The Life of Our Blessed Lord & Saviour Jesus Christ An Heroic Poem: Dedicated to Her Most Sacred Majesty. In Ten Books. Attempted by Samuel Wesley ... Each Book illustrated by necessary Notes, explaining all the more difficult Matters in the whole History: Also a Prefatory Discourse concerning Heroic Poetry. With Sixty Copper-Plates |
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 | The Life of Our Blessed Lord & Saviour Jesus Christ |  |
TO Her most Sacred Majesty MARY, By the Grace of GOD, QUEEN OF Great Britain, France and Ireland, &c. THIS POEM Is most humbly Dedicated BY Her Majesties most Loyal, Most Obedient, And most Dutiful Subject and Servant,
S. Wesley.
To Mr. Samuel Wesley on his Divine Poem of the Life of CHRIST.
As when some Prophet, who had long retir'd,
Returns from Solitude with Rapture fir'd,
With full Credentials made securely bold,
To listning Crowds do's Charmingly unfold
What Angels him in awful Visions told;
With wond'rous Truths surprizing ev'ry Brest,
His sacred Mission is by all Confest.
So you, great Bard, who lay till now conceal'd,
Compiling what your Heav'nly Muse reveal'd,
No sooner quit the Shade, but strike our Eyes
With Wonder, and our Mind with Exstasies.
Returns from Solitude with Rapture fir'd,
With full Credentials made securely bold,
To listning Crowds do's Charmingly unfold
What Angels him in awful Visions told;
With wond'rous Truths surprizing ev'ry Brest,
His sacred Mission is by all Confest.
So you, great Bard, who lay till now conceal'd,
Compiling what your Heav'nly Muse reveal'd,
No sooner quit the Shade, but strike our Eyes
With Wonder, and our Mind with Exstasies.
Ev'n we, the Tribe who thought our selves inspir'd,
Like glimm'ring Stars in Night's dull reign admir'd;
Like Stars, a num'rous but a feeble Host,
Are gladly in your Morning-lustre lost.
When we (and few have been so well inclin'd)
In Songs attempted to Instruct Mankind,
From Nature's Law wee all our Precepts drew,
And ev'n her Sanctions oft perverted too;
Your sacred Muse do's Revelation trace;
And Nature is by you improv'd to Grace.
Like glimm'ring Stars in Night's dull reign admir'd;
Like Stars, a num'rous but a feeble Host,
Are gladly in your Morning-lustre lost.
When we (and few have been so well inclin'd)
In Songs attempted to Instruct Mankind,
From Nature's Law wee all our Precepts drew,
And ev'n her Sanctions oft perverted too;
Your sacred Muse do's Revelation trace;
And Nature is by you improv'd to Grace.
Verse is a Tribute due to sacred Writ,
But seldom paid, or, not in currant Wit;
The Undertakers fail in Zeal or Art,
They want the Genius, or they want the Heart:
To Crown your pious Off'ring both combine;
At once your Numbers and your Theme divine.
But seldom paid, or, not in currant Wit;
The Undertakers fail in Zeal or Art,
They want the Genius, or they want the Heart:
To Crown your pious Off'ring both combine;
At once your Numbers and your Theme divine.
The Race of Poets, while a virtuous Train,
For Inspiration never call'd in vain;
But fail'd in Wit, their stock of Virtue spent,
And as they grew Debauch'd, grew Impotent.
'Tis in their own, and in Religion's wrong,
When Beauty, Wealth or Pow'r employ's their Song.
But if they trespass who are only Vain,
What Punishment's reserv'd for the Prophane!
How shall the Panders scape, who foul Desire,
In Poetry's alluring Charms attire?
Too guilty, while, like Emp'ricks they employ
Their baneful Skill, and privately destroy;
But when the publick Teeming Press they ply,
Thro' all the Realm their poyson'd Papers flie;
Not rural Nymphs are safe in their Retreats,
Th' Infection reaches the remotest Seats.
Who once the Poets Function thus betray,
What Helicon can wash their Stains away!
Such Lepers wou'd make Jordan's Stream impure,
But Jordan's Stream can ne'er such Lepers Cure.
For Inspiration never call'd in vain;
But fail'd in Wit, their stock of Virtue spent,
And as they grew Debauch'd, grew Impotent.
'Tis in their own, and in Religion's wrong,
When Beauty, Wealth or Pow'r employ's their Song.
But if they trespass who are only Vain,
What Punishment's reserv'd for the Prophane!
In Poetry's alluring Charms attire?
Too guilty, while, like Emp'ricks they employ
Their baneful Skill, and privately destroy;
But when the publick Teeming Press they ply,
Thro' all the Realm their poyson'd Papers flie;
Not rural Nymphs are safe in their Retreats,
Th' Infection reaches the remotest Seats.
Who once the Poets Function thus betray,
What Helicon can wash their Stains away!
Such Lepers wou'd make Jordan's Stream impure,
But Jordan's Stream can ne'er such Lepers Cure.
What just Encomiums, Sir, must you receive,
Who Wit and Piety together weave.
No Altar your Oblation can refuse,
Who to the Temple bring a spotless Muse:
You, with fresh Laurels from Parnassus born,
Plant Sion's Hill, and Salem's Tow'rs adorn;
You break the Charms, and from prophane Retreats
Restore the Muses to their Native Seats.
Our leading Moses did this Task pursue,
And liv'd to have the Holy Land in view;
With vig'rous Youth to finish the Success,
Like Joshua you Succeed, and all Possess.
Who Wit and Piety together weave.
No Altar your Oblation can refuse,
Who to the Temple bring a spotless Muse:
You, with fresh Laurels from Parnassus born,
Plant Sion's Hill, and Salem's Tow'rs adorn;
You break the Charms, and from prophane Retreats
Restore the Muses to their Native Seats.
Our leading Moses did this Task pursue,
And liv'd to have the Holy Land in view;
With vig'rous Youth to finish the Success,
Like Joshua you Succeed, and all Possess.
Deep Learning's Stores to raise this Pile are brought,
Bright Fancy after Judgment's Model wrought:
The vast Idea seem'd a subject fit
To exercise an able Poet's Wit;
But to Express, to Finish and Adorn,
Remain'd for you, who for this Work was Born.
The temper'd Stile not too remiss or strong,
But suited to the Subject of the Song;
Which, varying, always shews a Master's Skill,
Sweet as a Vale, or lofty as a Hill.
Bright Fancy after Judgment's Model wrought:
The vast Idea seem'd a subject fit
To exercise an able Poet's Wit;
But to Express, to Finish and Adorn,
Remain'd for you, who for this Work was Born.
The temper'd Stile not too remiss or strong,
But suited to the Subject of the Song;
Which, varying, always shews a Master's Skill,
Sweet as a Vale, or lofty as a Hill.
Here, pious Souls, what they did long desire,
Possess their dear Redeemer's Life intire:
Here, with whole Paradise regain'd they meet,
And Milton's noble Work is now compleat.
Possess their dear Redeemer's Life intire:
Here, with whole Paradise regain'd they meet,
And Milton's noble Work is now compleat.
June 28. 1693. N. Tate.
To the Ingenious Mr. Samuel Wesley on his Poem of the Life of CHRIST.
Redeem'd? It's true; the happy Muse no more
Can her Egyptian slavish Chains deplore;
No more shall spurious Gods or Heroes rais'd
In pow'rful Numbers, be devoutly Prais'd;
Verse form'd 'em Idols, while Immortal Verse
Wou'd Fancy's Dreams in weighty Lines rehearse;
Perverted Poetry cou'd with ease controul
The wiser Passions of the thoughtful Soul;
And into Mischiefs force the Passive Throng,
Hurry'd by the impetuous Witchcraft of deluding Song.
Can her Egyptian slavish Chains deplore;
No more shall spurious Gods or Heroes rais'd
In pow'rful Numbers, be devoutly Prais'd;
Verse form'd 'em Idols, while Immortal Verse
Wou'd Fancy's Dreams in weighty Lines rehearse;
Perverted Poetry cou'd with ease controul
The wiser Passions of the thoughtful Soul;
And into Mischiefs force the Passive Throng,
Hurry'd by the impetuous Witchcraft of deluding Song.
Thy Muse, a Convert made, in nobler Strains
Sings that great God who in himself contains
This spacious ALL, whose active Word commands
The Prince of Idols with his gloomy Bands
Down to those Deeps, where endless Torture dwells,
Beneath the solid darkness of a thousand Hells.
Sings that great God who in himself contains
This spacious ALL, whose active Word commands
The Prince of Idols with his gloomy Bands
Down to those Deeps, where endless Torture dwells,
Beneath the solid darkness of a thousand Hells.
God's and his David's Son, the wond'rous Heir
Of Heav'n and Earth, thy tuneful Rhimes declare:
No Man of Sorrows now, nor meanly Crown'd
With blushing Thorns, nor barbarous Fetters bound;
But in immense Eternal Brightness plac'd,
With all his Fathers ancient Glories grac'd;
Great, Pure, Immortal, always Blest, Sublime,
Before the first, beyond the last of Time;
Where to the Name of their triumphant King,
Hymns sweet as Thyme, extatick Angels sing.
Of Heav'n and Earth, thy tuneful Rhimes declare:
No Man of Sorrows now, nor meanly Crown'd
With blushing Thorns, nor barbarous Fetters bound;
But in immense Eternal Brightness plac'd,
With all his Fathers ancient Glories grac'd;
Great, Pure, Immortal, always Blest, Sublime,
Before the first, beyond the last of Time;
Where to the Name of their triumphant King,
Hymns sweet as Thyme, extatick Angels sing.
What poor Evangelists prescrib'd of old,
And studious Priests still to their Flocks unfold;
Was, till of late, by pious Crowds admir'd,
Their Tales Authentick as their Minds Inspir'd;
Now Damn'd as plain and low, tho' mystick all,
Truth must before the Dagon Nonsense fall.
And studious Priests still to their Flocks unfold;
Was, till of late, by pious Crowds admir'd,
Their Tales Authentick as their Minds Inspir'd;
Now Damn'd as plain and low, tho' mystick all,
Truth must before the Dagon Nonsense fall.
A dull lewd Song to Celia dubs the Wit,
When, with his Title proud, the senseless Chit
Defies his Maker, and his Dictates scorns,
And Heav'n to ridicule and banter turns:
Truth for his Fancy must be gayly drest,
Like the May Lady at some Country Feast.
When, with his Title proud, the senseless Chit
And Heav'n to ridicule and banter turns:
Truth for his Fancy must be gayly drest,
Like the May Lady at some Country Feast.
In thy smooth Verse stands that unchanging Truth,
With Beauties varnish'd and adorn'd with Youth;
Drest in Poetick robes of Flame and Light,
Pleasant as Morning, and as Mid-day bright;
Thy Verse may Charm him who the Preacher flies,
Reform the Brute, and make the Senseless Wise.
With Beauties varnish'd and adorn'd with Youth;
Drest in Poetick robes of Flame and Light,
Pleasant as Morning, and as Mid-day bright;
Thy Verse may Charm him who the Preacher flies,
Reform the Brute, and make the Senseless Wise.
So when a Devil malignant Saul possest,
And broke the quiet of his tortur'd Breast;
When Rage and Folly in his Thoughts combin'd,
Diseas'd his Body, and disturb'd his Mind;
His Harp the gay Jessean Psalmist strung,
And to his Harp some sacred Anthem sung;
So smooth his Voice, so swift his flying Hand
Did trembling Notes and chiding Strings command;
So much of Heav'n did the black Spirit confound,
Nor cou'd his Hell support the charming sound;
But from his Throne the proud Usurper flew,
While Musicks Terrors did his flight pursue,
And Saul's rebellious Thoughts and inward Rage subdue.
And broke the quiet of his tortur'd Breast;
When Rage and Folly in his Thoughts combin'd,
Diseas'd his Body, and disturb'd his Mind;
His Harp the gay Jessean Psalmist strung,
And to his Harp some sacred Anthem sung;
So smooth his Voice, so swift his flying Hand
Did trembling Notes and chiding Strings command;
So much of Heav'n did the black Spirit confound,
Nor cou'd his Hell support the charming sound;
But from his Throne the proud Usurper flew,
While Musicks Terrors did his flight pursue,
And Saul's rebellious Thoughts and inward Rage subdue.
Sic puer Elkanides Domini resupinus in Æde
Summissâ æthereos excipit aure sonos,
Afflatuq; sacro Divinos concipit Ignes,
Et subito in vatum proruit Ipse modos:
Tu, Juvenis, rapis Arma prior, Musasq; profanas
In pia Christicolûm, maxime, castra refers.
Macte animis Wesleie tuis, repetitaq; Christi,
Gesta subacta magis pensa secunda dabunt.
Raptim.
Summissâ æthereos excipit aure sonos,
Afflatuq; sacro Divinos concipit Ignes,
Et subito in vatum proruit Ipse modos:
Tu, Juvenis, rapis Arma prior, Musasq; profanas
In pia Christicolûm, maxime, castra refers.
Macte animis Wesleie tuis, repetitaq; Christi,
Gesta subacta magis pensa secunda dabunt.
Raptim.
L. Milbourne.
To my Ingenious Friend Mr. Samuel Wesley, on his Poem the Life of CHRIST.
Christ's Life! And sung in English Poesie!Who of our Bards durst e'er essay't till thee!
Their Pens are idly busie for the Stage,
To humour there the Genius of the Age;
Their cheif design is still to please the Pit,
And there expose the Folly of their Wit;
But every Theme that's Noble and Divine,
With awkward Modesty they still decline:
About the sacred Ark they trembling stand,
But dare not touch with their unhallow'd Hand;
They plead, alas! They've too prophane a Muse,
And urge their very Crimes for their excuse.
Dryden alone, swoll'n with a nobler Pride,
Out of the common road once step'd aside;
Bravely went on where Milton broke the Ice,
And sweetly mourn'd the loss of Paradise;
Richly embroyder'd his old fashion'd Ground,
And still refin'd the golden Oar he found;
Each Comliness up to a Beauty wrought,
Polish'd each Line and heighten'd every Thought;
What Mortal cou'd have been with him compar'd,
As he began had he but Persever'd!
Cowley indeed (his Works sufficient proof)
For this great Theme—
At once was Poet and was Saint enough.
Had he the blessed Jesus made his choice,
He'd Heav'nly Skill to sing, and Heav'nly Voice;
But on his Type he rather chose to write,
His shadow, yet himself a glorious Light;
David, that mighty Man, employ'd his pains,
He David sung, and sung with David's strains;
Scarce cou'd the Musick of his charming Lyre
Of whom he sang, more please, or more inspire:
The Angels caught his Soul o'th' Wing, and bore
To their blest Quire, whence he return'd no more:
Around him strait the wond'ring Seraph's throng,
And beg from him a more Seraphick Song;
He sang, their high tun'd Harps they higher raise,
And strive to play a Consort to his Lays;
But such high Notes immortal Cowley sings,
As stretch'd their lowd, their everlasting Strings;
So his great Hero's drawn but to the Wast,
And but the Scheme of what shou'd follow cast!
Yet all must needs admire, when it they view,
Both what he did, and what he meant to do.
O that some happy Muse wou'd yet go on,
And finish what so nobly is begun!
But Davideis must (I fear) remain,
Wish'd to be finish'd, but ne'er underta'en:
Yet thou from Cowley hast this Honour won,
He sang but David, thou his greater Son:
A bold Attempt, yet manag'd so by you,
We must your Courage praise, and Conduct too;
So great the Theme, and yet so sweet the Song,
The God thou sing'st doth sure inspire thy Tongue:
Thou open'st all the Treasuries above,
And shew'st the Wonders of Almighty Love:
How the eternal Father made a Child,
With awful sweetness in the Manger Smil'd;
The various hazards which his Nonage ran,
Until the Infant God grew up to Man;
Then drawing o'er his radiant Head a Cloud,
To shew the Man, a while the God you shrou'd;
And to a Scene of Sorrow guid'st our Eye,
The mournful Glories of sad Calvary;
They raise him to the Cross, and there deride;
The Holy Jesus pitty'd them, and Dy'd.
Then how the World its Makers death bemoan'd,
Heav'n wept, Winds sigh'd, Earth quak'd, whole Nature groan'd;
Next how that Death our Sins did Expiate,
How great the Purchase! But how dear the Rate!
This, and much more thy Muse, great Wesley, sings,
Which with fresh beauties ev'ry Verse adorn,
Sprightly as Light, and fragrant as the Morn;
Thy lofty Wit's by solid Judgment fix'd;
Thy fruitful Fancy with deep Learning mix'd:
Their mingled Glories sparkle in each Line,
Each Word both speaks thee Poet and Divine,
Go on, great Bard, still let thy tuneful Lyre
Strike Envy dumb, and teach her to admire.
Thomas Taylor.
To his Ingenious Friend Mr. Samuel Wesley, on his Excellent Poem call'd the Life of Christ.
Sure there's some dearth of Wit starves every Age,
And few yet felt the true Poetic Rage.
Each Pagan Clown engross'd the Muses care,
And like his fellow Beasts, was dub'd a Star;
Huge brawny Limbs claim'd all the Poets song,
And 'twas exceeding Virtue to be strong;
But now—The God, the God!—Be gone Prophane!
Nor with unhallow'd Gifts the Altars stain:
Saturnian Days again enrich the Year,
And promis'd Months in golden Orbs appear.
Again the Mantuan Genius charms the Plains
With more than mighty Maro's lofty strains.
Big with prophetick Fury, Virgil taught
Th' astonish'd World, what Wonders shou'd be wrought.
Under dark Types he veil'd the Heav'nly Birth,
And brought the Godlike Infant smiling to the Earth.
Each beauteous Line the future God confest,
At length amaz'd, to Wesley left the rest.
So the bright Guardian Star with pointed Ray,
Shone thro' the East and gilt the dusky way,
And told the Sages where their Saviour lay;
Then conscious of its Trust, withdrew from sight,
That they might pay their Offrings, where that pay'd 'its light.
Here, here, the God to Wesley's Charge repairs,
And with his Presence crowns the Poets Cares:
Wesley! A Name which in just numbers Shines!
A Name immortal as his sacred Lines!
To thee, great Bard, the darling Muses owe
That freedom which on others they bestow.
Touch'd with the Beauties of Seraphick Love,
Unbody'd and unchain'd from flesh they move.
Nor Phyllis now, nor Strephon's Plaints prevail,
The wretched burthen of some whining Tale;
But the chast Sisters now their Dross refine,
Poets are truely Priests, and Poetry's Divine.
And few yet felt the true Poetic Rage.
Each Pagan Clown engross'd the Muses care,
And like his fellow Beasts, was dub'd a Star;
Huge brawny Limbs claim'd all the Poets song,
And 'twas exceeding Virtue to be strong;
But now—The God, the God!—Be gone Prophane!
Nor with unhallow'd Gifts the Altars stain:
Saturnian Days again enrich the Year,
And promis'd Months in golden Orbs appear.
Again the Mantuan Genius charms the Plains
With more than mighty Maro's lofty strains.
Big with prophetick Fury, Virgil taught
Th' astonish'd World, what Wonders shou'd be wrought.
Under dark Types he veil'd the Heav'nly Birth,
And brought the Godlike Infant smiling to the Earth.
Each beauteous Line the future God confest,
At length amaz'd, to Wesley left the rest.
So the bright Guardian Star with pointed Ray,
Shone thro' the East and gilt the dusky way,
And told the Sages where their Saviour lay;
Then conscious of its Trust, withdrew from sight,
That they might pay their Offrings, where that pay'd 'its light.
Here, here, the God to Wesley's Charge repairs,
And with his Presence crowns the Poets Cares:
Wesley! A Name which in just numbers Shines!
A Name immortal as his sacred Lines!
To thee, great Bard, the darling Muses owe
That freedom which on others they bestow.
Touch'd with the Beauties of Seraphick Love,
Unbody'd and unchain'd from flesh they move.
Nor Phyllis now, nor Strephon's Plaints prevail,
The wretched burthen of some whining Tale;
But the chast Sisters now their Dross refine,
Poets are truely Priests, and Poetry's Divine.
See! How in tuneful Verse the Infant reigns,
And with soft Looks beguiles his Mothers pains!
Pleas'd with thy Song, he less Attentive hears
Th' harmonious Musick of the charming Spheres;
Bids Angels cease their Notes, that Wesley's Lays
May urge with more effect their young Redeemers praise.
O more than Man! Whence comes this sacred Fire,
That doth with sparkling Rage thy Breast inspire?
Sure thou'st a second Rape on Heav'n perform'd,
And with arm'd Hands Ætherial Forges storm'd:
Nought but the Gods own flames cou'd thus dispence
So healing and so kind an Influence.
And with soft Looks beguiles his Mothers pains!
Pleas'd with thy Song, he less Attentive hears
Th' harmonious Musick of the charming Spheres;
Bids Angels cease their Notes, that Wesley's Lays
May urge with more effect their young Redeemers praise.
O more than Man! Whence comes this sacred Fire,
That doth with sparkling Rage thy Breast inspire?
Sure thou'st a second Rape on Heav'n perform'd,
And with arm'd Hands Ætherial Forges storm'd:
Nought but the Gods own flames cou'd thus dispence
So healing and so kind an Influence.
Beauties shine thro' the Work, adorn the whole,
Chain up the Sense, and captivate the Soul.
Whether thou sing'st the dying Hero's fame,
And in loud sighs groan'st forth thy Maker's Name,
When tyr'd with Flesh, he quits the humane load,
And Heav'n, and Earth, and Jews confess the God;
Or thy bold Muse with heighten'd Pinnions flies,
And brings her Charge exalted to the Skies;
Thy Verse thro' starry Hosts the God convey,
And with new Glories paint the milky way.
Chain up the Sense, and captivate the Soul.
Whether thou sing'st the dying Hero's fame,
And in loud sighs groan'st forth thy Maker's Name,
When tyr'd with Flesh, he quits the humane load,
And Heav'n, and Earth, and Jews confess the God;
Or thy bold Muse with heighten'd Pinnions flies,
And brings her Charge exalted to the Skies;
Thy Verse thro' starry Hosts the God convey,
And with new Glories paint the milky way.
To thy great Name what Altars shall we raise?
None but the God thou sing'st can give sufficient praise.
As when of old some pious Saints essay'd
To please high Heav'n, and annual Off'rings paid,
Struck with the sacred Horror of the place,
And prostrate on the Ground, they veil'd their Face.
With awful distance, and with trembling bows,
Their Wonder fully paid their promis'd Vows:
So we amaz'd at thy vast Work retire,
And where we ought to Sacrifice, admire.
None but the God thou sing'st can give sufficient praise.
As when of old some pious Saints essay'd
To please high Heav'n, and annual Off'rings paid,
Struck with the sacred Horror of the place,
And prostrate on the Ground, they veil'd their Face.
With awful distance, and with trembling bows,
Their Wonder fully paid their promis'd Vows:
So we amaz'd at thy vast Work retire,
And where we ought to Sacrifice, admire.
June 23. 1693. William Pittis, Fellow of New-College in Oxon.
To his Reverend Friend Mr. Samuel Wesley, on his Poem of the Life of CHRIST.
Τινα θεον, τιν' Ηρωα, τιν' ανδρα, Κελαδησομεν.
Pindar.
Pindar.
Whilst others write of Criminal Amours,
And how they vainly spend their vacant Hours,
Your Phansy's more sublime, it soars above
The mean Intrigues of their inglorious Love:
Wretchedly they debase a noble Art;
And only touch the Ears; but you the Heart.
You, (with Columbus,) not alone descrie,
But conquer (Cortez-like,) new Worlds in Poetry.
Sure 'twas the same great Master of the Quire
That did direct the Royal Psalmist's Lyre,
Who your Seraphick Breast did thus inspire:
A God Incarnate is a Theme so Great,
It shou'd be manag'd at no vulgar Rate;
Nor have you done it. For, in ev'ry Line,
We read (at once) the Poet, and Divine:
The Muses thus to you the Graces be,
And thus Parnassus is Mount-Calvary.
You (modestly Ambitious of fair Fame)
Take a sure course t'immortalize your Name.
For, till this Fabrick of the World shall end,
And a devouring Conflagration blend
Both Heav'n and Earth together; till we see
Time swallow'd up of vast Eternity;
Till then, your Verse shall be preserv'd alive,
And almost Nature's aged self survive.
June 23. 1693. Henry Cutts.
To Mr. Samuel Wesley, on his Poem of the Life of CHRIST.
Blest are the Bards who, fill'd with Godlike Fire,
Dare, like its Flames, to native Heav'n aspire,
Commence here Angels, and, in equal Lays,
Praise him alone whom Saints and Seraphs praise:
On sacred Themes a sacred Rage they use,
Advance their Art, and deifie their Muse.
These, Poets are! Thou, Wesley, than art blest;
No mortal Beauty fires thy glowing Breast;
Thy Heart, thy Soul with the whole God possest.
No Spurious God, such as at Delphos spoke,
And dubious Answers sold for impious Smoke.
But that bright infant Sun whose dawning Ray
Drove Shades, and Sprights, and Gods of Night away;
Who his true Godhead at his Birth display'd,
And crush'd, at once, Hell's dreadful Serpent's head;
Who bears, with ease, this pond'rous Fabric's load,
Makes conscious Nature tremble at his Nod,
And Heav'n, and Earth, and Hell confess the God.
Who out of Nothing swarms of Worlds cou'd bring,
Of Light invisible th' unfathomable Spring;
Sole, first, and last, still round himself he rouls
In th' undivided Triple-stream, above the reach of Souls.
Dare, like its Flames, to native Heav'n aspire,
Commence here Angels, and, in equal Lays,
Praise him alone whom Saints and Seraphs praise:
On sacred Themes a sacred Rage they use,
Advance their Art, and deifie their Muse.
These, Poets are! Thou, Wesley, than art blest;
No mortal Beauty fires thy glowing Breast;
Thy Heart, thy Soul with the whole God possest.
No Spurious God, such as at Delphos spoke,
And dubious Answers sold for impious Smoke.
But that bright infant Sun whose dawning Ray
Drove Shades, and Sprights, and Gods of Night away;
Who his true Godhead at his Birth display'd,
And crush'd, at once, Hell's dreadful Serpent's head;
Who bears, with ease, this pond'rous Fabric's load,
Makes conscious Nature tremble at his Nod,
And Heav'n, and Earth, and Hell confess the God.
Who out of Nothing swarms of Worlds cou'd bring,
Of Light invisible th' unfathomable Spring;
Sole, first, and last, still round himself he rouls
In th' undivided Triple-stream, above the reach of Souls.
Hold, headstrong Muse, nor, in thy scanty Verse,
Attempt his boundless Wonders to rehearse;
Nor, off'ring Incense with unhallow'd Fire,
Like Nadab in revenging Flames expire.
The Right, the Pow'r of chanting such a Song
To none but consecrated Bards belong.
None but Apelles Alexander drew;
A nobler Draught to nobler Hands is due.
So, Wesley, when we thought, with pious Awe,
No Pencil fit thy suff'ring God to draw,
Perform'd by thine the mighty Task we see;
Or he, thy Lord, has done the Work by thee.
Attempt his boundless Wonders to rehearse;
Nor, off'ring Incense with unhallow'd Fire,
Like Nadab in revenging Flames expire.
The Right, the Pow'r of chanting such a Song
To none but consecrated Bards belong.
None but Apelles Alexander drew;
A nobler Draught to nobler Hands is due.
So, Wesley, when we thought, with pious Awe,
No Pencil fit thy suff'ring God to draw,
Perform'd by thine the mighty Task we see;
Or he, thy Lord, has done the Work by thee.
Thy Choice, like pious Mary's, is the best,
While Others live with Martha's Cares opprest;
When once engag'd, unknowing to go back,
Yet doom'd each Hour their wearied Minds to rack,
To sooth a dull, ungrateful, impious Age;
Th' eternal Drudges of the Press and Stage.
Baffled this Moment, thoughtless of the past,
Still rich in Hopes, and wretched to the last;
Witty by Fits, but oft'ner dull than wise,
And fond of Fame, which yet they sacrifice.
While Others live with Martha's Cares opprest;
When once engag'd, unknowing to go back,
Yet doom'd each Hour their wearied Minds to rack,
To sooth a dull, ungrateful, impious Age;
Th' eternal Drudges of the Press and Stage.
Baffled this Moment, thoughtless of the past,
Still rich in Hopes, and wretched to the last;
Witty by Fits, but oft'ner dull than wise,
And fond of Fame, which yet they sacrifice.
Ah! cruel Fortune! Tyrant of my Life,
To Fools so kind, with Poets still at strife,
Thou may'st constrain thy Slave to lose his Right
To dear-bought Fame, the Poet's best Delight;
But never, never shall my Honor be,
Thou Prostitute, a Prostitute to thee.
Nor will I use a Spark of heav'nly Fire
Chast Flames to quench, and kindle loose Desire;
Or, to mean Flatt'ry and worse Falshoods bent,
Poison the Weak, and stab the Innocent.
To Fools so kind, with Poets still at strife,
Thou may'st constrain thy Slave to lose his Right
To dear-bought Fame, the Poet's best Delight;
But never, never shall my Honor be,
Thou Prostitute, a Prostitute to thee.
Nor will I use a Spark of heav'nly Fire
Chast Flames to quench, and kindle loose Desire;
Or, to mean Flatt'ry and worse Falshoods bent,
Poison the Weak, and stab the Innocent.
Ah! must I never, in bold Numbers, sing
Britain's great Rulers and Heav'n's greater King!
Ev'n our wing'd Brother-Poets of the Grove
Strive here below to Rival those above.
Each Morning they their warbling Voices raise,
Inspir'd by Nature Nature's God to praise.
The lab'ring Hind by them beguiles his Cares,
Yet by his Arts their callow Brood ensnares.
Then blinded, taught t'unlearn their native Strain,
And cag'd for Life, the Wretches sing for Grain.
Britain's great Rulers and Heav'n's greater King!
Ev'n our wing'd Brother-Poets of the Grove
Strive here below to Rival those above.
Each Morning they their warbling Voices raise,
Inspir'd by Nature Nature's God to praise.
The lab'ring Hind by them beguiles his Cares,
Yet by his Arts their callow Brood ensnares.
Then blinded, taught t'unlearn their native Strain,
And cag'd for Life, the Wretches sing for Grain.
So 'tis with us: Alike by Nature free,
Our Lays were Sacred as our Deity;
But by a selfish World enslav'd, while young,
Blinded by Vice, we're taught a meaner Song;
Kept close and bare, we ne'er enjoy the Spring,
The Town our Cage, where we must starve or sing.
Our Lays were Sacred as our Deity;
But by a selfish World enslav'd, while young,
Blinded by Vice, we're taught a meaner Song;
Kept close and bare, we ne'er enjoy the Spring,
The Town our Cage, where we must starve or sing.
Much happier Wesley! wiser grown betimes,
Thou left'st its Hurry, for more peaceful Climes;
Nor, while thy Mind a short Repose enjoy'd,
Was thy chast Muse on trifling Themes employ'd:
Tales of an angry Warrior's sullen Grief,
The tedious Voyage of a crafty Chief,
Troy, which a Horse could conquer in a Night,
Or a false Wand'rer's fatal Loves and Flight:
These ne'er could pay the Poet's Cares and Toils,
The costly Seeds were lost in barren Soils.
Nobler thy Choice, and happier thy Essay,
Modest yet bold, Majestic and yet gay;
As Autumn ripe, yet flourishing as May.
Thou left'st its Hurry, for more peaceful Climes;
Nor, while thy Mind a short Repose enjoy'd,
Was thy chast Muse on trifling Themes employ'd:
The tedious Voyage of a crafty Chief,
Troy, which a Horse could conquer in a Night,
Or a false Wand'rer's fatal Loves and Flight:
These ne'er could pay the Poet's Cares and Toils,
The costly Seeds were lost in barren Soils.
Nobler thy Choice, and happier thy Essay,
Modest yet bold, Majestic and yet gay;
As Autumn ripe, yet flourishing as May.
But here, my Friend, thou check'st my zealous Muse,
And bid'st me for thy God my Incense use;
Thou shun'st the Praise which thy own Virtue draws,
And can'st deserve, but can'st not hear Applause.
And bid'st me for thy God my Incense use;
Thou shun'st the Praise which thy own Virtue draws,
And can'st deserve, but can'st not hear Applause.
Know, 'tis beneath thy Friend to make thee vain;
I praise thee not: Yet must I praise thy Strain,
I may—Since Men, when they applaud thy Lays,
The Prophets great Inspirer only praise.
I praise thee not: Yet must I praise thy Strain,
I may—Since Men, when they applaud thy Lays,
The Prophets great Inspirer only praise.
Yet tho to God alone the Praise belong,
With him and thee we share the pleasing Song.
With him and thee we share the pleasing Song.
Thus Aaron Incense on its Altar laid,
And, while attending Israel bow'd and pray'd;
The balmy Steams, for Heav'n alone prepar'd,
The Priest, the People, and the Godhead shar'd.
And, while attending Israel bow'd and pray'd;
The balmy Steams, for Heav'n alone prepar'd,
The Priest, the People, and the Godhead shar'd.
Peter Motteux.
THE LIFE OF CHRIST:
AN Heroic Poem.
BOOK I.
THE ARGUMENT OF THE First BOOK.
The Proposition. The Invocation. Our Saviour's Ascent on Mount Tabor, with his three Disciples; whence they take a View of the Country about it. The Transfiguration. After which our Saviour descends from the Mount; and after having foretold his Passion, going through Galilee approaches Jerusalem. And, in his Passage thither over Mount Olivet, raises Lazarus from the dead: Then being invited by Simon the Leper to a Feast, in whose House the Destruction of Sodom is described on a Suit of Hangings; Mary Magdalen there anoints his Feet. The next day he descends to Jerusalem, and makes his triumphant Entry into the City, attended by vast Crouds of People, bearing Palms, and singing Hosanna's. Whence he retires in the Evening to Mount Olivet; which is described, with the Country about it. The Description of the Garden near Gethsemane, and our Saviours usual Employment there. A Digression concerning Divine Love, and virtuous Friendship. A Character of the three Disciples, Peter, James, and John. Their Descent from the Mount to Jerusalem; where in the Temple, they are met by Joseph of Arimathea, who formerly, in the Country, had seen many of our Saviour's Miracles. Hence he takes 'em with him to his pleasant Garden on the side of Calvary; where being met by his Friends, Nicodemus and Gamaliel, they put them on a Discourse of our Saviour's Life and Miracles. Which ends the First Book.
1
I sing the Man who reigns enthron'd on high;
I sing the God, who not disdain'd to dye:
Him, whom each modest Seraph trembling sings,
The most afflicted, yet the best of Kings:
Who from th' Eternal Father's side came down,
Stript of his Starry Diadem and Crown;
From Satan's Chains, to ransom captive Men,
And drive him to his own sad Realms agen.
What Pain, what Labour did he not endure,
To close our Wounds, and Happiness secure?
He still was doing Good, and let us see
By his Example, what we ought to be:
Taught us a perfect Law, unknown before;
Did by his Merits the lost World restore,
And gave his Life, when he could give no more:
Hence a new Race of Times and Men began,
And happy Years in decent Order ran:
Hence Faith and Truth agen to Earth return,
And lost Astræa we no longer mourn.
So vast the Work, Apostate Man to save!
So great the Price our dear Redeemer gave!
I sing the God, who not disdain'd to dye:
Him, whom each modest Seraph trembling sings,
The most afflicted, yet the best of Kings:
Who from th' Eternal Father's side came down,
Stript of his Starry Diadem and Crown;
From Satan's Chains, to ransom captive Men,
And drive him to his own sad Realms agen.
What Pain, what Labour did he not endure,
To close our Wounds, and Happiness secure?
2
By his Example, what we ought to be:
Taught us a perfect Law, unknown before;
Did by his Merits the lost World restore,
And gave his Life, when he could give no more:
Hence a new Race of Times and Men began,
And happy Years in decent Order ran:
Hence Faith and Truth agen to Earth return,
And lost Astræa we no longer mourn.
So vast the Work, Apostate Man to save!
So great the Price our dear Redeemer gave!
Nor will he his propitious Aid refuse,
The same my God, my Hero and my Muse,
Who sing his Life; a Work immense and rare,
Too heavy for an Angel's strength to bear:
The mighty Masters of the tuneful Throng,
Whose numerous Souls are struck with sacred Song,
Whose Names the World out-last, the Sun out-shine,
Immortal Cowley, Herbert all divine
Beheld the weighty Task, but durst not stay,
And wisely shrunk their conscious Arms away:
How then shall I, a nameless Thing, presume,
Unmark'd, unknown, to fill their sacred room;
Sunk in the useless Crowd by Birth and Fate,
Sunk lower by unequal Fortune's Weight?
The same my God, my Hero and my Muse,
Who sing his Life; a Work immense and rare,
Too heavy for an Angel's strength to bear:
The mighty Masters of the tuneful Throng,
Whose numerous Souls are struck with sacred Song,
Whose Names the World out-last, the Sun out-shine,
Immortal Cowley, Herbert all divine
Beheld the weighty Task, but durst not stay,
And wisely shrunk their conscious Arms away:
How then shall I, a nameless Thing, presume,
Unmark'd, unknown, to fill their sacred room;
Sunk in the useless Crowd by Birth and Fate,
Sunk lower by unequal Fortune's Weight?
O Thou, whose Word this ALL of nothing made,
And when thou hadst each beauteous Scene survey'd,
Pronounc'd it Good; Let thy kind Spirit shine
Through every part of this New World of mine!
