;
Sin was condemn'd, it had a fatal blow,
That now to Saints it little hurt can do.

But to proceed, here I shall now relate
Some things which very much do aggravate
The sufferings which Christ in's Soul indur'd,
When he this Conquest for our Souls procur'd;
No greater sorrows did he ever know,
Than those which then his Soul did undergo.

Several Circumstances which demonstrate the Greatness of our Saviours sufferings in his Soul in the Garden.

First.

They did not seize him with the least surprize,
From thence oft-times doth great Amazement rise
Unto poor Mortals: we are not aware
Oft-times what's nigh, know nothing of the snare.
But thus 'twas not with the blest Prince of Light;
What can be hid from Great Jehovah's sight?

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He knew full well what would upon him fall;
Yet when it came, so great, surpassing all
Were th' Griefs he felt, he in amaze doth call
Unto his Father dear most earnestly,
If 'twere his will to let that Cup pass by.

Secondly.

It was the very thing he came to do,
And yet cry'd out in such sad sort; O who
Can then conceive what he did undergo?
He freely did his precious Life give up;
And yet he's ready to refuse the Cup.
He takes it (as it were) into his hand
Most willingly, but presently doth stand
Pausing a while: then puts it to his Lip,
And after he had took one bitter sip,
Looks up to Heav'n, and cryes, O may it be
Thy will, dear God, this Cup might pass from me.

Thirdly.

He knew unless he drank it up, that we
Must perish All to all Eternitie;
And that his coming would prove all in vain,
If he refused for us to be slain;
And yet with sighs and groans how did he cry,
In sense of wrath, and that extremity,
Which he beheld would quickly overtake him,
When once his blessed Father did forsake him!

106

Fourthly.

The Angels which did there to him appear,
Demonstrate plain how great his sorrows were:
For like as one distressed, makes complaint,
Quite tired out, and all his spirits faint,
Needs to be strengthned by some faithful Friend:
So God to him did Holy Angels send,
For to relieve and comfort him that Day,
When Sin and Wrath so heavy on him lay.

Fifthly.

But what's Assistance from an Heavenly Host,
To the great Power of the Holy Ghost!
Some little measure of the Spirit hath
Caused blest Saints to triumph over Death.
How have they sung with flames about their Ears,
Contemning pains, regardless of all fears?
This Spirit rested on him bodily,
Without measure; and yet how doth he cry!
As scarce well knowing which way to bear up,
Whilst he partakes of this most painful Cup.
This greatly doth his suff'rings amplify
To humane sense, if weighed seriously.

Sixthly.

O Lord! what means these melting sighs and Tears?
Why is thy Soul amaz'd, why fill'd with Fears?
Ah! 'tis enough to break our hearts to think
Upon that bitter potion thou didst drink;

107

Thou knewst thy sorrows would be quickly o're,
And then thou shouldst ne'r sigh nor suffer more;
'Twas from thy worth, both Wrath and Justice cryes,
We are appeas'd with this thy Sacrifice.
Might not the shortness of this Conflict yield
Thee some Relief? Besides thou knew'st the Field
Thou shouldst obtain, the Conquest was thine own,
And quickly too the Conflict would be gone.

I'th midst of Wars, or anguish, Men indure,
If any can them certainly assure,
That in short time their Troubles will be over,
They straight rouse up their spirits to recover,
And patiently resolve to bear the smart,
For this is like a Cordial to the Heart.
All this thou knew'st, and more abundantly;
Yet Sins dire weight so heavily did lie,
That with strong groans & horror thou didst cry.
The Torments, Lord! of Hell took hold on thee,
Our Souls from that devouring Wrath to free.

But why didst thou into a Garden go
Thus to encounter with the hellish Foe?
Was it because there first began our woe?
Or, was it, Lord, to have us call to mind
When we in Walks and Gardens pleasures find,
What thou didst for us in a Garden bear,
To take our Hearts from flitting pleasures here?

But stop, my Muse! look back, and let us see
What did succeed Judas his Treachery.
O mind, what Joy's amongst th' Infernal Crew,
In hopes of what is likely to ensue.

108

Hark how those Scrietchowls cry, but with small reason,
As will be manifested in its season.

It was decreed the Glorious Prince should die,
Already you have heard the reason why.
And though the first contrivance was Divine,
Yet Hell hereby had also a design
Of horrid mischief; and for that intent
They first prompt on the cursed Instrument.
For having try'd their utmost strength before
In open force, they will engage no more
In that vain way; but now resolve to try
What may be done by Hellish policy.
This Project taking hitherto so well,
New Summons straight are issued out in Hell
To all Infernal Spirits to make speed,
And push on boldly the last cursed Deed;
Fearing this Prince would prove a mortal Foe,
Their Hellish Kingdom utterly o'rethrow,
And bring them to deserved punishment,
(For old and latter Treasons they invent)
Where they perpetual Tortures shall sustain.
They feared also that he would again
Restore that poor condemn'd degenerate
Forsaken Wretch, unto her first Estate,
Which she by Lust had lost; nay, further more,
Make her more famous than she was before.
Which to prevent, they all consult the way,
How him to Death with speed they may betray,
From's Heav'nly Kingdom to be banisht quite,
And ever kept under the shades o'th Night.

109

Various their treacherous Consultations be,
Yet all on Death do mutually agree.
Apollyon pusht it on with raging haste;
But Satan, cry'd, Forbear, drive not too fast.
Such mighty matters call for Consultation;
We strike uncertain, when we strike in passion.
Thus black-mouth'd Envy op'd his snaky Jaws,
To have them conduct well their Hellish cause:
Ere further you proceed in this design,
Pray take, saith he, these transient thoughts of mine.

The hearts o'th Jews must first prepared be
With Pride, Revenge, and strongest Enmity;
And we must think upon some Friends that will
Forswear themselves, our pleasures to fulfil;
Such Witnesses our crazy Cause will need,
And such must we provide too with all speed.
For well we know his Innocence is such,
With the least stain Truth could it never touch;
Therefore those Crimes he wants in verity,
Malice must raise, and Perjuries supply;
And that they may pass current when he's try'd,
A Council we must pick, fit to decide
The matter right or wrong on our side.
Besides, 'tis fit e're we the work begin,
We should the King of Terrors summon in.
If his Commission will not reach so far,
In vain, alas; is all our present stir.
His Pow'r is great, but don't you understand,
He has refus'd to be at our Command,

110

Not once, but many times? this makes me quake:
We are undone, should he refuse to take
Part now with us in this Extremity,
When all we have and are at stake doth lie.