Both Light and Being by thy FIAT give,
And This through Thee, as long as Thine shall live!
And when thou hadst each beauteous Scene survey'd,
Pronounc'd it Good; Let thy kind Spirit shine
Through every part of this New World of mine!
Both Light and Being by thy FIAT give,
And This through Thee, as long as Thine shall live!
Two Worlds already did our LORD confess,
And sure the Third, his Own, could do no less:
Glad Earth and trembling Hell just Witness gave,
These to subdue, and those he came to save:
His ransom'd Subjects loud Hosanna's sing,
His Rebels fled, and knew their angry King:
Already he in Desarts wast and wild
In God-like Innocence severely mild,
Had met the Tyrant of the Realms below,
And conquer'd Hand to Hand the mighty Foe:
Cursing he fled, as when transfix'd he fell,
With all the doubled Spite and Rage of Hell:
Heav'n does at last in its own Cause appear;
The strongest Forces must maintain the Rear:
Th' Inhabitants of those bright Realms of Day,
Must Homage to their mighty Master pay,
Tho' veil'd in humble Robes of Mortal Clay:
And sure the Third, his Own, could do no less:
Glad Earth and trembling Hell just Witness gave,
These to subdue, and those he came to save:
His ransom'd Subjects loud Hosanna's sing,
His Rebels fled, and knew their angry King:
Already he in Desarts wast and wild
In God-like Innocence severely mild,
Had met the Tyrant of the Realms below,
3
Cursing he fled, as when transfix'd he fell,
With all the doubled Spite and Rage of Hell:
Heav'n does at last in its own Cause appear;
The strongest Forces must maintain the Rear:
Th' Inhabitants of those bright Realms of Day,
Must Homage to their mighty Master pay,
Tho' veil'd in humble Robes of Mortal Clay:
Tabor the Place to prove his Mission true,
Where Heav'n and Earth must have an Interview:
That Mount of God, as Sinai long before,
The upper Worlds whole Weight descending bore:
Lovely it look'd like some Divine Abode,
All beauteous as the Paradise of God:
Steep is th' Ascent, but when the Top you gain,
It more than recompences all your Pain,
Presenting the pleas'd Eye an even Plain;
And underneath, around the spacious Coast
The noblest Prospect Jury's Land can boast:
If East inclin'd to North you cast your Eye,
Royal Tiberias thence with Ease you'll spy,
Whose wealthy Citizens their pleasure take
In numerous Boats upon the neighb'ring Lake;
While Ships of greater Bulk with decent Pride
Their Penons waving, Sails extended wide,
Traverse its length, or run from side to side:
Beyond whose Eastern bounds far off you see
With pleasant Horror Stony Arabie:
Kishon to South, whose Banks new Waters fill,
When past by Western Hermon's gentle Hill:
A noble River now, tho' not so large
As when the Stars on Israel's side did charge;
When o'r its Crimson Waves, a ghastly throng,
Bodies and Shields and Helms promiscuous roll'd along:
From thence 'twixt West and North it onward goes,
And near the Walls of little Naim flows,
Whence Carmel's Mount and Grove its Waves entice
To add new Beauties to that Paradice:
Where when the Prophet Baal's curst Priests did slay,
It wash'd their Blood, and Israel's Stain away:
Both hurry'd swift to the great Western Flood;
Within whose Arms, more North, rich Tyrus stood;
Her Walls so strong, nor Sea, nor Land they fear:
And farther on, her Sister Sidon near,
Under fair Libanus you might descry
Where Clouds at once and that obstruct your Eye:
Thence back to South direct your Sight again,
You'll Jezreel see, and rich Megiddo's Plain:
Proud Jezreel, where unhappy Naboth fell,
Whose guiltless Blood cost that of Jezebel.
Where Heav'n and Earth must have an Interview:
That Mount of God, as Sinai long before,
The upper Worlds whole Weight descending bore:
Lovely it look'd like some Divine Abode,
All beauteous as the Paradise of God:
Steep is th' Ascent, but when the Top you gain,
It more than recompences all your Pain,
Presenting the pleas'd Eye an even Plain;
And underneath, around the spacious Coast
The noblest Prospect Jury's Land can boast:
If East inclin'd to North you cast your Eye,
Royal Tiberias thence with Ease you'll spy,
Whose wealthy Citizens their pleasure take
In numerous Boats upon the neighb'ring Lake;
While Ships of greater Bulk with decent Pride
Their Penons waving, Sails extended wide,
Traverse its length, or run from side to side:
Beyond whose Eastern bounds far off you see
With pleasant Horror Stony Arabie:
Kishon to South, whose Banks new Waters fill,
When past by Western Hermon's gentle Hill:
A noble River now, tho' not so large
As when the Stars on Israel's side did charge;
When o'r its Crimson Waves, a ghastly throng,
Bodies and Shields and Helms promiscuous roll'd along:
From thence 'twixt West and North it onward goes,
And near the Walls of little Naim flows,
Whence Carmel's Mount and Grove its Waves entice
To add new Beauties to that Paradice:
Where when the Prophet Baal's curst Priests did slay,
It wash'd their Blood, and Israel's Stain away:
4
Within whose Arms, more North, rich Tyrus stood;
Her Walls so strong, nor Sea, nor Land they fear:
And farther on, her Sister Sidon near,
Under fair Libanus you might descry
Where Clouds at once and that obstruct your Eye:
Thence back to South direct your Sight again,
You'll Jezreel see, and rich Megiddo's Plain:
Proud Jezreel, where unhappy Naboth fell,
Whose guiltless Blood cost that of Jezebel.
To this fair Mount did our blest Lord ascend;
Three Witnesses must thither him attend,
Two, destin'd Martyrs, and the third his Friend;
Zebedee's happy Sons, whose mighty Name
From awful Thunder, scarce more active, came;
Cephas before 'em both in Zeal and Fame:
These with his more peculiar Favour blest,
He with him takes, and leaves beneath the rest.
Three Witnesses must thither him attend,
Two, destin'd Martyrs, and the third his Friend;
Zebedee's happy Sons, whose mighty Name
From awful Thunder, scarce more active, came;
Cephas before 'em both in Zeal and Fame:
These with his more peculiar Favour blest,
He with him takes, and leaves beneath the rest.
Scarce had the chearful Harbinger of Day
Clapt his bright Wings and warn'd the Shades away,
E'r our still watchful Saviour, who denies
The Sun, his shade, before himself should rise,
Had conquer'd Tabor's hoary top, and there
Yet higher mounts in ardent Hymns and Pray'r:
No earthly Thought, no sublunary thing
Could clog his tow'ring Souls Seraphic Wing:
He pass'd through all the glittering Guards on high,
Who staid their Songs, and bow'd as he went by;
Nor stop'd but at his Father's radiant Throne,
“The great Three-One—
He ask'd and had, and beckon'd thence away,
(Gladly all Heav'n his lov'd Commands obey:)
Two of the brightest Saints which fill the Place
Ay-gazing on the Beatifick Face:
That faithful Leader of the chosen Band
Who Nature sway'd with his Almighty Wand;
Whom quaking Sinai shew'd so much before,
That Heav'n it self could hardly now do more:
And him who on the glorious Wings of Morn
In a bright wond'rous Car to Bliss was born;
Whose Soul of Flames as pure as warm was made,
As those which him to his Reward convey'd:
ELIAS, who to Heav'n triumphing rode,
MOSES, expiring with the Kiss of God:
Thus Law and Prophets their Perfection find
In him, the Hope, the Price of lost Mankind:
Meeker than Moses, whilst his Zeal flam'd higher,
Than his who shew'd the Way to Bliss in Fire:
Upon the shivering Mountain's Brow they walk'd,
And things unutterable look'd and talk'd:
Talk'd of his wond'rous Passion, wond'rous Love;
A Riddle pos'd the very Blest above:
They knew their LORD so long enthron'd on high,
They knew he must, yet knew he could not die;
The Light of Light hymn'd by the Heav'nly Quire,
The Coessential Son of his Almighty Sire.
Clapt his bright Wings and warn'd the Shades away,
E'r our still watchful Saviour, who denies
The Sun, his shade, before himself should rise,
Had conquer'd Tabor's hoary top, and there
Yet higher mounts in ardent Hymns and Pray'r:
No earthly Thought, no sublunary thing
Could clog his tow'ring Souls Seraphic Wing:
He pass'd through all the glittering Guards on high,
Who staid their Songs, and bow'd as he went by;
Nor stop'd but at his Father's radiant Throne,
“The great Three-One—
He ask'd and had, and beckon'd thence away,
(Gladly all Heav'n his lov'd Commands obey:)
Two of the brightest Saints which fill the Place
Ay-gazing on the Beatifick Face:
That faithful Leader of the chosen Band
Who Nature sway'd with his Almighty Wand;
Whom quaking Sinai shew'd so much before,
That Heav'n it self could hardly now do more:
And him who on the glorious Wings of Morn
In a bright wond'rous Car to Bliss was born;
5
As those which him to his Reward convey'd:
ELIAS, who to Heav'n triumphing rode,
MOSES, expiring with the Kiss of God:
Thus Law and Prophets their Perfection find
In him, the Hope, the Price of lost Mankind:
Meeker than Moses, whilst his Zeal flam'd higher,
Than his who shew'd the Way to Bliss in Fire:
Upon the shivering Mountain's Brow they walk'd,
And things unutterable look'd and talk'd:
Talk'd of his wond'rous Passion, wond'rous Love;
A Riddle pos'd the very Blest above:
They knew their LORD so long enthron'd on high,
They knew he must, yet knew he could not die;
The Light of Light hymn'd by the Heav'nly Quire,
The Coessential Son of his Almighty Sire.
While thus new Mysteries they still discern'd,
And more than Heav'n it self could teach them, learn'd,
Dull Slumbers the three Witnesses surprise,
And heavy shameful Sloth fast seal'd their Eyes:
With their short Vigils tir'd, supine they lay,
Till them their Master turning did survey;
From his lov'd Face he shot a piercing Beam,
Which rous'd them all from their inglorious Dream;
They gaz'd a while, but found the Scene too bright,
And fled again th' insufferable Light.
And more than Heav'n it self could teach them, learn'd,
Dull Slumbers the three Witnesses surprise,
And heavy shameful Sloth fast seal'd their Eyes:
With their short Vigils tir'd, supine they lay,
Till them their Master turning did survey;
From his lov'd Face he shot a piercing Beam,
Which rous'd them all from their inglorious Dream;
They gaz'd a while, but found the Scene too bright,
And fled again th' insufferable Light.
Thus, when at the last dreadful hour of Doom
Th' Arch-Angel's Trump shall wake each silent Tomb;
When God's Pavilion in the Clouds is spred,
Keen Rays of Lightning wreath'd around his Head;
O'rburthen'd Nature at the sight would fly,
Again would be entomb'd, again would die.
Th' Arch-Angel's Trump shall wake each silent Tomb;
When God's Pavilion in the Clouds is spred,
Keen Rays of Lightning wreath'd around his Head;
O'rburthen'd Nature at the sight would fly,
Again would be entomb'd, again would die.
But now our Lord his Glories part repress'd,
And mildly veils and mitigates the rest:
Again they look'd; what wond'rous things they saw?
Not they themselves the shining Scene could draw,
If yet alive—What Glory and what Grace!
Daz'ling his Form, ineffable his Face:
That Prophet's who from trembling Sinai came,
Was dress'd in a far less Illustrious Flame:
The Sun shrunk back his Head but newly shown,
Eclips'd with stronger Splendor than his own:
Like those eternal Youths which ever dwell
Near Light's and Beauty's unexhausted Well:
Young Cherubs look thus glittering and thus gay,
Adorn'd in all their festal Robes, when they
Some mighty Message to the World convey:
His seamless Robe than new fall'n Snow more white,
One radiant Pillar all of sparkling Light:
Far did it Mortal Art's best strokes outshine,
All o'r the Workmanship of Hands Divine:
But Heav'nly things we to base Earth compare,
So Night like Day, Shades like the Sun are fair:
So the bold Painter's Art pretends to show
Beauteous as those above, feign'd Clouds below.
And mildly veils and mitigates the rest:
Again they look'd; what wond'rous things they saw?
Not they themselves the shining Scene could draw,
If yet alive—What Glory and what Grace!
Daz'ling his Form, ineffable his Face:
That Prophet's who from trembling Sinai came,
Was dress'd in a far less Illustrious Flame:
6
Eclips'd with stronger Splendor than his own:
Like those eternal Youths which ever dwell
Near Light's and Beauty's unexhausted Well:
Young Cherubs look thus glittering and thus gay,
Adorn'd in all their festal Robes, when they
Some mighty Message to the World convey:
His seamless Robe than new fall'n Snow more white,
One radiant Pillar all of sparkling Light:
Far did it Mortal Art's best strokes outshine,
All o'r the Workmanship of Hands Divine:
But Heav'nly things we to base Earth compare,
So Night like Day, Shades like the Sun are fair:
So the bold Painter's Art pretends to show
Beauteous as those above, feign'd Clouds below.
Next him the two great Prophets them surprise
With modest Glories, only less than his:
Such as the twinkling Stars clear Silver Ray
To th' stronger Lustre of the Golden Day.
With modest Glories, only less than his:
Such as the twinkling Stars clear Silver Ray
To th' stronger Lustre of the Golden Day.
An Heav'nly Joy seiz'd each Disciple's Breast,
Too big or to be stifl'd or exprest:
Reason at Revelation must expire;
What wonder if the Sun should damp the Fire?
Too big or to be stifl'd or exprest:
Reason at Revelation must expire;
What wonder if the Sun should damp the Fire?
Thus when young Prophets have a Vision seen,
Or labour with th' unequal God within;
With sacred Rage inspir'd they're now no more
Mild, calm and peaceful as they were before:
New Wildness in their Looks and Eyes we find,
And ev'ry Mark of a disorder'd Mind;
Nature does then beyond it self appear;
Thus Cephas look'd, thus the blest Pair look'd here:
All that they knew was Pleasure mixt with Pain,
All that they fear'd was losing it again:
When Cephas thus—“Dread Master, if we e'r
“Were thy peculiar Love, and tend'rest Care,
“In this blest Place for ever let us stay,
“Rather than Us, O take our Lives away!
“Three humble Tabernacles soon we'll rear
“For Thee, and these Illustrious Strangers here:
“Nor has ev'n God himself disdain'd to dwell
“In the poor Tents of his lov'd Israel.
Or labour with th' unequal God within;
With sacred Rage inspir'd they're now no more
Mild, calm and peaceful as they were before:
New Wildness in their Looks and Eyes we find,
And ev'ry Mark of a disorder'd Mind;
Nature does then beyond it self appear;
Thus Cephas look'd, thus the blest Pair look'd here:
All that they knew was Pleasure mixt with Pain,
All that they fear'd was losing it again:
When Cephas thus—“Dread Master, if we e'r
“Were thy peculiar Love, and tend'rest Care,
“In this blest Place for ever let us stay,
“Rather than Us, O take our Lives away!
“Three humble Tabernacles soon we'll rear
“For Thee, and these Illustrious Strangers here:
“Nor has ev'n God himself disdain'd to dwell
7
Scarce from his Lips, the last swift Accent flies
E're still new Scenes of Miracles arise!
For lo! a Cloud wafts through th' enlight'ned Air,
Those which a Summer Ev'ning dress, less fair;
A wond'rous Cloud, the Morn it self less bright,
Wove from the finest Threads of Heav'nly Light:
Such as far off in those blest Regions stray,
Where God's high Throne scatters eternal Day:
Such that strange Cloud that made the World's first Morn,
Before the Stars or Sun itself was born:
That Pillar such which did from Egypt come,
And piloted the chosen Nations home;
From Earth to Heav'n did its broad Top aspire,
Miraculous Mixture! 'twas both Shade and Fire.
And lo, it comes, and lo, they strive in vain;
Their fault'ring Knees their Bodies can't sustain:
Celestial Lustre ev'n through Clouds survey'd
Must sink the strongest Frame of Matter made?
Blunted with Wonders and exhausted all
Their Spirits forsake their Task—so down they fall;
So down they fall, dissolv'd in reverend Fear;
But first a Voice, an awful Voice they hear,
The Voice of God, in Thunder drest no more,
As when he stoop'd on Sinai heretofore;
Thunder and Darkness then the World did fright,
But now the Voice is calm, the Cloud is bright:
“Th' Eternal Father, First o'th' great Three-One
“Mildly attesting his Eternal Son;
“Whate'r he spake, not Truth it self more clear,
“Commanding them and all the World to hear:
They hear, but dare not him who speaks it meet,
So down they fall, and kiss their Masters Feet:
Nor long his kind and speedy Succour stays;
He touch'd, whose very Touch the Dead can raise,
Their lifeless Limbs, and him they rising praise:
Around they look'd, but could no more descry
That Heav'nly Pair, whose happy Company
They late enjoy'd, return'd to Bliss, to show
To those above, what they had learn'd below:
E're still new Scenes of Miracles arise!
For lo! a Cloud wafts through th' enlight'ned Air,
Those which a Summer Ev'ning dress, less fair;
A wond'rous Cloud, the Morn it self less bright,
Wove from the finest Threads of Heav'nly Light:
Such as far off in those blest Regions stray,
Where God's high Throne scatters eternal Day:
Such that strange Cloud that made the World's first Morn,
Before the Stars or Sun itself was born:
That Pillar such which did from Egypt come,
And piloted the chosen Nations home;
From Earth to Heav'n did its broad Top aspire,
Miraculous Mixture! 'twas both Shade and Fire.
And lo, it comes, and lo, they strive in vain;
Their fault'ring Knees their Bodies can't sustain:
Celestial Lustre ev'n through Clouds survey'd
Must sink the strongest Frame of Matter made?
Blunted with Wonders and exhausted all
Their Spirits forsake their Task—so down they fall;
So down they fall, dissolv'd in reverend Fear;
But first a Voice, an awful Voice they hear,
The Voice of God, in Thunder drest no more,
As when he stoop'd on Sinai heretofore;
Thunder and Darkness then the World did fright,
But now the Voice is calm, the Cloud is bright:
“Th' Eternal Father, First o'th' great Three-One
“Mildly attesting his Eternal Son;
“Whate'r he spake, not Truth it self more clear,
“Commanding them and all the World to hear:
They hear, but dare not him who speaks it meet,
So down they fall, and kiss their Masters Feet:
Nor long his kind and speedy Succour stays;
He touch'd, whose very Touch the Dead can raise,
Their lifeless Limbs, and him they rising praise:
Around they look'd, but could no more descry
That Heav'nly Pair, whose happy Company
They late enjoy'd, return'd to Bliss, to show
To those above, what they had learn'd below:
8
Thus Holy Souls from dregs of Sin refin'd,
Whose Frames are little less than perfect Mind,
Whose Converse and Acquaintance with the Blest
Commences here, and half their Heav'n's possest:
Thus, when to these through Sleeps thin Curtains shine
Angelic Essences, and Forms Divine,
They sighing wake, and clasp the empty Air;
Thus Cephas, thus the Zebedæan Pair,
And would have griev'd, had not our Lord been there;
Who, free from worldly Glories vain desire,
Unwarm'd at fond Ambition's foolish Fire,
What they had seen commands 'em to conceal,
Nor to the World those sacred Truths reveal,
Till, when he conquer'd Death, and broke its Chain,
That Faith to this, as this to that might gain.
Whose Frames are little less than perfect Mind,
Whose Converse and Acquaintance with the Blest
Commences here, and half their Heav'n's possest:
Thus, when to these through Sleeps thin Curtains shine
Angelic Essences, and Forms Divine,
They sighing wake, and clasp the empty Air;
Thus Cephas, thus the Zebedæan Pair,
And would have griev'd, had not our Lord been there;
Who, free from worldly Glories vain desire,
Unwarm'd at fond Ambition's foolish Fire,
What they had seen commands 'em to conceal,
Nor to the World those sacred Truths reveal,
Till, when he conquer'd Death, and broke its Chain,
That Faith to this, as this to that might gain.
Wond'ring they long revolv'd his deep intent,
Nor fathom'd what those strange Expressions meant:
How can he suffer sad Rebuke or Pain,
How can he either dye or rise again?
With a kind Doubt they these sad Truths receive:
And what they must fain would they not believe:
Till quitting Tabor he the same exprest
To those beneath, with the same Griefs opprest:
His Pains, his Wounds, and that sad Scene of Woe
He for th' ungrateful World must undergo:
How he must enter Death's uneasie Gate,
The Son of Man must suffer mortal Fate:
How then the Son of God must break the Chain
And on the third glad Morning rise again.
Nor fathom'd what those strange Expressions meant:
How can he suffer sad Rebuke or Pain,
How can he either dye or rise again?
With a kind Doubt they these sad Truths receive:
And what they must fain would they not believe:
Till quitting Tabor he the same exprest
To those beneath, with the same Griefs opprest:
His Pains, his Wounds, and that sad Scene of Woe
He for th' ungrateful World must undergo:
How he must enter Death's uneasie Gate,
The Son of Man must suffer mortal Fate:
How then the Son of God must break the Chain
And on the third glad Morning rise again.
Deep was the Sorrow seiz'd each Loyal Breast,
When Truths so terrible their Lord express'd:
All gladly, if they dar'd, would him reprove,
As Cephas did with his too forward Love:
Mistaken men! your kindness soars too high;
Or He, or you and all the World must die:
He knew the fatal Price that must be paid
Long long before the World's Foundations laid;
He knew the Hour, and thither did proceed,
Where He, th' atoning Lamb, must mildly bleed;
To proud Jerusalem, out-stretching high
Her lofty Turrets, glitt'ring in the Sky;
Charg'd with so many a Prophet's Blood before
The Guilt of his could only sink 'em more.
Through Galilee's wild Coasts his Progress takes,
But unproclaim'd and silent Journeys makes:
In vain, alas, he strives to be conceal'd,
He's like the Sun by his own Rays reveal'd:
See where from far the crowding Regions meet,
And cast th' infirm and desp'rate at his feet!
Where these from old Bethabara they bring,
And these from Father Jordan's double Spring:
Nor Devils nor Diseases longer stay,
When warn'd by his Almighty Voice away.
The Lame their Feet without their Crutches find,
His Word, as to the World, gives Light to th' Blind,
Such Light as cheers at once their Eyes and Mind.
What Angel's Eloquence cou'd equal prove
To all the Wonders of his Pow'r and Love?
How oft, with the long Days fatigues opprest,
His Works the God, his pain the Man confest,
His toilsom Labour call'd for gentle rest?
Oft least officious Crowds shou'd him surprize,
He from the Sea seeks what the Land denies,
In a small Boat of fair Bethsaida's Town
Which Zebedee and faithful Cephas own:
These, once when length'ning Shadows warn'd away
From the dim Heav'ns the dying Lamp of Day
He bids forsake the Galilean Shore,
And with his faithful Houshold waft him o'r
For Gadaras strong Turrets, rais'd so high
As Heav'n and Earth, they'd both at once defy:
They lancht, whilst he his humble Cabin takes
And sleeps, tho' all his Guard of Angels wakes:
When strait a thick black mist began to rise
Still dark'ning more and more the disappearing Skies:
Old Zebedee by long experience, wise,
When first intent he view'd the thick'ning Air,
Calls up his Mates, and bids for Storms prepare;
He to the Helm, he knew to guide it best,
And to their well known Quarters all the rest:
Nor needless was his Caution or their Hast,
With one black Mantle strait all Heav'n's o'rcast:
Whether the Enemy assay'd in vain,
What he had lost at Land, at Sea to gain;
Or hop'd he by surprizal might prevail,
Where by fair Force he durst no more assail:
Or whether Nature only sent the Storm
T'experience what her Master cou'd perform;
Suffer'd by him whose Word can Storms remove,
To shew his God-like Pow'r, and God-like Love:
But whether it from Nature's Storehouse fell,
Or issu'd from the baleful Caves of Hell;
Still more and more its threatning Rage prevails,
And from the Mast soon rends the Paper-Sails:
The Dead-Sea roars, and sulph'rous Vapours come
In rolling Flames, from its Infernal Womb,
From Regions wide away loud Ruine bear,
As gathering Thunders bellow round the Air.
Old Jordan hears, its Waters backward run
(As thrice before) the fatal Shock to shun,
Against the Stream rolls in th' unnatural Tide,
And should'ring Seas upon each other ride:
Wind against Wind, Floods dashing Floods arise,
One Whirlpool all the Waves, one Whirl-wind all the Skies:
Cold sleet from every Quarter driving comes,
And Fear as much each trembling Hand benums:
While from the Hollow of a dreadful Cloud,
Fates angry Messengers for passage crowd,
And o'r affrighted Mortals roar aloud:
Broad Sheets of ghastly Flame from thence are sent
Discovering either wrathful Element,
Whose Horrors strike their Eyes with cruel Light,
Thro' the dire Chasms of interrupted Night:
They saw the boyling Deep roll wide away,
While Nature's secret Chambers open lay:
So vast the Gulph, it shew'd a horrid Shore,
And Rocks and Sands and Paths unknown before;
Aloft black low'ring Worlds of Water rave,
And greedy Death broods o'r each threat'ning Wave,
Thither on Surges tumultuous they rise,
And hang on Pyramids, amidst the Skies.
Whence they look down on Fate, which will not stay,
But on the next curl'd Billow hasts away;
Nor more his Art can the wise Steersman show,
The Helm is gone, and the next staggering blow
Drives in some treach'rous Plank, and down they go:
Half fill'd with Waves, they on their Master think,
One dreadful Cry they make—We sink! we sink!
All pray'd, but Judas most, and dreading Fate,
Invoke the Saviour's Aid, if that not now too late.
He rose, he came, he hear'd their gasping crys,
He came with Love and Pity in his Eyes.
Chid the mad Waves, rebuk'd the blust'ring Wind;
These gently roll, that murmurs soft and kind,
The Billows sink, not into a Gulph, but Plain,
And mild Etesian Whispers fan the Main:
All in a moment husht and quiet laid,
Still'd by his Word, as when the World he made:
When Sooty Waves did first thro' Chaos roar,
Whose turbid motion knew no rest nor shore:
Till the Almighty Word its Bosom prest,
And hovering o'r dispos'd to gentle rest,
With a fair Birth thence did it pregnant prove,
And Light was born to Chaos and to Love.
Thus here—when reaching strait the wisht-for shore,
All trembling kneel, and their dread Lord adore.
Soon known the guilty Dæmons shun his sight,
And sink, confessing, down to conscious Night:
Yet more illustrious Wonders him attend,
When last to Salem he his steps did bend,
The Sun looks biggest near his Journeys end:
For now, o'r lofty Olivet they go,
And see far off the clust'ring Town below:
Descending thence, among the Trees they spy
Thy happy Walls, delightful Bethany!
A Villa where good Lazarus was Lord,
And often at his Hospitable Board,
With Plenty and with Welcom spred did see
Our Saviour and his faithful Family.
Nor cou'd they pass his Gates, invited in
By Martha and repenting Magdalen:
Wise Martha still kept home, and safer there
Her Brother's Houshold made her humble Care.
Fair Magdalena had at Court been bred,
On Pleasures downy Pillows laid her Head;
There found her Vertue but a weak Defence,
And lost her Fame, and lost her Innocence.
Her Soul by Vanity and Pride possest,
And many a blacker foul Infernal Guest;
All which our Saviour's Word expell'd her Breast.
Each Hell-bred Fiend at once he chas'd away,
Chas'd all the ugly Mists, and let in Day;
By a severe Repentance did restore,
And made her Soul far brighter than before:
Thus an illustrious Penitent she prov'd,
And much she pray'd, and much she wept and lov'd:
To Bethany then back did grieving come,
By her kind Brother gladly welcom'd home;
When Truths so terrible their Lord express'd:
All gladly, if they dar'd, would him reprove,
As Cephas did with his too forward Love:
Mistaken men! your kindness soars too high;
Or He, or you and all the World must die:
He knew the fatal Price that must be paid
Long long before the World's Foundations laid;
He knew the Hour, and thither did proceed,
Where He, th' atoning Lamb, must mildly bleed;
To proud Jerusalem, out-stretching high
9
Charg'd with so many a Prophet's Blood before
The Guilt of his could only sink 'em more.
Through Galilee's wild Coasts his Progress takes,
But unproclaim'd and silent Journeys makes:
In vain, alas, he strives to be conceal'd,
He's like the Sun by his own Rays reveal'd:
See where from far the crowding Regions meet,
And cast th' infirm and desp'rate at his feet!
Where these from old Bethabara they bring,
And these from Father Jordan's double Spring:
Nor Devils nor Diseases longer stay,
When warn'd by his Almighty Voice away.
The Lame their Feet without their Crutches find,
His Word, as to the World, gives Light to th' Blind,
Such Light as cheers at once their Eyes and Mind.
What Angel's Eloquence cou'd equal prove
To all the Wonders of his Pow'r and Love?
How oft, with the long Days fatigues opprest,
His Works the God, his pain the Man confest,
His toilsom Labour call'd for gentle rest?
Oft least officious Crowds shou'd him surprize,
He from the Sea seeks what the Land denies,
In a small Boat of fair Bethsaida's Town
Which Zebedee and faithful Cephas own:
These, once when length'ning Shadows warn'd away
From the dim Heav'ns the dying Lamp of Day
He bids forsake the Galilean Shore,
And with his faithful Houshold waft him o'r
For Gadaras strong Turrets, rais'd so high
As Heav'n and Earth, they'd both at once defy:
They lancht, whilst he his humble Cabin takes
And sleeps, tho' all his Guard of Angels wakes:
When strait a thick black mist began to rise
Still dark'ning more and more the disappearing Skies:
Old Zebedee by long experience, wise,
When first intent he view'd the thick'ning Air,
Calls up his Mates, and bids for Storms prepare;
He to the Helm, he knew to guide it best,
And to their well known Quarters all the rest:
10
With one black Mantle strait all Heav'n's o'rcast:
Whether the Enemy assay'd in vain,
What he had lost at Land, at Sea to gain;
Or hop'd he by surprizal might prevail,
Where by fair Force he durst no more assail:
Or whether Nature only sent the Storm
T'experience what her Master cou'd perform;
Suffer'd by him whose Word can Storms remove,
To shew his God-like Pow'r, and God-like Love:
But whether it from Nature's Storehouse fell,
Or issu'd from the baleful Caves of Hell;
Still more and more its threatning Rage prevails,
And from the Mast soon rends the Paper-Sails:
The Dead-Sea roars, and sulph'rous Vapours come
In rolling Flames, from its Infernal Womb,
From Regions wide away loud Ruine bear,
As gathering Thunders bellow round the Air.
Old Jordan hears, its Waters backward run
(As thrice before) the fatal Shock to shun,
Against the Stream rolls in th' unnatural Tide,
And should'ring Seas upon each other ride:
Wind against Wind, Floods dashing Floods arise,
One Whirlpool all the Waves, one Whirl-wind all the Skies:
Cold sleet from every Quarter driving comes,
And Fear as much each trembling Hand benums:
While from the Hollow of a dreadful Cloud,
Fates angry Messengers for passage crowd,
And o'r affrighted Mortals roar aloud:
Broad Sheets of ghastly Flame from thence are sent
Discovering either wrathful Element,
Whose Horrors strike their Eyes with cruel Light,
Thro' the dire Chasms of interrupted Night:
They saw the boyling Deep roll wide away,
While Nature's secret Chambers open lay:
So vast the Gulph, it shew'd a horrid Shore,
And Rocks and Sands and Paths unknown before;
Aloft black low'ring Worlds of Water rave,
And greedy Death broods o'r each threat'ning Wave,
Thither on Surges tumultuous they rise,
11
Whence they look down on Fate, which will not stay,
But on the next curl'd Billow hasts away;
Nor more his Art can the wise Steersman show,
The Helm is gone, and the next staggering blow
Drives in some treach'rous Plank, and down they go:
Half fill'd with Waves, they on their Master think,
One dreadful Cry they make—We sink! we sink!
All pray'd, but Judas most, and dreading Fate,
Invoke the Saviour's Aid, if that not now too late.
He rose, he came, he hear'd their gasping crys,
He came with Love and Pity in his Eyes.
Chid the mad Waves, rebuk'd the blust'ring Wind;
These gently roll, that murmurs soft and kind,
The Billows sink, not into a Gulph, but Plain,
And mild Etesian Whispers fan the Main:
All in a moment husht and quiet laid,
Still'd by his Word, as when the World he made:
When Sooty Waves did first thro' Chaos roar,
Whose turbid motion knew no rest nor shore:
Till the Almighty Word its Bosom prest,
And hovering o'r dispos'd to gentle rest,
With a fair Birth thence did it pregnant prove,
And Light was born to Chaos and to Love.
Thus here—when reaching strait the wisht-for shore,
All trembling kneel, and their dread Lord adore.
Soon known the guilty Dæmons shun his sight,
And sink, confessing, down to conscious Night:
Yet more illustrious Wonders him attend,
When last to Salem he his steps did bend,
The Sun looks biggest near his Journeys end:
For now, o'r lofty Olivet they go,
And see far off the clust'ring Town below:
Descending thence, among the Trees they spy
Thy happy Walls, delightful Bethany!
A Villa where good Lazarus was Lord,
And often at his Hospitable Board,
With Plenty and with Welcom spred did see
Our Saviour and his faithful Family.
Nor cou'd they pass his Gates, invited in
12
Wise Martha still kept home, and safer there
Her Brother's Houshold made her humble Care.
Fair Magdalena had at Court been bred,
On Pleasures downy Pillows laid her Head;
There found her Vertue but a weak Defence,
And lost her Fame, and lost her Innocence.
Her Soul by Vanity and Pride possest,
And many a blacker foul Infernal Guest;
All which our Saviour's Word expell'd her Breast.
Each Hell-bred Fiend at once he chas'd away,
Chas'd all the ugly Mists, and let in Day;
By a severe Repentance did restore,
And made her Soul far brighter than before:
Thus an illustrious Penitent she prov'd,
And much she pray'd, and much she wept and lov'd:
To Bethany then back did grieving come,
By her kind Brother gladly welcom'd home;
Who now, beneath a Fever's mortal Rage,
Beyond the feeble power of Art t'asswage,
For Life, just gasping lay; and by his Bed
The pos'd Physician sadly shakes his Head,
Thence with slow steps in silence walks to th' door,
Gives him for gone, his Skill can do no more:
Tho' first with Grief confus'd and hurry'd all,
Their absent Guest at length to mind they call;
To him in hast a Messenger they send,
To come, if not too late, and save his Friend,
Him whom he lov'd. He bids 'em not despair,
“There was no danger, and he'd soon be there:
But whilst he in the neighb'ring Regions staid
And from his gasping Friend his help delaid,
His Soul from mortal Misery was fled,
And his cold Corps entomb'd among the dead;
The Funeral Pomp t'his widow'd House return,
And his sad Sister's Loss condole and mourn:
While deeply they remain'd lamenting here,
Tidings at length were brought, our Lord was near:
The Sisters rise their God-like Guest to meet,
And prostrate thrown with tears embrace his Feet,
And tho' they cannot doubt his Love or Care,
Both join in this—
“Their Brother had not dy'd, had he been there.
The Jews, who the two Mourners still attend,
So good a Neighbour, and so kind a Friend
Justly lament, all his good Actions tell,
And own there's few that liv'd or dy'd so well:
With such a general Tide of Grief opprest,
Our Saviour groan'd and wept among the rest:
He own'd himself a Man, his Passions mov'd
Like ours, he wept the Loss of what he lov'd:
Agen he wept, agen did inly groan:
When at the Grave arriv'd, a pond'rous Stone
After the antient Rite its Mouth secur'd,
(The Body in a spacious Vault immur'd)
This Jesus bids remove, when Martha cry'd,
“'Tis now so long, dear Master, since he dy'd,
Such putrid Steams must needs infect the Air,
“As neither these, nor you his Friend can bear:
To whom our Lord—“Believe and Wonders see,
“Believe and leave the rest to Heav'n and Me.
The Stone remov'd, to Heav'n he lifts his Eyes,
And prays a while, then bids his Friend, Arise!
Tho' dead, the Son of God's dread Voice he knows,
Tho' dead, at his Almighty Voice he rose;
A Shout th' Croud amaz'd around 'em gives,
“Dread Son of God, they cry, he lives, he lives!
Upon his Neck the ravish'd Sisters fell,
And almost need another Miracle,
Them from their furious Transports to revive,
Half dead with Joy, that he's agen alive.
Beyond the feeble power of Art t'asswage,
For Life, just gasping lay; and by his Bed
The pos'd Physician sadly shakes his Head,
Thence with slow steps in silence walks to th' door,
Gives him for gone, his Skill can do no more:
Tho' first with Grief confus'd and hurry'd all,
Their absent Guest at length to mind they call;
To him in hast a Messenger they send,
To come, if not too late, and save his Friend,
Him whom he lov'd. He bids 'em not despair,
“There was no danger, and he'd soon be there:
But whilst he in the neighb'ring Regions staid
And from his gasping Friend his help delaid,
His Soul from mortal Misery was fled,
And his cold Corps entomb'd among the dead;
The Funeral Pomp t'his widow'd House return,
And his sad Sister's Loss condole and mourn:
While deeply they remain'd lamenting here,
Tidings at length were brought, our Lord was near:
The Sisters rise their God-like Guest to meet,
And prostrate thrown with tears embrace his Feet,
13
Both join in this—
“Their Brother had not dy'd, had he been there.