To this Advice the Devils all consent,
And call for Tyrant Death, who doth present
His gastly face, and boldly do's demand,
What 'twas they would have him to take in hand?
Then soon Apollyon, King of Darkness, breaks
Silence, and to this purpose gravely speaks.

Apollyon.
Dread King of Terrors, if thou stepst not in,
Down goes our Hell-bred Monarchy of Sin.
We now can walk the spacious Earth about,
And have we Friend or Foe, we find him out.
Where e're we see a person that's upright,
We seek his ruin with the greatest spight.
When we by fraud or craft can't him intice
To yield to Pride, or Lust, or any Vice,
But that he'l watch us with a wary Eye,
And persevere in all true Piety;
Then on him do we bring outward distress,
To make him lose, or leave his Holiness.
Our Kingdom by this practice is made strong,
Potent and large, and so has prosper'd long.
But now thy help we need, for much we fear
The downfal of our Kingdom draweth near.
Upon the Earth there now appears in sight
A mighty Foe, one call'd The Prince of Light.

111

And for what end should he from Heaven come,
If not to execute on us that Doom
Which Heav'n long since decreed? To end which strife,
We are resolv'd to take away his Life.
Already he's betray'd; if things hit right,
And then we'l yield him up unto thy Might.
For thy Assistance, Death, we do implore,
Else to these mischiefs this will happen more,
That Creature we so long have captivated,
Will in her Pomp again be re-instated.
The thoughts of which there's none of us can bear,
Speak, speak, pale Monarch! for we long to hear
What's thy Advice? Thou mighty art in pow'r,
And canst, we know, whole Nations soon devour.

The King of Terrors.
Great Prince of Darkness, you must understand
We are not wholly at your proud Command.
For there's a mighty Pow'r in Heaven high,
Which you are subject to as well as I:
'Tis true, from him I cannot say at all
That I derive my strange Original;
Yet by his pleasure am circumscrib'd,
And 'gainst his Will cannot be forc'd nor brib'd.
Wherefore, if he this Prince of Light protect,
In vain at him shall I my shafts direct.
Besides, in this Exploit methinks I find
Some strange foreboding ills possess my mind,
As if engaging thus against your Foe,
I should but hasten mine own overthrow.

112

Take mine Advice then, meddle not at all;
Better sit still, you know, than rise to fall.
'Tis true indeed, as you have well observ'd,
Your threatned Judgment has been long deferr'd:
But if your Execution-Day be come,
You can't escape, but must abide your Doom.

Prince of Darkness.
Thou pale-fac'd Traytor! shan't we have thy Aid?
Then all our Hellish Projects are betray'd.
How oft have we stood by thee; sent thee forth
To do our will and pleasure on the Earth?
The first that ever thou hadst in thy hand,
Committed was by me, at my Command;
I caused Cain to slay his godly Brother;
And so taught thee how to bereave the Mother
Of her most dear, of her most hopeful Son;
And shall not now my will in this be done?
'Twas I which did thy being to thee give:
How many Subjects dost each day receive
From me and mine? who do in every Land
Promote thy State, and lend their helping-Hand.
Therefore consent, and show thy angry Brow,
And make this Conqueror to thy Scepter bow,
Yielding himself to thee, strike him with speed,
And pierce his very Heart until it bleed.
Then some dark Cave near the Earths Centre find,
Where Light ne're pierc'd, nor Phœbus ever shin'd,
There, there, the vanquisht Foe do thou retain
Close Prisn'er with an Adamantine Chain.

113

When e're thou strik'st, be sure strike home thy blow,
Lest he revive and work our overthrow.
Be bold, attempt, and let thy pow'r be known,
The Glory of this Deed shall be thine own.

King of Terrors.
I must confess I have been often sent
By Hellish means unto the Innocent.
To satisfy your Envy, Pride, and Lust,
Some thousands I have turn'd into the Dust.
Yet never did I strike, but on Condition,
As Heaven did permit, in my Commission.
And though by Thee, and by that Monster, Sin,
The Child of Hell, I first of all came in;
Yet am I not subservient still to thee,
But bounded by Jehovah's own Decree:
For had I wholly been at thy Command,
Poor Job had fell before thy pow'rful hand.
Where my dread Sovereign Lord do's give me charge,
To stay my hand (though my Commission's large)
I must forbear; But if he once permit,
The Just, and the Unjust, alike I hit.

Apollyon King of Darkness.
Wilt thou eclipse my Glory and Renown?
Destroy my Pow'r, and tread my Kingdom down?
Fy Death! for shame forbear thy Insolence,
And do'nt dispute the Mandates of thy Prince.
Strike! I conjure thee; do not vainly think
'Twill be thy Int'rest from this work to shrink.

114

That hand, that powerful hand that conquers me,
If he prevail, at last will vanquish thee.
Though now on Earth thou dost in triumph dwell,
If he o'recome, he'l cast thee down to Hell.
Thou from thy Monarchy shalt then be driven,
And shalt abide in no place under Heaven.
Thou that hast been a Conqueror heretofore,
Shalt conquer'd be, and never conquer more.
Ah! lend thy Hand, shew forth thy mighty pow'rs,
'Tis for thy Int'rest, Death, as well as ours.
If Arguments and Reason may convince
Thee; try thy weapons on this dangerous Prince.

King of Terrors.
Say, say no more. If you find things agree
In order to his downfall, I will be
His Executioner, do you not fear,
I tremble at the thoughts of what I hear.

Damned Spirits.
Bravely resolv'd! At last they all Reply'd,
Swelling in Wrath, in Malice, Envy, Pride,
Wee'l now proceed, and craftily prepare
All things in readiness to end this War.

Apollyon.
Though Judas has a party for our turn,
Yet we have more to do e're we adjourn.
If we should bring this Enterprise to pass,
Yet when all's done, I shall be where I was.

115

We must seek out some persons to defame
His so much honour'd and unblemish'd Name.
He's Just and Virtuous, and esteem'd so high,
Who dares charge him with th' least Impurity?

Satan.
At this an envious Devil strait jumpt in;
I'le lead the people on, let me begin;
I'le stir them up to Envy more and more,
Such Envy that he shall not stand before.

Belial.
These are but sparkles from an hasty Fire,
Which will for want of fuel soon expire.
His Glory still encreases, ours decays.
Words without Actions are but faint delays,
The rarest Wit amongst us must look out,
With wariness to bring this thing about.
I'le tell you what I newly have contriv'd:
Let my Lord Lucifer, the King of Pride,
Make one amongst their Rulers in the Seat
Of seeming Justice; Tell them they are Great
And Prudent men, yea Learned ones likewise,
And in their Breasts alone true Wisdom lies.
Yea, tell them that the Soveraign Lord of Heaven
To them the name of Gods on Earth hath given;
Tell them both God and men have thought it fit,
That they like Gods should in this Grandeur sit;
And, answerable to this lofty station,
The people have them in great veneration.

116

Thus, when h' has put their Honours in a Heat,
And swell'd them up with Pride and self-conceit,
Tell them 'tis much below their high Degree,
That such a low inferiour Man as he
Should be their Prince, or over them bear sway,
Who rather ought their Greatness to obey.
Then, when the uncontrouled Breath of Fame
Has spread abroad the Glory of his Name,
And fill'd each Eye and Ear with Admiration,
Giving to him Applause and Veneration,
Then let our envious Friend once more take's place,
And sit as pale as Death in every Face;
And let him tell them, if they do not take
Some speedy course, their Honours lie at stake;
He grows so famous in the peoples Eyes,
They shortly will their Soveraignty despise.

Satan.
Nay, I can tell them yet another thing;
The people seek by force to make him King.
Which if the Roman Pow'r should understand,
They'd quickly come and take away their Land,
This sure will work, or other ways I'le find;
Good Mariners can sail with every wind.

Thus these Infernals seeking to prevent
Their future, but deserved punishment,
Far swifter than the lofty Eagle flies,
Did set upon their Hellish enterprize.
The King of Pride threw forth his poisonous Darts,
Which did not miss to pierce the yielding Hearts

117

Of those that sat at Stern, who should delight
To do the thing that's equal, just, and right:
But disregarding great Jehovah's Laws,
They sought (poor Souls) for popular Applause,
Puft up with Pride, and swoln with vain Ambition
(That Tympany of th' Soul) They had suspition
That if the Prince of Light were once affected,
They by the people soon should be rejected.
For first they saw his Miracles were great,
His Vertues rendred him still more compleat,
And made him so illustriously to shine,
He gain'd the Appellation of Divine.
Nay, furthermore, they heard how some did sing,
Hosanna in the Highest to the King
Of Israel! the fragrant Flower of Jess,
The Root of David; Oh! who can express
The depth of Envy which in them did burn,
With raging flames, almost at every turn?
Close Consultation in their Courts appears,
And i'th mean while strange Rumors fill their Ears.
The Miracles which he before had wrought
Into the minds of people fresh are brought,
Those wond'rous things did much encrease the strife:
He rass'd, said some, the Dead again to Life:
Gave sight unto the Blind, who from their Birth
Had never seen the Light that guilds the Earth:
The Dumb, the Deaf, the Lepers, and the Lame,
In all Distempers, whosoever came,
Had perfect Cure in every Disease;
Nay, he could hush the Winds, and calm the Seas;

118

Could dispossess the black Infernal Rout,
And cast whole Legions of fierce Devils out.
Of five mean Barly loavs, and two small Fishes,
He made above five thousand plenteous Dishes.
Thus many talkt what he before had done,
Grieving to think what now was coming on.
His gracious words, and vertuous Life commended
Him to the Multitude, but much offended
Th' inraged Rulers; yet his Innocence
Was still so sure a Guard and strong defence,
That they could not their wicked ends obtain,
Yet from their malice would they not refrain.
How often did they in clandestine way
Endeavour their blood-thirsty hands to lay
Upon this Sacred Prince? yet still through fear
The people would rise up, they did forbear.
Sometimes they thought to trap him in his words,
That Law & Justice then might draw their Swords,
And cut him off. And then again devise
Another course, charg'd him with Blasphemies
Against the God of Heaven, by which way
They surely thought they might his Life betray.
But never could they over him get pow'r
Untill his time were come: Now, now's their hour.
The work must needs be carried on with speed,
When Heaven and Hell about it are agreed.
Though different ends in these great Agents are,
Yet in the thing they both consenting were,
That Christ should be of his dear Life depriv'd.
Though Hell alone the guilty Act contriv'd,

119

Yet God indeed from all Eternitie,
Knowing what rage and curs'd malignity
Would be in their base Hearts, resolved then
He would permit and suffer these vile men,
To bring his Purpose and Decree to pass,
Which for our Good, and his own Glory was.

CHAP. VIII.

Shewing how the Lord Jesus died in the Sinner's stead. Such was his love, and yet the Soul an Enemy at that time to him, and hated him. A full discovery of Christ's bloody Passion, enough to make a heart of stone to melt. The Prince gives up the ghost. Death the King of Terrors, insults over Jesus, Prince of Light. Death is threatned with Death: shewing also what fear there was amongst the Devils, lest the Prince should rise again, and overcome Death. A second Council held in Hell: the Devils, tremble. Death subdued. Heathen Oracles cease. The Devil's destroyed upon the Prince's resurrection, and put to open shame. Joy in Heaven. Angels sing. Saints rejoyce. The end of the First Part.

But to proceed, Will you lift up your Eyes,
And view the Rage of Hellish Enemies?

120

The final troubles of the Prince of Light
Are coming on; Behold a frightful sight!
A multitude with Clubs, and Swords, and Spears
About his Sacred Person now appears.
This wretched Rabble's come on a design,
Which wounds and breaks this stony heart of mine
To think upon 't; behold, they are conducted
By the grand Traitor, and by him instructed
How to proceed on this great Enterprise,
Which he by Hellish power did devise.
Arm'd, as you heard, they seiz'd on him, as if
He had indeed been some notorious Thief.
Fond men! If you this Prince's Nature knew,
Your Weapons are too many, or too few.
As Man, so meek, you need no rescue fear;
As God, so strong, he can in pieces tear
A thousand Troops that should approach him near,
Of which a present Instance did appear.
Some little rays of his dread Deitie
He caused to break forth, and suddenly
They stagger'd, and fell backwards on the ground,
That they might see he quickly could confound
Them utterly, and lay them at his feet,
But that he saw it better to submit
Unto his Father's Will, and take the Cup
Which was prepared for him to drink up.
But they recov'ring strength, got up again,
Regardless of all dread, and now amain
Resume their purpose, and with wicked hands
Take hold of him, who Heav'n & Earth Commands.

121

He's taken Prisoner, and strongly bound,
Who in one moments time could quite confound
The Universe, and all that him offend
Down to Hell's bottom quick with vengeance send.
Yet like a Lamb he's to the slaughter led,
And, as a Malefactor, suffered.