The Jews, who the two Mourners still attend,
So good a Neighbour, and so kind a Friend
Justly lament, all his good Actions tell,
And own there's few that liv'd or dy'd so well:
With such a general Tide of Grief opprest,
Our Saviour groan'd and wept among the rest:
He own'd himself a Man, his Passions mov'd
Like ours, he wept the Loss of what he lov'd:
Agen he wept, agen did inly groan:
When at the Grave arriv'd, a pond'rous Stone
After the antient Rite its Mouth secur'd,
(The Body in a spacious Vault immur'd)
This Jesus bids remove, when Martha cry'd,
“'Tis now so long, dear Master, since he dy'd,
Such putrid Steams must needs infect the Air,
“As neither these, nor you his Friend can bear:
To whom our Lord—“Believe and Wonders see,
“Believe and leave the rest to Heav'n and Me.
The Stone remov'd, to Heav'n he lifts his Eyes,
And prays a while, then bids his Friend, Arise!
Tho' dead, the Son of God's dread Voice he knows,
Tho' dead, at his Almighty Voice he rose;
A Shout th' Croud amaz'd around 'em gives,
“Dread Son of God, they cry, he lives, he lives!
Upon his Neck the ravish'd Sisters fell,
And almost need another Miracle,
Them from their furious Transports to revive,
Half dead with Joy, that he's agen alive.
Nor here would our meek Saviour longer stay,
But from the faithless Croud withdraws away;
Withdraws the Elders Envy to repress,
And shelters in the lonely Wilderness.
In doing good his happy hours he spent,
and scatter'd Miracles where e'r he went:
Here liv'd retir'd, till the great Pasch was nigh,
When he, th' immaculate Lamb, was doom'd to die.
Then mildly back returns, devoted still
To do or suffer his great Father's Will.
Descending from the Olive-bearing Hill.
Rich Simon him accosts; nor long before
Our Lord did him to humane Sight restore,
A frightful Leper he, recluse remain'd,
Till by his Word he Health and Ease regain'd.
On his Estate now splendid lives, and great,
Near Bethany his fair Paternal Seat:
Nor has he yet forgot how much he ows,
But due Respect t'his great Physician shows.
Him passing near, he gently did arrest,
And tells him, he that Night must be his Guest,
Since he a little Banquet did prepare,
And Laz'rus and his Sisters would be there,
He and his Twelve: Nor did our Lord deny
His hospitable Wish to gratifie.
Never morose or supercilious he;
His Converse always open was and free;
Life's moderate Pleasures tasts, if in his way,
If not, could as content, without e'm stay.
In a cool Summer Parlor all they found
Prepar'd, rich Tyrian Carpets spread the Ground,
Hangings as rich adorn'd the stately Room,
The dear-bought Work of Sidon's noble Loom:
On which, whilst on the Couch good Simon plac'd
Our Lord and his, unsatisfi'd they gaz'd,
Which Sodom's Fate inscrib'd so lively bore,
It look'd almost as dreadful as before:
The Workman's Art did here so happy prove,
You'd think the very Figures weep and move:
And there so plain the flaming Cities show,
Spectators fear, lest they should Statues grow;
Like Lot's Apostate Wife—See where she stands,
And backward throws her longing Eyes and Hands!
Her Eyes and Hands, from whence warm Life was fled,
These with a careless stroke left pale and dead.
That Cheek that's nearest fresh and ruddy shows,
T'other, as seems, each moment paler grows.
Her Hair part hast'ning Fate did slowly bind,
And part still faintly waver'd in the Wind:
One Foot seems rais'd, as thence its Load 'twould bear,
But t'other, like a Statue's rooted there:
Just half transform'd, as yet an equal Strife
Betwixt Death's chilling Frost and strugling Life:
'Till by degrees she seem'd of Sense bereft,
And still the more you look'd, the less was left;
Yet in her Face, Fear, Anger, Pity strive,
As skilful Artists make their Marble live:
Not far before the good old Man appears,
Thence by his Angels hasten'd, and his Fears;
The small Remains of Sodom with him bears,
And moistens with his Tears his Silver Hairs:
See him scarce reach'd to little Zoar's Walls,
When from black Clouds the ruddy Vengeance falls:
(Big drops of flaming Gold profusely spent
To th' Life the fatal Show'r did represent:)
See where the curst Inhabitants look pale,
As down it drives on Siddim's guilty Vale!
See where with fearful Shrieks they pierce the Sky!
Almost you'd think you heard the wretched Cry
For what they long despis'd; now all too late,
Deep swallow'd in inevitable Fate.
Next see old Jordan from above prepare
With Silver Streams, (true Silver Streams they were)
To wash their Walls; but when he heard the News,
As fain he would the hated Task refuse,
See where a while his Fate and theirs he shuns,
And bending back by strong Machærus runs!
His Fate in vain he shuns by this short stay,
Relapsing through the Vale he glides away,
And makes a black uncomfortable Bay:
Here wand'ring Birds above forget to fly,
And there the glitt'ring Fishes floating lie,
Choak'd with Sulphureous Fumes they gasp and die:
The Fields around, the Regions of Despair;
No Beast durst graze, no Shrub or Herb grew there:
Above, these Words—
Writ in the antient Hebrew Character:
“Learn, Mortals hence, to dread the Immortal's Ire!
“Here fiery Lust was purg'd with hotter Fire.
But from the faithless Croud withdraws away;
Withdraws the Elders Envy to repress,
And shelters in the lonely Wilderness.
In doing good his happy hours he spent,
and scatter'd Miracles where e'r he went:
Here liv'd retir'd, till the great Pasch was nigh,
When he, th' immaculate Lamb, was doom'd to die.
14
To do or suffer his great Father's Will.
Descending from the Olive-bearing Hill.
Rich Simon him accosts; nor long before
Our Lord did him to humane Sight restore,
A frightful Leper he, recluse remain'd,
Till by his Word he Health and Ease regain'd.
On his Estate now splendid lives, and great,
Near Bethany his fair Paternal Seat:
Nor has he yet forgot how much he ows,
But due Respect t'his great Physician shows.
Him passing near, he gently did arrest,
And tells him, he that Night must be his Guest,
Since he a little Banquet did prepare,
And Laz'rus and his Sisters would be there,
He and his Twelve: Nor did our Lord deny
His hospitable Wish to gratifie.
Never morose or supercilious he;
His Converse always open was and free;
Life's moderate Pleasures tasts, if in his way,
If not, could as content, without e'm stay.
In a cool Summer Parlor all they found
Prepar'd, rich Tyrian Carpets spread the Ground,
Hangings as rich adorn'd the stately Room,
The dear-bought Work of Sidon's noble Loom:
On which, whilst on the Couch good Simon plac'd
Our Lord and his, unsatisfi'd they gaz'd,
Which Sodom's Fate inscrib'd so lively bore,
It look'd almost as dreadful as before:
The Workman's Art did here so happy prove,
You'd think the very Figures weep and move:
And there so plain the flaming Cities show,
Spectators fear, lest they should Statues grow;
Like Lot's Apostate Wife—See where she stands,
And backward throws her longing Eyes and Hands!
Her Eyes and Hands, from whence warm Life was fled,
These with a careless stroke left pale and dead.
That Cheek that's nearest fresh and ruddy shows,
T'other, as seems, each moment paler grows.
Her Hair part hast'ning Fate did slowly bind,
15
One Foot seems rais'd, as thence its Load 'twould bear,
But t'other, like a Statue's rooted there:
Just half transform'd, as yet an equal Strife
Betwixt Death's chilling Frost and strugling Life:
'Till by degrees she seem'd of Sense bereft,
And still the more you look'd, the less was left;
Yet in her Face, Fear, Anger, Pity strive,
As skilful Artists make their Marble live:
Not far before the good old Man appears,
Thence by his Angels hasten'd, and his Fears;
The small Remains of Sodom with him bears,
And moistens with his Tears his Silver Hairs:
See him scarce reach'd to little Zoar's Walls,
When from black Clouds the ruddy Vengeance falls:
(Big drops of flaming Gold profusely spent
To th' Life the fatal Show'r did represent:)
See where the curst Inhabitants look pale,
As down it drives on Siddim's guilty Vale!
See where with fearful Shrieks they pierce the Sky!
Almost you'd think you heard the wretched Cry
For what they long despis'd; now all too late,
Deep swallow'd in inevitable Fate.
Next see old Jordan from above prepare
With Silver Streams, (true Silver Streams they were)
To wash their Walls; but when he heard the News,
As fain he would the hated Task refuse,
See where a while his Fate and theirs he shuns,
And bending back by strong Machærus runs!
His Fate in vain he shuns by this short stay,
Relapsing through the Vale he glides away,
And makes a black uncomfortable Bay:
Here wand'ring Birds above forget to fly,
And there the glitt'ring Fishes floating lie,
Choak'd with Sulphureous Fumes they gasp and die:
The Fields around, the Regions of Despair;
No Beast durst graze, no Shrub or Herb grew there:
Above, these Words—
Writ in the antient Hebrew Character:
“Learn, Mortals hence, to dread the Immortal's Ire!
16
Here gaz'd they till good Lazarus was come
With his fair Sisters to the festal room;
When thence their Eyes unwillingly they take,
And from the pleasant Ecstasie awake:
The twice-born Youth a low Obeisance made,
And for his Life his Thanks devoutly paid:
Now on their Seats are plac'd each chearful Guest,
All but wise Martha, who directs the Feast,
And Magdalen, who fell with Sighs profound
And plenteous Tears effus'd upon the ground,
With his fair Sisters to the festal room;
When thence their Eyes unwillingly they take,
And from the pleasant Ecstasie awake:
The twice-born Youth a low Obeisance made,
And for his Life his Thanks devoutly paid:
Now on their Seats are plac'd each chearful Guest,
All but wise Martha, who directs the Feast,
And Magdalen, who fell with Sighs profound
And plenteous Tears effus'd upon the ground,
At Jesus feet; that Place she'd have or none,
Unworthy ev'n of that herself must own:
A Viol of rich Essence with her brings,
Which once she thought a Ransom ev'n for Kings,
When 'twas her Life, her Heav'n to charm and please,
Dissolv'd in lawless Luxury and Ease:
This o'r his Feet she breaks, thence crowding pour
Of precious Drops a rich, a fragrant Show'r;
Which with inestimable Sweets perfume
And scatter all Arabia round the Room:
Then her bright Hair, which oft in Curls displaid,
At once had Nets and Chains for Lovers made,
She better now employs, whilst from her Eyes
Profusely washt, with that his Feet she dries:
Some murm'ring cry, this Cost had been employ'd
To better use, if by the Poor enjoy'd;
Iscariot chief, then did the Fiend begin
In his base Soul to scatter Seeds of Sin:
Not so our Lord, who with an equal mind
Declares, against his Funeral 'twas design'd:
And that this liberal kindness on him shown,
Shou'd ever be to after ages known:
Trembling those fatal Words th' Apostles hear,
And deep agen revolve with anxious Fear.
Unworthy ev'n of that herself must own:
A Viol of rich Essence with her brings,
Which once she thought a Ransom ev'n for Kings,
When 'twas her Life, her Heav'n to charm and please,
Dissolv'd in lawless Luxury and Ease:
This o'r his Feet she breaks, thence crowding pour
Of precious Drops a rich, a fragrant Show'r;
Which with inestimable Sweets perfume
And scatter all Arabia round the Room:
Then her bright Hair, which oft in Curls displaid,
At once had Nets and Chains for Lovers made,
She better now employs, whilst from her Eyes
Profusely washt, with that his Feet she dries:
Some murm'ring cry, this Cost had been employ'd
To better use, if by the Poor enjoy'd;
Iscariot chief, then did the Fiend begin
In his base Soul to scatter Seeds of Sin:
Not so our Lord, who with an equal mind
Declares, against his Funeral 'twas design'd:
And that this liberal kindness on him shown,
Shou'd ever be to after ages known:
Trembling those fatal Words th' Apostles hear,
And deep agen revolve with anxious Fear.
That Night at pleasant Bethany they stay,
Waiting our Lord, who the succeeding day
T'wards the fair Town his careful Footsteps bends
At Bethphage met by Crowds of wond'ring Friends.
See there the higth to which he e'r aspir'd!
See there the highest Pomp he e'r desir'd!
No Horse, no Chariot him to Court must bring;
But a mean Ass, bear Salems humble King.
See where the giddy Crowd just Homage pay,
With nat'ral easie Pomp prepare his way!
Branches and Cloaths through all his Paths are thrown,
Borro'wing the Palms fair Garments with their own:
Hosanna all the Cry, Hosanna loud
Is now the Breath of all the giddy Crowd,
Which soon they'll change to a far diff'rent Cry;
Soon their Hosanna will be Crucifie!
To him not hid, so well who all things knows,
His fickle Friends, and firm invet'rate Foes:
Who oft unmov'd had turn'd the Leaves of Fate,
Who meets unmov'd their Flatt'ry as their Hate;
When all around he with a Sigh survey'd
Which in unpity'd Dust must soon be laid,
And his great Father to avert it, pray'd,
He back his careful Steps did thence convey
From the hoarse Tumults of the Town and Day;
Behind, the noise Crowd and Streets he leaves,
Him, Night approaching, Bethany receives;
His humble Couch by Innocence prepar'd,
While his own Menial Angels mount the Guard.
What tho' all Act, tho' all pure Mind they be,
Scarce are they earlier at their Hymns than he.
Waiting our Lord, who the succeeding day
T'wards the fair Town his careful Footsteps bends
At Bethphage met by Crowds of wond'ring Friends.
See there the higth to which he e'r aspir'd!
17
No Horse, no Chariot him to Court must bring;
But a mean Ass, bear Salems humble King.
See where the giddy Crowd just Homage pay,
With nat'ral easie Pomp prepare his way!
Branches and Cloaths through all his Paths are thrown,
Borro'wing the Palms fair Garments with their own:
Hosanna all the Cry, Hosanna loud
Is now the Breath of all the giddy Crowd,
Which soon they'll change to a far diff'rent Cry;
Soon their Hosanna will be Crucifie!
To him not hid, so well who all things knows,
His fickle Friends, and firm invet'rate Foes:
Who oft unmov'd had turn'd the Leaves of Fate,
Who meets unmov'd their Flatt'ry as their Hate;
When all around he with a Sigh survey'd
Which in unpity'd Dust must soon be laid,
And his great Father to avert it, pray'd,
He back his careful Steps did thence convey
From the hoarse Tumults of the Town and Day;
Behind, the noise Crowd and Streets he leaves,
Him, Night approaching, Bethany receives;
His humble Couch by Innocence prepar'd,
While his own Menial Angels mount the Guard.
What tho' all Act, tho' all pure Mind they be,
Scarce are they earlier at their Hymns than he.
An Hill there is, which fronts with decent Pride
Illustrious Solyma's bright Eastern side:
With Groves of Olives crown'd, and thence did claim
From times unknown its everlasting Name;
Whose three Degrees each other higher bear
Rivalling the three Regions of the Air;
Whence those who to the third proud Top will go
May see the City and the Clouds below.
A lovely Vale creeps gently winding down
And fills the Space betwixt the Hill and Town;
Or whose green Breast deceitful Kidron flows,
A Torrent now, and now a Brook she shows;
And when the Earth scorch'd by the Dog-stars beams
Most wants her Moisture, most she hides her Streams.
(True Map of worldly Joys, so short their stay,
So imperceptibly they glide away.)
By Chemosh and by Moloch first it runs,
And the wise Kings disgraceful Follies shuns:
Weak'ned by Age, and by his Wives betray'd
Them first his Idols, then their Gods he made.
Due East from these a little Villa leaves,
Which flows with Oil, and thence its Name receives.
Gethsemane they call't, and by its side
Full on the Edge o'th' Mountains second Pride,
Lies a sweet Garden, pleasantly retir'd,
Not for large barren Walks and Art admir'd;
No Beauties forc'd or regular appear,
A lovely charming Wildness revels here.
Brown Walks and Allies green around it ran,
Where Nature scorn'd to ask the Aid of Man;
Where the rich Olives fruitful Arbors grow,
And Physic, Food and Ease at once bestow:
Or the triumphant Palm, for Victors made
Cross the sweet Walks projects its lovely Shade.
[“Let others Laurels court, the Palm be mine,
“Which yields in barren Wasts both Fruit and Wine;
“Which rises prest, whose faithful Branches bend
“O'r Rocks and Floods to meet its charming Friend.]
Illustrious Solyma's bright Eastern side:
With Groves of Olives crown'd, and thence did claim
From times unknown its everlasting Name;
Whose three Degrees each other higher bear
Rivalling the three Regions of the Air;
Whence those who to the third proud Top will go
May see the City and the Clouds below.
A lovely Vale creeps gently winding down
And fills the Space betwixt the Hill and Town;
Or whose green Breast deceitful Kidron flows,
A Torrent now, and now a Brook she shows;
And when the Earth scorch'd by the Dog-stars beams
Most wants her Moisture, most she hides her Streams.
18
So imperceptibly they glide away.)
By Chemosh and by Moloch first it runs,
And the wise Kings disgraceful Follies shuns:
Weak'ned by Age, and by his Wives betray'd
Them first his Idols, then their Gods he made.
Due East from these a little Villa leaves,
Which flows with Oil, and thence its Name receives.
Gethsemane they call't, and by its side
Full on the Edge o'th' Mountains second Pride,
Lies a sweet Garden, pleasantly retir'd,
Not for large barren Walks and Art admir'd;
No Beauties forc'd or regular appear,
A lovely charming Wildness revels here.
Brown Walks and Allies green around it ran,
Where Nature scorn'd to ask the Aid of Man;
Where the rich Olives fruitful Arbors grow,
And Physic, Food and Ease at once bestow:
Or the triumphant Palm, for Victors made
Cross the sweet Walks projects its lovely Shade.
[“Let others Laurels court, the Palm be mine,
“Which yields in barren Wasts both Fruit and Wine;
“Which rises prest, whose faithful Branches bend
“O'r Rocks and Floods to meet its charming Friend.]
Here, while the World lay drown'd in thoughtless Rest,
Nor dreamt of Joys which he and his possest,
E'r Heau'ns fair Lamp did o'r the Hills aspire
Powd'ring their Silver Heads with Golden Fire,
Drawn by Celestial Love's far brighter Flame
He and his chosen Twelve not seldom came:
Celestial Love they think, they talk, they sing,
“And on the Cherub-Contemplations Wing
In Joys that Earth can neither take nor give
Eternal Love's bright Face they see, and live.
Nor dreamt of Joys which he and his possest,
E'r Heau'ns fair Lamp did o'r the Hills aspire
Powd'ring their Silver Heads with Golden Fire,
Drawn by Celestial Love's far brighter Flame
He and his chosen Twelve not seldom came:
Celestial Love they think, they talk, they sing,
“And on the Cherub-Contemplations Wing
In Joys that Earth can neither take nor give
Eternal Love's bright Face they see, and live.
Love is pure Act, its Task is never done,
This and the other World's true Soul and Sun;
Not that weak foolish Fire which rears its Head
In mortal Breasts, no sooner born than dead;
But immaterial, bright Celestial Love,
“Kindled on sight of those fair things above;
Where holy Souls, all made of that and Fire,
“Loud Praise incessant sing, and never tire.
But ev'n as our dim Globe immers'd in Night,
From dregs of Chaos made, first robb'd of Light,
Can yet reflect bright beauteous Beams, and send
Those Rays to Heav'n, which Heav'n at first did lend:
So Love Divine, whose Circles farther run
Than that eternal Wanderer, the Sun,
From yon, fair Fund of Bliss, fair Realms of Day
First throws its Seeds around our humble Clay:
How sweetly thence they spring? how kindly rise?
Claim their high Birth, and mean their native Skies,
Which humbler here, and loftier there we see;
Smile in a Flow'r, and flourish in a Tree,
And lend sweet Philomel her pretty Throat,
Answer'd around by every Rivals Note;
On Bushes, Trees and Plains their Voice they raise,
And teach forgetful Man his Maker's Praise.
The heav'nly Lark from yon green Turf up-springs,
How do I envy both her Voice and Wings?
Mounts like an Angel, like an Angel sings;
But little Weight so little Matter bears,
Soft-wafted on her own harmonious Airs;
From thence surveys at the first opening Dawn
Each smiling Field, and every gilded Lawn:
With her each Soul whom heav'nly Ardors please,
Shakes off base Slumber and inglorious Ease:
How beauteous the Creation now, how bright?
Thus rose the infant World from old Original Night,
And thus look'd Paradise—.
This and the other World's true Soul and Sun;
Not that weak foolish Fire which rears its Head
In mortal Breasts, no sooner born than dead;
But immaterial, bright Celestial Love,
“Kindled on sight of those fair things above;
19
“Loud Praise incessant sing, and never tire.
But ev'n as our dim Globe immers'd in Night,
From dregs of Chaos made, first robb'd of Light,
Can yet reflect bright beauteous Beams, and send
Those Rays to Heav'n, which Heav'n at first did lend:
So Love Divine, whose Circles farther run
Than that eternal Wanderer, the Sun,
From yon, fair Fund of Bliss, fair Realms of Day
First throws its Seeds around our humble Clay:
How sweetly thence they spring? how kindly rise?
Claim their high Birth, and mean their native Skies,
Which humbler here, and loftier there we see;
Smile in a Flow'r, and flourish in a Tree,
And lend sweet Philomel her pretty Throat,
Answer'd around by every Rivals Note;
On Bushes, Trees and Plains their Voice they raise,
And teach forgetful Man his Maker's Praise.
The heav'nly Lark from yon green Turf up-springs,
How do I envy both her Voice and Wings?
Mounts like an Angel, like an Angel sings;
But little Weight so little Matter bears,
Soft-wafted on her own harmonious Airs;
From thence surveys at the first opening Dawn
Each smiling Field, and every gilded Lawn:
With her each Soul whom heav'nly Ardors please,
Shakes off base Slumber and inglorious Ease:
How beauteous the Creation now, how bright?
Thus rose the infant World from old Original Night,
And thus look'd Paradise—.
Thus, clearest Beam! that e'r on Earth did shine!
O loveliest Efflux of the Light Divine!
Thus didst thou all thy happy Morns improve,
Thou Height of Heav'nly Power and Heav'nly Love!
Whether tall Tabor stoop'd his Head to meet
And welcom thither thy triumphant Feet;
Or thou by hollow Kidron's tumbling Spring
Didst with thy faithful Twelve high Anthems sing,
Hymning th' eternal Father, who look'd down
And his wing'd Courtiers sent their Lord to own,
Whilest all around th' attentive Angels hung
Devouring ev'ry Accent of thy Tongue,
And each blest Ode in a full Chorus sung.
O loveliest Efflux of the Light Divine!
Thus didst thou all thy happy Morns improve,
Thou Height of Heav'nly Power and Heav'nly Love!
Whether tall Tabor stoop'd his Head to meet
And welcom thither thy triumphant Feet;
Or thou by hollow Kidron's tumbling Spring
Didst with thy faithful Twelve high Anthems sing,
Hymning th' eternal Father, who look'd down
And his wing'd Courtiers sent their Lord to own,
20
Devouring ev'ry Accent of thy Tongue,
And each blest Ode in a full Chorus sung.
Nor are, great King! (thy mighty Conquests o'r,
And thou receiv'd where high enthron'd before)
Sweet Fields disdain'd, nor need the Man despair,
Who early seeks ev'n yet to find thee there.
And thou receiv'd where high enthron'd before)
Sweet Fields disdain'd, nor need the Man despair,
Who early seeks ev'n yet to find thee there.
Yes, thou art here, my Master, thou art here!
My busie Heart foretold my Love was near.
Let Earth go where it will, I'll not repine,
Nor can unhappy be, while Heav'n is mine.
Forget not, if that Freedom won't offend,
(O that he could deserve the Name!) your Friend.
Divinest Saviour, of a spotless Maid,
The spotless Son, your humblest Suppliant aid!
Who, e'r the dappled Morn has dress'd the Skies,
To your blest Palace lifts his longing Eyes!
Whether in old Jërne's angry Seas,
Near Mona Isle, or the blue Hebrides;
Or from the Face of Men remov'd away,
In a mean Cot compos'd of Reeds and Clay,
Wasting in Sighs th' uncomfortable Day:
Near where th' unhospitable Humber roars
Devouring by degrees the neighb'ring Shores:
Or by dear Mother Isis stretch'd along,
Or Father Tame he twist the Sacred Song;
Which, if your Name eternity can give,
Shall down to Twenty long long Ages live?
My busie Heart foretold my Love was near.
Let Earth go where it will, I'll not repine,
Nor can unhappy be, while Heav'n is mine.
Forget not, if that Freedom won't offend,
(O that he could deserve the Name!) your Friend.
Divinest Saviour, of a spotless Maid,
The spotless Son, your humblest Suppliant aid!
Who, e'r the dappled Morn has dress'd the Skies,
To your blest Palace lifts his longing Eyes!
Whether in old Jërne's angry Seas,
Near Mona Isle, or the blue Hebrides;
Or from the Face of Men remov'd away,
In a mean Cot compos'd of Reeds and Clay,
Wasting in Sighs th' uncomfortable Day:
Near where th' unhospitable Humber roars
Devouring by degrees the neighb'ring Shores:
Or by dear Mother Isis stretch'd along,
Or Father Tame he twist the Sacred Song;
Which, if your Name eternity can give,
Shall down to Twenty long long Ages live?
Return, my Muse, and sacred Friendship sing!
That most Divine, yet most forgotten Thing.
Shadow of Heav'nly Love! which thou dost show
I'th' clearest Type that we have left below:
But where? Ah where is that to th' Life exprest?
Unsully'd, or by Vice or Interest?
Where, if on Earth, but in our Saviour's Breast?
Then we were sure of Thee, tho' since unknown,
Whether with him agen to Heav'n th' art flown;
In him, who far above all Mortals blest
Repos'd him soft on Love's and Friendship's Breast;
The lov'd Disciple, who his Soul might see,
And knew his Heart almost as well as He.
How closely knit? most intimately one,
Next the Eternal Father and his Son:
A Cæsar's Title less my Envy moves,
Than to be styl'd the Man whom Jesus loves.
What Charms, what Beauties in his Face did shine,
Reflected ever from the Face Divine!
Love in his Eyes, Love in his Face and Air;
Scarce was the Mind within more sweet and fair.
Silent and deep as Crystal Waters flow,
Where Noise above Shallows are found below:
Love is not loud, and if he less express'd,
Yet Time will tell h'has more than all the rest:
The Service for the Loaves he did not chuse,
He Jesus lov'd, and they the King o'th' Jews,
Who might their Countries Enemies disperse,
And triumph o'r the conquer'd Universe.
Of these the Chief did zealou Cephas hold,
Oft in his Masters Cause too warmly bold:
Like hasty Uzzah, when it seem'd to nod,
His forward Hand would prop the Ark of God:
Thus Weakness does Devotion oft supply,
And Faith's too low, when the Pulse beats too high.
Ting'd with the old Traditions of their Land,
The holy Books they could not understand.
How bad the best of men, how dark the Mind,
Where heav'nly Truths clear Rays have never shin'd!
Mildly our Saviour did their Weakness bear;
He knew ev'n his Disciples, Mortals were:
He knew 'twas well-meant Zeal had them betray'd,
And soon forgave those Faults which Love had made:
What if good Cephas warm and eager be?
None dar'd, none did, none suffer'd more than He:
So much his gracious Master him approv'd,
None but the lov'd Disciple more was lov'd,
Who, with his Brother James, of that great Three
Blest Witnesses of his Divinity,
Made the first Rank of Worthies, grac'd to stand
I'th' head of David's Son's immortal Band.
An active Principle inform'd their Breast,
The Love of Jesus would not let e'm rest.
Let Thirst of Glory meaner Souls inspire,
And haunt their Dreams! these, nobler Things desire;
Nor envy such as Bodies only bind,
While they in Truth's soft Chains secure the Mind.
Thus when their Hymns were o'r, and they came down
From Olivet to view the Sacred Town,
(Nor would their Master always private dwell,
Or rob the World t'enrich a lonely Cell,)
Like him, the only business they design'd,
Was th' universal Good of all Mankind:
Their Charity no narrow limits pent,
Open and free, as Light or Element;
And as their Lord himself did not disdain
The Sinner and the humble Publican,
So would their Conversation often be
With worse than both, the haughty Pharisee,
Vain, Supercilious, damning all beside,
Yet oft as full of ignorance as pride,
Oft did his Saint-like Face fowl lewdness hide:
But, as some Tares mix with the purest Grain,
Their Heaps of Dross some Sparks of Gold contain:
Such as not obstinately clos'd their Eyes,
When the bright Sun of Righteousness did rise;
Some glimm'rings in their Souls, some whispers there
Would Jesus the Messias oft declare;
Or, if their Infant-Faith but dawning be,
They wish'd tho' they could scarce believe, 'twas He.
Weak Nicodemus, not his Saviour's sight
Could make his bashful Faith endure the Light:
Yet him a Teacher sent from God confess'd,
And gladly from his Lips wou'd learn the rest.
Gamaliel in the Sacred Pandects read,
By which a Life unblamable he led;
Severely wise, and would known Truths receive,
But Truths well weigh'd, before he'd them believe:
Both in the Sanhedrim of Name and Note;
Both us'd to sway the Senate's weighty Vote:
To these was Joseph joyn'd—
Joseph, for Wisdom and for Counsel fam'd,
Of his fair Birth-place, antient Rama, nam'd:
Rama of old, but Time which changes all,
The Place does now Arimathæa call,
Who near the Town had a convenient Seat,
Still and retir'd, 'twas pleasant all and neat,
Tho' not with pompous Statues proudly great:
Nor poorly mean, but proper to supply
The wants of Nature, not of Luxury:
There borrow'd Streams from Siloam's neighb'ring Well,
In artificial Showers rose and fell;
With unknown Spring still bless'd the happy Ground,
And spread eternal Verdure all around.
There antient Gilead's odoriferous Balm,
(Mixt with tall Cedar and triumphant Palm)
Rich Balm, Judæas's Native, frequent grows,
And with big fragrant Tears inestimably flows.
A few choice Friends, with modest Mirth and Wine,
From Gaza's or Sarepta's noble Vine,
Here would he sometimes meet, and wear away
In no unactive Ease the scorching day:
Nor Vices sly Intrusion could they fear;
Intemp'rance could not hope to enter here;
For, as the wise Egyptians at their Feasts,
Serv'd up a Skull before their chearful Guests,
Around 'em they the same grave Objects see:
The Garden's on the side of Calvary,
Won from the Wast of Death, and wisely there
Good Joseph built himself a Sepulcher.
Who e'r like him is virtuous, wise and brave,
Dares to be chearful, tho' he sees his Grave:
Who sees his Grave, all Thoughts must needs disdain,
Unworthy, Eternity to entertain.
That most Divine, yet most forgotten Thing.
Shadow of Heav'nly Love! which thou dost show
I'th' clearest Type that we have left below:
But where? Ah where is that to th' Life exprest?
Unsully'd, or by Vice or Interest?
Where, if on Earth, but in our Saviour's Breast?
Then we were sure of Thee, tho' since unknown,
Whether with him agen to Heav'n th' art flown;
In him, who far above all Mortals blest
Repos'd him soft on Love's and Friendship's Breast;
The lov'd Disciple, who his Soul might see,
21
How closely knit? most intimately one,
Next the Eternal Father and his Son:
A Cæsar's Title less my Envy moves,
Than to be styl'd the Man whom Jesus loves.
What Charms, what Beauties in his Face did shine,
Reflected ever from the Face Divine!
Love in his Eyes, Love in his Face and Air;
Scarce was the Mind within more sweet and fair.
Silent and deep as Crystal Waters flow,
Where Noise above Shallows are found below:
Love is not loud, and if he less express'd,
Yet Time will tell h'has more than all the rest:
The Service for the Loaves he did not chuse,
He Jesus lov'd, and they the King o'th' Jews,
Who might their Countries Enemies disperse,
And triumph o'r the conquer'd Universe.
Of these the Chief did zealou Cephas hold,
Oft in his Masters Cause too warmly bold:
Like hasty Uzzah, when it seem'd to nod,
His forward Hand would prop the Ark of God:
Thus Weakness does Devotion oft supply,
And Faith's too low, when the Pulse beats too high.
Ting'd with the old Traditions of their Land,
The holy Books they could not understand.
How bad the best of men, how dark the Mind,
Where heav'nly Truths clear Rays have never shin'd!
Mildly our Saviour did their Weakness bear;
He knew ev'n his Disciples, Mortals were:
He knew 'twas well-meant Zeal had them betray'd,
And soon forgave those Faults which Love had made:
What if good Cephas warm and eager be?
None dar'd, none did, none suffer'd more than He:
So much his gracious Master him approv'd,
None but the lov'd Disciple more was lov'd,
Who, with his Brother James, of that great Three
Blest Witnesses of his Divinity,
Made the first Rank of Worthies, grac'd to stand
I'th' head of David's Son's immortal Band.
An active Principle inform'd their Breast,
22
Let Thirst of Glory meaner Souls inspire,
And haunt their Dreams! these, nobler Things desire;
Nor envy such as Bodies only bind,
While they in Truth's soft Chains secure the Mind.
Thus when their Hymns were o'r, and they came down
From Olivet to view the Sacred Town,
(Nor would their Master always private dwell,
Or rob the World t'enrich a lonely Cell,)
Like him, the only business they design'd,
Was th' universal Good of all Mankind:
Their Charity no narrow limits pent,
Open and free, as Light or Element;
And as their Lord himself did not disdain
The Sinner and the humble Publican,
So would their Conversation often be
With worse than both, the haughty Pharisee,
Vain, Supercilious, damning all beside,
Yet oft as full of ignorance as pride,
Oft did his Saint-like Face fowl lewdness hide:
But, as some Tares mix with the purest Grain,
Their Heaps of Dross some Sparks of Gold contain:
Such as not obstinately clos'd their Eyes,
When the bright Sun of Righteousness did rise;
Some glimm'rings in their Souls, some whispers there
Would Jesus the Messias oft declare;
Or, if their Infant-Faith but dawning be,
They wish'd tho' they could scarce believe, 'twas He.
Weak Nicodemus, not his Saviour's sight
Could make his bashful Faith endure the Light:
Yet him a Teacher sent from God confess'd,
And gladly from his Lips wou'd learn the rest.
Gamaliel in the Sacred Pandects read,
By which a Life unblamable he led;
Severely wise, and would known Truths receive,
But Truths well weigh'd, before he'd them believe:
Both in the Sanhedrim of Name and Note;
Both us'd to sway the Senate's weighty Vote:
To these was Joseph joyn'd—
Joseph, for Wisdom and for Counsel fam'd,
23
Rama of old, but Time which changes all,
The Place does now Arimathæa call,
Who near the Town had a convenient Seat,
Still and retir'd, 'twas pleasant all and neat,
Tho' not with pompous Statues proudly great:
Nor poorly mean, but proper to supply
The wants of Nature, not of Luxury:
There borrow'd Streams from Siloam's neighb'ring Well,
In artificial Showers rose and fell;
With unknown Spring still bless'd the happy Ground,
And spread eternal Verdure all around.
There antient Gilead's odoriferous Balm,
(Mixt with tall Cedar and triumphant Palm)
Rich Balm, Judæas's Native, frequent grows,
And with big fragrant Tears inestimably flows.
A few choice Friends, with modest Mirth and Wine,
From Gaza's or Sarepta's noble Vine,
Here would he sometimes meet, and wear away
In no unactive Ease the scorching day:
Nor Vices sly Intrusion could they fear;
Intemp'rance could not hope to enter here;
For, as the wise Egyptians at their Feasts,
Serv'd up a Skull before their chearful Guests,
Around 'em they the same grave Objects see:
The Garden's on the side of Calvary,
Won from the Wast of Death, and wisely there
Good Joseph built himself a Sepulcher.
Who e'r like him is virtuous, wise and brave,
Dares to be chearful, tho' he sees his Grave:
Who sees his Grave, all Thoughts must needs disdain,
Unworthy, Eternity to entertain.
Here Joseph did his happy Hours employ,
And, here himself, and here his Friends enjoy:
Their Conversation noble and refin'd,
Fit to divert and yet improve the Mind.
The Rules of Just and Right, their Weights and Bounds,
And fix'd eternal Truth's eternal Mounds;
What known of God by Reason's darker Sight,
And what by Revelation's noon-day Light;
What of himself the divine Plato knew,
What from the sacred Hebrew Fountains drew;
How short of their great Legislator came,
Who ev'n to Gentile Worlds extends his Name,
By antient Orpheus sung;—
What Rules of Life, couch'd in their Sacred Law,
What distant Truths their antient Seers saw,
Chiefly the promis'd Prince, so oft foretold
By all the Holy Oracles of old.
That great Prophetic Shiloh long design'd
His groaning Countrey's heavy Chains t'unbind;
If this the Age of his Appearance be,
Or if already come, and Jesus He:
Whose Miracles they uncontested saw,
Greater and more than what confirm'd the Law;
Who spake as never Mortal did before,
Yet all his own pure Doctrins liv'd and more.
All speak their Sense, no angry Bigot there,
Less for themselves than Truth concern'd they were,
And that and Reason only held the Chair.
And, here himself, and here his Friends enjoy:
Their Conversation noble and refin'd,
Fit to divert and yet improve the Mind.
The Rules of Just and Right, their Weights and Bounds,
And fix'd eternal Truth's eternal Mounds;
What known of God by Reason's darker Sight,
And what by Revelation's noon-day Light;
24
What from the sacred Hebrew Fountains drew;
How short of their great Legislator came,
Who ev'n to Gentile Worlds extends his Name,
By antient Orpheus sung;—
What Rules of Life, couch'd in their Sacred Law,
What distant Truths their antient Seers saw,
Chiefly the promis'd Prince, so oft foretold
By all the Holy Oracles of old.