Most dreadful sorrows did his Soul indure
That peace and Joy for her he might procure;
To bring his purpose to an happy end,
He manifests himself indeed a Friend,
A bounteous Friend, who thinks his Life not dear,
But freely lays it down, doth freely bear
The stroke of Justice, that he might recover
Her forfeit Life again. Oh! Sacred Lover!
Oh! Matchless Love and Grace! Let every Eye
Open its Sluces, draw its Fountains dry.
If he for us such bitter sorrows felt,
Then let the thoughts of his strong Passion melt
Our sin-congealed hearts, our hearts of stone.

What was the reason why this Sacred One
Did bear all this? Were not our sins the cause?
He suffers, but 'twas we had broke the Laws.
Is he betray'd to Death? Weep o're his Herse,
Who only di'd our Death for to reverse.

You Sin-sick Souls, think on his bloody Passion,
And then take up this bitter Lamentation:
Dear God! I sin'd, and did a Saviour need,
And must the Lord of Life and Glory bleed!
Ah! must his dear and precious blood be spilt,
To free me from my vile and horrid Guilt?

122

Didst thou, sweet Lord, my heavy burthen bear?
And shall not I lament, nor shed a Tear?
Shall not my hard and flinty heart dissolve,
To think how nought but thy own blood could salve
My fester'd wounds? What heart is so condens'd,
That cannot by these thoughts be influenc'd
And mov'd unto remorse and great Contrition,
I'th sense of the Lord Jesus's Crucifixion?

They hal'd him (bound) unto the High Priests Hall,
Where Priests and Council did for witness call.
They search'd about for such, but none could find,
Who did agree together in one mind.
They us'd him like a Thief, put him to shame,
Who bore it with great patience, like a Lamb.
They blindfold him in a disgraceful sort,
And ignominiously made him their sport.
They smote him on the face, pluckt off his hair,
And bid him prophesy then who they were
That did him strike, that so they might thereby
His Office of a Prophet vilifie.
His own dear Servants in this dismal Day
Did him forsake, and from him fly away.
They, they in whom his Soul took sweet delight,
His cursed Foes did so amaze and fright,
That they disown'd him too, and left him all
To stand alone, or otherwise to fall.
Yea, Peter, who would have his Lord confide
In him above the rest, stoutly deny'd
He ever knew him; nay, and furthermore,
To put it out of doubt, he curst and swore.

123

Ah! What is man when God withdraws his hand?
A Peter then one moment cannot stand.
This doubtless did add grief unto his Heart,
To see his own Disciples to depart,
And leave him thus in his Adversitie,
When in their stead it was he came to die.

He after this bore much rebuke and shame,
Scoffs, blows, reproaches, stripes, oh who can name
The many Cruelties he underwent
Before his painful Death, and not lament?
They cru'lly smite him on his precious Cheeks,
Which he with patience bears, and never seeks
To free himself from this their Insolence,
Although he knew his spotless Innocence.
O gracious Lord! how, how wast thou abus'd,
Unjustly judg'd, and falsely too accus'd?
Accus'd as guilty of some grievous fact,
Who thoughtst no Evil, none didst ever act?
No stain nor spot of sin was found in thee,
Though thus thou suffer'st for Iniquity.
The Injuries which thou that Night did'st bear,
How great, my God! how numberless they were?

When he had past away that tedious Night,
Early next morning they with Hellish spight,
Like some great Malefactor, him present
To Pontius Pilate: where with innocent
And pleasant Countenance he then did stand,
To know what 'twas of him they did demand.
Then with an humble Silence held his peace,
Which made the fury of his Foes increase.

124

Next was he unto wicked Herod sent,
Who at his presence seemed much content,
Hoping he might some Miracle behold,
Because he had been of strange Wonders told.
But he that knew the secrets of all Hearts,
Who tries the Reins and views the inward parts,
Knew well his curious, but presumptuous mind,
Was only unto wickedness inclin'd.
Christ Answer'd not when he lookt for Replies.
Which made King Herod and his men despise
Our precious Lord, the Prince of Peace, whilst he
Became the pattern of Humilitie.
Thus Sinners contradict, and dare reprove
The Lord of Life, who quickly could remove
The lofty from their Seats, and them confound;
But nought but Love and Mercy doth abound.
This was the Day of his Humiliation,
He's first abas'd, then comes his Exaltation.
But, oh! that ever men should be so vile,
To smite those Lips that never utter'd guile!
He at whose great Command the Seas were still,
Is now commanded by each Tyrant's will.
He's sent to Herod, then sent back again
Unto the Judgment-Seat; But oh! what pain
Did he indure there by most wicked men,
What Heart can think, what Tongue express, what Pen
Can set it forth? Their sacrilegious Hands
Bound him about with strong and cruel bands:
They mock'd and did deride him shamefully,
And then aloud set up a cursed Cry,

125

Hold, hold him fast, deliver Barabbas,
Who a notorious Malefactor was.
A Barabbas is now prefer'd before
Him, whom the glorious Angels do adore.
A Murderer shall spared, saved be,
When JESUS shall be hanged on a Tree.
With torturing whips they scourged him most sore,
Until his flesh was dy'd with Purple Gore.
O dreadful dismal Cup! what heart can think
On what he underwent, and 's flesh not shrink?
The Blood that once run through his sacred Veins,
Is now let out by Soul-tormenting pains,
And all the blushing Pavement gilds, not stains.
Ah! don't you see how it fell trickling down,
Yet unto him was no compassion shown.
The Blood that issued forth from every wound,
Descends in pearly drops unto the ground.
Oh Earth! that didst receive that holy Blood,
Nor fruitful Nile, nor Tagus golden Flood
Could ever yield like Vertue, or such good;
Ne're such a stream did water thee before,
Nor shall again refresh thee any more.

Nor were these cruel barb'rous scourgings all
That he endur'd in that remorsless Hall;
For after this they clothed him in scorn
With Purple, when his flesh was lasht and torn,
And in derision of his Princely State,
Their impious hands a Crown of thorns did plate,
Pressing it on his gracious Head with pain,
Till Sacred Drops did issue forth again

126

In ruful sort, as they had done before,
Spreading his precious Neck and Face all o're.
Thus like a Lamb amongst those Wolves he stood,
From head to foot besprinkled o're with blood.
His Kingly Office further to debase,
'Stead of the Scepter due to Judah's Race,
They put a Reed in's hand, then kneel before him,
And in Derision feignedly adore him.
Thus, thus did they the Sacred Prince abuse,
Crying in scorn—All hail, King of the Jews:
Then in Disdain they spit in's his lovely Face.
Could Devils offer God a worse Disgrace?
Oh depth of Love alone, that knows no bounds,
To suffer such dire stripes, such mocks & wounds!
'Twas we that sin'd, 'twas thou that sufferst shame,
To free us from the guilt. Oh let thy Name
Thy Sacred Name for ever honour'd be,
Who thus wast us'd, to set poor Sinners free.
But yet, alas! these sufferings were not all,
More bitter things did unto him befall.
Off next they took the Robe, his own put on,
And now as if their malice fresh begun,
Not satisfy'd their God for to deride,
They loud cry'd out, Let him be Crucify'd.
His Blood they thirst for. Pilate gives consent,
Though Conscience told him he was Innocent,
And had deserved neither Death nor Bands,
Yet up he gives him to the Rabbles hands.
He knew of malice they had brought him thither,
Yet he and they at last combine together

127

'T imbrew their guilty hands in guiltless Blood,
Who never did them harm, but always good.
Rather than Pilate will displease the Jews,
Hee'l stifle Conscience, utterly refuse
All Admonitions; though his bosom Friend
A timely warning unto him did send,
Uses Intreaties, urges Arguments,
But nothing would prevail, nothing prevents
Their wicked purpose. Sentence being past,
Unto his Execution now they hast.
Though he was wounded very much before,
His flesh, his Virgin flesh, with stripes made sore,
Yet they upon his Martyr'd shoulders lay
His heavy Cross; till fainting by the way
By reason of th' intolerable pain
His bleeding wounds procured, they constrain
A Country-man of Cyrene (who did pass
Along that way) to bear his pond'rous Cross.
And coming up to dismal Golgotha,
Without remorse of Conscience, dread, or awe,
They still persist in putting him to Death,
A Death the worst that e're stopt humane Breath;
The cruel Death o'th Cross, matchless for pain,
And by God's Curse most liable to shame.
To cause the Just to die was crueltie,
But Crucifixion's more than 'tis to die.
Prodigious Rage! strange metamorphos'd mind!
What? kill the Lord, who was to you so kind!
What was his Crime? what his so great offence?
That not contented to remove him hence

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By violent Death, but you must look about
Whereby to find exquisite torments out?
The vilest wretch that ever did draw breath,
Or in the strictest sense deserved Death,
Could never meet with more severitie
From barb'rous Foes and brutish Tyranny.
He meets with no compassion, every heart,
And every hand is set to throw a Dart.
So far from shame in this their villany,
They chuse for time to act the Tragedy,
Their chiefest Feast, when to Jerusalem
From every part thousands of people came;
Then, then they chose this cursed work to do,
That he the greater shame might undergo.
When Priest and Pilate finisht had their Court,
Dear Jesus must be fetcht to make them sport.
And now behold (if yet thy delug'd Eyes
Can stay to see so sad a Sacrifice)
Behold him lift up on the cursed Tree,
Expos'd to Torture, Death, and Infamy.
His Arms spread wide, as ready to imbrace
His bitter'st Foes, if they'd accept his Grace;
Quite through each hand & foot sharp nails they drive,
And fix him there to wait for Death alive.
Hanging betwixt two Thieves, Numbred among
Transgressors by the giddy partial Throng:
For passers-by did rail on him with scorn,
Wagging their heads, who ought rather to mourn.
With taunts and scoffs the vulgar him abuse;
Prompted by the Chief Priest, and barb'rous Jews.

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And when he thirsts through his excessive pains,
Behold what favour at their hands he gains;
All they afford to quench his drought withal,
Was Vinegar, mixed with bitter Gall.
Was ever such a perfect hatred known?
No Dram of pity, but all malice shown.
He that for them had Water turn'd to Wine,
And shown his Pow'r and Charity Divine;
Nor Wine, nor Water now could be allow'd
T' asswage his thirst from this ungrateful Croud:
But into's tender side they thrust a Spear,
From whence there came both blood & water clear.
Thus hand, and foot, and head, and every part,
They pierce and wound, for to encrease his smart.
Ah! see that stream wch from his Heart-blood flows,
The precious Balm and Cure of all our woes!
Each pious Soul, which truly doth believe,
Its Soveraign Vertue freely may receive.
One drop of that most Sacred Blood is worth
Ten thousand Thrones & Kingdoms of the Earth.
When you by Sin do see your selves undone,
Think on that Blood which from his Side did run.
Those cordial Drops apply'd unto thy heart,
Will heal thy Soul, and cleanse thy inward part.
Ah! canst thou of Christ's dismal passion hear,
And not dissolve thy Soul into a Tear?

But to return—There's something still behind,
Which makes strange meltings in my grieved mind,
That's worse than all the rest, oh hear his moan,
And how his poor distressed Soul doth groan!

130

His Father hides his face, that gracious Eye
Casts forth an angry frown, which made him cry
(After he had these bitter torments felt
From cruel hands, and found his Soul to melt,
His spirits fail, and wounded heart to break)
Why, why, my God? Oh why dost thou forsake
Me in this needful hour? Hard is the case
When thou, my God, from me shalt hide thy face.
My Servants who forsook me, are but Dust,
Poor flesh and blood, alas! what stay, what trust
Is there in man? the best of men are frail;
Such as confide in them, their strength will fail.
But, ah! My Trust, my Hope, my Confidence,
Thou, thou that art my Rock and safe Defence,
Even thou, my God! O thou, O thou hast left me,
And this at last has of all Peace bereft me.
Whilst Souls can see their Interest in their God,
They can bear up under the sharpest Rod:
But when thy face is hid, as 'tis from me,
They sink, they die, they die Eternally.

Thus, thus the Prince of Peace in sore distress,
His bitter moan doth unto God express.
Great depths of sorrow did oppress his Soul,
When his sad portion thus he did condole.
He saw himself forsaken and forlorn,
When in our stead this anguish great was born.
That which was due for our Iniquity,
Did heavy on our gracious Saviour lie.
For Justice spar'd not, but laid on her Hand,
Whilst in the room and stead he seeks to stand

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Of the poor Soul, he came from Heaven to save;
Justice, alas! will the last farthing have.

The torments Saints have born's another thing
From what befel their Soveraign Lord & King.
His Spirit's gracious, great, magnanimous,
Yet ne're was any Soul distressed thus.
That much renowned holy Martyr, Stephen,
He had so glorious a prospect from Heaven,
As fill'd his Soul brim-full of Consolation,
And by that means with joy he bore his passion.