That great Prophetic Shiloh long design'd
His groaning Countrey's heavy Chains t'unbind;
If this the Age of his Appearance be,
Or if already come, and Jesus He:
Whose Miracles they uncontested saw,
Greater and more than what confirm'd the Law;
Who spake as never Mortal did before,
Yet all his own pure Doctrins liv'd and more.
All speak their Sense, no angry Bigot there,
Less for themselves than Truth concern'd they were,
And that and Reason only held the Chair.
Them thus employ'd the lov'd Disciple found
In the still Limits of their happy Ground,
Who with the other Two, the Cause the same,
Not uninvited nor unwelcome came;
Whom near fair Rama or old Gibeons Wall
By Gilgal, Jericho, or Jordan's Fall
Joseph had seen the trembling Fiends obey,
And crouding Regions Jesus own, while they
In sacred Water wash'd their Sins away;
These in the Temple met he with him brought
To teach his Friends what them their Master taught;
His Birth, his spotless Life, his Sacred Law,
And all the wondrous Things they heard and saw;
For now the Fourth swift Year declining ran
Since He his weighty Office first began.
In the still Limits of their happy Ground,
Who with the other Two, the Cause the same,
Not uninvited nor unwelcome came;
Whom near fair Rama or old Gibeons Wall
By Gilgal, Jericho, or Jordan's Fall
Joseph had seen the trembling Fiends obey,
And crouding Regions Jesus own, while they
In sacred Water wash'd their Sins away;
These in the Temple met he with him brought
To teach his Friends what them their Master taught;
His Birth, his spotless Life, his Sacred Law,
And all the wondrous Things they heard and saw;
For now the Fourth swift Year declining ran
Since He his weighty Office first began.
The End of the First Book.
31
BOOK II.
THE ARGUMENT OF THE Second BOOK.
St.
Peter begins the Relation of our Blessed Saviour's Life, which he opens
with the Prophecy of the Messiah's Birth, the Accomplishment of Daniel's
Weeks, the Sceptre's departing from Judah, and the Tyranny of Herod;
where St. John reminds him of the Preparations for our Saviour's Birth, the
Angel's Salutation &c. which he thereupon repeats at large, as Joseph, the
Husband of the Blessed Virgin, had formerly done it to Zebedee and him.
Joseph's Character of her before their Marriage, whom having obtain'd of her
Father Heli, before they came together she was found with Child of the
Holy Ghost. His Passion thereupon, and Resolution to be divorc'd, till
admonish'd by an Angel of her Purity and Innocence and the manner of her
Conception: on which he asks Pardon for his unjust Censures, and desires
her to give him an account of that miraculous Transaction. The Virgin relates
the Appearance of the Angel, his Ave or Salutation, and her conception by
the over-shadowing of the Holy Spirit. Joseph goes on and gives the Character
of a good Wife in the Blessed Virgin, and the History of his travelling with
her to see their Cousin Elizabeth, who tho old and barren, the Angel had told
her should shortly have a Child. The Way to Geba, near which liv'd Zachary
and Elizabeth. The Description of Zachary's pleasant Seat, whom they find
dumb at their Arrival. The Salutation of Elizabeth to the Blessed Virgin.
Two Digressions, to the Virgin Mary and her present Majesty. The Birth and
Circumcision of John the Baptist: his Father Zachary recovers his Speech, and
gives an account of the Occasion of his strange Silence, and the Angel's
Prophecy concerning his Son: his Song from the first of St. Luke. Joseph
and the Virgin return to Nazareth, and make Preparations for her Son's
Birth: whence being recalled by the Edict of Augustus, they go for Bethlehem:
a Description of the pleasant way thither, and of the most remarkable places
on the Road, Rachel's Tomb, David's Well, &c. They arrive at Bethlehem
late at Night, and can find no Lodging. Her Travail approaches. Joseph's
concern for her. He conducts her into a Cave without the Town. Our Saviour's
Birth. The Angels attend him. The Shepherds come to the Cave early
in the Morning to adore him; and on Joseph's wondring how they heard the
News, two young Shepherds, Strephon and Claius, give him the Relation,
after they had sung a Caroll on that Subject. The Angel's Song at the Nativity.
The Presentation of our Saviour at the Temple, where old Simeon
finds him. His Song or the Nunc dimittis. The Testimony of Anna the
Prophetess: the Journey of the three Kings, conducted by a Star to Jerusalem,
and enquiring of the place of our Saviour's Birth, which Herod, pretending
Devotion, asks of the Sanhedrim; Gamaliel remembers the passage
and repeats their Resolution in the Prophecy of Micah, and that 'twas to be at
Bethlehem. Thither Herod directs the Kings, desiring they'd let him know
as soon as they found him, on pretence he'd follow and worship him. They
find the Infant, adore and present him; but warn'd by a Vision, return incognito
to their own Country, not calling at Jerusalem. Herod being disappointed
and enraged, orders the Murder of the Innocents. Joseph is warned
by an Angel to fly into Egypt with the Child and his Mother. As they are
going by Night they look back from a Hill near the Town, and, by the Light
of Torches in the Streets discover the Massacre of the Infants: whence they
hasten to Egypt. The Way thither, Syrbon Lake, Tomb of Pompey. They
pass by Memphis, and the Pyramids, and fix at Babylon. The Death of
Herod. Their Return, and Retirement to Nazareth, for fear of Archelaus
Herod's Son. Our Saviour's Carriage in his Childhood: his going to Jerusalem
at the Passover with his Parents, and Disputation in the Temple with
the Doctors and Heads of the Sanhedrim, which Nicodemus calls to mind,
and that he presided in the Schools at that time, giving a Character of our Saviour.
St. John tells 'em how much he was since advantageously altered,
and so affectionately describes him, that Nicodemus is desirous to wait on
him, and St. John offering to conduct him thither, the Company break up,
having appointed to meet again the next Morning, in order to hear the rest of
our Saviour's Actions.
32
33
All
silent stood, when Rama's Lord had done,
Till in the midst Bar-Jonas thus begun:
So, when our Prince shall Israel's Throne regain,
So may I by his side for ever reign,
As nought but chast and sacred Truths I tell;
Chast as that Virgin-womb wherein he once did dwell:
Admir'd by Friends, by Enemies confest,
Which these, which Fame, which all the World attest:
By Reason voucht, and many a mighty Sign,
By Humane Faith and Oracles divine;
To you not hid: for Israel's Masters can't
Of what all Israel knows, be ignorant:
Nor can we doubt, but clearly you discern
Those sacred Truths which from your Lips we learn;
That now the promis'd happy Days appear,
That the Messia's Kingdom must be near:
This Heav'n-lov'd Daniel's mystic Weeks contain,
Whose end begins th' anointed Princes Reign,
From whose wise Books his sacred Name we gain:
That Period past, our Rabbies all declare,
And come he is, or we must now despair.
This Israel's Groans confess, their freedom broke,
And shoulders worn beneath a foreign yoke;
By that fell Idumean Wolf opprest,
Who red with blood his savage Sire confest,
Who did revenge old Esau's shame and stain,
And his supplanting Lord supplant again
Dissembling Piety; our Temple rais'd,
But that himself, not God, might there be prais'd:
With human blood the blushing pavement dies,
And makes th' High-Priest himself a Sacrifice:
And big with crimes, O shame, O deep disgrace!
Destroy'd the Hasmonean Royal Race:
By him our total Bondage did begin;
He first inviting the fierce Romans in;
Their Idol-Eagle to our Temple brings,
Who pearcht on proud Antonia, claps his Wings:
Juda no more gives Laws, no more is Israel free;
Nay, scarce enjoys the Name of Liberty:
Enroll'd and tax'd, and humble Clients made,
Our Substance seiz'd for the Imperial Aid;
All that the Tyrant left, we had our share,
Which my fierce Country cou'd not tamely bear:
You know the rest, Our unsuccessful fight
And slaughter under the bold Gaulonite:
Not so our Princes humble Parents, they
Had learn't, like him, to suffer and obey:
Tho' both deduc'd from David's Royal Stem,
And the true Heirs of Israel's Diadem;
And either House their clear Succession brings
From a long Race of Prophets and of Kings:
So great a Change by Fate and Time is made,
From David's glitt'ring Throne to th' meanest Trade,
For such good Joseph us'd, with honest pain
His small, yet sacred Houshold to sustain,
'Till thence by th' Edict call'd—But first declare
Says John, what our great King's Forerunners were,
(If all our words for credit may prevail;)
The wond'rous message, and the wond'rous Hail!
Till in the midst Bar-Jonas thus begun:
So, when our Prince shall Israel's Throne regain,
So may I by his side for ever reign,
As nought but chast and sacred Truths I tell;
Chast as that Virgin-womb wherein he once did dwell:
Admir'd by Friends, by Enemies confest,
Which these, which Fame, which all the World attest:
By Reason voucht, and many a mighty Sign,
By Humane Faith and Oracles divine;
34
Of what all Israel knows, be ignorant:
Nor can we doubt, but clearly you discern
Those sacred Truths which from your Lips we learn;
That now the promis'd happy Days appear,
That the Messia's Kingdom must be near:
This Heav'n-lov'd Daniel's mystic Weeks contain,
Whose end begins th' anointed Princes Reign,
From whose wise Books his sacred Name we gain:
That Period past, our Rabbies all declare,
And come he is, or we must now despair.
This Israel's Groans confess, their freedom broke,
And shoulders worn beneath a foreign yoke;
By that fell Idumean Wolf opprest,
Who red with blood his savage Sire confest,
Who did revenge old Esau's shame and stain,
And his supplanting Lord supplant again
Dissembling Piety; our Temple rais'd,
But that himself, not God, might there be prais'd:
With human blood the blushing pavement dies,
And makes th' High-Priest himself a Sacrifice:
And big with crimes, O shame, O deep disgrace!
Destroy'd the Hasmonean Royal Race:
By him our total Bondage did begin;
He first inviting the fierce Romans in;
Their Idol-Eagle to our Temple brings,
Who pearcht on proud Antonia, claps his Wings:
Juda no more gives Laws, no more is Israel free;
Nay, scarce enjoys the Name of Liberty:
Enroll'd and tax'd, and humble Clients made,
Our Substance seiz'd for the Imperial Aid;
All that the Tyrant left, we had our share,
Which my fierce Country cou'd not tamely bear:
You know the rest, Our unsuccessful fight
And slaughter under the bold Gaulonite:
Not so our Princes humble Parents, they
Had learn't, like him, to suffer and obey:
Tho' both deduc'd from David's Royal Stem,
And the true Heirs of Israel's Diadem;
35
From a long Race of Prophets and of Kings:
So great a Change by Fate and Time is made,
From David's glitt'ring Throne to th' meanest Trade,
For such good Joseph us'd, with honest pain
His small, yet sacred Houshold to sustain,
'Till thence by th' Edict call'd—But first declare
Says John, what our great King's Forerunners were,
(If all our words for credit may prevail;)
The wond'rous message, and the wond'rous Hail!
Well interrupted, fervent Cephas cries,
None better can relate those Prodigies;
Which oft I've heard the Good old man repeat,
Joseph himself, as on an Oozy Seat
Against the sounding Beach repos'd we lay,
To taste the gentle Breeze, after a scorching day:
What wonders did the rev'rend Sire declare?
Once I remember Zebedee was there:
We prest him both to tell us what he knew,
He yields, and vows by the great Name 'twas true:
Then thus began;—When Youths fresh Bloom was past,
And brought of seven Sabbatic Years the last
Advis'd by Friends, I sought a virtuous Wife,
To share and soften the Fatigues of Life:
From all that Nazareth accounted fair;
(And many a blooming Beauty triumph'd there)
Old Heli's Daughter did the Garland bear:
From the same Spring our kindred blood we drew,
And what's our Rise can be unknown to few:
From David, he by Nathan brings his Line,
And I, by Solomon, deducing mine
As did the Root, so now the Branches join:
Gladly he gives, what I as gladly take,
Agreed, we soon the solemn Contract make:
All envy'd me, all thought divinely blest,
When of the charming heavenly Maid possest:
For she was fair beyond all Mortal Race,
And something more than human in her Face:
Endu'd with all her Sexes Charms and more,
Which yet without their Vanity she wore.
Never a Mind so humble and so great,
Since Eden's loss, so fair a Body met:
Nay, had ev'n Eve's been such, our Sire had been content;
And scarce cou'd Eden's Loss it self lament:
“Tender, not fond, prudent, yet not precise;
“Tho' wise, not thought her self for me too wise:
“Content with our low state, nor vainly stood
“Upon her Royal Race, or antient Blood:
“Secrets in hers, as safe as in my Breast;
All form'd beyond my wish, to make me blest.
But what did most of joy and triumph bring,
Th' illustrious Gem in her bright Virtues ring
Was her Angelic Chastity; not Eve
E're she did Adam, her the Fiend deceive,
When first she sprung from our great Parents side,
Not she her self a purer Virgin-Bride.
Guess but how strangely then I was amaz'd,
Nor could believe my eyes—agen I gaz'd,
When in my Arms the trembling Fair I claspt;
But started back agen—
As one who in green Herbs a Serpent graspt:
When on the first triumphant Nuptial Night
I found her pregnant, now 'twas plain to sight.
When she was false—
Whom all did above all her Sex prefer,
What did I then, blaspheme of them and Her?
What Vengeance for my injur'd Love debate?
And yet that Love deny'd to let me hate.
Resolv'd, tho' yet I knew not how, to part;
“And, if I could, free my unlucky heart:
Resolv'd to tear the perjur'd Charmer thence,
Divorc'd from her, as she from Innocence.
Thus, stung with Indignation and Despair,
Not ev'n her Tears could longer keep me there:
Far from the Nuptial Room, I rush't away;
“And on the ground a widdow'd Bridegroom lay:
Where gentle sleep, tho' call'd, long from me fled;
My restless thoughts uneasie as my Bed:
And twice the cheerful Harbinger of Day
Had clapt his Wings, and warn'd the Shades away,
Warn'd me, as usual, but in vain to rise,
E're watchful Grief once let me close my Eyes;
'Till sudden slumbers me at last surprize.
I dreamt,—but sure 'twas more, as by th' Event
Appear'd, I saw a glorious Watcher sent,
Glorious as e're to Man glad news did bring;
He touch't and rais'd me with his Purple Wing,
Then thus began,—“Great Branch of Jesse's Stem!
“Heir of thy Father David's Diadem!
“What restless thought, or what unhandsom Fear,
“From thy unspotted Bride, detains thee here?
“On whose fair Soul no thought of Ill's imprest;
“Pure as the Flame that warms an Angels Breast.
“As for the root of all thy jealous cares,
“That wond'rous sacred Burden which she bears;
“The divine Spirit alone, did that infuse,
“And I my self was sent to tell the news
“To her, as now to thee; and e're the Moon
“Five Courses more thro' her short Orb has gone,
“She shall be blest with a miraculous Son;
“Jesus his sacred Name long since design'd,
“The mighty Saviour he of lost Mankind.
He said: I trembling wake: no more h' appears.
But his last words, methought, still sounded in my Ears:
Rouz'd from my humble Couch, I softly come
With sacred Horror to the Nuptial Room;
Fix'd more than half a Statue at the Door
I saw and lov'd far fiercer than before,
And gaz'd and sigh'd, but dar'd attempt no more.
Her Beauty fed, but reverence checkt my Fire;
And still I lov'd, but durst not still desire.
Heav'ns! how she looks? how lovely still appears?
For still, methinks, I see—how charming, ev'n her Tears!
(Thus the sweet Rose new paints its heav'nly hue,
When bending with big drops of morning dew).
Nor cou'd I guess, till I approacht more nigh,
Whether they sprung from Grief or Extasie:
She blusht and in my Bosom hid her face:)
(The modest Blush, confest not guilt, but Grace).
Conjuring me, by all I once thought dear,
E're I condemn'd her, her defence to hear:
Insist no more, I cry'd, on thy defence!
Heav'n has already clear'd thy Innocence:
An Angel-Form, not you your self more fair,
Did late th' indubitable Truth declare:
Bright, injur'd, lovely Maid! no longer grieve!
Dry those vain Tears, and, if you can, forgive!
None better can relate those Prodigies;
Which oft I've heard the Good old man repeat,
Joseph himself, as on an Oozy Seat
Against the sounding Beach repos'd we lay,
To taste the gentle Breeze, after a scorching day:
What wonders did the rev'rend Sire declare?
Once I remember Zebedee was there:
We prest him both to tell us what he knew,
He yields, and vows by the great Name 'twas true:
Then thus began;—When Youths fresh Bloom was past,
And brought of seven Sabbatic Years the last
Advis'd by Friends, I sought a virtuous Wife,
To share and soften the Fatigues of Life:
From all that Nazareth accounted fair;
(And many a blooming Beauty triumph'd there)
Old Heli's Daughter did the Garland bear:
From the same Spring our kindred blood we drew,
And what's our Rise can be unknown to few:
From David, he by Nathan brings his Line,
And I, by Solomon, deducing mine
As did the Root, so now the Branches join:
Gladly he gives, what I as gladly take,
Agreed, we soon the solemn Contract make:
All envy'd me, all thought divinely blest,
When of the charming heavenly Maid possest:
For she was fair beyond all Mortal Race,
And something more than human in her Face:
Endu'd with all her Sexes Charms and more,
Which yet without their Vanity she wore.
36
Since Eden's loss, so fair a Body met:
Nay, had ev'n Eve's been such, our Sire had been content;
And scarce cou'd Eden's Loss it self lament:
“Tender, not fond, prudent, yet not precise;
“Tho' wise, not thought her self for me too wise:
“Content with our low state, nor vainly stood
“Upon her Royal Race, or antient Blood:
“Secrets in hers, as safe as in my Breast;
All form'd beyond my wish, to make me blest.
But what did most of joy and triumph bring,
Th' illustrious Gem in her bright Virtues ring
Was her Angelic Chastity; not Eve
E're she did Adam, her the Fiend deceive,
When first she sprung from our great Parents side,
Not she her self a purer Virgin-Bride.
Guess but how strangely then I was amaz'd,
Nor could believe my eyes—agen I gaz'd,
When in my Arms the trembling Fair I claspt;
But started back agen—
As one who in green Herbs a Serpent graspt:
When on the first triumphant Nuptial Night
I found her pregnant, now 'twas plain to sight.
When she was false—
Whom all did above all her Sex prefer,
What did I then, blaspheme of them and Her?
What Vengeance for my injur'd Love debate?
And yet that Love deny'd to let me hate.
Resolv'd, tho' yet I knew not how, to part;
“And, if I could, free my unlucky heart:
Resolv'd to tear the perjur'd Charmer thence,
Divorc'd from her, as she from Innocence.
Thus, stung with Indignation and Despair,
Not ev'n her Tears could longer keep me there:
Far from the Nuptial Room, I rush't away;
“And on the ground a widdow'd Bridegroom lay:
Where gentle sleep, tho' call'd, long from me fled;
My restless thoughts uneasie as my Bed:
And twice the cheerful Harbinger of Day
Had clapt his Wings, and warn'd the Shades away,
37
E're watchful Grief once let me close my Eyes;
'Till sudden slumbers me at last surprize.
I dreamt,—but sure 'twas more, as by th' Event
Appear'd, I saw a glorious Watcher sent,
Glorious as e're to Man glad news did bring;
He touch't and rais'd me with his Purple Wing,
Then thus began,—“Great Branch of Jesse's Stem!
“Heir of thy Father David's Diadem!
“What restless thought, or what unhandsom Fear,
“From thy unspotted Bride, detains thee here?
“On whose fair Soul no thought of Ill's imprest;
“Pure as the Flame that warms an Angels Breast.
“As for the root of all thy jealous cares,
“That wond'rous sacred Burden which she bears;
“The divine Spirit alone, did that infuse,
“And I my self was sent to tell the news
“To her, as now to thee; and e're the Moon
“Five Courses more thro' her short Orb has gone,
“She shall be blest with a miraculous Son;
“Jesus his sacred Name long since design'd,
“The mighty Saviour he of lost Mankind.
He said: I trembling wake: no more h' appears.
But his last words, methought, still sounded in my Ears:
Rouz'd from my humble Couch, I softly come
With sacred Horror to the Nuptial Room;
Fix'd more than half a Statue at the Door
I saw and lov'd far fiercer than before,
And gaz'd and sigh'd, but dar'd attempt no more.
Her Beauty fed, but reverence checkt my Fire;
And still I lov'd, but durst not still desire.
Heav'ns! how she looks? how lovely still appears?
For still, methinks, I see—how charming, ev'n her Tears!
(Thus the sweet Rose new paints its heav'nly hue,
When bending with big drops of morning dew).
Nor cou'd I guess, till I approacht more nigh,
Whether they sprung from Grief or Extasie:
She blusht and in my Bosom hid her face:)
(The modest Blush, confest not guilt, but Grace).
38
E're I condemn'd her, her defence to hear:
Insist no more, I cry'd, on thy defence!
Heav'n has already clear'd thy Innocence:
An Angel-Form, not you your self more fair,
Did late th' indubitable Truth declare:
Bright, injur'd, lovely Maid! no longer grieve!
Dry those vain Tears, and, if you can, forgive!
Then Heav'n has shewn, she said, what I conceal'd;
The mighty Secret, is at last reveal'd:
A Secret, which who e're attempts to tell,
Wou'd need t'oblige belief another Miracle.
The mighty Secret, is at last reveal'd:
A Secret, which who e're attempts to tell,
Wou'd need t'oblige belief another Miracle.
By our chast Loves I cry'd, much injur'd Fair!
And by that sacred Burthen which you bear,
Conceal not ought, nor my suspicions fear,
Since nothing now, but I'm prepar'd to hear.
She yields, and thus begins—
And by that sacred Burthen which you bear,
Conceal not ought, nor my suspicions fear,
Since nothing now, but I'm prepar'd to hear.
She yields, and thus begins—
Three Moons are gone,
And now the fourth swift Orb is rolling on,
Since in my Father Heli's house I sate
Revolving deep those dark Decrees of Fate
Our sacred Books contain, that wond'rous year,
Which all our learned Rabbies think so near;
Above the rest then claim'd my thoughts and care,
Our promis'd Prince, and Heav'ns Almighty Heir;
Who Faith and Truth and Justice shall maintain,
And bless all Nature with his peaceful Reign:
While from the Rocks live streams of Honey flow,
And voluntary Palms and Roses grow:
Thrice happy oft I call'd and counted her,
Who at her Breast the Infant King should bear;
As oft I thought what humble Gifts I'd bring,
What Presents to adore the Infant King:
How blest, if in my Arms I might but hold,
Or in his Cradle, innocently bold
Seize the young Conqu'ror, and by sweet surprise
Might kiss his lovely Cheeks and heavenly Eyes!
Thus musing, sudden Glories me surround:
From the cleft Skies a youth with Sun-beams crown'd
More lovely far, than all the Race of Man,
Descending swift, bow'd low, and thus began:
And now the fourth swift Orb is rolling on,
Since in my Father Heli's house I sate
Revolving deep those dark Decrees of Fate
Our sacred Books contain, that wond'rous year,
Which all our learned Rabbies think so near;
Above the rest then claim'd my thoughts and care,
Our promis'd Prince, and Heav'ns Almighty Heir;
Who Faith and Truth and Justice shall maintain,
And bless all Nature with his peaceful Reign:
While from the Rocks live streams of Honey flow,
And voluntary Palms and Roses grow:
Thrice happy oft I call'd and counted her,
Who at her Breast the Infant King should bear;
As oft I thought what humble Gifts I'd bring,
What Presents to adore the Infant King:
How blest, if in my Arms I might but hold,
Or in his Cradle, innocently bold
Seize the young Conqu'ror, and by sweet surprise
Might kiss his lovely Cheeks and heavenly Eyes!
Thus musing, sudden Glories me surround:
From the cleft Skies a youth with Sun-beams crown'd
39
Descending swift, bow'd low, and thus began:
“All hail! belov'd of Heav'n! and full of Grace!
“More blest, more lov'd than all thy charming Race!
“Who, thou, thy self must that great Mother prove,
“Which was so late thy Envy and thy Love.
“Nor startle at the Message I declare!
“Thy Virgin-womb an Infant God must bear:
“That promis'd Prince who shall the World regain,
“And over all his Father's Empires reign:
“The Divine Spirit, Author of Joy and Love
“Breathing Conception on thee from above:
“Jesus his sacred Name long since design'd:
“The Mighty Saviour he of lost Mankind;
“Th' Eternal God in mortal mould confin'd:
“And if thy Infant-Faith wants Evidence,
“Indulgent Heav'n has sent thee proof from Sense:
“Aged Elizabeth, who did despair
“Like Sarah, ever to embrace an Heir,
“Six Moons already past, is pregnant grown,
“And shall be blest with a miraculous Son!
“Believe me, Sacred Maid! My words are true,
“For he who sent me here, can all things do.
“More blest, more lov'd than all thy charming Race!
“Who, thou, thy self must that great Mother prove,
“Which was so late thy Envy and thy Love.
“Nor startle at the Message I declare!
“Thy Virgin-womb an Infant God must bear:
“That promis'd Prince who shall the World regain,
“And over all his Father's Empires reign:
“The Divine Spirit, Author of Joy and Love
“Breathing Conception on thee from above:
“Jesus his sacred Name long since design'd:
“The Mighty Saviour he of lost Mankind;
“Th' Eternal God in mortal mould confin'd:
“And if thy Infant-Faith wants Evidence,
“Indulgent Heav'n has sent thee proof from Sense:
“Aged Elizabeth, who did despair
“Like Sarah, ever to embrace an Heir,
“Six Moons already past, is pregnant grown,
“And shall be blest with a miraculous Son!
“Believe me, Sacred Maid! My words are true,
“For he who sent me here, can all things do.
He said, and, whilst an Answer I prepare
He wings his way to Heav'n thro' trackless Air:
I after gaz'd, as o're the Clouds he trod,
And cry'd—O loveliest Form ith' Host of God!
My Faith I not refuse, nor yet suspend
To what my Reason cannot comprehend:
Be thy great Masters words without delay
Fulfill'd—'Tis his to order, mine t'obey.
He wings his way to Heav'n thro' trackless Air:
I after gaz'd, as o're the Clouds he trod,
And cry'd—O loveliest Form ith' Host of God!
My Faith I not refuse, nor yet suspend
To what my Reason cannot comprehend:
Be thy great Masters words without delay
Fulfill'd—'Tis his to order, mine t'obey.
Scarce had I said, and he no more appear'd,
When strait a still small whisp'ring sound I heard,
Like that a solitary Ear perceives,
When gentle Zephyr stroaks the velvet leaves:
With this, celestial fragrancies perfume,
And scatter Paradise around the room:
Enwrapt i'th' od'rous Cloud, a while I lay,
Whilst a soft air thro' all my veins did stray,
Thro' my warm Heart in new strange pulses move,
And melt my ravish'd Soul with heavenly Love:
Hence this strange Burthen now so plain to view,
Which Heav'n its Author has reveal'd to you;
And from that moment, I a Mother grew.
When strait a still small whisp'ring sound I heard,
Like that a solitary Ear perceives,
When gentle Zephyr stroaks the velvet leaves:
With this, celestial fragrancies perfume,
And scatter Paradise around the room:
Enwrapt i'th' od'rous Cloud, a while I lay,
Whilst a soft air thro' all my veins did stray,
40
And melt my ravish'd Soul with heavenly Love:
Hence this strange Burthen now so plain to view,
Which Heav'n its Author has reveal'd to you;
And from that moment, I a Mother grew.
She said, new Aves I almost prepare,
Nay, hardly Adoration cou'd forbear:
Thence to my wishes and my arms deny'd,
A Virgin-Mother and a Virgin-Bride,
She grac'd my humble Roof, and blest my Life,
Blest me by a far greater Name than Wife:
“Yet still I bore an undisputed sway,
“Nor was't her task, but pleasure to obey:
“Scarce thought, much less cou'd act, what I deny'd;
“In our low house there was no room for Pride:
“Nor need I e're direct what still was right,
“Still study'd my Convenience and Delight.
“Nor did I for her Care ungrateful prove,
“But only us'd my Pow'r, to shew my Love:
“What e're she askt I gave, without reproach or grudg,
“For still she Reason askt—and I was Judg:
“All my Commands Requests at her fair hands,
“And her Requests to me, were all Commands:
“To others Thresholds rarely she'd incline!
“Her House her pleasure was, and she was mine;
“Rarely abroad, or never, but with me,
“Or when by Pity call'd, or Charity;
These did to old Elizabeth invite,
Friendship's and Kindred's Bonds with these unite:
O'repowr'd at length she yields, and my consent
And company obtain'd, we onward went:
The fam'd Bethulia soon behind us leave,
And Kishon's Fords our weary Feet receive:
Thence fatal Gilboa's high Cliffs we crost,
Where David's much lamented Friend was lost:
Thro' Ephr'im's Lot our course directing down
Near the new Walls of Shemir's antient Town,
By Shechem where good Jacob once did dwell,
Near Dothan's Plain and Sychar's antient Well,
And Gerizim's proud Altar, rais'd in spite,
Accurs'd by every faithful Israelite:
By Jericho and Bethel next we past,
The first went thro', and near us leave the last;
And the third Noon, where Siloam gently falls
Discover antient Salem's sacred Walls;
Which leaving on the left, our course we bend
To Geba-Town our little Journeys end:
Near which, upon an easie Hill we see
The pleasant Seat of aged Zacharie:
'Twas neat, not proud; for Use, not Pomp or Fame;
Such as an humble Country Priest became:
He saw rich Fields below, which should be his,
Detain'd by Sacrilege and Avarice:
For Geba did of right to th' Priests belong,
Tho' Power and Time must justifie the wrong:
He saw, more griev'd than angry at their Crime,
And only pity'd those who injur'd him:
With his own small paternal Fields content;
Enough for Want, not Luxury they lent;
Blest by their Masters Pray'rs and watchful Eye,
And honest Servants careful Industry:
A Crystal Stream which from the Mountains stole,
Whose waters o'r the healthy Gravel roll
Before the Gate did gently murmuring run,
Gilt by the kindly Beams o'th' rising Sun:
The West a fair and spacious Prospect yields,
Where the pleas'd Eye is lost in Woods and Fields:
From the bleak North the Mountains Summit shields;
An Olive-Grove the Southern Heats defends,
Which shade, and Fruit, pleasure and profit lends;
Beyond whose Borders, where the Hill inclines
'Tis richly cover'd o'r with clust'ring Vines.
Thither arriv'd, old Zach'ry both embrac'd,
And at his hospitable Table plac'd,
All signs of welcome wanting words were shown,
Nor had he those, this Reason only known,
H'had some strange Vision in the Temple seen,
And ever since as strangely silent been:
Not so Eliza, who to meet us ran,
And to the Virgin thus, inspir'd began:
Nay, hardly Adoration cou'd forbear:
Thence to my wishes and my arms deny'd,
A Virgin-Mother and a Virgin-Bride,
She grac'd my humble Roof, and blest my Life,
Blest me by a far greater Name than Wife:
“Yet still I bore an undisputed sway,
“Nor was't her task, but pleasure to obey:
“Scarce thought, much less cou'd act, what I deny'd;
“In our low house there was no room for Pride:
“Nor need I e're direct what still was right,
“Still study'd my Convenience and Delight.
“Nor did I for her Care ungrateful prove,
“But only us'd my Pow'r, to shew my Love:
“What e're she askt I gave, without reproach or grudg,
“For still she Reason askt—and I was Judg:
“All my Commands Requests at her fair hands,
“And her Requests to me, were all Commands:
“To others Thresholds rarely she'd incline!
“Her House her pleasure was, and she was mine;
“Rarely abroad, or never, but with me,
“Or when by Pity call'd, or Charity;
These did to old Elizabeth invite,
Friendship's and Kindred's Bonds with these unite:
O'repowr'd at length she yields, and my consent
And company obtain'd, we onward went:
The fam'd Bethulia soon behind us leave,
And Kishon's Fords our weary Feet receive:
Thence fatal Gilboa's high Cliffs we crost,
Where David's much lamented Friend was lost:
Thro' Ephr'im's Lot our course directing down
Near the new Walls of Shemir's antient Town,
By Shechem where good Jacob once did dwell,
Near Dothan's Plain and Sychar's antient Well,
41
Accurs'd by every faithful Israelite:
By Jericho and Bethel next we past,
The first went thro', and near us leave the last;
And the third Noon, where Siloam gently falls
Discover antient Salem's sacred Walls;
Which leaving on the left, our course we bend
To Geba-Town our little Journeys end:
Near which, upon an easie Hill we see
The pleasant Seat of aged Zacharie:
'Twas neat, not proud; for Use, not Pomp or Fame;
Such as an humble Country Priest became:
He saw rich Fields below, which should be his,
Detain'd by Sacrilege and Avarice:
For Geba did of right to th' Priests belong,
Tho' Power and Time must justifie the wrong:
He saw, more griev'd than angry at their Crime,
And only pity'd those who injur'd him:
With his own small paternal Fields content;
Enough for Want, not Luxury they lent;
Blest by their Masters Pray'rs and watchful Eye,
And honest Servants careful Industry:
A Crystal Stream which from the Mountains stole,
Whose waters o'r the healthy Gravel roll
Before the Gate did gently murmuring run,
Gilt by the kindly Beams o'th' rising Sun:
The West a fair and spacious Prospect yields,
Where the pleas'd Eye is lost in Woods and Fields:
From the bleak North the Mountains Summit shields;
An Olive-Grove the Southern Heats defends,
Which shade, and Fruit, pleasure and profit lends;
Beyond whose Borders, where the Hill inclines
'Tis richly cover'd o'r with clust'ring Vines.
Thither arriv'd, old Zach'ry both embrac'd,
And at his hospitable Table plac'd,
All signs of welcome wanting words were shown,
Nor had he those, this Reason only known,
H'had some strange Vision in the Temple seen,
And ever since as strangely silent been:
Not so Eliza, who to meet us ran,
42
“Blest above Women shall thy Title be
“And yet more blest, thy wond'rous Child than thee!
“Whence is't the Mother of my God should grace
“With her high presence such an humble place?
“Nor sooner did my pleas'd and ravish'd Ear,
“Blest Virgin! the melodious accents hear
“Of thy lov'd Voice, but my prophetic Boy
“Perceiv'd and bounded in my Womb for Joy.
“And blest is she, whose noble Faith like thine,
“Expells all doubt of Truth and Power divine:
“Speedy performance shall thy wishes crown,
“And future Ages spred thy high renown.
The Virgin heard, Heav'n not her self she rais'd,
Kind Heav'n in everlasting Numbers prais'd.
“And yet more blest, thy wond'rous Child than thee!
“Whence is't the Mother of my God should grace
“With her high presence such an humble place?
“Nor sooner did my pleas'd and ravish'd Ear,
“Blest Virgin! the melodious accents hear
“Of thy lov'd Voice, but my prophetic Boy
“Perceiv'd and bounded in my Womb for Joy.
“And blest is she, whose noble Faith like thine,
“Expells all doubt of Truth and Power divine:
“Speedy performance shall thy wishes crown,
“And future Ages spred thy high renown.
The Virgin heard, Heav'n not her self she rais'd,
Kind Heav'n in everlasting Numbers prais'd.
Amidst these holy Hymns, which all around
From Saints and Angels in thy praise resound,
Thrice blessed Maid! may there be room for me
To throw my Mite into the Treasury?
As Heav'n did thine, my humble Gifts approve!
And since I have no Lambs, accept my Dove!
From Saints and Angels in thy praise resound,
Thrice blessed Maid! may there be room for me
To throw my Mite into the Treasury?
As Heav'n did thine, my humble Gifts approve!
And since I have no Lambs, accept my Dove!
“Hail Mary! may thy Glories still prevail!
“Great Mother of my God and Saviour, Hail!
“More blest than all our lost Forefathers Line!
“Blest above all our Sex, as well as thine!
“Above all mortals, only not divine!
“Only below thy Son I thee confess,
“And those who make thee more, but make thee less.
“Midst your triumphant Lauds, if ought you know,
“Ought that concerns our weary World below,
“Permit these praises far beneath your due,
“This humble Verse to be inscrib'd to you!
“Still wear they your lov'd name as their defence,
“And borrow Immortality from thence!
“Great Mother of my God and Saviour, Hail!
“More blest than all our lost Forefathers Line!
“Blest above all our Sex, as well as thine!
“Above all mortals, only not divine!
“Only below thy Son I thee confess,
“And those who make thee more, but make thee less.
“Midst your triumphant Lauds, if ought you know,
“Ought that concerns our weary World below,
“Permit these praises far beneath your due,
“This humble Verse to be inscrib'd to you!
“Still wear they your lov'd name as their defence,
“And borrow Immortality from thence!
“And after thee, O full of Charms and Grace!
“Let our great Mary fill the second place!
“For other Queens long maist thou look in vain,
“Others like her, to fill thy glorious Train.
“Humble like thee, like thee of Royal Line,
“Her Soul to Heav'n submiss, and bow'd like thine!
“Heav'n, which Immaculate her Form design'd,
“As a fit mansion for so fair a mind.
“(Sure none can e'r be Traitors, but the blind)
“Which gave her Eyes that Love and Awe inspire
“And cheer the World like the Sun's vital Fire:
“O may they—but that sawcy wish must dye;
“He melts his Plumes, who dares attempt so high:
“Yet I'll wish on, Retreats are now too late,
“And, Icarus, I court thy noble Fate—
“May they on these my humble Labours shine
“With their kind Influence gild each happy Line,
“Indue with purer Forms the coarser Ore,
“And stamp it Bullion, tho' 'twas dross before.
“Let our great Mary fill the second place!
“For other Queens long maist thou look in vain,
“Others like her, to fill thy glorious Train.
“Humble like thee, like thee of Royal Line,
“Her Soul to Heav'n submiss, and bow'd like thine!
43
“As a fit mansion for so fair a mind.
“(Sure none can e'r be Traitors, but the blind)
“Which gave her Eyes that Love and Awe inspire
“And cheer the World like the Sun's vital Fire:
“O may they—but that sawcy wish must dye;
“He melts his Plumes, who dares attempt so high:
“Yet I'll wish on, Retreats are now too late,
“And, Icarus, I court thy noble Fate—
“May they on these my humble Labours shine
“With their kind Influence gild each happy Line,
“Indue with purer Forms the coarser Ore,
“And stamp it Bullion, tho' 'twas dross before.
Sweet Muse return! to nobler strains aspire!
And touch, with utmost Art, the heav'nly Lyre!
With Seraphs sing his glorious humble Birth,
Who rais'd the beauteous Pile of Heav'n and Earth!
What reverend Joseph on his Oozy Seat,
What zealous Cephas did from him repeat;
Attent and pleas'd his Auditors appear;
The more they heard, the more they wisht to hear.
He fervent, thus goes on—
And touch, with utmost Art, the heav'nly Lyre!
With Seraphs sing his glorious humble Birth,
Who rais'd the beauteous Pile of Heav'n and Earth!
What reverend Joseph on his Oozy Seat,
What zealous Cephas did from him repeat;
Attent and pleas'd his Auditors appear;
The more they heard, the more they wisht to hear.
He fervent, thus goes on—
These, more than Friendly Salutations paid,
With old Elizabeth a while we staid,
Till thrice we saw the Silver Cynthia's wane,
And thrice she fill'd her various Orb again;
When the good Matrons welcom pains begun,
Who in her Arms soon held a wond'rous Son:
Her kindred much admiring round her sate,
And her so rare a Bliss congratulate:
And when they saw the eighth blest Sun arise,
Prepare the wond'rous Child to circumcise:
His Father's Name they gave, with kind presage,
As Hope and Staff of his declining Age:
And add their Prayers, that he as well might be
Heir of his Virtues, as his Family.
Well pleas'd Eliza bow'd, and wish'd the same,
With thanks, to all agreeing, but the Name,
All wond'ring, thus did she inspir'd proceed,
It must be John, for so high Heav'n decreed:
His Father askt, with speaking Eyes and Hands
Of those around Tablet and Style demands;
And when i'th' ductile Wax he'd stampt his mind,
The Name his Mother gave, surpriz'd we find:
Yet more, his Lips unloos'd when Hymns he sung,
And all the House with Hallelujahs rung:
Trembling we ask, on his reply intent,
What his strange Speech, and stranger Silence meant!
He thus—
With old Elizabeth a while we staid,
Till thrice we saw the Silver Cynthia's wane,
And thrice she fill'd her various Orb again;
When the good Matrons welcom pains begun,
Who in her Arms soon held a wond'rous Son:
Her kindred much admiring round her sate,
And her so rare a Bliss congratulate:
And when they saw the eighth blest Sun arise,
Prepare the wond'rous Child to circumcise:
His Father's Name they gave, with kind presage,
As Hope and Staff of his declining Age:
And add their Prayers, that he as well might be
Heir of his Virtues, as his Family.
Well pleas'd Eliza bow'd, and wish'd the same,
With thanks, to all agreeing, but the Name,
All wond'ring, thus did she inspir'd proceed,
It must be John, for so high Heav'n decreed:
44
Of those around Tablet and Style demands;
And when i'th' ductile Wax he'd stampt his mind,
The Name his Mother gave, surpriz'd we find:
Yet more, his Lips unloos'd when Hymns he sung,
And all the House with Hallelujahs rung:
Trembling we ask, on his reply intent,
What his strange Speech, and stranger Silence meant!
He thus—
As I with Incense did attend,
I saw great Gabriel in the Flame descend:
Of all who dearly love and guard mankind,
There's not a mightier or a fairer mind:
One hand he on the trembling Altar laid,
The other rais'd me from the ground afraid;
Th' All-wise, says he, has hear'd thy pious pray'r,
And thy Eliza shall embrace an Heir:
John be his destin'd Name, and Joy and Mirth
Shall fill thy House at his miraculous Birth:
Still dear in the Most High's impartial sight,
Devoted an abstemious Nazarite.
Divine Illapses daily he'll receive,
As much as he can take, or Heav'n can give:
T'illuminate his pure and piercing mind,
For that great work to which by Heav'n design'd.
His word like Thunder shall the World affright,
Exposing guilty Souls to conscious Light:
While crowds of penitents their Crimes shall mourn,
To God at once, and to themselves return.
The Prophet who prepares the Saviour's way,
The Morning-Star to the bright Prince of day.
I saw great Gabriel in the Flame descend:
Of all who dearly love and guard mankind,
There's not a mightier or a fairer mind:
One hand he on the trembling Altar laid,
The other rais'd me from the ground afraid;
Th' All-wise, says he, has hear'd thy pious pray'r,
And thy Eliza shall embrace an Heir:
John be his destin'd Name, and Joy and Mirth
Shall fill thy House at his miraculous Birth:
Still dear in the Most High's impartial sight,
Devoted an abstemious Nazarite.
Divine Illapses daily he'll receive,
As much as he can take, or Heav'n can give:
T'illuminate his pure and piercing mind,
For that great work to which by Heav'n design'd.
His word like Thunder shall the World affright,
Exposing guilty Souls to conscious Light:
While crowds of penitents their Crimes shall mourn,
To God at once, and to themselves return.
The Prophet who prepares the Saviour's way,
The Morning-Star to the bright Prince of day.
To this strange news I heard the Angel tell
When wonder made me yet an Infidel:
On his lov'd Face a Frown he quickly wore,
Which never sure was so disguis'd before;
Then thus, “Since Heav'n it self must speak in vain,
Nor Credence to its Oracles obtain;
At once experience Truth and Power divine
And be thy self unto thy self a Sign!
Till thy despair'd thy promis'd blessing come,
I seal thy Lips, and bid thee—thus be dumb!
When wonder made me yet an Infidel:
On his lov'd Face a Frown he quickly wore,
Which never sure was so disguis'd before;
Then thus, “Since Heav'n it self must speak in vain,
Nor Credence to its Oracles obtain;
At once experience Truth and Power divine
And be thy self unto thy self a Sign!
Till thy despair'd thy promis'd blessing come,
45
Trembling I kneel'd, and wou'd have mercy cry'd,
But 'twas too late—my fault'ring Tongue deny'd
T'express my lab'ring thoughts abrupt intent:
The Angel nods, as knowing what I meant,
And back in Curls of Incense smiling went.
With mental Pray'r I strait addrest th' All-high,
Nor cou'd those adamantine bonds unty;
Which voluntary now fall off again:
And since kind Heav'n at once has broke my Chain,
And giv'n such Joys, I'll that attempt to raise,
And thee, O never ending Goodness! praise.
Awake my Lyre, I'll strain each tuneful String!
Awake my Voice which he has taught to sing.
But 'twas too late—my fault'ring Tongue deny'd
T'express my lab'ring thoughts abrupt intent:
The Angel nods, as knowing what I meant,
And back in Curls of Incense smiling went.
With mental Pray'r I strait addrest th' All-high,
Nor cou'd those adamantine bonds unty;
Which voluntary now fall off again:
And since kind Heav'n at once has broke my Chain,
And giv'n such Joys, I'll that attempt to raise,
And thee, O never ending Goodness! praise.
Awake my Lyre, I'll strain each tuneful String!
Awake my Voice which he has taught to sing.
Zachary's Song.
Great
God of Israel! how shall we thy Laud express,
“And, never satisfi'd with praises bless?
Unutterable Goodness! how shall we
For all th' unutterable Blessings pay,
Of this triumphant happy day,
And what so largely we receive, restore to thee?
Who hast thy chosen Flock with gracious Eyes survey'd,
And visited with thine Almighty Aid!
A great Redemption for us wrought,
Surpassing our Desert or Thought,
Surpassing those when wand'ring wide
By Nilus and Euphrates side,
You sav'd from Egypt, and from Babel's pride.
Those only Types of this have been,
Those only were from Slavery, this from Sin.
“And, never satisfi'd with praises bless?
Unutterable Goodness! how shall we
For all th' unutterable Blessings pay,
Of this triumphant happy day,
And what so largely we receive, restore to thee?
Who hast thy chosen Flock with gracious Eyes survey'd,
And visited with thine Almighty Aid!
A great Redemption for us wrought,
Surpassing our Desert or Thought,
Surpassing those when wand'ring wide
By Nilus and Euphrates side,
You sav'd from Egypt, and from Babel's pride.
Those only Types of this have been,
Those only were from Slavery, this from Sin.
II.
Thee will we praise, thee will we sing,We'll sing with ardent Love and awful Fear;
Who hast to Sion brought a great Deliverer,
A mighty Saviour, and a mighty King!
That promis'd Branch of Jesse's sacred Stem,
46
Whom many an antient Seer did descry
Thro' the mysterious Glass of Prophecy,
In the vast Heav'n of dark futurity:
They saw his Day, tho' far remov'd.
And seeing smil'd, and smiling lov'd:
They saw great Juda's Kingly Lion, rouse,
And his lov'd Nations Cause espouse;
Vainly whole Troops against him rise,
This vainly fights, and that as vainly flies;
From their stern Jaws he tears away
Th' already half-devoured Prey,
And rends and tramples all our Enemies.
III.
Which of you shall my lofty Numbers grace,Ye great Fore-fathers of the chosen Race?
Thee Father Abraham, first I'll sing,
From whose blest Loins so many Nations spring,
The Favourite, the Friend of Heav'n's Almighty King!
He gave his Oath, and thou thy Son,
When the eternal League begun:
Offensive and Defensive 'tis,
His Enemies are ours, and ours are his:
His sacred Truth he did to witness take
While his strong Words the solid Center shake,
While Heav'n and Earth remain'd, he would not us forsake;
But guide us thro' fair Vertue's Paths, wherein
For ever walk sweet Peace and Innocence,
All mischief ever banish'd thence,
All Guilt and Danger far remov'd,
All that by him is disapprov'd,
And Fear, the Child of Sin.
IV.
Nor thee, thou strange prophetick Boy,By Heav'n inspir'd e'r thou didst come
From forth the Closet of the Womb,
Thy aged Parents Wonder, and their Joy:
Thee, tho' unsung, unheeded yet,
47
Thee who the happy News shalt bring,
The Harbinger of Heav'n's high King;
The Banners of his Grace display,
And scatter Pardons all the Way.
He comes, he comes! I see him swift advance,
He comes to our Deliverance:
I see his Orient Light arise
Scatt'ring ten thousand Suns around the Skies:
It flash'd thro' Chaos, whose wild Surges fell,
As when the first strange Day was made;
The Fiends were all of a new World afraid,
As wide it glar'd thro' all the inmost Caves of Hell.
If there it mov'd their Dread, though not their Love,
What Wonders shall it not perform above?
Sin to th' Abyss shall sink again,
“Death the great Slayer, shall himself be slain,
And Truth and Heav'n-born Peace for ever reign.
Thus sung the Holy Sire entranc'd, and we
Who heard, were little less in Extasie:
These triumphs finish'd, back we hast'ning come
To pleasant Nazareth, well weary'd home:
There fixing our abode, till now the Sun
Thro' three bright Signs his glorious Race had run,
Since we Judea left, and all our care,
Apply'd our homely Cottage to prepare
For the great Prince, and Heav'ns Almighty Heir;
Whose Birth approach'd, which now we knew so near,
Each Hour his Virgin Mothers Hope and Fear:
Enough we had for Need, though not for Pride,
Yet ev'n that small convenience soon deny'd;
The Roman Edict would not let us stay,
But to our Birth-place, Bethlehem call'd away;
The antient Seat of David's Royal Line,
Whence the bright Maids Original and mine:
And when for our new Journy we prepare,
Husht were the churlish Winds, serene the Air;
Departing Winters self grew calm and mild,
And as it went, put on smooth Looks and smil'd:
Whilst in our way officious Nature strows
The blew-ey'd Violet, and the blushing Rose:
Does, to oblige us, all her Glories bring,
And all the pretty Flow'rs that dress the Spring;
Narcissus, who too well himself did please,
The Iris proud, and rich Anemone's:
From Naz'reth's odoriferous Fields got free,
Hermon and beauteous Tabor soon we see:
Then o'r Kedummim's Streams our passage take,
Which lose themselves in the Tiberian Lake;
And thro' the well-known Road came joyful down:
On the third Night to Salem's sacred Town:
And our Devotions at the Temple pay'd
The next glad Morn, when there a while we stay'd,
We leave our Friends in the declining day,
And with discourse beguil'd the tedious Way:
Till when sweet Bethlem at a distance spy'd,
A secret Joy thro' all my Soul did glide;
Encreasing still, as still we came more near,
And Rachel's Tomb toth' right began t'appear:
Each noted place around, the Maid I show'd,
What e'r our Eyes could reach on either side the Road:
Tis there, said I, still flows that precious Spring,
Which his three Heroes did to David bring!
T'was there a Youth, he kept his Flock; and there
Met the curl'd Lyon and the rugged Bear.
Who heard, were little less in Extasie:
These triumphs finish'd, back we hast'ning come
To pleasant Nazareth, well weary'd home:
There fixing our abode, till now the Sun
Thro' three bright Signs his glorious Race had run,
Since we Judea left, and all our care,
Apply'd our homely Cottage to prepare
For the great Prince, and Heav'ns Almighty Heir;
Whose Birth approach'd, which now we knew so near,
Each Hour his Virgin Mothers Hope and Fear:
Enough we had for Need, though not for Pride,
Yet ev'n that small convenience soon deny'd;
The Roman Edict would not let us stay,
But to our Birth-place, Bethlehem call'd away;
The antient Seat of David's Royal Line,
Whence the bright Maids Original and mine:
And when for our new Journy we prepare,
Husht were the churlish Winds, serene the Air;
Departing Winters self grew calm and mild,
And as it went, put on smooth Looks and smil'd:
48
The blew-ey'd Violet, and the blushing Rose:
Does, to oblige us, all her Glories bring,
And all the pretty Flow'rs that dress the Spring;
Narcissus, who too well himself did please,
The Iris proud, and rich Anemone's:
From Naz'reth's odoriferous Fields got free,
Hermon and beauteous Tabor soon we see:
Then o'r Kedummim's Streams our passage take,
Which lose themselves in the Tiberian Lake;
And thro' the well-known Road came joyful down:
On the third Night to Salem's sacred Town:
And our Devotions at the Temple pay'd
The next glad Morn, when there a while we stay'd,
We leave our Friends in the declining day,
And with discourse beguil'd the tedious Way:
Till when sweet Bethlem at a distance spy'd,
A secret Joy thro' all my Soul did glide;
Encreasing still, as still we came more near,
And Rachel's Tomb toth' right began t'appear:
Each noted place around, the Maid I show'd,
What e'r our Eyes could reach on either side the Road:
Tis there, said I, still flows that precious Spring,
Which his three Heroes did to David bring!
T'was there a Youth, he kept his Flock; and there
Met the curl'd Lyon and the rugged Bear.
She shreekt and claspt me to her trembling Breast,
Then begg'd me that I would not tell the rest!
Then begg'd me that I would not tell the rest!
And now the Night her sable Veil had spread,
Each little Bird coucht in its mossy Bed,
And Fowls of stronger Wing to distant Regions fled;
As we to Bethlem's Walls well weary'd come,
And hear the busie Towns tumultuous Hum;
Whole Droves like us we see, who came too late,
Crowding to enter e'r they shut the Gate:
And there so long we for admittance wait,
Till we i'th' Windows glim'ring Lights descry,
Extinct in some, discovering Midnight nigh:
With Fears o'th' Night, and Toyls o'th' Day opprest,
Long did we seek a Place for welcom Rest.
The Streets and Suburbs sought, but sought in vain,
New disappointments still increase our Pain.
Each little Bird coucht in its mossy Bed,
And Fowls of stronger Wing to distant Regions fled;
As we to Bethlem's Walls well weary'd come,
And hear the busie Towns tumultuous Hum;
Whole Droves like us we see, who came too late,
Crowding to enter e'r they shut the Gate:
And there so long we for admittance wait,
Till we i'th' Windows glim'ring Lights descry,
Extinct in some, discovering Midnight nigh:
With Fears o'th' Night, and Toyls o'th' Day opprest,
Long did we seek a Place for welcom Rest.
49
New disappointments still increase our Pain.
And now new Griefs my much lov'd charge o'erpow'r,
Who fast approaching found that fatal hour
Of which her Sex so justly is affraid,
No more than that of Death to be delay'd:
“O my distracted Heart! forlorn and poor,
“Repell'd at each unhospitable Door,
“Strangers, benighted, tired, and yet far more
“Still more than all, and what I could not bear,
“What more than Life I lov'd must feel the largest share.
“How false th' opinion that it gives relief
“To have a sad Companion in our Grief?
“Afflictions stroaks more thick and heavy fall
“When both each others feel, and both bear all.
“Yet quiet still her Breast; to Heaven resign'd;
“In an uneasie Body calm her mind;
“Not one impatient sigh or word let go,
“These only from her Lips divinely flow
“It must be best for Heav'n will have it so.
“We may not murmur, tho' we justly give,
“And spite of clam'rous sence let's still believe!
Sham'd with the kind reproof I soon represt
My wayward Thoughts, and calm'd my murm'ring Breast;
This done, I to a well known Cave repair
Which her might shield, for whom my chiefest care
From the moist Heav'ns, and Nights unwholsom Air.
In storms a refuge to the panting Swains
When sudden Sleet came driving cross the Plains.
Whether by Art hew'd in the living Stone
Or Mother Natures antient work, unknown:
Short stubble and light reed, which our low state
Did best become, I gather'd at the Gate;
These to the Virgin for her Couch I gave,
Plac'd in the inmost Corner of the Cave:
Such pomp did David's Royal Heir assume,
Such was the Furniture, and such the Room:
The rest a Choire of modest Angels brings,
But veil their Faces with their purple Wings.
Who fast approaching found that fatal hour
Of which her Sex so justly is affraid,
No more than that of Death to be delay'd:
“O my distracted Heart! forlorn and poor,
“Repell'd at each unhospitable Door,
“Strangers, benighted, tired, and yet far more
“Still more than all, and what I could not bear,
“What more than Life I lov'd must feel the largest share.
“How false th' opinion that it gives relief
“To have a sad Companion in our Grief?
“Afflictions stroaks more thick and heavy fall
“When both each others feel, and both bear all.
“Yet quiet still her Breast; to Heaven resign'd;
“In an uneasie Body calm her mind;
“Not one impatient sigh or word let go,
“These only from her Lips divinely flow
“It must be best for Heav'n will have it so.
“We may not murmur, tho' we justly give,
“And spite of clam'rous sence let's still believe!
Sham'd with the kind reproof I soon represt
My wayward Thoughts, and calm'd my murm'ring Breast;
This done, I to a well known Cave repair
Which her might shield, for whom my chiefest care
From the moist Heav'ns, and Nights unwholsom Air.
In storms a refuge to the panting Swains
When sudden Sleet came driving cross the Plains.
Whether by Art hew'd in the living Stone
Or Mother Natures antient work, unknown:
Short stubble and light reed, which our low state
Did best become, I gather'd at the Gate;
These to the Virgin for her Couch I gave,
Plac'd in the inmost Corner of the Cave:
Such pomp did David's Royal Heir assume,
Such was the Furniture, and such the Room:
The rest a Choire of modest Angels brings,
But veil their Faces with their purple Wings.
And now thro' liquid Air the silent Moon
In silver Chariot mounts to her pale Noon:
Still was the Night as Innocence or Fear,
Nor humane Sounds, nor grazing Beasts we hear;
Faint did the Lamp on neighb'ring Edar burn,
By snatches shin'd awhile, then sunk into its Urn.
The very Stars with drowsie motions roll,
The Bear walks heavily around the Pole:
When spite of all my Cares I slumb'ring lay
Tir'd with the Toils and sorrows of the day.
Till a strong light thro' my clos'd Eye-lids shin'd,
As the Sun's mid-day glories chear the blind:
Wond'ring I wake, and strait surpriz'd behold
The Cave all delug'd with etherial Gold:
Glories almost too fine for grosser sence,
And num'rous shining Forms departing thence:
The Virgin too I saw, so brightly drest
I hardly cou'd discern her from the rest.
“In her chast Arms the eternal Infant lies:
What an illustrious goodness in his Eyes?
Which soon alike both Lights and Shades o'erpow'rs,
And all the modest Beams around devours:
I kneell'd adoring, and my Eyes imploy
T'assist my fault'ring Tongue, and speak my joy:
Tho' from my pleasing Trance soon rais'd by Fear,
For nigh the Cave I humane Footsteps hear
And rustic sounds confus'd, which as they grew
More loud, before the Gate my self I threw,
With feeble force my precious charge to shield
From the rude Swains returning from the field;
For such I thought 'em, till at length I spy,
As the fair morn began to gild the Sky
A Troop of harmless Shepherds mild and good,
Who near me on their sheephooks leaning stood,
And bowing low, for the bright Babe inquire,
The hope of Israel and the worlds desire:
Wond'ring from whence so soon they heard the news
I askt, nor they to clear my doubts refuse.
Two sprightly Lads, who could relate it best,
With Chaplets crown'd leapt forth from all the rest;
Claius, who lately the leud Town had left
Of all his long his foolish Hopes bereft,
Tho' bounteous Heav'n whate'er he now thought dear
Indulg'd, in Peace and his Urania here:
Strephon, a jolly youth, who did pretend
To be, and was, e'er Love bred Hate, his Friend:
Tho since too oft, on many a vain pretence
He left the Plains and left his Innocence.
His Soul no track of Modesty or Grace
Retains, as steel'd and harden'd as his Face:
Foul as those loathsom Brands his Body bears,
And black as that dissembled Robe he wears:
For now he do's in other Garments shrowd
His ugly Vice. I saw him late, too proud
Claius his Friend, or ev'n himself to own,
In Town by Malchi's nobler Title known;
Where with those Priests he bands, whose daily Theme
Is their still patient Saviour to blaspheme:
Not so ere while when innocent and young
With Claius thus his Birth he sweetly sung.
50
Still was the Night as Innocence or Fear,
Nor humane Sounds, nor grazing Beasts we hear;
Faint did the Lamp on neighb'ring Edar burn,
By snatches shin'd awhile, then sunk into its Urn.
The very Stars with drowsie motions roll,
The Bear walks heavily around the Pole:
When spite of all my Cares I slumb'ring lay
Tir'd with the Toils and sorrows of the day.
Till a strong light thro' my clos'd Eye-lids shin'd,
As the Sun's mid-day glories chear the blind:
Wond'ring I wake, and strait surpriz'd behold
The Cave all delug'd with etherial Gold:
Glories almost too fine for grosser sence,
And num'rous shining Forms departing thence:
The Virgin too I saw, so brightly drest
I hardly cou'd discern her from the rest.
“In her chast Arms the eternal Infant lies:
What an illustrious goodness in his Eyes?
Which soon alike both Lights and Shades o'erpow'rs,
And all the modest Beams around devours:
I kneell'd adoring, and my Eyes imploy
T'assist my fault'ring Tongue, and speak my joy:
Tho' from my pleasing Trance soon rais'd by Fear,
For nigh the Cave I humane Footsteps hear
And rustic sounds confus'd, which as they grew
More loud, before the Gate my self I threw,
With feeble force my precious charge to shield
From the rude Swains returning from the field;
For such I thought 'em, till at length I spy,
As the fair morn began to gild the Sky
A Troop of harmless Shepherds mild and good,
Who near me on their sheephooks leaning stood,
And bowing low, for the bright Babe inquire,
The hope of Israel and the worlds desire:
Wond'ring from whence so soon they heard the news
I askt, nor they to clear my doubts refuse.
Two sprightly Lads, who could relate it best,
With Chaplets crown'd leapt forth from all the rest;
Claius, who lately the leud Town had left
51
Tho' bounteous Heav'n whate'er he now thought dear
Indulg'd, in Peace and his Urania here:
Strephon, a jolly youth, who did pretend
To be, and was, e'er Love bred Hate, his Friend:
Tho since too oft, on many a vain pretence
He left the Plains and left his Innocence.
His Soul no track of Modesty or Grace
Retains, as steel'd and harden'd as his Face:
Foul as those loathsom Brands his Body bears,
And black as that dissembled Robe he wears:
For now he do's in other Garments shrowd
His ugly Vice. I saw him late, too proud
Claius his Friend, or ev'n himself to own,
In Town by Malchi's nobler Title known;
Where with those Priests he bands, whose daily Theme
Is their still patient Saviour to blaspheme:
Not so ere while when innocent and young
With Claius thus his Birth he sweetly sung.
Christmas Caroll.
Strephon.How Claius—are we dumb with Joy?
Come tune thy Pipe to Carols sweet!
Let's welcom the celestial Boy,
And throw our Garlands at his Feet!
Claius.
I have a Lamb as pure as Snow
Which my Urania smiling gave;
Yet shall he to his Altars goe
Nor shall her Eyes the Victim save.
Strephon.
Mistaken Swain! he ne'er requires
That with such off'rings we should part:
Go give him pure and fair desires,
And praise him with an humble heart!
Claius.
Then all my hopes and all my fears
I'll to their antient Lord restore,
And all my sighs and all my tears,
His Love obtain'd, I ask no more.
52
When thus each others rural skill they'd try'd
To my desire young Claius thus reply'd:
As in yon Plain that stretches wide away
Near Edars Tow'r to guard our Flocks we lay,
The Night, as honest Shepherds use, we spent,
In Tales and Songs and harmless merriment:
On antient Heroes stories some proceed,
Who not disdaind to touch the tuneful reed:
Old Father Jacob's Travels these relate,
And these unstable Ruben's crime and fate:
Others that valiant Ephratean Swain
Who vast Goliah quell'd on Elahs plain;
How with his Praises all the Valleys rung;
How well he fought how well he lov'd and sung.
While thus, on Earths soft Couch employ'd we lay
From neighbouring Cottages the Bird of Day
Loud sounds his first alarm, and every star
Revolving swift thro' Heav'ns high Arch declare
Their Noon was past, and Night began to wear:
When on a sudden aged Ægon cries
See Shepherds see, descending from the Skies
Yon light! Kind Heav'n! What mean these Prodigies?
The Sun it cannot be, for Night's not done,
And almost half his Under-Day to run;
Besides, it mounts not, but oblique descends,
And hitherwards its wondrous Journy bends—
—He trembling said, but soon no more cou'd say;
For the next moment all around was day;
The Ewes disturb'd arose and scatter'd wide,
The little Lambs ran bleating by their side:
Our faithful Dogs coucht on the ground affraid,
And none besides my old Lycisca bay'd:
Profound we prostrate lay, long groveling there,
Nor cou'd th' unsufferable splendor bear:
Till a fair Youth, as my Urania fair
Sweet Peace and Heav'n-born Joy descending brings,
As soft he touch'd us with his purple wings.
To my desire young Claius thus reply'd:
As in yon Plain that stretches wide away
Near Edars Tow'r to guard our Flocks we lay,
The Night, as honest Shepherds use, we spent,
In Tales and Songs and harmless merriment:
On antient Heroes stories some proceed,
Who not disdaind to touch the tuneful reed:
Old Father Jacob's Travels these relate,
And these unstable Ruben's crime and fate:
Others that valiant Ephratean Swain
Who vast Goliah quell'd on Elahs plain;
How with his Praises all the Valleys rung;
How well he fought how well he lov'd and sung.
While thus, on Earths soft Couch employ'd we lay
From neighbouring Cottages the Bird of Day
Loud sounds his first alarm, and every star
Revolving swift thro' Heav'ns high Arch declare
Their Noon was past, and Night began to wear:
When on a sudden aged Ægon cries
See Shepherds see, descending from the Skies
Yon light! Kind Heav'n! What mean these Prodigies?
The Sun it cannot be, for Night's not done,
And almost half his Under-Day to run;
Besides, it mounts not, but oblique descends,
And hitherwards its wondrous Journy bends—
—He trembling said, but soon no more cou'd say;
For the next moment all around was day;
The Ewes disturb'd arose and scatter'd wide,
The little Lambs ran bleating by their side:
Our faithful Dogs coucht on the ground affraid,
And none besides my old Lycisca bay'd:
Profound we prostrate lay, long groveling there,
Nor cou'd th' unsufferable splendor bear:
Till a fair Youth, as my Urania fair
Sweet Peace and Heav'n-born Joy descending brings,
As soft he touch'd us with his purple wings.
Blest Swains, let no vain Terrors you affright!
Believe 'tis no Illusion of the Night!
To you, he cry'd, I happy tidings bring
From yon fair place, and Heav'ns Almighty King.
To you, the Lamb of God, this happy morn
To you, the Saviour of the World is born
In Ephratean Bethlem, where of old
The Royal Swain so well did guard his Fold;
You'll find him wrapt in feeble Infants bands
Who grasps all Nature with his mighty hands.
A Cave and homely Stable claim his birth
Who rais'd the goodly Pile of Heav'n and Earth.
—He said and strait we saw the welkin wide
Throng'd with the Heav'nly Host from side to side;
Thick as those glitt'ring motes that ever stray
And dance in the refulgent Beams of day;
Night and our Fear they both from us remove,
And thus repeat those Hymns they learn'd above.
Believe 'tis no Illusion of the Night!
To you, he cry'd, I happy tidings bring
53
To you, the Lamb of God, this happy morn
To you, the Saviour of the World is born
In Ephratean Bethlem, where of old
The Royal Swain so well did guard his Fold;
You'll find him wrapt in feeble Infants bands
Who grasps all Nature with his mighty hands.
A Cave and homely Stable claim his birth
Who rais'd the goodly Pile of Heav'n and Earth.
—He said and strait we saw the welkin wide
Throng'd with the Heav'nly Host from side to side;
Thick as those glitt'ring motes that ever stray
And dance in the refulgent Beams of day;
Night and our Fear they both from us remove,
And thus repeat those Hymns they learn'd above.
Song of the Angels.
I
Glory to our great King on high!To Heav'ns Imperial Majesty!
To him that sits upon the Throne,
“The' ador'd Three-One!
II
Peace from the Prince of Peace we bring;An Amnesty from Heavn's high King.
Who at his First-born's welcom birth
Scatters pardons round the Earth.
III
Thunders we must use no moreIn which the Law was preacht before,
But strive ingenuous Man to move
With mild Good-will and Heav'nly Love.
Thus Hymning, by degrees they leave our sight
And hitherward direct their parting Light.
Here, Father, we arriv'd—
On that bright Babe desire to feast our Eyes,
The subject of so many prophesies!
They said, to their request consent I gave
And introduc'd 'em to the well known Cave;
With greedy Eyes when his lov'd Face they spy'd,
On his lov'd Face they gaz'd unsatisfi'd;
Sill more surpriz'd more miracles behold!
Each humble Straw indues the form of Gold.
Thro' the dark Cave they see new day arise,
Projected round from his illustrious Eyes;
These o'er the Gates their rustic Garlands hung,
These Flow'rs and Herbs around profusely flung;
And these the Child and these the Mother sung:
While others from the Rock live Hony bear,
Or fragrant Balms inestimable Tear:
Their humble presents paid, they part again,
And spred the joyful news o'er all the Plain.
And hitherward direct their parting Light.
Here, Father, we arriv'd—
54
The subject of so many prophesies!
They said, to their request consent I gave
And introduc'd 'em to the well known Cave;
With greedy Eyes when his lov'd Face they spy'd,
On his lov'd Face they gaz'd unsatisfi'd;
Sill more surpriz'd more miracles behold!
Each humble Straw indues the form of Gold.
Thro' the dark Cave they see new day arise,
Projected round from his illustrious Eyes;
These o'er the Gates their rustic Garlands hung,
These Flow'rs and Herbs around profusely flung;
And these the Child and these the Mother sung:
While others from the Rock live Hony bear,
Or fragrant Balms inestimable Tear:
Their humble presents paid, they part again,
And spred the joyful news o'er all the Plain.
Sev'en times bright Hesper now had clos'd the Day,
As oft sweet Phosphor warn'd the Stars away:
The eighth glad morn arising, when we bear
The Holy Infant to the House of Pray'r;
Whence, as the Law directs, that mark he wore
On all our pious Fathers stampt before;
Inscrib'd in Blood upon his tender skin,
Altho' he knew no stain of guilt or sin,
And the next Moon elaps'd, as custom calls,
Agen we speed for antient Salems walls;
Our dear first born, so Holy rites require
To dedicate to his immortal Sire.
Nor sooner to the Temple Gates we came
But th' Incense with a clear and generous flame
Shot strait to Heav'n.—The pious Mother went
Her off'ring to his Father to present;
And her two Turtles, innocent as they,
Did near the Sacred Altar trembling lay:
But scarce the double Sacrifice was done,
To purge the Mother and present the Son;
When thro' the admiring Croud old Simeon came
Of noted Virtue and umblemisht Fame;
To whom when cold decrepid Age had spred
The Snow of fourscore Winters on his head,
As he one Evening in the Temple stay'd
And for sad Israel's wish'd redemption pray'd,
A Heav'nly Youth of those who waited there
Indues a thin-spun Robe of ambient Air
And bids the aged Father not despair,
For tho' too short his Thread of Life were spun
Too many precious Sands already run,
Him vainly threatning Death shou'd not surprize
Till the Messia blest his longing Eyes:
The same bright Form appear'd this happy day
As on his face in pray'r he prostrate lay;
And from his Closet beckon'd him away:
With Joy the good old man the signal takes,
And, all extatick, to the Temple makes:
In hast he chearful came, erect, alone,
His useless Crutches now aside were thrown:
Thro' all the crowd of Priests and suppliants press'd,
Then seiz'd the Child and laid him at his Breast;
With his dear burden to the Altar ran
And thus, with sacred rage inspir'd, began.
As oft sweet Phosphor warn'd the Stars away:
The eighth glad morn arising, when we bear
The Holy Infant to the House of Pray'r;
Whence, as the Law directs, that mark he wore
On all our pious Fathers stampt before;
Inscrib'd in Blood upon his tender skin,
Altho' he knew no stain of guilt or sin,
And the next Moon elaps'd, as custom calls,
Agen we speed for antient Salems walls;
Our dear first born, so Holy rites require
To dedicate to his immortal Sire.
Nor sooner to the Temple Gates we came
But th' Incense with a clear and generous flame
Shot strait to Heav'n.—The pious Mother went
Her off'ring to his Father to present;
And her two Turtles, innocent as they,
Did near the Sacred Altar trembling lay:
But scarce the double Sacrifice was done,
To purge the Mother and present the Son;
When thro' the admiring Croud old Simeon came
Of noted Virtue and umblemisht Fame;
To whom when cold decrepid Age had spred
55
As he one Evening in the Temple stay'd
And for sad Israel's wish'd redemption pray'd,
A Heav'nly Youth of those who waited there
Indues a thin-spun Robe of ambient Air
And bids the aged Father not despair,
For tho' too short his Thread of Life were spun
Too many precious Sands already run,
Him vainly threatning Death shou'd not surprize
Till the Messia blest his longing Eyes:
The same bright Form appear'd this happy day
As on his face in pray'r he prostrate lay;
And from his Closet beckon'd him away:
With Joy the good old man the signal takes,
And, all extatick, to the Temple makes:
In hast he chearful came, erect, alone,
His useless Crutches now aside were thrown:
Thro' all the crowd of Priests and suppliants press'd,
Then seiz'd the Child and laid him at his Breast;
With his dear burden to the Altar ran
And thus, with sacred rage inspir'd, began.
Simeon's Song, or the Nunc Dimittis.
I
Yes, Now thy Servant dies, he gladly dies!This Life, dear Lord! prolong no more,
But as you promis'd me before
In peace now close mine Eyes!
Mine Eyes which that dear object now has met
For which so long they gaz'd in vain,
For whose delay so long I did complain:
I've seen the Sun of Righteousness arise;
'Tis time my glimm'ring Lamps forsake the Skies
And in the shades of Death for ever set.
II
The World already hails his welcom birth:Already humble Gifts prepare
To meet and bless th' Almighty Heir
The King of Heav'n and Earth:
56
Him Heathen Lands their Lord shall own,
Their Lord and God, him who alone
Not only giveth sight but Eyes toth' blind.
III
Ah stupid Nation! Wilt thou still refuseStill hate thy Saviour? Ah thrice harden'd Jews!
(Grant Heav'n these boding fears may not be true!)
Rejected by your Prince, as he by you!
But Ah! What cruel Truths I see
In the dark Womb of future days?
To what a cursed Throne will you your Saviour raise?
How will you crown with Thorns and Infamy?
What wounds, what swords, Great Mother, are prepar'd for thee?
IV
But with our sufferings Heav'n's at last inclin'dFor see a glorious Scene behind!
He comes he comes, agen these Eyes shall see,
Agen, dear Saviour, welcom thee!