Should I attempt to walk the spacious Field
Of instances, how many would it yield,
Where flames of Fire were like to Beds of Roses,
Through Heav'nly Rays, wch gloriously composes
Their spirits so, that they in Triumph sing,
When half-consum'd in Fire, they felt no sting.
God smiles, and Heav'n appears so clear & bright,
All fears and terrors were extinguisht quite.

But he who for our sakes his Life laid down,
Is forc'd to bear his Father's angry frown;
And in our stead he felt his Indignation,
The bitterest part of all his bitter Passion.
How heavy is that stroke, how sharp that Rod,
That's lifted up by men, laid on by God?
When Heav'n and Earth, and Hell do all agree
To lay on stripes with great'st severitie?
That grief, that pain, that anguish must be sore;
And yet all this for us blest Jesus bore.

Who that beholds Heav'ns glorious lamp of Light
When in his strength, obscur'd from our sight

132

By the dark body of the pale-fac'd Moon,
Making black shades of Night appear at Noon,
But would conclude from thence the Sun were gone,
And had forsaken quite our Horizon?
And yet we know he's but eclips'd a while,
And soon will lend the World another smile;
Disperse those shades that counterfeited Night,
And fill the Earth again with splendor bright.
Lo, thus our Sun in his Celestial Sphear
Is near his setting, yet but lend your Ear
Unto the Voice, th' amazing Voice of Heaven,
You'l find an universal notice given
Unto the world when this bright Sun went down,
Heav'ns lightfoot Herauld quickly makes it known.
Christ lies a bleeding, nailed on the Tree,
And now the universal World shall see
Heaven act a part in this black Tragedy.

The Worlds great Eye, the natural Sun, whose Rays
Each day throughout the Universe displays
From East to West, from North to South, his face
Visiting and refreshing every place,
No sooner doth he spy the Prince near dead,
But straightway he withdraws his blushing Head.
That horrid sight bright Sol abhor'd to see,
And hides his face from Noon till after Three.
At Three Christ's matchless Torments made him cry,
Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani.
Then was the Temple Vail rent quite asunder,
The earth did shake, the rocks did roar like thunder,

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The Clouds grew thick, and such as scatter'd were,
Conjoin'd to darken all the Hemisphear.
Thus for three hours Darkness great remain'd,
All hearts now tremble, every spirit's pain'd.
Th' Astronomers, who starry motions trace,
And read Earth's wonders in Heav'ns various face,
(Eusebius, and other Authors write)
Were much amaz'd at that unusual sight;
Their Learning could no natural Causes spy,
Nor give a Reason of that Prodigie.
The Moon being then at full, just opposite,
Could not in Natures course eclipse Sol's Light.
'Twas supernatural what he suffered,
And that was it which fill'd them all with dread.
Some smote their breasts, whilst others in confusion
Drew from the premises this just Conclusion,
Either the God of Nature suffers now
(When Sol in Sables muffles thus his brow)
Or the whole frame o'th World in a short space,
Will be dissolv'd and end its painful Race.
These dreadful things which then did come to pass,
Do fully prove He the Messiah was.
And many when they saw those Wonders done,
Cry'd out indeed he was God's only Son.
Had not this obvious been to every sight
A real thing, with what great ease then might
The Foes of Christ and Christianity,
Detected all as horrid Forgery?
But matt'r of Fact being so very clear,
The Jews and Heathens thereby silenc'd were.

134

Thus he yields up at last his painful breath,
And for a while lay conquered by Death.
Conquer'd, said I! forbear my lavish Muse,
Recall that word, and be not so profuse.
What, shall we say, The Lord of Life is dead?
'Tis but a slumber, he's not conquered.
He only for a while Retreat hath made,
To bring his Foes into an Ambuscade,
And soon will rise more gloriously Array'd.
Thus did the Glory of the World lay down
His precious Life, to purchase a rich Crown
Of Life and Glory for his Spouse, whom he
Found under Wrath, condemn'd eternally,
Who had receiv'd that Sentence full of Ire,
Goe, go thou Wretch into eternal Fire.
But he has bail'd her from Hell's gaping Jaws,
And satisfy'd Justice's strictest Laws
By this his Death, where he in her stead stood,
And ransom'd her even with his dearest Blood.

But hark, my Muse! What Triumph dost thou hear?
What Voice is that hoarse sounding in mine Ear?
'Tis Death, doubtless 'tis Death that ghastly King,
Who over Christ doth now insulting sing;
Now he has got him down, I prethee hear
How he o're him doth vaunt and domineer.

135

King of Terrors.

The King of Terror's boasting Triumph over Christ whilst he lay in the Grave.

What am I? or from whence? For though I be,
Yet know I not my self; nor why to me
The mightiest Monarchs bend. I rule, I raign,
And am the High and Lofty's Soveraign.
All tremble at the thoughts of my grim face,
They look, they run, yet cannot find a place
To hide themselves. My Powr's very great,
Yet know I not who set me in this Seat.
There's none that live, have liv'd, or ever may,
But I o're them an awful Scepter sway.
But, oh! what kind of subject have I here?
A Subject, t' whom no Monarch is a Peer;
Ah! how I smile to see't; I'le never fear
Being worsted now. Alas! dost thou submit?
Art thou likewise brought down unto my feet?
Who's able my dread Power to withstand;
Since thou canst not escape my pow'rful hand?
Now I have seiz'd thee, be assur'd that I
Will keep thee down, for ever thou shalt lie
In the dark Regions of eternal Night.
Lo! here, proud Mortals, an amasing sight!
What can't I do, since he that made the Day,
By my strong hand is turned into clay?

136

If thou can'st not thy self from me deliver,
The hope of Creature-man is gone for ever.
None out of these close Regions can repair,
Nor re-salute again the ambient Air.
I never did so great a Conquest gain,
O what a mighty Monarch I have slain!
Now, now let me be crown'd victoriously!
For what is done, which none could do but I.
Who dares my Triumphs lessen or defer,
Since I am now a perfect Conquerour?
Here, here, Great Prince, with me in this dark Cell
My Captive thou with other Kings shalt dwell.

Prince of Light.
Thou proud Imperious Tyrant, prethee hear;
Do n't boast too soon, nor vainly domineer.
A feeble Warriour may the Field obtain,
When his strong Foe is willing to be slain.
My Life, proud Death, thou didst not take away
By any strength of thine: for I did lay
It freely down, as God did me command,
This made me yield my self into thy hand.