The Cloud thy Chariot, and thy Wings the Wind,
In Zion shall appear
The great deliverer.
My stubborn Nation then shall strive no more,
But him whom once they peirc'd, adore:
Now Israels Glory, as their shame before.
He said, when strait to bliss his soul retir'd,
And slumb'ring soft he with a smile expir'd.
And slumb'ring soft he with a smile expir'd.
New wonders still arise as these are past,
Like Waves, the first confounded in the last.
Each Sex, as well as Age, their Lord confess,
A Prophet first, and now a Prophetess.
Anna, a Matron Sage, and whilst a Wife
For spotless Faith renown'd, and holy Life;
Old Phanuels Heir, of Asher's fruitful Race
Fam'd in her Youth for matchless Mind and Face,
Sought by a hundred Woers, nor deny'd,
To bless the happiest by the name of Bride:
Seven years they liv'd and no Dissension knew;
Tho' One at first, yet still more one they grew:
Their Thoughts, their Wishes, nay their Souls the same,
In nought they differ'd but in Sex and Name:
So intimately close the knot was ty'd,
That Death it self cou'd hardly them divide:
And when th' untimely Grave had him receiv'd,
And her of more than her own Life bereav'd,
She wonder'd how, and scarce believ'd she liv'd;
All thoughts of any second Love defies,
And to all worldly Joy and Pleasure dies;
Within the Temple waiting the blest hour,
Which her might to her much-lov'd Lord restore:
Her earthly Frame by Fasts so far refin'd,
That little now was left but perfect mind:
Oft her pure Soul to Heav'n wou'd take its flight
Lost and absorpt in Glory infinite:
Retir'd as oft, no Look, no Thought abroad,
Nothing she knew besides her self and God;
Nay sometimes scarce distinct her self cou'd call;
Abstracted from her self, for God was all.
What darling Visions, not to be exprest,
Her constant fervent pure Devotions blest!
What Beatific Glories warm'd her Breast!
What crowds of beautious Seraphs left the Choir,
At once, to imitate her and admire!
What mystic Truths by them to her reveal'd,
To all, but them and Heav'n it self, conceal'd!
From these she learns what strikes weak Reason dumb,
What tries ev'n Faith, that God shou'd Man become:
She learn'd the time, the day, the hour precise,
When we approach'd to bring our Sacrifice:
What Joy, what Exultation she express'd,
And hail'd her Saviour at the Virgins breast?
Nor half content that him her self she h'd found;
How gladly spred she the glad News around
To all the Just, by her and Heav'n approv'd,
To all who a Redeemer wish'd and lov'd?
This much, tho' what remains did more surprize,
For Fame reports three Princes great and wise,
Were late arriv'd, from near the Suns uprise;
From the fair Fields of happy Araby,
Judea's strange expected Prince to see;
Conducted safely by a wondrous Star
Cross all those sandy Worlds, outstretching far
Thro' the wide Wilderness, until at last,
To Moab's pleasant Plains and Hills they past;
Near Edom's Mount to Jordan's doubtful Brim,
'Twixt Selah and the cloudy Abarim:
Crossing the Flood, as it by Gilgal falls,
They soon arriv'd at antient Salems Walls;
And boldly for the new born King enquire,
The hope of Isr'el, and the Worlds desire!
Proud Herod heard, and trembled at the news,
Whose heavy Tyranny the injur'd Jews
So long had sighing born; nor they alone,
His very Friends beneath his Axes groan,
With his own blood he dyes his slipp'ry Throne.
Not all his sordid Flatt'rers now avail'd;
Their Hearts, as well as their fierce Tyrants fail'd;
Tho' him so late they their Messia hail'd:
Howe'er that Savage Wolf the Fox indu'd,
Awkwardly pious seem'd, and strangely good:
The Sages to his stately Palace brings,
And plac'd 'em in Apartments fit for Kings:
Dissembling Hospitable Piety,
Aloud he prais'd their Zeal and Industry:
Blest be th' unutterable Name! Said he,
Who ev'n to Gentile Worlds, so long conceal'd,
At last has our great promis'd Prince reveal'd!
O might we but the Royal Infant greet,
And throw our Crowns and Scepters at his Feet?
How much, how infinitely blest we were,
If to his Fathers House we him might bear?
How happy, might we wait and serve him there?
Thus close his Nets the sanguine Tyrant plac'd,
(For when our humble Roof the Sages grac'd,
They all repeated,) thus did them deceive,
So easily will Innocence believe;
So firmly on his Royal word they lean'd;
Who instantly the Sanhedrim conven'd:
Sollicitous he askt that happy place,
Which the Messia's glorious birth shou'd grace?
If it their antient Sacred Books declare;
—As I remember, you, learn'd Sir, was there,
Fair Rama's Lord to wise Gamaliel cry'd,
When this propos'd—'Tis true, the Sage reply'd;
That morning in the Sanhedrim I sate,
And 'twas by all resolv'd, on the debate,
That humble Bethle'm, David's antient seat,
Must by his God-like Off-springs birth be great:
As thus, inspir'd, the fam'd Morasthite sung,
While with his lofty sounds fair Salems Mountains rung.
Like Waves, the first confounded in the last.
Each Sex, as well as Age, their Lord confess,
A Prophet first, and now a Prophetess.
Anna, a Matron Sage, and whilst a Wife
For spotless Faith renown'd, and holy Life;
Old Phanuels Heir, of Asher's fruitful Race
Fam'd in her Youth for matchless Mind and Face,
57
To bless the happiest by the name of Bride:
Seven years they liv'd and no Dissension knew;
Tho' One at first, yet still more one they grew:
Their Thoughts, their Wishes, nay their Souls the same,
In nought they differ'd but in Sex and Name:
So intimately close the knot was ty'd,
That Death it self cou'd hardly them divide:
And when th' untimely Grave had him receiv'd,
And her of more than her own Life bereav'd,
She wonder'd how, and scarce believ'd she liv'd;
All thoughts of any second Love defies,
And to all worldly Joy and Pleasure dies;
Within the Temple waiting the blest hour,
Which her might to her much-lov'd Lord restore:
Her earthly Frame by Fasts so far refin'd,
That little now was left but perfect mind:
Oft her pure Soul to Heav'n wou'd take its flight
Lost and absorpt in Glory infinite:
Retir'd as oft, no Look, no Thought abroad,
Nothing she knew besides her self and God;
Nay sometimes scarce distinct her self cou'd call;
Abstracted from her self, for God was all.
What darling Visions, not to be exprest,
Her constant fervent pure Devotions blest!
What Beatific Glories warm'd her Breast!
What crowds of beautious Seraphs left the Choir,
At once, to imitate her and admire!
What mystic Truths by them to her reveal'd,
To all, but them and Heav'n it self, conceal'd!
From these she learns what strikes weak Reason dumb,
What tries ev'n Faith, that God shou'd Man become:
She learn'd the time, the day, the hour precise,
When we approach'd to bring our Sacrifice:
What Joy, what Exultation she express'd,
And hail'd her Saviour at the Virgins breast?
Nor half content that him her self she h'd found;
How gladly spred she the glad News around
To all the Just, by her and Heav'n approv'd,
To all who a Redeemer wish'd and lov'd?
58
For Fame reports three Princes great and wise,
Were late arriv'd, from near the Suns uprise;
From the fair Fields of happy Araby,
Judea's strange expected Prince to see;
Conducted safely by a wondrous Star
Cross all those sandy Worlds, outstretching far
Thro' the wide Wilderness, until at last,
To Moab's pleasant Plains and Hills they past;
Near Edom's Mount to Jordan's doubtful Brim,
'Twixt Selah and the cloudy Abarim:
Crossing the Flood, as it by Gilgal falls,
They soon arriv'd at antient Salems Walls;
And boldly for the new born King enquire,
The hope of Isr'el, and the Worlds desire!
Proud Herod heard, and trembled at the news,
Whose heavy Tyranny the injur'd Jews
So long had sighing born; nor they alone,
His very Friends beneath his Axes groan,
With his own blood he dyes his slipp'ry Throne.
Not all his sordid Flatt'rers now avail'd;
Their Hearts, as well as their fierce Tyrants fail'd;
Tho' him so late they their Messia hail'd:
Howe'er that Savage Wolf the Fox indu'd,
Awkwardly pious seem'd, and strangely good:
The Sages to his stately Palace brings,
And plac'd 'em in Apartments fit for Kings:
Dissembling Hospitable Piety,
Aloud he prais'd their Zeal and Industry:
Blest be th' unutterable Name! Said he,
Who ev'n to Gentile Worlds, so long conceal'd,
At last has our great promis'd Prince reveal'd!
O might we but the Royal Infant greet,
And throw our Crowns and Scepters at his Feet?
How much, how infinitely blest we were,
If to his Fathers House we him might bear?
How happy, might we wait and serve him there?
Thus close his Nets the sanguine Tyrant plac'd,
(For when our humble Roof the Sages grac'd,
They all repeated,) thus did them deceive,
59
So firmly on his Royal word they lean'd;
Who instantly the Sanhedrim conven'd:
Sollicitous he askt that happy place,
Which the Messia's glorious birth shou'd grace?
If it their antient Sacred Books declare;
—As I remember, you, learn'd Sir, was there,
Fair Rama's Lord to wise Gamaliel cry'd,
When this propos'd—'Tis true, the Sage reply'd;
That morning in the Sanhedrim I sate,
And 'twas by all resolv'd, on the debate,
That humble Bethle'm, David's antient seat,
Must by his God-like Off-springs birth be great:
As thus, inspir'd, the fam'd Morasthite sung,
While with his lofty sounds fair Salems Mountains rung.
Micah's Prophesie.
Let Salem boast her antient Kings,Salem, which Princely David sings;
And Shemir's vain Apostate Town,
Her Gods, her strength, her pleasure and renown!
Bethl'hem alone's my noble choice,
That claims my Lyre and claims my Voice,
In that shall Israel's Land and Gentile-Worlds rejoice;
Tho mean thou art and humble now,
Wide shall thy spreading Glories grow,
And all around, like fruitful Jordan, overflow:
For if a Kings or Heroes Seat,
Must by his Residence be great,
All others infinitely this o'erpow'rs,
Where Heav'ns high King is born, as well as ours.
Already I the Royal Infant see,
How long his Rule, how vast his Realms shall be?
Thro' boundless Space and Time he Reigns eternally!
—The same, my Friend, says Cephas, did repeat
The same to him, the Magi, wise and great.
(Tho' that before, and much beside he knew,
Which from the Sacred Oracles he drew.)
Nor they the humble Bethl'hems Walls disdain'd,
Nor long in Herod's glittering Courts remain'd;
Thence hasten'd, ev'n by him, that Prince to find,
For Isra'ls Scepter and the Worlds design'd;
Tho' e'er they went, by strictest bonds enjoyn'd,
When him they found they the glad News should send,
That he with adoration might attend.
This his fair Semblance tho' his black Intent,
Was but too plain discover'd by th' event;
For they no sooner safely enter'd were
Under the Convoy of their first bright Star,
Our lowly Roof, the rev'rend Sire goes on,
Whither, not long before, our Off'rings done,
We from the Temple came—no sooner they
Did Gifts at once and Adoration pay
To th' Infant King—but by a Vision warn'd,
To their own happy Country they return'd;
Nor call'd at Salem, as their first intent,
But round, by secret winding ways, they went.
What said not Herod when the Truth he found?
The Air how did his fruitless Curses wound,
Which all were lost in Wind, or on his Head rebound.
But tho' they soon were past his rage and pow'r,
The Thunder ended in a bloody Show'r
On Mourning Bethl'hem, which at first hung high,
And at a distance gather'd in the Skie:
'Twas just descending when an Angel came;
'Twas he who first from scandal and from blame
Clear'd the chast Maid; aloud he bids me rise,
(I saw concern and pity in his Eyes;)
Rise e'er too late and our dear pledg convey,
With his unspotted Mother, wide away
To Egypts distant Fields; nor thence remove:
'Till he receiv'd Commission from above,
As now he Convoy'd out to guard us home.
—An hours delay was Death, the Guards were come
From bloody Herod, eager to destroy
His dreaded Rival in the God-like Boy.
Arriv'd already at the City Gate,
And only there did for Admittance wait.
The same to him, the Magi, wise and great.
(Tho' that before, and much beside he knew,
Which from the Sacred Oracles he drew.)
60
Nor long in Herod's glittering Courts remain'd;
Thence hasten'd, ev'n by him, that Prince to find,
For Isra'ls Scepter and the Worlds design'd;
Tho' e'er they went, by strictest bonds enjoyn'd,
When him they found they the glad News should send,
That he with adoration might attend.
This his fair Semblance tho' his black Intent,
Was but too plain discover'd by th' event;
For they no sooner safely enter'd were
Under the Convoy of their first bright Star,
Our lowly Roof, the rev'rend Sire goes on,
Whither, not long before, our Off'rings done,
We from the Temple came—no sooner they
Did Gifts at once and Adoration pay
To th' Infant King—but by a Vision warn'd,
To their own happy Country they return'd;
Nor call'd at Salem, as their first intent,
But round, by secret winding ways, they went.
What said not Herod when the Truth he found?
The Air how did his fruitless Curses wound,
Which all were lost in Wind, or on his Head rebound.
But tho' they soon were past his rage and pow'r,
The Thunder ended in a bloody Show'r
On Mourning Bethl'hem, which at first hung high,
And at a distance gather'd in the Skie:
'Twas just descending when an Angel came;
'Twas he who first from scandal and from blame
Clear'd the chast Maid; aloud he bids me rise,
(I saw concern and pity in his Eyes;)
Rise e'er too late and our dear pledg convey,
With his unspotted Mother, wide away
To Egypts distant Fields; nor thence remove:
'Till he receiv'd Commission from above,
As now he Convoy'd out to guard us home.
—An hours delay was Death, the Guards were come
From bloody Herod, eager to destroy
His dreaded Rival in the God-like Boy.
Arriv'd already at the City Gate,
And only there did for Admittance wait.
61
Starting I rose, for my lov'd Charge affraid,
Nor in the Town one precious moment stay'd,
Scarce had I time to tell the Sacred Maid,
What my concern and this strange hurry meant,
But silent thro' the Southern Gate we went;
Nor many paces from the Wall had gone,
When all the busie Streets with Torches shone,
Crossing from House to House, which we espy
From a small Hill, and strait a dismal cry
Of Blood and Murther did our Ears affright,
With doubled Horror thro' the silent Night.
Loud Shrieks we sometimes heard, nor that alone,
Oft we distinguish'd some deep dying Groan,
These of their barb'rous Foes for Mercy pray'd,
These, desperate grown, with fruitless arms invade.
How gastly must that Scene of Horror be,
Entire, which we did thus by piecemeal see?
Here mangled Infants from the Windows fall,
And Herod's bloody Banner on the Wall;
There Children dasht on Marble pavements lie,
There gor'd aloft on Pikes or Halberts die.
Nor in the Town one precious moment stay'd,
Scarce had I time to tell the Sacred Maid,
What my concern and this strange hurry meant,
But silent thro' the Southern Gate we went;
Nor many paces from the Wall had gone,
When all the busie Streets with Torches shone,
Crossing from House to House, which we espy
From a small Hill, and strait a dismal cry
Of Blood and Murther did our Ears affright,
With doubled Horror thro' the silent Night.
Loud Shrieks we sometimes heard, nor that alone,
Oft we distinguish'd some deep dying Groan,
These of their barb'rous Foes for Mercy pray'd,
These, desperate grown, with fruitless arms invade.
How gastly must that Scene of Horror be,
Entire, which we did thus by piecemeal see?
Here mangled Infants from the Windows fall,
And Herod's bloody Banner on the Wall;
There Children dasht on Marble pavements lie,
There gor'd aloft on Pikes or Halberts die.
The Virgin shriek'd with Fear almost opprest,
And claspt the Royal Infant to her breast;
Nor dar'd we more of the sad sight partake,
Trembling lest we our selves a part shou'd make;
But we e'er morning, in our speedy Flight,
Had reach'd the Forrest of the Tekoite;
Beth-haccerem we shun with cautious fear,
For Herod's Garrison we knew was there;
And past the Woods, and Siddim's Plain came down
—On the third morn, to Sheba's bord'ring Town:
—There leaving Palestine, our Course we take,
O'er the vast Sands by Syrbon's waining Lake
And Casius Mount, with Palms and Cedars crown'd,
For mighty Pompey's Fate and Tomb renown'd:
There entring on proud Mizraims fruitful Soil,
Which asks no Rain, and knows no God but Nile;
Near old Bethshemesh we the River crost,
Which both its antient Name and Gods has lost,
Now Heliopolis; advancing on
To the proud Walls of neighb'ring Babylon;
Nor dare so near our dreaded Foe abide,
But still pierce further, and at last reside
At Royal Noph, now Memphis, Egypt's pride;
(Near those vast Pyramids which wound the Sky,
Whilst at midway the empty Clouds go by;
Vain Monuments of Pow'r and Luxury;
Huge useless Wonders, Wens on Natures face,
The Younger Brothers of the Babel-race;)
And there in wish'd obscurity remain'd,
By an old Friend with kindness entertain'd
—But the day wears, nor need I now relate
What's known so well, proud Herod's dreadful Fate,
An end he did, worthy his Crimes, receive:
Nor must I say how we did Egypt leave,
By the kind Angel warn'd, how a new fear
Surpriz'd us, when, our happy Birth-place near,
We heard, to our uneasiness and pain,
The Tyrant's Son did in Judæa reign:
How by divine Direction guided, we,
Still Northward went to distant Galilee;
Till to fair Nazareth again we came,
That thence the Royal Child might bear his name,
As antient Prophets sung—how great his state?
What Angels on his Infancy did wait?
How he encreas'd in Age and Piety,
How still t'his Holy Mother, and to me,
Exact Obedience paid—
What Wonders we from those that past presage,
From Youth and Childhood meas'ring Manly Age.
In ev'ry Virtue, ev'ry State compleat;
This only of his Actions I'll repeat,
Tho' many more I must in silence pass,
Well worthy Marble Piles or Leaves of Brass.
Three Lustres scarce compleat, e'er the soft down,
His Nectar dropping Lips began to crown;
We to the Pasch ascending, with us he
Observes with Joy the glad Solemnity.
Which now in festal Songs and Off'rings past,
T'our own sweet Nazareth again we hast.
But missing him, we both began to fear,
Nor tidings cou'd from all our Kindred hear;
We search each Troop, returning from the Pasch,
Zebedee and his Grandsire Heli ask,
Ask o'er and o'er, but cou'd no comfort gain.
As a fair Hind who wand'ring o'er the Plain,
Or some thick Wood, her tender Fawn has lost,
So look'd the Virgin, so lamenting crost
Each Street and Road, in vain she sought and mourn'd,
Nor less when to the Town next morn return'd:
Two days, alike, in fruitless search we spent,
Two Nights in Tears, and him, as lost, lament:
Her Feet ne'er rest by day, by night her Eyes,
Which delug'd saw the third sad Morn arise:
Humane endeavours vain, to Heav'n she flies,
Resolv'd to seek him in the House of Pray'r,
And from his Father ask Direction there:
We sought, and him amidst the Scribes we found,
A pleas'd, a numerous Audience seated round,
His Words admiring, on his Lips they hung,
And bless'd each sound of his harmonious Tongue:
How far his Sence his tender Age outran!
Beyond a Child, he spake beyond a Man!
—Heav'ns! was it he? Good Nicodemus cry'd:
Then in the Schools, as chanc'd, I did preside,
And heard it all; the wond'rous Youth admir'd,
Nor thought him less than by high Heav'n inspir'd!
So lofty, yet so evident and clear,
All his surprizing Thoughts and Notions were:
Each look, each word, such a peculiar Grace;
So modest, and so grave his heav'nly Face,
Envy it self, his Foe, cou'd hardly prove;
He shar'd at once our Wonder and our Love.
If then, with Zeal, the happy Friend rejoyn'd,
So justly you admir'd so great a Mind,
How wou'd you then, if him you now wou'd see?
How Fathers! wou'd you all soon rival me?
He now excels himself, as others then,
He's fairer far than all the Sons of Men:
Mild Mercy mixt with awful Goodness shine
All o'er, confessing Love and Pow'r divine:
Each Look, each Line, bespeaks immod'rate Grace,
And shows his Fathers Image in his Face:
—Yet he but injures, who like me commends,
The best of Masters and the best of Friends.
Ah, had you once, like me, his Goodness prov'd;
Were he but known he cou'd not but be lov'd.
—A warmth like yours, success can never fail,
So strongly you persuade, you must prevail,
Wise Nicodemus cries, for your great Friend,
Whom I my self desire this Night t'attend,
To find if Truth will these Encomiums bear,
Or heighthen'd you present his Character.
And claspt the Royal Infant to her breast;
Nor dar'd we more of the sad sight partake,
Trembling lest we our selves a part shou'd make;
But we e'er morning, in our speedy Flight,
Had reach'd the Forrest of the Tekoite;
Beth-haccerem we shun with cautious fear,
For Herod's Garrison we knew was there;
And past the Woods, and Siddim's Plain came down
—On the third morn, to Sheba's bord'ring Town:
—There leaving Palestine, our Course we take,
O'er the vast Sands by Syrbon's waining Lake
And Casius Mount, with Palms and Cedars crown'd,
For mighty Pompey's Fate and Tomb renown'd:
There entring on proud Mizraims fruitful Soil,
Which asks no Rain, and knows no God but Nile;
Near old Bethshemesh we the River crost,
Which both its antient Name and Gods has lost,
Now Heliopolis; advancing on
62
Nor dare so near our dreaded Foe abide,
But still pierce further, and at last reside
At Royal Noph, now Memphis, Egypt's pride;
(Near those vast Pyramids which wound the Sky,
Whilst at midway the empty Clouds go by;
Vain Monuments of Pow'r and Luxury;
Huge useless Wonders, Wens on Natures face,
The Younger Brothers of the Babel-race;)
And there in wish'd obscurity remain'd,
By an old Friend with kindness entertain'd
—But the day wears, nor need I now relate
What's known so well, proud Herod's dreadful Fate,
An end he did, worthy his Crimes, receive:
Nor must I say how we did Egypt leave,
By the kind Angel warn'd, how a new fear
Surpriz'd us, when, our happy Birth-place near,
We heard, to our uneasiness and pain,
The Tyrant's Son did in Judæa reign:
How by divine Direction guided, we,
Still Northward went to distant Galilee;
Till to fair Nazareth again we came,
That thence the Royal Child might bear his name,
As antient Prophets sung—how great his state?
What Angels on his Infancy did wait?
How he encreas'd in Age and Piety,
How still t'his Holy Mother, and to me,
Exact Obedience paid—
What Wonders we from those that past presage,
From Youth and Childhood meas'ring Manly Age.
In ev'ry Virtue, ev'ry State compleat;
This only of his Actions I'll repeat,
Tho' many more I must in silence pass,
Well worthy Marble Piles or Leaves of Brass.
Three Lustres scarce compleat, e'er the soft down,
His Nectar dropping Lips began to crown;
We to the Pasch ascending, with us he
Observes with Joy the glad Solemnity.
Which now in festal Songs and Off'rings past,
T'our own sweet Nazareth again we hast.
63
Nor tidings cou'd from all our Kindred hear;
We search each Troop, returning from the Pasch,
Zebedee and his Grandsire Heli ask,
Ask o'er and o'er, but cou'd no comfort gain.
As a fair Hind who wand'ring o'er the Plain,
Or some thick Wood, her tender Fawn has lost,
So look'd the Virgin, so lamenting crost
Each Street and Road, in vain she sought and mourn'd,
Nor less when to the Town next morn return'd:
Two days, alike, in fruitless search we spent,
Two Nights in Tears, and him, as lost, lament:
Her Feet ne'er rest by day, by night her Eyes,
Which delug'd saw the third sad Morn arise:
Humane endeavours vain, to Heav'n she flies,
Resolv'd to seek him in the House of Pray'r,
And from his Father ask Direction there:
We sought, and him amidst the Scribes we found,
A pleas'd, a numerous Audience seated round,
His Words admiring, on his Lips they hung,
And bless'd each sound of his harmonious Tongue:
How far his Sence his tender Age outran!
Beyond a Child, he spake beyond a Man!
—Heav'ns! was it he? Good Nicodemus cry'd:
Then in the Schools, as chanc'd, I did preside,
And heard it all; the wond'rous Youth admir'd,
Nor thought him less than by high Heav'n inspir'd!
So lofty, yet so evident and clear,
All his surprizing Thoughts and Notions were:
Each look, each word, such a peculiar Grace;
So modest, and so grave his heav'nly Face,
Envy it self, his Foe, cou'd hardly prove;
He shar'd at once our Wonder and our Love.
If then, with Zeal, the happy Friend rejoyn'd,
So justly you admir'd so great a Mind,
How wou'd you then, if him you now wou'd see?
How Fathers! wou'd you all soon rival me?
He now excels himself, as others then,
He's fairer far than all the Sons of Men:
Mild Mercy mixt with awful Goodness shine
64
Each Look, each Line, bespeaks immod'rate Grace,
And shows his Fathers Image in his Face:
—Yet he but injures, who like me commends,
The best of Masters and the best of Friends.
Ah, had you once, like me, his Goodness prov'd;
Were he but known he cou'd not but be lov'd.
—A warmth like yours, success can never fail,
So strongly you persuade, you must prevail,
Wise Nicodemus cries, for your great Friend,
Whom I my self desire this Night t'attend,
To find if Truth will these Encomiums bear,
Or heighthen'd you present his Character.
Gladly I claim your word, the Saint reply'd,
And for the honour press to be your Guide:
They joyn, tho' all the Company divide;
When Joseph first saluted every Guest,
And the next morning fix'd to hear the rest.
And for the honour press to be your Guide:
They joyn, tho' all the Company divide;
When Joseph first saluted every Guest,
And the next morning fix'd to hear the rest.
The End of the Second Book.
72
BOOK III.
THE ARGUMENT OF THE Third BOOK.
The Introduction from the Happiness and Pleasure of pious Contemplation and Meditation. Nicodemus and the three Disciples find our Saviour at Gethsemane. His discourse with him concerning several Mysteries of the Christian Faith. Nicodemus departs well satisfied with the Conference; and Gamaliel being indisposed, the meeting and further Relation of the three Disciples is adjourned the next day from Joseph's Garden to Gamaliel's House, where S. John goes on with their Discourse of our Saviour, giving an account of the Baptist's History, his Character, Preaching, Prophesies and Baptism, to which many come, and among the rest our Saviour, who is attested there by the descent of the Holy-Ghost, like a Dove, accompany'd with a Voice from Heaven; at which the People being about to take him by force and make him a King, he retires thence into the Wilderness, as well to escape their Importunity, and prepare for his approaching Work, as by God's permission to be tempted of the Devil. The Description of that part of the Wilderness whither our Saviour went. In the mean while Lucifer, who being alarum'd at the Wonders of our Saviour's Birth, and his appearance now at Jordan, and doubting him to be the true Messiah prophesied of to destroy his Kingdom, had observed him at his Baptism, but frighted thence by the Thunder, fell down into the Lake of Sodom, arises thence at Midnight, and gives the signal to all the Fiends to meet him there; his Speech on the occasion of their meeting, Moloch is for undertaking to destroy our Saviour, but Lucifer forbids him, and himself sets about it: he finds our Saviour, and accosts him in the shape of an old Man almost famished, pressing him with his first Temptation, to work a Miracle, and change Stones into Bread: But our Saviour knowing him through his disguise, rejects his Temptation; Night approaching be attacks him with others raising a Tempest, and several other ways endeavouring to affright him, but without success. The next Morning he accosts him in a glorious Form, tho not denying himself, finding he was discovered, but pretending Love to Mankind, especially to our Saviour, and offering him a Banquet, which he had provided in the midst of a Paradise rais'd in the Wilderness. The Song of two attendant Spirits to invite our Saviour to eat of the Feast, which, on his refusal, vanishes; and the Devil enrag'd changes himself into the Form of a Dragon, and snatching up our Saviour, hurries him away in the Air, and sets him on a Pinacle of the Temple, whence he shews him below, the Priests, the Jews and Gentiles in their three Courts gazing at him, the Roman Garrison taking their Pleasure in the Ampitheatre, and the Castle Antonia unguarded, persuading him to descend in the Flame of the Altar, that the Jews might acknowledg him, and under his conduct redeem their Freedom, which he might more securely do, because God had promis'd to give his Angels charge over him. Our Saviour having answered his Text with another, the Devil once more snatches him up and carries him to the top of Pisgah representing in the Air all the Kingdoms of the World, with their Riches and Glory, shews him the Ishmaelites travelling through the Desarts with Caravans of Gold and Spices: the Kingdoms of Ethiopia, the Isles of the Mediterranean, Italy, Rome, France, Britain: Then back to East beyond Persia, over to China and India, the principal Rarities whereof he describes. And still more East, cross an undiscovered Strait, a new World, whither one of his Attendants was then conducting a Colony of Tartars; offering him his choice of all these, or, if none would satisfie him, to raise him a Throne on Pisgah, and make him King of both those Worlds, if, by way of Homage for them, he'd bow down and adore him. At which blasphemous Proposition, our Saviour instantly commands the Devil to leave him, the time wherein he was permitted to tempt him being now elaps'd, who accordingly vanishes away in a Cloud of Smoke and Fire.
73
And now the Night her peaceful reign began
Indulging food to Beasts and rest to Man
To all but him, whom love of Truth denies
E'r the day dawn to close his watchful Eyes:
Who from the busie Worlds tumultuous Noise
Retir'd, at once himself and Heav'n enjoys;
Now dives in Mother Natures deepest springs
Searching the Causes and the seeds of things:
Now higher soars on Contemplations Wings;
Views all the glorious Furniture on high
That decks the Almighties Palace in the Sky;
Thence the great Maker argu'd, hastens on,
Till past our narrow Earths attraction gone,
Past ev'n this World, his vigorous Mind can trace
Some Angel thro' th' imaginary space;
Thence follows to the Throne, and prostrate there
With equal Zeal and Love presents his Pray'r
Before th' All-high, loose from all worldly care,
All the dull Joys, we wretched Mortals know
And these vexatious hopes and fears below.
Indulging food to Beasts and rest to Man
To all but him, whom love of Truth denies
E'r the day dawn to close his watchful Eyes:
Who from the busie Worlds tumultuous Noise
Retir'd, at once himself and Heav'n enjoys;
Now dives in Mother Natures deepest springs
Searching the Causes and the seeds of things:
Now higher soars on Contemplations Wings;
Views all the glorious Furniture on high
74
Thence the great Maker argu'd, hastens on,
Till past our narrow Earths attraction gone,
Past ev'n this World, his vigorous Mind can trace
Some Angel thro' th' imaginary space;
Thence follows to the Throne, and prostrate there
With equal Zeal and Love presents his Pray'r
Before th' All-high, loose from all worldly care,
All the dull Joys, we wretched Mortals know
And these vexatious hopes and fears below.
Go then my Soul! thro' time and matter fly,
Beyond the Earth and Air and Sea and Sky!
Beyond the place where mortal Seeds are hurl'd,
Beyond the flaming Limits of the World:
Long infinite durations measure so
As rowling Numbers still themselv's outgo!
View Those bright worlds of Joy which in each other shine!
Live well thro' this short world, and they shall all be thine!
Beyond the Earth and Air and Sea and Sky!
Beyond the place where mortal Seeds are hurl'd,
Beyond the flaming Limits of the World:
Long infinite durations measure so
As rowling Numbers still themselv's outgo!
View Those bright worlds of Joy which in each other shine!
Live well thro' this short world, and they shall all be thine!
But first must many a bitter blast be o'r
As please high Heav'n; many a fierce Tempest more
Our little weather-beaten Bark must find
And some perhaps, some few white Days behind:
First in this narrow Creek, beneath a Storm
Must we our long appointed Task perform:
Attend our Lord t'his Cross, bewail him there,
And weep upon his sacred Sepulchre;
Who in good actions all his Life employ'd
And only in his Fathers Service joy'd:
By Day he in the Temple pray'd and taught;
Still Night arriv'd, a calm retirement sought
At sweet Gethsemane, there was he found
By Zebedee's two Sons, who Coasting round
From Calvary thro' Salem's Northern bound
With Cephas and the trembling Rabbi came
Too fearful yet and much concern'd for Fame;
Whom mild our Lord receiv'd—
With wonted Sweetness and Benignity;
Silent a while he gaz'd, intent to see
Such Royal Meekness Humble Majesty;
(For now the Silver Moon began to shine)
Charm'd with his Godlike meen and Form Divine:
Then thus.—If my Confession ought avail
Great Sir, who in the very Entrance fail;
If Rabbi! such as me you e'r receive,
Afraid to own those Truths I must believe:
Permit me to acknowledg what's your due,
Nay all our Sanhedrim must own 'tis true;
And did not Int'rest blind 'em wou'd confess
With loud Hosanna's they believe no less:
That you the wondrous Prophet oft foretold
In the Mosaick Oracles of old:
Approv'd from Heav'n by many a mighty sign,
Your Mission and your Doctrine all-divine:
True said our Lord-My Miracles are an Appeal to sence
And are to that, Authentic Evidence;
'Gainst all Opposers they the Truth attest,
Silence the Tongue, but cannot warm the Breast:
A Change far deeper my strict Laws require
Of those who not in vain to Heav'n aspire;
'Tis a new Birth, a change at once i'th' whole,
At once perform'd in Body, mind, and Soul:
On these mysterious words the Sage debates,
And on their sence a while he hesitates:
Then thus goes on—Rabbi! of what you say
If Sence may not be Judg, sure Reason may;
And Reason seems express and clear to me
This strange new Birth you urge can never be:
To whom our Lord—And Rabbi are you read
So meanly then among the mighty Dead?
Must others from your Lips Instruction learn,
Who not your self these plain first Truths discern?
If Reason what Sense offers justly weigh,
And o'r it bears an undisputed sway;
Why should not Reason to Religion yield
As Sence when Reason comes must quit the Field?
'Tis a good humble Guide, but when it soars too high
'Tis reason what seems reason to deny.
Shall mans weak knowledg fathom boundless might,
Or Limits fix to what is infinite?
Or the great Spirit by your low Laws confin'd
Act nothing that's beyond a Mortal Mind;
Which as it please its favours can convey
Unknown to men the Reason, Time, and Way?
Go track the Wind and tell me where it goes?
From what deep Source its headlong Current flows?
Whence into Gulphs 'tis form'd, and how and where
It makes such strange Meanders in the Air?
How, not a Body, or not so to sight
All bodie's yield to its impetuous might?
If you're with modest silence forc'd to own
Ev'n much of that which strikes the Sense unknown;
With more of reason you'll your reason see
In Revelation lost and Mystery:
Nor darkly this to Saints of old reveal'd
Tho' from the wise and prudent now conceal'd;
This saw great Jesses Son by heav'n inspir'd,
Who a new Heart with ardent Vows desir'd:
The Prophet this, who struck with sacred awe
Near Chebars streams the wondrous Vision saw:
This ev'n the Gentile World—but that pure Law
I now promulge, far nobler Truth contains,
Which yet to you and them unknown remains:
A God that takes the Form of man to dy;
A Son of Man that lives Eternally:
A God who Robes of mortal Clay doth wear
To Place confin'd—a Man that's ev'ry where:
Sent by the Father yet Himself the same;
(The Everlasting Father is his Name,)
On this bad world the last Efforts to prove
Of undeserv'd, yet unexhausted Love,
Lost man to save, and raise to endless Day,
Firm Faith in him and holy Works the way.
As please high Heav'n; many a fierce Tempest more
Our little weather-beaten Bark must find
And some perhaps, some few white Days behind:
First in this narrow Creek, beneath a Storm
Must we our long appointed Task perform:
Attend our Lord t'his Cross, bewail him there,
And weep upon his sacred Sepulchre;
Who in good actions all his Life employ'd
And only in his Fathers Service joy'd:
By Day he in the Temple pray'd and taught;
Still Night arriv'd, a calm retirement sought
At sweet Gethsemane, there was he found
By Zebedee's two Sons, who Coasting round
From Calvary thro' Salem's Northern bound
With Cephas and the trembling Rabbi came
Too fearful yet and much concern'd for Fame;
Whom mild our Lord receiv'd—
With wonted Sweetness and Benignity;
Silent a while he gaz'd, intent to see
Such Royal Meekness Humble Majesty;
(For now the Silver Moon began to shine)
75
Then thus.—If my Confession ought avail
Great Sir, who in the very Entrance fail;
If Rabbi! such as me you e'r receive,
Afraid to own those Truths I must believe:
Permit me to acknowledg what's your due,
Nay all our Sanhedrim must own 'tis true;
And did not Int'rest blind 'em wou'd confess
With loud Hosanna's they believe no less:
That you the wondrous Prophet oft foretold
In the Mosaick Oracles of old:
Approv'd from Heav'n by many a mighty sign,
Your Mission and your Doctrine all-divine:
True said our Lord-My Miracles are an Appeal to sence
And are to that, Authentic Evidence;
'Gainst all Opposers they the Truth attest,
Silence the Tongue, but cannot warm the Breast:
A Change far deeper my strict Laws require
Of those who not in vain to Heav'n aspire;
'Tis a new Birth, a change at once i'th' whole,
At once perform'd in Body, mind, and Soul:
On these mysterious words the Sage debates,
And on their sence a while he hesitates:
Then thus goes on—Rabbi! of what you say
If Sence may not be Judg, sure Reason may;
And Reason seems express and clear to me
This strange new Birth you urge can never be:
To whom our Lord—And Rabbi are you read
So meanly then among the mighty Dead?