King of Terrors.
I'le not contend, let that be so or not,
I have thee safe in my Dominions got;
And e're thou do return, I'le make thee know
What pow'r I have, what 'tis that I can do.
My Prisoner thou art, and here shalt lie
In these dark Cells unto Eternitie,

137

Whilst worms on thy most lovely flesh are fed,
And with Corruption thou art covered.

Prince of Light.
Stay, stay, pale Death, that thou canst nev'r do,
For I must not the least Corruption know.

King of Terrors.
Strange speech! who's this? or how can this thing be?
What's in the Grave shall not Corruption see?
Though with rich Spices thou imbalm'd dost lie,
Old hoary Time shall make thee putrify.
Kings fortifi'd by Lead and Searcloth's aid,
In precious heaps of fragrant Odours laid,
To stench and rottenness I soon betray'd.
None ever into these low Vaults do come,
Who can escape that sad and dismal doom,
Of being turned into Dust;—I will
Thy mouth with filthy putrefaction fill.
The holiest man I e're depriv'd of breath,
I turned into loathsom stinking Earth.
And dost thou think thou shalt escape this fate?
No, thou must share of all my Subjects state.

Prince of Light.

Is't fit I should be threatned thus by thee?
Shall Death prevail and triumph over me?
Dost know, grim Tyrant, who 'tis thou treadst down?
I am thy lawful Prince, and thou shalt own

138

My Soveraignty; thou must, O Death, submit,
And yield thy self, as conquer'd at my feet.
On me thou shalt not have thy proud desire;
No sooner shall three Days and Nights expire,
But I will make thy bonds and chains to fly,
And thereby spoil thy Principality.
But for thy insolence this thou shalt gain,
To be thy self, o're-thrown, vanquisht and slain.
The tidings which I bring will make thee quake,
For I resolve on thee Revenge to take.
O Death, I'le be thy Death, 'tis even so;
Thy utter ruin, and great overthrow
Is near at hand; I'le rouse up from the Grave,
And make the stone to fly that's on the Cave.
Let Hell and Devils all combine to do
What's in their pow'r to save thee from this blow,
I mind it not; I'le tear and rend them all,
And cause them with great vengeance down to fall.
Captivity a Captive I will take,
And him a slave and Captive ever make.

The Devils fearing what would come to pass,
Great consternation straight amongst them was.
Their Chief amaz'd, with envious horror cryes,
And to the rest with hast himself applies.

Lucifer.

Dominions, Pow'rs of the Infernal Host!
Awake, attempt with speed, or all is lost.
Death's like to lose our great and hop'd for prey,
Secure him fast, more Chains upon him lay.

139

Hark! are there not strange tremblings under ground
Mixt with a cry, enough for to confound
All the whole Host of this amased Lake,
Fear seizes me, I quiver, oh, I quake.
What shall we do? make speed, let him not rise.
Help, Satan! help, canst thou no way devise
To hold him under ground? now, now, or never,
If he awake, we are undone for ever.
Should he the cords of Death to pieces burst,
Our latter ills will far exceed the first.

Thus see how all the hellish Fiends do stand
Agast, amaz'd, each holding up his hand;
Bewailing their sad fates, their hearts grow cold,
With thoughts of what they fear'd they should behold,
Which was the Resurrection from the Dead
Of him who for poor Mortals suffered.
Belzebub he cryes out to Abaddon,
Ah! what a day is this! all will be gone.
Satan doth gnash his teeth, perplext in mind,
Because they could no more Inventions find
Their Kingdom to support, cryes out, alas,
We never were before in such a case!

Apollyon.
Ah! what a dismal day, Great Lords, is here!
The Grave doth o'pe, that sight doth just appear
Of which you talk, of which you stand in fear.
Now all our hopes, and expectation's gone.
Ah! who is it has rould away the stone?
All proves in vain that ever we have done.

140

We must our selves in Chains of darkness lie,
And be tormented to Eternitie.

Now from the Earth fresh Light doth gild the skies
Thick darkness vanishes; awake, arise,
Ye Mortals, and with joy open your Eyes;
Behold the morning of that long'd for Day;
The Grave doth o'pe, whilst Devils fly away
To hide themselves, but cannot find a place,
For Vengeance hastens after them apace.
The first Day of the week is now come in,
The Glorious Prince has made an end of Sin.
See how he rouses up from the dark Grave,
The Soul from thence, from Sin and Hell to save.
Ah! how the damned Spirits cry and houl,
Their fearful fall with anguish to condole.
Hell's Principalities are spoiled quite,
And all infernal Pow'rs put to flight.
See what an open shew is made of them,
And how great JESUS doth their Pride contemn.
See how he doth triumph over them all,
He's on his back who gave the Soul its fall.
See Death's by Death destroy'd; a wond'rous sight,
Which doth the hearts of Angels much delight.
They pry into, and wonder at this thing,
Accomplisht thus by our victorious King.

How like a sneaking, conquer'd, spoiled Foe,
That's quite o'recome and brought to utter woe,
Doth Satan look. Ah, see the fatal Rout,
And how the Prince doth drag these Dogs about,

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He makes a show of them; Come, take a view
O'th conquer'd, bloody, baffled Hellish Crew.

What a victorious Conqueror is here?
What Victor may with this great Prince compare?
All Warriours you admir'd heretofore,
Let them not be so much as thought on more.
CHSIST JESUS he is risen from the Dead,
Sin, Wrath, Death, Hell, Devils, and all are fled.

This glorious Conquest o're th' infernal crew,
Is yet more plain by that which doth insue.
Some passages from ancient Records show
The truth of this their final overthrow.
Upon this rising of the Prince of Light,
The Heathen Oracles were silenc'd quite.
Although their Priests and Prophets cry and call,
Henceforth they'r dumb, and answer not at all.
Which Accident and unexpected change
Amaz'd them all; 'twas so prodigious strange,
It made them look about to find the cause
Of such their silence and surprising pause.
Surely, saith Plutarch, they are either dead,
Or else Wise men are risen in their stead,
Which in these days diviner Secrets know,
That Oracles before were wont to show.
Yet he knew better things, and did deny
That Spirits either could wax old, or die.
Some higher Reason therefore must find out
E're he resolve this sense-confounding doubt.
Had he convers'd with John, he might have known
By whom, and how those Gods were overthrown.