Must others from your Lips Instruction learn,
Who not your self these plain first Truths discern?
If Reason what Sense offers justly weigh,
And o'r it bears an undisputed sway;
Why should not Reason to Religion yield
As Sence when Reason comes must quit the Field?
'Tis a good humble Guide, but when it soars too high
'Tis reason what seems reason to deny.
Shall mans weak knowledg fathom boundless might,
Or Limits fix to what is infinite?
Or the great Spirit by your low Laws confin'd
76
Which as it please its favours can convey
Unknown to men the Reason, Time, and Way?
Go track the Wind and tell me where it goes?
From what deep Source its headlong Current flows?
Whence into Gulphs 'tis form'd, and how and where
It makes such strange Meanders in the Air?
How, not a Body, or not so to sight
All bodie's yield to its impetuous might?
If you're with modest silence forc'd to own
Ev'n much of that which strikes the Sense unknown;
With more of reason you'll your reason see
In Revelation lost and Mystery:
Nor darkly this to Saints of old reveal'd
Tho' from the wise and prudent now conceal'd;
This saw great Jesses Son by heav'n inspir'd,
Who a new Heart with ardent Vows desir'd:
The Prophet this, who struck with sacred awe
Near Chebars streams the wondrous Vision saw:
This ev'n the Gentile World—but that pure Law
I now promulge, far nobler Truth contains,
Which yet to you and them unknown remains:
A God that takes the Form of man to dy;
A Son of Man that lives Eternally:
A God who Robes of mortal Clay doth wear
To Place confin'd—a Man that's ev'ry where:
Sent by the Father yet Himself the same;
(The Everlasting Father is his Name,)
On this bad world the last Efforts to prove
Of undeserv'd, yet unexhausted Love,
Lost man to save, and raise to endless Day,
Firm Faith in him and holy Works the way.
The Sage with his short visit not content
Almost a Convert from the Garden went:
From what he knew, what was behind he guest,
And more impatient grew to hear the rest:
Scarce did the Suns impartial beams begin
To gild a World of Vanity and Sin,
E'r he next morning did Gamaliel see
And him agen invites to Calvary;
Who, indispos'd of Joseph had desir'd
The Conf'rence, which they all so much admir'd,
Might at his house be finish'd, where retir'd,
And undisturb'd th' Apostles might relate
What yet remain'd of their great Masters fate:
Th' Arimathean yields, and when they came
With like Facility they grant the same;
Who at the house arriv'd and they and he
Receiv'd with Chearful Hospitality,
His Friends, with a short neat Collation cheerd,
Gamaliel thus, the Room and Table cleer'd,
To Zebedees, and Jona's son addrest:
Almost a Convert from the Garden went:
From what he knew, what was behind he guest,
And more impatient grew to hear the rest:
Scarce did the Suns impartial beams begin
To gild a World of Vanity and Sin,
E'r he next morning did Gamaliel see
And him agen invites to Calvary;
77
The Conf'rence, which they all so much admir'd,
Might at his house be finish'd, where retir'd,
And undisturb'd th' Apostles might relate
What yet remain'd of their great Masters fate:
Th' Arimathean yields, and when they came
With like Facility they grant the same;
Who at the house arriv'd and they and he
Receiv'd with Chearful Hospitality,
His Friends, with a short neat Collation cheerd,
Gamaliel thus, the Room and Table cleer'd,
To Zebedees, and Jona's son addrest:
What yesterday you told us, 'tis confest,
The Air of truth and wonder has, nor we
Without a groundless Incredulity
Can doubt what such high attestation brings,
From Heav'n, and Earth, from Shepherds, Angels, Kings:
Whose firm foundation equally relies
On Faith, and Sense, Wonders, and Prophesies:
Since this from what's already past is clear,
The rest more earnest we desire to hear!
The Air of truth and wonder has, nor we
Without a groundless Incredulity
Can doubt what such high attestation brings,
From Heav'n, and Earth, from Shepherds, Angels, Kings:
Whose firm foundation equally relies
On Faith, and Sense, Wonders, and Prophesies:
Since this from what's already past is clear,
The rest more earnest we desire to hear!
Thus he, thus all who sate attentive there:
When th' Elder of the Zebedean pair;
If this so much your wonder move, rejoyn'd,
What will be left for what remains behind,
Which yet far more Deserves?—
What by all Israel was at once Discern'd
Or from our Master's sacred Lips we learn'd?
His Abstinence, his Tryal, and distress,
And dreadful Combat in the Wilderness
With mans sworn foe, and heav'ns, who thro' the Air
Him to the Temples Roof did fearless bear:
But first how he did Heav'ns Commands obey,
Baptis'd altho' no crimes to purge away
In Jordan's sacred Waves, more pure than they:
For now vast Crouds you might at Enon see
With the great Son of aged Zachary:
Enon and Salim, where rich Jordan falls
Not far remov'd from valiant Bethshan's Walls,
And old Bethabara, where ferrying o'r
Men first arrive upon the distant shore:
Here the great Baptist came, who from a Child,
His Life had spent in Juda's fertile wild,
Ten thousand little Villas scattering wide
Their fruitful Flocks and Fields on every side:
Austere he liv'd, remov'd from all resort
Of the proud City or the pompous Court:
Here tho' he was to a fair Fortune born
The Worlds vain Pleasures soon he learnt to scorn:
Such humble Cloathing and mean Food he us'd,
As frugal Nature of her self produc'd;
His Robes from the rough Camels shoulders torn
Such spoils of Beasts by ancient Hero's worn,
Such great Elijah wore, his Food he found
Ready prepar'd on every Tree and Ground;
And if by chance on his low Table lay
A Honey-Comb, 'twas then a festal day:
How little frugal Nature will suffice!
How hard to please luxurious Avarice!
Thus taught the pamper'd World to conquer Sense
Himself a pattern of strict Abstinence:
Severe his Life and Garb, his Words the same,
From Heav'n he arm'd with Zeal and Thunder came
To rouse a stupid World, abroad he went
By Jordan's banks and cry'd aloud Repent!
Turn, Israel, turn, and cast thy sins away!
Repent before the great and dreadful day!
Gloomy and dark as Hell's or Egypt's night,
Or only seen in Claps of fearful light.
This beauteous Vault above no more the same,
But like an Oven, hot with deadly flame;
'Tis fed and kindled by th' Almighty's breath
Which pleas'd gives life, but angry storms and death:
Large flakes of pointed flame wide circling round
Shall lick the stubble from the gaping ground:
Both Pharisee and Sadducee must go
And bear their Sin in endless worlds of woe:
The holy Hypocrite and Atheist lewd
But first you Pharisees a viperous brood!
Cou'd you be e'er mistaken? Cou'd you be
Misled with your Infallibility?
What strange Caprice did you to good incline?
How came you once to shun the Wrath divine?
Prest with your Crimes, the Church, the Church, you cry
Your meaning Grandure, Wealth, and Policy:
Each one a Child of God, all sign'd and seal'd
As your Salvation were from Heav'n reveal'd.
How long will madly you against the Skies
A War maintain, how long believe in Lies?
Fly Wretches rather, e'r it be too late!
For Refuge fly from swift approaching Fate!
You're lost if you a moment longer stay,
You're safe if now you turn for now you may,
Repentance and an holy Life the way.
So you'll among those holy Souls have place
Rescu'd and sav'd by Heav'ns peculiar grace
From this vast ruin, so your longing Eyes
Shall see the Sun of Righteousness arise;
Arise to close each Mortal Wound within,
To cure the Poison of that Serpent, Sin:
High-rais'd he like the Brazen-Serpent brings
Life and Salvation in his healing Wings:
None look but live, recovering gasping breath,
And wondrous Strength amidst the pangs of Death.
These the true promis'd Canaan shall possess,
While others perish in the Wilderness;
These shall thro' the wide World triumphing go,
And by their blood subdue each hell-born Foe;
All Lands their sacred Law shall entertain,
And o'r the Nations the Messiah reign:
When th' Elder of the Zebedean pair;
If this so much your wonder move, rejoyn'd,
What will be left for what remains behind,
Which yet far more Deserves?—
What by all Israel was at once Discern'd
Or from our Master's sacred Lips we learn'd?
His Abstinence, his Tryal, and distress,
And dreadful Combat in the Wilderness
With mans sworn foe, and heav'ns, who thro' the Air
Him to the Temples Roof did fearless bear:
But first how he did Heav'ns Commands obey,
Baptis'd altho' no crimes to purge away
In Jordan's sacred Waves, more pure than they:
For now vast Crouds you might at Enon see
With the great Son of aged Zachary:
Enon and Salim, where rich Jordan falls
Not far remov'd from valiant Bethshan's Walls,
And old Bethabara, where ferrying o'r
78
Here the great Baptist came, who from a Child,
His Life had spent in Juda's fertile wild,
Ten thousand little Villas scattering wide
Their fruitful Flocks and Fields on every side:
Austere he liv'd, remov'd from all resort
Of the proud City or the pompous Court:
Here tho' he was to a fair Fortune born
The Worlds vain Pleasures soon he learnt to scorn:
Such humble Cloathing and mean Food he us'd,
As frugal Nature of her self produc'd;
His Robes from the rough Camels shoulders torn
Such spoils of Beasts by ancient Hero's worn,
Such great Elijah wore, his Food he found
Ready prepar'd on every Tree and Ground;
And if by chance on his low Table lay
A Honey-Comb, 'twas then a festal day:
How little frugal Nature will suffice!
How hard to please luxurious Avarice!
Thus taught the pamper'd World to conquer Sense
Himself a pattern of strict Abstinence:
Severe his Life and Garb, his Words the same,
From Heav'n he arm'd with Zeal and Thunder came
To rouse a stupid World, abroad he went
By Jordan's banks and cry'd aloud Repent!
Turn, Israel, turn, and cast thy sins away!
Repent before the great and dreadful day!
Gloomy and dark as Hell's or Egypt's night,
Or only seen in Claps of fearful light.
This beauteous Vault above no more the same,
But like an Oven, hot with deadly flame;
'Tis fed and kindled by th' Almighty's breath
Which pleas'd gives life, but angry storms and death:
Large flakes of pointed flame wide circling round
Shall lick the stubble from the gaping ground:
Both Pharisee and Sadducee must go
And bear their Sin in endless worlds of woe:
The holy Hypocrite and Atheist lewd
But first you Pharisees a viperous brood!
Cou'd you be e'er mistaken? Cou'd you be
79
What strange Caprice did you to good incline?
How came you once to shun the Wrath divine?
Prest with your Crimes, the Church, the Church, you cry
Your meaning Grandure, Wealth, and Policy:
Each one a Child of God, all sign'd and seal'd
As your Salvation were from Heav'n reveal'd.
How long will madly you against the Skies
A War maintain, how long believe in Lies?
Fly Wretches rather, e'r it be too late!
For Refuge fly from swift approaching Fate!
You're lost if you a moment longer stay,
You're safe if now you turn for now you may,
Repentance and an holy Life the way.
So you'll among those holy Souls have place
Rescu'd and sav'd by Heav'ns peculiar grace
From this vast ruin, so your longing Eyes
Shall see the Sun of Righteousness arise;
Arise to close each Mortal Wound within,
To cure the Poison of that Serpent, Sin:
High-rais'd he like the Brazen-Serpent brings
Life and Salvation in his healing Wings:
None look but live, recovering gasping breath,
And wondrous Strength amidst the pangs of Death.
These the true promis'd Canaan shall possess,
While others perish in the Wilderness;
These shall thro' the wide World triumphing go,
And by their blood subdue each hell-born Foe;
All Lands their sacred Law shall entertain,
And o'r the Nations the Messiah reign:
What strange effects among th' admiring Jews
His holy Life and Doctrine did produce
Is known to all; each crowding Region hears,
Purg'd in blest Jordans Waves, but first in tears:
Those who inwild Perea wander'd wide,
Near Jabbock's Ford or Arnon's Streams reside;
Succoth and Peniel whose ill-natur'd Pride
Brave Jerubball reveng'd when Midian fled;
And where before his Flocks old Jacob fed:
Jabesh where Saul such welcome succours brought,
And Gilboa where he successless fought,
Heav'n and his Foes engag'd, and in th' unequal strife
He lost the day, his Sons, his Crown, and Life.
All who on either bank of Jordan go,
Whose Fields his fruitful Waters overflow:
Some from Bethsaida far more distant came,
Attracted by the Prophets growing Fame:
From strong Tiberias some, and some came down
From Tabor's Mount and fam'd Bethulia's Town:
These from old Shalem, Thebez, Bezek goe,
From Pisgah these, and these from Jericho;
But thousands from the Royal City come
And almost empty leave their Native home,
You know how much our Elders did esteem
The Baptist, know the message sent to him,
And honours paid by our learn'd Sanhedrim.
His holy Life and Doctrine did produce
Is known to all; each crowding Region hears,
Purg'd in blest Jordans Waves, but first in tears:
Those who inwild Perea wander'd wide,
Near Jabbock's Ford or Arnon's Streams reside;
Succoth and Peniel whose ill-natur'd Pride
Brave Jerubball reveng'd when Midian fled;
And where before his Flocks old Jacob fed:
Jabesh where Saul such welcome succours brought,
80
Heav'n and his Foes engag'd, and in th' unequal strife
He lost the day, his Sons, his Crown, and Life.
All who on either bank of Jordan go,
Whose Fields his fruitful Waters overflow:
Some from Bethsaida far more distant came,
Attracted by the Prophets growing Fame:
From strong Tiberias some, and some came down
From Tabor's Mount and fam'd Bethulia's Town:
These from old Shalem, Thebez, Bezek goe,
From Pisgah these, and these from Jericho;
But thousands from the Royal City come
And almost empty leave their Native home,
You know how much our Elders did esteem
The Baptist, know the message sent to him,
And honours paid by our learn'd Sanhedrim.
Too well Gamaliel with a sigh reply'd,
I know that story and the fatal pride
With which his Testimony we deny'd:
In vain we saw and heard, for I was sent
The Truth to try, and still I dread th' event
Of our rejecting him; but Sir proceed!
He thus—The Baptist now had thousands freed
In Jordan's Waves, their Leprosie of Sin
First open laid, then wash'd away therein:
After the rest our Saviour came, content
And pleas'd that such vast crowds before him went!
Whom when the Baptist in the stream did see
The Divine Spirit soft-whispering this is he;
With pious reverence at his Feet he fell
And haild the undoubted King of Israel:
Nor dar'd attempt to purge what knew no Crime
But trembling ask'd to be Baptiz'd of him:
Our Saviour mild requires him to permit
He all perform'd that wiser Heav'n thought fit;
Who came the Law and Gospel to fulfil,
To do and suffer all his Fathers Will:
He yields at length, unwilling and afraid
And what he cou'd not comprehend, obey'd:
Nor sooner he who came the World to save
Had sanctifi'd fair Jordan's Limpid wave
By washing there, no sooner from the stream
He reach'd the Bank, when, lo! a Heav'nly beam
Shot from the Clouds, which modestly remove
To give it way, and lo! a wondrous Dove
Almost unsufferable to behold,
Silver his Breast, his Neck and Wings of Gold
Came softly wafted thro' the yielding Air,
And whilst he kneel'd in Extasie and Pray'r
Upon our Saviour's sacred Head did rest
At once enlighten'd that and warm'd his Breast;
With Grace immeasurable did inspire
And fill'd him with his own Celestial fire:
Agen the Clouds with lambent Lightning broke,
And thus th' All-high in awful Thunder spoke.
“Th' Eternal Son of God by Miracles approv'd
“Glad Mortals here behold! whom from my Breast belov'd,
“I, the Eternal Father full of Mercy gave
“To rescue sinful Man, and from just vengeance save.
I know that story and the fatal pride
With which his Testimony we deny'd:
In vain we saw and heard, for I was sent
The Truth to try, and still I dread th' event
Of our rejecting him; but Sir proceed!
He thus—The Baptist now had thousands freed
In Jordan's Waves, their Leprosie of Sin
First open laid, then wash'd away therein:
After the rest our Saviour came, content
And pleas'd that such vast crowds before him went!
Whom when the Baptist in the stream did see
The Divine Spirit soft-whispering this is he;
With pious reverence at his Feet he fell
And haild the undoubted King of Israel:
Nor dar'd attempt to purge what knew no Crime
But trembling ask'd to be Baptiz'd of him:
Our Saviour mild requires him to permit
He all perform'd that wiser Heav'n thought fit;
Who came the Law and Gospel to fulfil,
To do and suffer all his Fathers Will:
He yields at length, unwilling and afraid
And what he cou'd not comprehend, obey'd:
Nor sooner he who came the World to save
81
By washing there, no sooner from the stream
He reach'd the Bank, when, lo! a Heav'nly beam
Shot from the Clouds, which modestly remove
To give it way, and lo! a wondrous Dove
Almost unsufferable to behold,
Silver his Breast, his Neck and Wings of Gold
Came softly wafted thro' the yielding Air,
And whilst he kneel'd in Extasie and Pray'r
Upon our Saviour's sacred Head did rest
At once enlighten'd that and warm'd his Breast;
With Grace immeasurable did inspire
And fill'd him with his own Celestial fire:
Agen the Clouds with lambent Lightning broke,
And thus th' All-high in awful Thunder spoke.
“Th' Eternal Son of God by Miracles approv'd
“Glad Mortals here behold! whom from my Breast belov'd,
“I, the Eternal Father full of Mercy gave
“To rescue sinful Man, and from just vengeance save.
All knew the Voice of their Eternal Lord,
All heard and knew, and trembled, and ador'd;
Prepare to kiss the Son, due honours bring,
And o'er his own lov'd Nation hail him King.
But ah! for Earthly Thrones he was not born,
Here all the Crowns he sought were made of Thorn:
Those glitt'ring Toys he cou'd with ease despise,
And to the Desart thence the Hero flies,
To shun what others often court in vain,
Destroy the World and damn themselves to gain:
All heard and knew, and trembled, and ador'd;
Prepare to kiss the Son, due honours bring,
And o'er his own lov'd Nation hail him King.
But ah! for Earthly Thrones he was not born,
Here all the Crowns he sought were made of Thorn:
Those glitt'ring Toys he cou'd with ease despise,
And to the Desart thence the Hero flies,
To shun what others often court in vain,
Destroy the World and damn themselves to gain:
A dreadful Wild there is, outstretching wide
Its spacious skirts by fruitful Edom's side,
Impervious to the Suns all-cheering light;
There reign black horror and perpetual night:
Never disturb'd by one intruding Star
To guide the weary wandring Traveller:
A dark uncomfortable Vault the whole:
And underneath here sooty Currents rowl
Of dull Bitumen, there their period make
And stagnate in some melancholy Lake.
No Flow'rs on the unlucky Rivage grew,
No Herb or Tree but the black poys'nous Yew,
Rough Cypress for sad herses only made,
And heavy Ebon casting deadly shade,
With Thunder-blasted Oaks—
If any where an open Plat was found,
Vast Serpents rowl'd along the sandy Ground,
Their num'rous Trains; on half-burnt Trunks around
Sate Birds obscene, foul Harpyes, Vultures fell,
And all the ugly monstrous Forms of Hell;
All mischiefs carri'd in their Voice and Face
Nor could bode more to that unhappy place.
Its spacious skirts by fruitful Edom's side,
Impervious to the Suns all-cheering light;
There reign black horror and perpetual night:
Never disturb'd by one intruding Star
To guide the weary wandring Traveller:
A dark uncomfortable Vault the whole:
And underneath here sooty Currents rowl
Of dull Bitumen, there their period make
And stagnate in some melancholy Lake.
No Flow'rs on the unlucky Rivage grew,
82
Rough Cypress for sad herses only made,
And heavy Ebon casting deadly shade,
With Thunder-blasted Oaks—
If any where an open Plat was found,
Vast Serpents rowl'd along the sandy Ground,
Their num'rous Trains; on half-burnt Trunks around
Sate Birds obscene, foul Harpyes, Vultures fell,
And all the ugly monstrous Forms of Hell;
All mischiefs carri'd in their Voice and Face
Nor could bode more to that unhappy place.
Such was the field of battle, such the stage
Where our Great Captain did all Hell engage:
Rapt, by the sacred Spirit, he thither flies
Ardent t'achieve the glorious Enterprize:
Already he his Rebels strength did know
Already grapled the redoubted Foe:
Who stung with envy, swoln with foolish pride
His mighty Rivals force successless try'd;
The sacred Mount of God affecting vain
Transfixt he fell with all his blasted Train,
To those uncomfortable Regions where
For ever reign Confusion and Despair:
Whence sometimes sallying out, the burden'd Air
They lash with loathsom Wings, and pleas'd disperse
Mischeif and Murder round the Universe:
With these their Prince himself had broke his Chain
And hardly here less absolute did reign
Than in his own sad Realms, since that unhappy fall
Which in our luckless Parents lost us all:
His Fate he knew, and did disdainful dread
That the weak womans seed must bruise his head:
This deep he now revolv'd with conscious fear;
Concluding his long fated-fall was near:
Himself wide ranging round, with peircing eyes
He much discern'd, and much his watchful spies:
From those at Herod's Court in ambush lay,
From those who bask'd in the warm beams of day;
Who in lone Woods like lustful Satyrs rove,
Or Earthly Fiends that Blood and Murder love:
What yet had pass'd he heard, and all reserv'd
In his dark mind, but had himself observ'd
What at the Temple chanc'd, for always there
With deep malicious thoughts, and utmost care
He watch'd to catch each loose unguarded Pray'r;
Which wandring found, before they reach'd the Throne,
He seiz'd as his and thought 'em all his own:
Alarm'd with all the Wonders heard and seen
He Mary's Son did from his Birth begin
As the great promis'd Seed to hate and fear,
But more when he from Jordan's banks did hear
By a quick subtle Spirit posted there
The famous Baptist did to all declare
In no dark Types involv'd, express and plain,
The near approach of the Messias's reign:
Away he posts in person, unespy'd,
And mingled with the Crowd on Jordan's side,
Who all Baptiz'd, when Jesus was not found
He soars aloft and sweeping wide around
The fields Triumphant did a while survey,
Agen prepar'd to cut his trackless way
To Gods high Temple and the sacred Town,
Till from his Chariot looking envious down
As with a Curse he left 'em, he descry'd
The Baptist kneel, the People scatt'ring wide,
His dreaded Foe amidst the Waves appear;
He trembling saw, and almost dropt for fear;
But when he did th' attesting Thunder hear
By whose intolerable Terrors driv'n
Wielded by Michael's arm of old he fled from Heav'n,
No more he cou'd endure—
But thence precipitate his flight did take
Wide swooping down thro' Sodom's Brimstone-lake:
So tumbling thro' the Clouds the Vulture flies
As at vast distance he the Quarry spies,
Struck by the Royal Eagles piercing Eyes:
Confus'd and trembling there obscure he lay
Nor durst agen ascend, till hated day
Forsook the World, and night a covert made
To hide his shame in her lov'd conscious shade:
Then mounting from the deep with Sulphur crown'd
All flaming, cast his glaring Eyes around
And gladly wou'd have curst the unhappy ground,
But finding 'twas too late, did doubly rave;
Then for a Council strait the Signal gave:
The Demons croud from ev'ry lonely Grave.
Each wretch whom they, possess'd, in triumph led
Thro' the polluted Mansions of the dead:
The Conclave fills, from Earth and Hell away
They hast, proud Belial, Lustful Asmoday:
Their Nature in their Looks and Forms exprest,
And haughty Moloch taller than the rest:
Ev'n more enrag'd than when at first he fell
Their Prince appear'd, and something worse than Hell,
More deadly, more malicious did surprise
His Court, nor dar'd they meet his angry Eyes.
None durst accost the wayward Tyrant, none
Durst speak or look, but trembled round his Throne,
Who thus enrag'd began—And are we grown
So tamely good, so worthy more than Hell
We dare not bravely once agen rebel?
None Councel, none advise, nor act, but yield
Without one parting stroke the glorious Field
To this young Conqu'ror? Must our Empire fall
And he alone possess the spacious Ball?
Forbid it Fate and these right Hands, nor we
So long in vain have tasted Liberty:
He can but thunder, and long since we knew
And felt the worst his angry Bolts can do:
Shall Man his Slave so oft his Vengeance dare
Ev'n while he sues for Peace and offers fair,
And we do less, who must of Grace despair?
Or will you all forget for what you fell
And humbly praise your Conqu'ror ev'n in Hell?
Must I forsake and abdicate my Throne
And you Heav'ns-Deputy your Saviour own?
How else so tame, so silent cou'd you be
Nought said or done worthy your selv's or me?
Where our Great Captain did all Hell engage:
Rapt, by the sacred Spirit, he thither flies
Ardent t'achieve the glorious Enterprize:
Already he his Rebels strength did know
Already grapled the redoubted Foe:
Who stung with envy, swoln with foolish pride
His mighty Rivals force successless try'd;
The sacred Mount of God affecting vain
Transfixt he fell with all his blasted Train,
To those uncomfortable Regions where
For ever reign Confusion and Despair:
Whence sometimes sallying out, the burden'd Air
They lash with loathsom Wings, and pleas'd disperse
Mischeif and Murder round the Universe:
With these their Prince himself had broke his Chain
And hardly here less absolute did reign
Than in his own sad Realms, since that unhappy fall
Which in our luckless Parents lost us all:
His Fate he knew, and did disdainful dread
That the weak womans seed must bruise his head:
This deep he now revolv'd with conscious fear;
Concluding his long fated-fall was near:
Himself wide ranging round, with peircing eyes
He much discern'd, and much his watchful spies:
From those at Herod's Court in ambush lay,
From those who bask'd in the warm beams of day;
Who in lone Woods like lustful Satyrs rove,
Or Earthly Fiends that Blood and Murder love:
83
In his dark mind, but had himself observ'd
What at the Temple chanc'd, for always there
With deep malicious thoughts, and utmost care
He watch'd to catch each loose unguarded Pray'r;
Which wandring found, before they reach'd the Throne,
He seiz'd as his and thought 'em all his own:
Alarm'd with all the Wonders heard and seen
He Mary's Son did from his Birth begin
As the great promis'd Seed to hate and fear,
But more when he from Jordan's banks did hear
By a quick subtle Spirit posted there
The famous Baptist did to all declare
In no dark Types involv'd, express and plain,
The near approach of the Messias's reign:
Away he posts in person, unespy'd,
And mingled with the Crowd on Jordan's side,
Who all Baptiz'd, when Jesus was not found
He soars aloft and sweeping wide around
The fields Triumphant did a while survey,
Agen prepar'd to cut his trackless way
To Gods high Temple and the sacred Town,
Till from his Chariot looking envious down
As with a Curse he left 'em, he descry'd
The Baptist kneel, the People scatt'ring wide,
His dreaded Foe amidst the Waves appear;
He trembling saw, and almost dropt for fear;
But when he did th' attesting Thunder hear
By whose intolerable Terrors driv'n
Wielded by Michael's arm of old he fled from Heav'n,
No more he cou'd endure—
But thence precipitate his flight did take
Wide swooping down thro' Sodom's Brimstone-lake:
So tumbling thro' the Clouds the Vulture flies
As at vast distance he the Quarry spies,
Struck by the Royal Eagles piercing Eyes:
Confus'd and trembling there obscure he lay
Nor durst agen ascend, till hated day
Forsook the World, and night a covert made
To hide his shame in her lov'd conscious shade:
84
All flaming, cast his glaring Eyes around
And gladly wou'd have curst the unhappy ground,
But finding 'twas too late, did doubly rave;
Then for a Council strait the Signal gave:
The Demons croud from ev'ry lonely Grave.
Each wretch whom they, possess'd, in triumph led
Thro' the polluted Mansions of the dead:
The Conclave fills, from Earth and Hell away
They hast, proud Belial, Lustful Asmoday:
Their Nature in their Looks and Forms exprest,
And haughty Moloch taller than the rest:
Ev'n more enrag'd than when at first he fell
Their Prince appear'd, and something worse than Hell,
More deadly, more malicious did surprise
His Court, nor dar'd they meet his angry Eyes.
None durst accost the wayward Tyrant, none
Durst speak or look, but trembled round his Throne,
Who thus enrag'd began—And are we grown
So tamely good, so worthy more than Hell
We dare not bravely once agen rebel?
None Councel, none advise, nor act, but yield
Without one parting stroke the glorious Field
To this young Conqu'ror? Must our Empire fall
And he alone possess the spacious Ball?
Forbid it Fate and these right Hands, nor we
So long in vain have tasted Liberty:
He can but thunder, and long since we knew
And felt the worst his angry Bolts can do:
Shall Man his Slave so oft his Vengeance dare
Ev'n while he sues for Peace and offers fair,
And we do less, who must of Grace despair?
Or will you all forget for what you fell
And humbly praise your Conqu'ror ev'n in Hell?
Must I forsake and abdicate my Throne
And you Heav'ns-Deputy your Saviour own?
How else so tame, so silent cou'd you be
Nought said or done worthy your selv's or me?
Proud Moloch heard, but cou'd no longer bear,
Furious he rose, with the same scornful Air
That cost him Heav'n—'Tis well he cries, 'tis well,
That he who dares speak thus, is Prince of Hell!
Half this, if from an Angel, should have cost
His fall from those blest Regions we have lost,
Tho' it more deeply sunk me—Are we priz'd
No more than basely to be scandaliz'd
With feeble Penitence? Can that be born
In Hell, which even earthly Tyrants scorn?
But time and words are lost, you know we're true
Sworn Enemies to Heav'n, and Friends to you:
—And to convince you, strait such deeds we'll do
As Hell shall env' at once, and spred our fame;
For late my self from Jordan's Banks I came,
Where I a holy Pharisee possest
And left my darling Viper in his Breast:
Asmodeus too was there, and all the day,
Within a Jolly Saducee he lay:
In vain it Thunder'd for we both did stay,
And mark'd the Son of God whose haunts we know,
Who thence did to the dreadful Desart go
Where Israel wander'd; thither I'll pursue,
And nothing want besides Commands from you
To crush this dreadful Foe? the Woods I'll fire
Nor can he scape but must, if man, expire
I' th' circling Flames; if these too weak shou'd prove
The solid Earth I'd from its Axis move,
Its Bowels to the affrighted Center rive
And in the Gulph intomb him yet alive;
Or Whirlwinds raise, vast Hills and Rocks displace
And dash all Pisgah on his mangled Face:
He said, and hardly wou'd for Orders stay,
Till the grim Prince of Hell obstructs his way,
Lifting his Iron-Mace—To me, he cries,
Alone belongs this glorious Enterprize:
I'll instantly about the great Design
Mine be the Glory, as the Danger mine!
Heav'n soon shall Mourning wear, all Hell shall joy:
Him first I'll tempt to Sin, and then destroy.
Furious he rose, with the same scornful Air
85
That he who dares speak thus, is Prince of Hell!
Half this, if from an Angel, should have cost
His fall from those blest Regions we have lost,
Tho' it more deeply sunk me—Are we priz'd
No more than basely to be scandaliz'd
With feeble Penitence? Can that be born
In Hell, which even earthly Tyrants scorn?
But time and words are lost, you know we're true
Sworn Enemies to Heav'n, and Friends to you:
—And to convince you, strait such deeds we'll do
As Hell shall env' at once, and spred our fame;
For late my self from Jordan's Banks I came,
Where I a holy Pharisee possest
And left my darling Viper in his Breast:
Asmodeus too was there, and all the day,
Within a Jolly Saducee he lay:
In vain it Thunder'd for we both did stay,
And mark'd the Son of God whose haunts we know,
Who thence did to the dreadful Desart go
Where Israel wander'd; thither I'll pursue,
And nothing want besides Commands from you
To crush this dreadful Foe? the Woods I'll fire
Nor can he scape but must, if man, expire
I' th' circling Flames; if these too weak shou'd prove
The solid Earth I'd from its Axis move,
Its Bowels to the affrighted Center rive
And in the Gulph intomb him yet alive;
Or Whirlwinds raise, vast Hills and Rocks displace
And dash all Pisgah on his mangled Face:
He said, and hardly wou'd for Orders stay,
Till the grim Prince of Hell obstructs his way,
Lifting his Iron-Mace—To me, he cries,
Alone belongs this glorious Enterprize:
I'll instantly about the great Design
Mine be the Glory, as the Danger mine!
Heav'n soon shall Mourning wear, all Hell shall joy:
Him first I'll tempt to Sin, and then destroy.
This said, in hast the sooty Conclave rose,
And to the Wild disguis'd their Leader goes:
Instruct with wonted guileful Arts, and found
Our Saviour lowly prostrate on the Ground:
Intent his spotless Pray'r before th' All-high
He offers, rapt in holy Extasie;
For strength against the dreadful Combat nigh:
He ask'd that him we might our pattern make,
He ask'd as man, what he as God might take:
Soon did the Fiend's vain hopes begin to fail,
O'er them that pray he knows he can't prevail;
Yet Tempts invisible, and did prepare
His keenest Darts, all quench'd with Faith and Pray'r,
Or driv'n rebated back, or lost in Air.
Oft wou'd his Thoughts disorder by the chain
Of former Thoughts, but try'd as oft in vain:
And with the same success did on him try
False hopes and joys and worldly vanity:
Objects within; and those before his face,
The solitude and horror of the place:
Fruitless they fell and all his Labours mock,
As storms of Hail against the solid Rock;
Each rude Assault unmov'd our Saviour bore,
His mind still fix'd on Heav'n as 'twas before:
The Tempter of his heav'nly Arms afraid
With caution first attacks him, whilst he pray'd;
But when six Sabbaths now he, prostrate laid,
The seventh well worn, at length to faint began,
And humbly tho' a God confest the man;
When this the Enemy insulting spy'd
With secret wicked Joy, he's mine he cry'd!
This Son of God I soon shall Triumph o'er
With as much ease subdu'd as that before:
So much his mortal weakness did despise
Almost he'd fallen on without disguise;
But soon with deep Serpentine guile represt
Those first warm eager thoughts that fill'd his breast:
Resolv'd a while incognito to try
What strength, or wit, what force and policy
He must expect in his new Enemy,
E'er open he attack'd him—this to do
Round his foul Form thin airy Robes he threw,
Such as a poor old man might best beseem,
And such who e'er had seen had counted him:
Lean sallow Checks, hollow'd with cares and age,
Dim eyes which did approaching death presage:
Mov'd his pale wither'd lips and palsy'd head
And to our Saviour thus dissembling said:
And to the Wild disguis'd their Leader goes:
86
Our Saviour lowly prostrate on the Ground:
Intent his spotless Pray'r before th' All-high
He offers, rapt in holy Extasie;
For strength against the dreadful Combat nigh:
He ask'd that him we might our pattern make,
He ask'd as man, what he as God might take:
Soon did the Fiend's vain hopes begin to fail,
O'er them that pray he knows he can't prevail;
Yet Tempts invisible, and did prepare
His keenest Darts, all quench'd with Faith and Pray'r,
Or driv'n rebated back, or lost in Air.
Oft wou'd his Thoughts disorder by the chain
Of former Thoughts, but try'd as oft in vain:
And with the same success did on him try
False hopes and joys and worldly vanity:
Objects within; and those before his face,
The solitude and horror of the place:
Fruitless they fell and all his Labours mock,
As storms of Hail against the solid Rock;
Each rude Assault unmov'd our Saviour bore,
His mind still fix'd on Heav'n as 'twas before:
The Tempter of his heav'nly Arms afraid
With caution first attacks him, whilst he pray'd;
But when six Sabbaths now he, prostrate laid,
The seventh well worn, at length to faint began,
And humbly tho' a God confest the man;
When this the Enemy insulting spy'd
With secret wicked Joy, he's mine he cry'd!
This Son of God I soon shall Triumph o'er
With as much ease subdu'd as that before:
So much his mortal weakness did despise
Almost he'd fallen on without disguise;
But soon with deep Serpentine guile represt
Those first warm eager thoughts that fill'd his breast:
Resolv'd a while incognito to try
What strength, or wit, what force and policy
He must expect in his new Enemy,
E'er open he attack'd him—this to do
Round his foul Form thin airy Robes he threw,
87
And such who e'er had seen had counted him:
Lean sallow Checks, hollow'd with cares and age,
Dim eyes which did approaching death presage:
Mov'd his pale wither'd lips and palsy'd head
And to our Saviour thus dissembling said:
Hail Son of God by signs from Heav'n approv'd!
Great Prophet Hail, by God and men belov'd!
Full sixty Springs by Heav'ns peculiar Grace
Within the borders of this hideous place
Have I remain'd, as holy Essenes use,
Far from the harden'd unbelieving Jews;
Long since by Revelation warn'd, I thee
Like aged Simeon e'er my death should see;
And when of late the mighty Baptist came
To Jordan's banks whose wondrous life and fame
Fill'd all the Wild, me from my Cell he brought
And the Messiah him at first I thought:
But soon my heighten'd Expectations fell
When him no Sign no glorious Miracle
Attested, which the Angel did reveal
Shou'd still attend, and be the Saviour's Seal:
This Sign to thee on Jordan's banks was giv'n
When the bright Dove and wond'rous Voice from Heav'n
At once descended, this amidst the Crowd
I saw, and had like Simeon hail'd thee loud
Hadst thou not by some pow'r to us unseen
Swift to this lonely Desart hurry'd been;
Whither with longing eyes, that fain wou'd see
More near, and weary feet I follow'd thee;
But soon lost sight and track, and often crost
By diff'rent paths at length my self I lost:
Already once since I first wander'd here
The silver Moon has fill'd her little year,
And half another now is almost past
Since I of any humane Food did tast:
On Roots and Leaves and humble Acorns fed
I liv'd, nor ask'd the luxury of Bread:
With trembling steps oft have I search'd around
The Forrest, all but this unhappy Ground,
Which sure no humane Foot e'r trac'd before;
Oft did I hear within the Lions roar,
Oft bones and luckless Carcasses espy
Behind some Bush half-torn unburied lie,
Of some lost Passenger, and did despair
My self to scape or find thee living there.