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Christ was reveal'd (saith he) unto this End,
That he the works of every Hellish Fiend
Might bring to nought, destroy and ruine quite,
Confining them to their eternal Night.
That this is truth, from Authors of their own
Might be made good, and evidently shown;
Sharp Juvenal to speak it out is pleas'd,
All Oracles at Delphos now are ceas'd.
And lofty Lucan long since did complain
That they their Deities invok'd in vain,
The Gods (saith he, ) by whom this Empire stood
Are from their empty Temples now remov'd.
Their Altars too they have abandon'd quite,
And left the places of their old delight.
But with one instance more I may conclude,
Though I indeed might urge a multitude;
'Tis that which Plutarch doth affirm, and I
Esteem above what e're Antiquity
Hath left recorded, or most curious Eyes
Can view in best approved Histories,
Relating to the matter we have stated,
Which follows thus, as 'tis by him related.
About the period of Tiberius's Raign
(Who at Christ's Death was Rome's proud Soveraign)
Strange hideous Cries, shriekings and howlings be
Heard with amazement, in the Grecian Sea,

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Complaining that their great God Pan was fled,
From whence great Consternations followed.
No sooner did the louder Trump of Fame
This news of their great Pan's Retreat proclaim,
But it was brought unto the Emperours Ears,
And unto him a certain Truth appears.
Who being startled at the strange Relation,
Falls with his Wisemen into Consultation;
Who sought by Magick to resolve the doubt:
Which all their Art and Skill could not find out.
Yet Christians in those days could quickly spy
The way to open the whole Mysterie.
Comparing times, they found this strange Relation
Did just fall out upon Christ's Death and Passion;
And then concluded straightway by the Fall
Of their great Pan, which signineth All;
All Spirits by Christ's Death were so afflicted,
Their utter Ruin thereby was predicted.
Yea others of their own Records still do
Confirm the truth of this then overthrow.
How one of them constrain'd sometime before
By God himself, their fall did thus deplore:
“An Hebrew Child that shall be born, will be
“The final downfal of our Dignity.
“All our usurpt Dominions by that Child
“Shall come to nought, and utterly be spoil'd.
“He strikes us dumb, and nonplus's our Art,
“Henceforth in vain no further Questions start,
“But sad and silent from our Shrines depart.

144

Thus God doth force Devils sometimes to speak,
That which doth much against their Int'rest make.

But stay, my Muse; the Cherubs chant again,
O listen to this more melodious strain.
The glorious Angels do sweet Triumphs sing,
Upon the Conquests of our Heav'nly King;
They clap their wings, and leap for joy to see
This total Rout and happy Victorie.
Shall Heav'n rejoyce, and more concerned Earth
Not sing aloud Jehovah's praises forth?
O happy Day, blest hour, the best of all
Poor Mortals ever saw since Adam's fall;
Christ of a truth is risen from the Grave,
No Pow'rs of Hell could keep him in the Cave.

Yet are there some in these last evil days
Deny that he from Death himself did raise.
The Jews also, with their Forefathers, say,
'Twas a Deceit; for he was stoln away
Whilst drousy Soldiers fell into a sleep,
Who the Sepulchre had a charge to keep.
A thing themselves, no doubt, could not believe,
But was forg'd by the Devil, to deceive
And blind mens Eyes, who wanted that inspection
They might have had touching his Resurrection.
'Twas the last game the Devil could devise,
To hinder Christ's most glorious Enterprise.
They knew that if his Resurrection were
Received for a truth, no hope was there,
But all that they had done, it tumble must:
So the last Evil would exceed the first.

145

But if they had believ'd it, certainly
The Souldiers had with great'st severity
Been punished, for being so remiss,
About a thing so weighty as was this.
Besides, were they asleep, how could they tell
What things there came to pass, or what befell?
Or, if awake, why did they not prevent
Those men who came with such a strong intent?
And can one think, if the Disciples durst
Attempt that thing, they should have stript him first?
Would they not take the body in the cloaths,
Lest e're they'd done, the Sould'ers should have rose,
And caught them doing it? and then be sure
Great sufferings for it they must endure.
Nay, had these men been guilty of such evils,
They'd been no better than seducing Devils,
The worst of Mortals: and how was it then
That God should own and witness to such men,
By aiding them? Would Heavens Pow'r have gone
To prove a Cheat, when Miracles were done?
Again, they were of such Integrity,
As none could brand with the least infamy.
And they 'ith face of Foes, without least dread
Declare that he was risen from the Dead;
That they convers'd with him full forty days,
Whilst he instructed them in all his ways,
Before he did ascend. And then agen,
In Galilee at once five hundred men
Saw him with joy, and in their witness gave,
That he indeed was risen from the Grave.

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Here stop again, my Pen, Time calls away,
Upon this Theme thou must no longer stay;
Leave them to perish, let them fall and die,
That this blest Resurrection do deny.
Shall God, his Saints, and Angels, witness bear
Unto this thing, and yet shall Mortals dare
To call the same in question, or deny
What is confirm'd by such Authority?
No, firm as Earth, or Heav'ns more stable poles,
Let this great Truth be fixt in pious Souls.
Without it Faith's a Fancy, and the best
Of men more wretched than the vilest Beast.

But now, awake my Muse, no longer slumber,
The Day doth dawn, and joys which none can number
Are rushing in upon the Prince of Light;
This sorrow's gone, nought now but Glory bright
Shines forth in him; now is he rais'd on high,
Far out o'th reach of all malignity.
Nor men nor Devils can annoy him more,
He's safely landed on the long'd-for shore.
Go Turtles, go, whilst thousand Joys betide
The glorious Bridegroom and his purchas'd Bride.
That Sun is risen who will ne're go down,
Who will his Spouse with light of Glory crown.
But where's the Soul! O where, alas, is she,
For whom he dy'd and hung upon the Tree?
What greeting? O what Joy, when they do meet,
There will abound! the thoughts thereof are sweet.

147

He that was Dead is come to Life again,
And ever shall in bliss Eternal raign.
Thrice happy is that Soul which he hath chose
To be his Love, his Dove, his Sharon's Rose.
But where is she, and what is her Estate?
For nothing of her we have heard of late.
Doth she not wait? doth she not long to see
His lovely Face, and to embraced be
In his dear Arms? O do'nt she greatly crave
One sight of him, one visit more to have?
Doth not her Soul dissolve then into tears,
With thoughts of him who freed her from all fears?
Read the next Part, and you will quickly find
The Fruit of Sin, and nature of the mind
That is corrupt, and fill'd with carnal Love,
How nothing can those vile Affections move;
Oh how unkind to Christ do Sinners prove!

Sat. 6. Cessant oracula Delphis

Excessere omnes Adytis Arisq; relictis
Dii, quibus Imperium hoc steterat, &c.

The End of the First Book.