Yet in I prest, if dead just Rites to pay
And o'r thy Grave my self lamenting lay:
But since my boding fears are yet in vain,
Since nothing here that Nature can sustain
No Fruits, nor Herbs, nor Leaves, nor Roots are found,
Nought friend to Life above or under ground:
If thou the promis'd hop'd Messia be
A Wonder work, and save thy self and me!
I else must perish here, and you no less
By these wan Looks and fainting Eyes confess;
Nor longer wait, but all thy self appear!
Exert the God nor pine unpitied here!
These stones, (there stones by chance thick scatter'd lay)
With speed command, nor can they but obey
Command them strait the Form of bread t'indue!
I ask no more, content as well as you
With such mean Fare—
Tho' our Forefathers were with Manna fed
I only beg for mens, not Angels bread.
Great Prophet Hail, by God and men belov'd!
Full sixty Springs by Heav'ns peculiar Grace
Within the borders of this hideous place
Have I remain'd, as holy Essenes use,
Far from the harden'd unbelieving Jews;
Long since by Revelation warn'd, I thee
Like aged Simeon e'er my death should see;
And when of late the mighty Baptist came
To Jordan's banks whose wondrous life and fame
Fill'd all the Wild, me from my Cell he brought
And the Messiah him at first I thought:
But soon my heighten'd Expectations fell
When him no Sign no glorious Miracle
Attested, which the Angel did reveal
Shou'd still attend, and be the Saviour's Seal:
This Sign to thee on Jordan's banks was giv'n
When the bright Dove and wond'rous Voice from Heav'n
At once descended, this amidst the Crowd
I saw, and had like Simeon hail'd thee loud
Hadst thou not by some pow'r to us unseen
Swift to this lonely Desart hurry'd been;
Whither with longing eyes, that fain wou'd see
More near, and weary feet I follow'd thee;
But soon lost sight and track, and often crost
By diff'rent paths at length my self I lost:
Already once since I first wander'd here
The silver Moon has fill'd her little year,
And half another now is almost past
Since I of any humane Food did tast:
On Roots and Leaves and humble Acorns fed
I liv'd, nor ask'd the luxury of Bread:
With trembling steps oft have I search'd around
The Forrest, all but this unhappy Ground,
88
Oft did I hear within the Lions roar,
Oft bones and luckless Carcasses espy
Behind some Bush half-torn unburied lie,
Of some lost Passenger, and did despair
My self to scape or find thee living there.
Yet in I prest, if dead just Rites to pay
And o'r thy Grave my self lamenting lay:
But since my boding fears are yet in vain,
Since nothing here that Nature can sustain
No Fruits, nor Herbs, nor Leaves, nor Roots are found,
Nought friend to Life above or under ground:
If thou the promis'd hop'd Messia be
A Wonder work, and save thy self and me!
I else must perish here, and you no less
By these wan Looks and fainting Eyes confess;
Nor longer wait, but all thy self appear!
Exert the God nor pine unpitied here!
These stones, (there stones by chance thick scatter'd lay)
With speed command, nor can they but obey
Command them strait the Form of bread t'indue!
I ask no more, content as well as you
With such mean Fare—
Tho' our Forefathers were with Manna fed
I only beg for mens, not Angels bread.
To whom our Saviour thus, whose piercing Eyes
The Fiend discover'd thro' the Saints disguise:
Full well can I discern thy black intent
And all that's by so fair a semblance meant:
The Serpent in the grass full well I spy,
And to thy first Temptation thus reply:
The Fiend discover'd thro' the Saints disguise:
Full well can I discern thy black intent
And all that's by so fair a semblance meant:
The Serpent in the grass full well I spy,
And to thy first Temptation thus reply:
The sacred Oracles all anxious care
For Food forbid, and thus 'tis written there.
“'Tis not Bread only do's Mans life sustain
Nor were the Trees and Herbs all made in vain:
The Trees and Herbs did Gods dread Word produce,
That these we in extremities might use:
These in the neighbouring Woods in plenty grow
Tho' here are none, and thither may we go
If either needs, nor tempt th' All-high to show
A sign where he doth common means afford:
Who made the World by his commanding Word;
To all things did their proper Natures give,
And still preserves those Pow'rs by which we live;
Nay the first Cause who all these Causes made
Can soon produce th' Effects without their aid:
His Word preserves that Soul on him depends,
Firm strength divine, and heav'nly Vigour lends,
And nourishes to Life that never ends.
For Food forbid, and thus 'tis written there.
“'Tis not Bread only do's Mans life sustain
Nor were the Trees and Herbs all made in vain:
The Trees and Herbs did Gods dread Word produce,
That these we in extremities might use:
These in the neighbouring Woods in plenty grow
Tho' here are none, and thither may we go
If either needs, nor tempt th' All-high to show
89
Who made the World by his commanding Word;
To all things did their proper Natures give,
And still preserves those Pow'rs by which we live;
Nay the first Cause who all these Causes made
Can soon produce th' Effects without their aid:
His Word preserves that Soul on him depends,
Firm strength divine, and heav'nly Vigour lends,
And nourishes to Life that never ends.
The Fiend did in imperfect Curses vent
His rage, and murm'ring thence reluctant went:
Thro' dismal gloomy Shades unseen did glide,
And for the next assault himself provide.
Whilst the true Son of God no shelter found,
But weary cold and hungry on the Ground
Sweet sleep in vain he courts, for at his head
The Tempter env'ing ev'n his homely bed
On some hard Rock, returns with ugly dreams
Of Precipices vast and pitchy streams,
Of thoughts morose and vain—The man's distrest
With sinless fears, the God repels the rest.
Nor sooner frighted sleep did him forsake,
And he from short imperfect slumbers wake,
When distant gath'ring storms he heard on high,
And Infant Thunders mustering round the Sky,
Which to that Forrest all their forces led,
With hideous crack discharging o'r his head:
The Clouds the Signal take: and when a while they lowr'd
“From many a horrid rift abortive powr'd
Fierce rain, which did with sheets of flame conspire,
Like Egypts dreadful Plague: water with fire
In ruin reconcil'd; nor slept the winds
Where them inclos'd their airy Leader binds
“Within their stony Caves, but rush'd abroad,
And swept with saily wings thro' Heav'ns high-road:
“From the four hinges of the World they ran,
“To the vex'd Wilderness, which soon began
To feel their mighty rage; there scatt'ring wide
Disrobe the beauteous trees of all their pride
And Earth of them, their deep-fang'd roots gave way,
And on the ground vast trunks dismember'd lay:
The Sky-saluting Pine, and sturdy Oak,
Proof against all but Heav'ns-allmighty stroke,
Still proof till now—
Which had a thousand tempest's rage disdain'd,
And there coeval with the World remain'd;
In vain they plead their long prescription now:
“Loaden with stormy blasts their stiff-necks bow,
Now this, now that way sway'd, and all around
Like Earthquakes with Convulsions heave the ground;
Till fiercer blasts them from the Center tear,
And dart like chaff or stubble round the air.
Now Hills of Sand came rolling with the wind
Death-threat'ning, now the solid Rock behind
On which as chanc'd, our Lord his head reclin'd
In horrid Clifts by bellowing Earth-quakes rent
Part sunk abrupt, part from red Volcans sent
Huge glowing stones, which thick as sparks aspire,
Tempestuous smoak, and flame and waves of fire:
Sharp sleet and driving-rain the while did pow'r
Direct against his face a rushing show'r;
Now doubly forc'd by the impetuous wind,
Now hizzing in th' enraged flames behind:
“From the rude storm ill wast thou shrouded then
O patient Son of God—Birds, beasts, and men
Were now, than thee with better shelter blest;
Men houses have, Beasts dens, each bird a nest
But thou no place thy weary'd Limbs to rest.
Yet only thou unshaken didst remain
And hells Artillery was spent in vain;
Tho' still the Fiend do's his vain Arts repeat
New malice gath'ring from each new defeat:
The Flames were quench'd the winds and tempest fell,
At his Command, all dark as his own hell:
No sounds are heard, or Objects now appear,
A gloomy silence reigning every where;
A while it reign'd but with more horrid noise
Was soon disturb'd, the loud lamenting Voice
Of all that mortal breasts can move to fear
At distance thro' the trees our Lord did hear:
Shrill shreeks for help that still approacht more near:
Of Rapes and murders the redoubled cry,
(While glitt'ring Swords he thro' the Shades cou'd spy,)
Then interrupted groans, such theirs who lie
In Lifes weak twilight, gasping thick for breath,
And strugling in the Agonies of Death:
Or, sculking close behind some Bush or tree
He by the gloworms glimm'ring light cou'd see
Fierce shaggy Ruffians, hoary Villains they
Appear'd, which hunted more for blood than prey:
Some their strong steely Jav'lings poise, the rest
Their Arrows nick, and level at his breast:
The Bow-string twangs, out flies the airy dart,
But can no more affright, than pierce his heart;
That and the tempters curses lost in wind,
As all his other terrors yet behind.
Each hideous Beast which once to Eden came
From the first Adam to receive their name
The Fiend produc'd, the second to affright,
In the dead mazes of that dreadful night:
All that with Noah hosted, all and more,
For Sun-burnt Afric sent her monstrous store;
Here from the slimy banks of fertile Nile
Came slow, the vast amphibious Crocodile:
Who on Cyrene's Sands do's fearless see,
And with him bring Serpents as large as he:
The false Hyena's face was here discern'd,
Ev'n more than what She Apes in flatt'ry learn'd:
There the fell Wolf and frightful Panther came,
With the stern Ounce whose bloody Eyes shot Flame
Across the Grove, the nimble Tyger too;
All hideous forms, some false and others true.
For many a Fiend with dreadful shape and face,
Had mixt themselves among the brutal race;
And when the Beasts by Nature fierce and wild
Soon at our Saviours sight grew tame and mild;
These pusht 'em on, and urg'd with all their pow'r
To seize their hated Foe, and him devour:
The roaring Herd himself th' Arch-Traytor led,
And like a Leopard darted at his head
His spotted Form, but when the pow'rs of Hell
He found too weak to storm that Cittadel,
“Strait into trackless Air dissolv'd he fell:
Two other Fiends like fierce Jackalls did bay
And warn'd the kingly Lyon to his prey;
He stately stalks along, prepar'd t'engage,
And lashes his firm sides with dreadful rage:
But when he Juda's princely Lyon saw,
Struck with a fear unknown and wondrous awe,
His angry stern he gently pacify'd,
And lick'd his hands and couch'd him by his side;
Then soon at them he leaps that brought him there
Who mock his anger fleeting into air.
His rage, and murm'ring thence reluctant went:
Thro' dismal gloomy Shades unseen did glide,
And for the next assault himself provide.
Whilst the true Son of God no shelter found,
But weary cold and hungry on the Ground
Sweet sleep in vain he courts, for at his head
The Tempter env'ing ev'n his homely bed
On some hard Rock, returns with ugly dreams
Of Precipices vast and pitchy streams,
Of thoughts morose and vain—The man's distrest
With sinless fears, the God repels the rest.
Nor sooner frighted sleep did him forsake,
And he from short imperfect slumbers wake,
When distant gath'ring storms he heard on high,
And Infant Thunders mustering round the Sky,
Which to that Forrest all their forces led,
With hideous crack discharging o'r his head:
The Clouds the Signal take: and when a while they lowr'd
“From many a horrid rift abortive powr'd
Fierce rain, which did with sheets of flame conspire,
Like Egypts dreadful Plague: water with fire
In ruin reconcil'd; nor slept the winds
Where them inclos'd their airy Leader binds
“Within their stony Caves, but rush'd abroad,
And swept with saily wings thro' Heav'ns high-road:
“From the four hinges of the World they ran,
“To the vex'd Wilderness, which soon began
To feel their mighty rage; there scatt'ring wide
Disrobe the beauteous trees of all their pride
90
And on the ground vast trunks dismember'd lay:
The Sky-saluting Pine, and sturdy Oak,
Proof against all but Heav'ns-allmighty stroke,
Still proof till now—
Which had a thousand tempest's rage disdain'd,
And there coeval with the World remain'd;
In vain they plead their long prescription now:
“Loaden with stormy blasts their stiff-necks bow,
Now this, now that way sway'd, and all around
Like Earthquakes with Convulsions heave the ground;
Till fiercer blasts them from the Center tear,
And dart like chaff or stubble round the air.
Now Hills of Sand came rolling with the wind
Death-threat'ning, now the solid Rock behind
On which as chanc'd, our Lord his head reclin'd
In horrid Clifts by bellowing Earth-quakes rent
Part sunk abrupt, part from red Volcans sent
Huge glowing stones, which thick as sparks aspire,
Tempestuous smoak, and flame and waves of fire:
Sharp sleet and driving-rain the while did pow'r
Direct against his face a rushing show'r;
Now doubly forc'd by the impetuous wind,
Now hizzing in th' enraged flames behind:
“From the rude storm ill wast thou shrouded then
O patient Son of God—Birds, beasts, and men
Were now, than thee with better shelter blest;
Men houses have, Beasts dens, each bird a nest
But thou no place thy weary'd Limbs to rest.
Yet only thou unshaken didst remain
And hells Artillery was spent in vain;
Tho' still the Fiend do's his vain Arts repeat
New malice gath'ring from each new defeat:
The Flames were quench'd the winds and tempest fell,
At his Command, all dark as his own hell:
No sounds are heard, or Objects now appear,
A gloomy silence reigning every where;
A while it reign'd but with more horrid noise
Was soon disturb'd, the loud lamenting Voice
91
At distance thro' the trees our Lord did hear:
Shrill shreeks for help that still approacht more near:
Of Rapes and murders the redoubled cry,
(While glitt'ring Swords he thro' the Shades cou'd spy,)
Then interrupted groans, such theirs who lie
In Lifes weak twilight, gasping thick for breath,
And strugling in the Agonies of Death:
Or, sculking close behind some Bush or tree
He by the gloworms glimm'ring light cou'd see
Fierce shaggy Ruffians, hoary Villains they
Appear'd, which hunted more for blood than prey:
Some their strong steely Jav'lings poise, the rest
Their Arrows nick, and level at his breast:
The Bow-string twangs, out flies the airy dart,
But can no more affright, than pierce his heart;
That and the tempters curses lost in wind,
As all his other terrors yet behind.
Each hideous Beast which once to Eden came
From the first Adam to receive their name
The Fiend produc'd, the second to affright,
In the dead mazes of that dreadful night:
All that with Noah hosted, all and more,
For Sun-burnt Afric sent her monstrous store;
Here from the slimy banks of fertile Nile
Came slow, the vast amphibious Crocodile:
Who on Cyrene's Sands do's fearless see,
And with him bring Serpents as large as he:
The false Hyena's face was here discern'd,
Ev'n more than what She Apes in flatt'ry learn'd:
There the fell Wolf and frightful Panther came,
With the stern Ounce whose bloody Eyes shot Flame
Across the Grove, the nimble Tyger too;
All hideous forms, some false and others true.
For many a Fiend with dreadful shape and face,
Had mixt themselves among the brutal race;
And when the Beasts by Nature fierce and wild
Soon at our Saviours sight grew tame and mild;
These pusht 'em on, and urg'd with all their pow'r
To seize their hated Foe, and him devour:
92
And like a Leopard darted at his head
His spotted Form, but when the pow'rs of Hell
He found too weak to storm that Cittadel,
“Strait into trackless Air dissolv'd he fell:
Two other Fiends like fierce Jackalls did bay
And warn'd the kingly Lyon to his prey;
He stately stalks along, prepar'd t'engage,
And lashes his firm sides with dreadful rage:
But when he Juda's princely Lyon saw,
Struck with a fear unknown and wondrous awe,
His angry stern he gently pacify'd,
And lick'd his hands and couch'd him by his side;
Then soon at them he leaps that brought him there
Who mock his anger fleeting into air.
Fearless our Saviour stood, nor Beasts nor Night
Nor those dread Forms which guilty man affright
Once mov'd him, tho' dire Spectres now invade,
And glide with double horror thro' the shade:
With flaming Torches here and Flambos high
Erect, a Corps at distance passes by;
There shreeking Ghosts glare cross, and face him there,
With bloody breasts, fix'd eyes, dishevel'd hair;
Last, wicked Spirits in monstrous Forms infest,
And shake their fiery Darts against his breast:
In vain their number, rage and yells increase,
“He sits unmov'd in calm and sinless peace.
Nor those dread Forms which guilty man affright
Once mov'd him, tho' dire Spectres now invade,
And glide with double horror thro' the shade:
With flaming Torches here and Flambos high
Erect, a Corps at distance passes by;
There shreeking Ghosts glare cross, and face him there,
With bloody breasts, fix'd eyes, dishevel'd hair;
Last, wicked Spirits in monstrous Forms infest,
And shake their fiery Darts against his breast:
In vain their number, rage and yells increase,
“He sits unmov'd in calm and sinless peace.
Thus past the night till Phosphor's cheerful Ray
Warn'd guilty Ghosts and glim'ring stars away;
And gently beckons on the rising day:
Whilst, e'er the Sun had shown his radiant face
Our Lord forsakes th' uncomfortable place
Of his so long abode, and as it rose,
Hungry and cold to a near Hillock goes,
Bending to East, there dropping by the storm
His Robes to dry and frozen Limbs to warm:
Him did the Tempter impudent, pursue,
Resolv'd to attack, tho' well his strength he knew
In glorious form accosts him, rob'd in Light,
And welcoms from the horrors of the Night,
Welcoms with false devoir, on bended knee,
And parasitical Humility,
From that sad place where they encount'red last,
Where he so many tedious hours had past;
Nor any longer wou'd himself disown,
So oft thro' all his thin disguises known;
Yet veils his canker'd spite in semblance fair,
What's lost in force, he'd now by fraud repair:
Then with feign'd show of pity thus he said;
Warn'd guilty Ghosts and glim'ring stars away;
And gently beckons on the rising day:
Whilst, e'er the Sun had shown his radiant face
Our Lord forsakes th' uncomfortable place
Of his so long abode, and as it rose,
Hungry and cold to a near Hillock goes,
Bending to East, there dropping by the storm
His Robes to dry and frozen Limbs to warm:
Him did the Tempter impudent, pursue,
Resolv'd to attack, tho' well his strength he knew
In glorious form accosts him, rob'd in Light,
And welcoms from the horrors of the Night,
93
And parasitical Humility,
From that sad place where they encount'red last,
Where he so many tedious hours had past;
Nor any longer wou'd himself disown,
So oft thro' all his thin disguises known;
Yet veils his canker'd spite in semblance fair,
What's lost in force, he'd now by fraud repair:
Then with feign'd show of pity thus he said;
Tho' us Mankind as Enemies upbraid,
Them in th' extreams of Life we often aid;
By Oracles important Truths decide,
And Tables for the poor and old provide:
If this, O Son of God! for them we do,
What service can be thought too great for you?
Tho' lately you, discourt'ous, me deny'd,
When your Divinity I wou'd have try'd;
Did me so modest a request refuse,
Nor Bread, for that alone I ask'd, produce;
No Niggard of my Gifts, thou soon shallt see
How richly I'll unask'd provide for thee:
He said and stampt,—strait from the Ground arise
All Trees that cou'd compose a Paradice:
The stately Oak, the sailing beauteous Pine,
Th' eternal Cedar, fit for Works divine;
The shady Chesnut, and the Walnut fair
The Lover-Myrtle, Lotus chast and rare,
From sunburnt Affric brought and planted there:
The virtuous Palm, which do's by pressures rise
And spite of weight, triumphant mean the Skys:
The Cherrys next their blushing Lips incline;
The gold cheek'd Quince with looks and smell divine.
The silken Peach with noble flavour blest,
The Plumb, whose name Armenian fields confest:
The juicy Mulberry which fables feign
Two Lovers Blood with purple dy did stain:
Over their heads up springs the mantling Vine
Nor needs its husband Elm whereon to twine;
So large the Trunk, so wide the Branches rose
They of themselves long leavy Vaults compose:
But yet for Ornament did not disdain
Woodbines and Eglantine to entertain:
This humble, stoops and decks the Arbours side,
That gawdier, mounts aloft with decent pride;
With the rich clust'ring Grapes so close entwin'd,
That Fruit and Flow'rs at once the gath'rers find.
A little more remov'd but plain to view
In low warm Groves the golden Orange grew:
The silver Limons next, and next to these
The rich Pomgranate, cross the stormy Seas
Well worth the pains, from Punic Carthage brought:
The Ground beneath like a fair Carpet wrought
With various Flow'rs, so regular and true
The Figures seem'd, and yet so careless too,
As Art and Nature both the Landskip drew.
Around the place, all neatly border'd, grows
The Lily of the Vale with Sharons Rose:
Nard, Camphire, Jassmin, ev'ry fragrant sweet
Which did in God's fair Spouses Garden meet:
Here mossy Benches, voluntary rose,
Where the sweet Musk and blew-ey'd Vi'let grows;
I'th' midst a Table did it self present
Loaden with each choice dish that might content
An hungry Epicure; a vast wild Boar
The middle fill'd, the rest was cover'd o'er
With Dishes pil'd, which court smell, tast, and sight,
With various show and order exquisite.
From distant Regions to the Banquet came
Sea, Earth, and Air's Provision, wild and tame,
Each Beast of sportive chase, and Fowl of game.
“Each Fish that do's in Sea or River dwell
Or Pond; or smooth, or arm'd with scale or shell:
All that Bethsaida's well-wrought Nets cou'd take
In Air, or Desarts wild, or neighbouring Lake.
What crown'd the rest on a neat side-board nigh
Vast stores of noble Wines stood sparkling by;
In Christal Walls, how dangerous to behold?
Or Massy Goblets wrought of Ophirs Gold.
Bright Youths and brighter Maids wait cheerful round,
Their flowing hair with od'rous Garlands Crown'd,
A Charger this, where Golden Fruit did shine
Supports; that holds a Flask of generous Wine;
All pleas'd with the fair Office they enjoy'd,
And look'd as if they wish'd to be employ'd.
Two lovely Nymphs—
Whose Charms what ever's Mortal far excel,
Lovely as ever Tempted Man to Hell,
At once shot Darts from their false Eyes and Tongue
And to their warbling Lutes harmonious sung:
Them in th' extreams of Life we often aid;
By Oracles important Truths decide,
And Tables for the poor and old provide:
If this, O Son of God! for them we do,
What service can be thought too great for you?
Tho' lately you, discourt'ous, me deny'd,
When your Divinity I wou'd have try'd;
Did me so modest a request refuse,
Nor Bread, for that alone I ask'd, produce;
No Niggard of my Gifts, thou soon shallt see
How richly I'll unask'd provide for thee:
He said and stampt,—strait from the Ground arise
All Trees that cou'd compose a Paradice:
The stately Oak, the sailing beauteous Pine,
Th' eternal Cedar, fit for Works divine;
The shady Chesnut, and the Walnut fair
The Lover-Myrtle, Lotus chast and rare,
From sunburnt Affric brought and planted there:
The virtuous Palm, which do's by pressures rise
And spite of weight, triumphant mean the Skys:
The Cherrys next their blushing Lips incline;
The gold cheek'd Quince with looks and smell divine.
The silken Peach with noble flavour blest,
The Plumb, whose name Armenian fields confest:
The juicy Mulberry which fables feign
Two Lovers Blood with purple dy did stain:
Over their heads up springs the mantling Vine
Nor needs its husband Elm whereon to twine;
So large the Trunk, so wide the Branches rose
They of themselves long leavy Vaults compose:
94
Woodbines and Eglantine to entertain:
This humble, stoops and decks the Arbours side,
That gawdier, mounts aloft with decent pride;
With the rich clust'ring Grapes so close entwin'd,
That Fruit and Flow'rs at once the gath'rers find.
A little more remov'd but plain to view
In low warm Groves the golden Orange grew:
The silver Limons next, and next to these
The rich Pomgranate, cross the stormy Seas
Well worth the pains, from Punic Carthage brought:
The Ground beneath like a fair Carpet wrought
With various Flow'rs, so regular and true
The Figures seem'd, and yet so careless too,
As Art and Nature both the Landskip drew.
Around the place, all neatly border'd, grows
The Lily of the Vale with Sharons Rose:
Nard, Camphire, Jassmin, ev'ry fragrant sweet
Which did in God's fair Spouses Garden meet:
Here mossy Benches, voluntary rose,
Where the sweet Musk and blew-ey'd Vi'let grows;
I'th' midst a Table did it self present
Loaden with each choice dish that might content
An hungry Epicure; a vast wild Boar
The middle fill'd, the rest was cover'd o'er
With Dishes pil'd, which court smell, tast, and sight,
With various show and order exquisite.
From distant Regions to the Banquet came
Sea, Earth, and Air's Provision, wild and tame,
Each Beast of sportive chase, and Fowl of game.
“Each Fish that do's in Sea or River dwell
Or Pond; or smooth, or arm'd with scale or shell:
All that Bethsaida's well-wrought Nets cou'd take
In Air, or Desarts wild, or neighbouring Lake.
What crown'd the rest on a neat side-board nigh
Vast stores of noble Wines stood sparkling by;
In Christal Walls, how dangerous to behold?
Or Massy Goblets wrought of Ophirs Gold.
Bright Youths and brighter Maids wait cheerful round,
Their flowing hair with od'rous Garlands Crown'd,
95
Supports; that holds a Flask of generous Wine;
All pleas'd with the fair Office they enjoy'd,
And look'd as if they wish'd to be employ'd.
Two lovely Nymphs—
Whose Charms what ever's Mortal far excel,
Lovely as ever Tempted Man to Hell,
At once shot Darts from their false Eyes and Tongue
And to their warbling Lutes harmonious sung:
Say, what Songs shall we prepare
For both Worlds immortal Heir?
How our Joy our Love express
In this Barren Wilderness?
For both Worlds immortal Heir?
How our Joy our Love express
In this Barren Wilderness?
Honey from thy Feet did flow,
O'er thy Head fair Arbors grow;
At thy sight fierce Beasts grew mild,
And the barren Desart smil'd.
O'er thy Head fair Arbors grow;
At thy sight fierce Beasts grew mild,
And the barren Desart smil'd.
Welcom, welcom, welcom thrice
To this happy Paradice!
Here no Serpent need you fear,
No forbidden Fruit is here.
To this happy Paradice!
Here no Serpent need you fear,
No forbidden Fruit is here.
Hark the Amorous Turtles call!
Hark! the silver Waters fall!
And a gentle spicy breese
Whispers thro' the rustling Trees:
Hark! the silver Waters fall!
And a gentle spicy breese
Whispers thro' the rustling Trees:
These, the rugged Tempest o'er,
Storms and Whirlwinds heard no more,
These the Hero all invite
To soft Love and gay Delight.
Storms and Whirlwinds heard no more,
These the Hero all invite
To soft Love and gay Delight.
Safe and friendly all appears;
We thy gentle Ministers!
We this Food before thee plac'd,
Nor disdain to sit and tast!
We thy gentle Ministers!
We this Food before thee plac'd,
Nor disdain to sit and tast!
Thus they, back fell each weak rebated Dart,
This reach'd our Saviour's Ears, but not his Heart:
No dang'rous softness there crept slily in,
Not the first Embryo-motion of a Sin:
The Tempter their design as vain pursues,
Earnest, their Invitation he renews;
To whom our Lord—Perish thy gifts with thee!
Alike I scorn thy spite and flattery:
How kind a Friend thou art to man and me
Me, the last Night has shown, man's Off-spring, all
Those mischiefs waiting his unhappy Fall:
Those Oracles which thou so high dost prise
What are they but ambiguous specious Lyes?
That Food with which thou dost thy Vassals treat,
And make each Wretch his own Damnation Eat,
Are either fancy'd Viands, shap'd of Air,
As thy lean Hags with such delusive fare
Oft feasted but still famish'd, plainly shew;
Or else ill-got if solid they, and true:
The richest fare thou canst thy Friends afford
The stol'n remains of some Luxurious board:
Such this, set out with so much pomp and state
Nor can thy pow'r one single grain create:
“To whom thus answer'd Satan male-content
If all's suspect which freely I present,
What follows you by causless Jealousie
Deserve—tis Natures voice friendly to be
With Friends and dreadful to my Enemy:
And thus I give what you refus'd er'e while
“To such as dearly earn'd the far-fetch'd spoil!
This reach'd our Saviour's Ears, but not his Heart:
No dang'rous softness there crept slily in,
Not the first Embryo-motion of a Sin:
The Tempter their design as vain pursues,
96
To whom our Lord—Perish thy gifts with thee!
Alike I scorn thy spite and flattery:
How kind a Friend thou art to man and me
Me, the last Night has shown, man's Off-spring, all
Those mischiefs waiting his unhappy Fall:
Those Oracles which thou so high dost prise
What are they but ambiguous specious Lyes?
That Food with which thou dost thy Vassals treat,
And make each Wretch his own Damnation Eat,
Are either fancy'd Viands, shap'd of Air,
As thy lean Hags with such delusive fare
Oft feasted but still famish'd, plainly shew;
Or else ill-got if solid they, and true:
The richest fare thou canst thy Friends afford
The stol'n remains of some Luxurious board:
Such this, set out with so much pomp and state
Nor can thy pow'r one single grain create:
“To whom thus answer'd Satan male-content
If all's suspect which freely I present,
What follows you by causless Jealousie
Deserve—tis Natures voice friendly to be
With Friends and dreadful to my Enemy:
And thus I give what you refus'd er'e while
“To such as dearly earn'd the far-fetch'd spoil!
He said, strait Meat and Table disappear'd,
Fowl Harpy's Wings and ugly Talons heard;
Each greedy of the Feast a part receiv's
And in their room uncleanly Ordure leav's:
Fowl Harpy's Wings and ugly Talons heard;
Each greedy of the Feast a part receiv's
And in their room uncleanly Ordure leav's:
Soon then th' Arch-Traytor all himself appear'd;
Each monstrous Form that Mortals ever fear'd
Successive he puts on, our Lord t'affright;
No more a glorious Angel rob'd in Light,
Humane no more, a hideous Beak his Nose,
His cank'red Breast blew poys'nous scales inclose;
A Dragons horrid Train behind him grows,
A Dragons Batt-like Wings he did display;
And underneath his hands, no hands were they,
But pounces fit for such a Bird of prey,
In which our Saviour snatcht, he swift did bear,
And with him soars sublime thro' yielding Air;
As some fierce Hawk whose cruel Talons strook
A harmless Dove near Cherith's silver Brook,
Then o'er the neighb'ring Fields with his weak prey
Wheeling, triumphant, cuts his pathless way:
Thus did the Prince of all the Airy host,
Who back from distant Paran's desart Coast
Hurry's our Lord, so his great Fathers Will,
O'er Bozra's Rock and Edom's fruitful Hill,
In whose West-bounds to Moserah they come,
And Hor, renown'd for holy Aaron's Tomb:
Near Sodom's dreadful Lake arriv'd, in hast
Twixt Halak they, and dire Acrabbim past:
Kadesh and Zin, to th' left behind they leave,
Them Debirs airy Regions next receive;
Now Debir 'tis, once Kiriath-sephir nam'd,
For valiant Othniel's dear-bought Conquest fam'd:
Empire and Love his Triumphs did divide
He humbled first the Canaanitish pride,
Then won the charming Achsah for his Bride.
Here the miraculous sight—
Some learn'd Astronomer the People show'd
As o'er the Town, he mark'd their airy road:
Men, Matrons, Children, Maids, all run to see
With hands and eyes uplift the Prodigie:
Short was the sight, they're in a moment gon
To Maon, Ziph, and woody Jeshimon;
Hebron to th' left, which twice a Crown did grace,
And more remov'd, descry that cursed place
Which held of old the faithless fore-skin'd Race:
Gaza by Bezor's brook, and Gerar fair,
Proud Ashdod, Ashkelon, and Ekron, where
While stood Philistia's state, th' Arch-fiend abhorr'd
With Temple and with Altars was ador'd;
Who next o'er Libnah's walls his course did steer,
And leaving on the left strong Lachish near,
They Tekoa's Wood below and Bethlem spy;
Then shooting swift o'er Saveh's Vale descry
Royal Jerusalem, whose Southern bound
By sacred Zion's beauteous Turrets crown'd
Where pleasant Millo lies outstretch'd, they past
Whose walls by Siloam's gentle Waves are washt;
Which thence declining, into Kidron pour
By Sol'mon's royal Seat and Ophel's Tow'r;
Not ev'n to curse the Town th' Arch-rebel stay'd,
But soon from thence our patient Lord convey'd
T'his Fathers house, that spatious Temple, where
All Israel wait with Sacrifice and Pray'r:
Near Herod's lofty Tow'r he with him fell,
And drops him on the highest Pinacle;
On saily Wings then flutt'ring by his side
Him, grinning, thus accosts with scornful pride.
Each monstrous Form that Mortals ever fear'd
Successive he puts on, our Lord t'affright;
No more a glorious Angel rob'd in Light,
Humane no more, a hideous Beak his Nose,
His cank'red Breast blew poys'nous scales inclose;
A Dragons horrid Train behind him grows,
A Dragons Batt-like Wings he did display;
And underneath his hands, no hands were they,
But pounces fit for such a Bird of prey,
In which our Saviour snatcht, he swift did bear,
97
As some fierce Hawk whose cruel Talons strook
A harmless Dove near Cherith's silver Brook,
Then o'er the neighb'ring Fields with his weak prey
Wheeling, triumphant, cuts his pathless way:
Thus did the Prince of all the Airy host,
Who back from distant Paran's desart Coast
Hurry's our Lord, so his great Fathers Will,
O'er Bozra's Rock and Edom's fruitful Hill,
In whose West-bounds to Moserah they come,
And Hor, renown'd for holy Aaron's Tomb:
Near Sodom's dreadful Lake arriv'd, in hast
Twixt Halak they, and dire Acrabbim past:
Kadesh and Zin, to th' left behind they leave,
Them Debirs airy Regions next receive;
Now Debir 'tis, once Kiriath-sephir nam'd,
For valiant Othniel's dear-bought Conquest fam'd:
Empire and Love his Triumphs did divide
He humbled first the Canaanitish pride,
Then won the charming Achsah for his Bride.
Here the miraculous sight—
Some learn'd Astronomer the People show'd
As o'er the Town, he mark'd their airy road:
Men, Matrons, Children, Maids, all run to see
With hands and eyes uplift the Prodigie:
Short was the sight, they're in a moment gon
To Maon, Ziph, and woody Jeshimon;
Hebron to th' left, which twice a Crown did grace,
And more remov'd, descry that cursed place
Which held of old the faithless fore-skin'd Race:
Gaza by Bezor's brook, and Gerar fair,
Proud Ashdod, Ashkelon, and Ekron, where
While stood Philistia's state, th' Arch-fiend abhorr'd
With Temple and with Altars was ador'd;
Who next o'er Libnah's walls his course did steer,
And leaving on the left strong Lachish near,
They Tekoa's Wood below and Bethlem spy;
Then shooting swift o'er Saveh's Vale descry
Royal Jerusalem, whose Southern bound
By sacred Zion's beauteous Turrets crown'd
98
Whose walls by Siloam's gentle Waves are washt;
Which thence declining, into Kidron pour
By Sol'mon's royal Seat and Ophel's Tow'r;
Not ev'n to curse the Town th' Arch-rebel stay'd,
But soon from thence our patient Lord convey'd
T'his Fathers house, that spatious Temple, where
All Israel wait with Sacrifice and Pray'r:
Near Herod's lofty Tow'r he with him fell,
And drops him on the highest Pinacle;
On saily Wings then flutt'ring by his side
Him, grinning, thus accosts with scornful pride.
“There stand, if stand thou canst; thy skill 'twill ask:
—Or wou'dst thou undertake a nobler Task:
Wou'dst thou th' unquestion'd Son of God be hail'd,
(Which much I doubt, since I've so long prevail'd
On thy weak mortal frame) below thee see
Vast Crowds, who leave their Pray'rs to look at thee!
Thee from yon Court the vested Priests perceive,
Their morning Sacrifice unfinish'd leave;
Whilst from the next, with lifted eyes and hands
Thy own lov'd Israel, gazing on thee stands;
And in the Third, thick-kneeling at the Gate
As much amaz'd the humble Gentiles wait;
Wou'd Victims pay, struck with religious fear,
And think they see some God or Hero here:
Now wou'dst thou set thy injur'd Nation free
As did of old the valiant Maccabee,
Now is the time, the golden moment now;
Fate waits thy Will, a greater Hero thou:
No more these marks of Idol-bondage bear,
But drive yon Eagle, proudly perching there
Transfix'd with his own Thunder thro' the Air.
—Or wou'dst thou undertake a nobler Task:
Wou'dst thou th' unquestion'd Son of God be hail'd,
(Which much I doubt, since I've so long prevail'd
On thy weak mortal frame) below thee see
Vast Crowds, who leave their Pray'rs to look at thee!
Thee from yon Court the vested Priests perceive,
Their morning Sacrifice unfinish'd leave;
Whilst from the next, with lifted eyes and hands
Thy own lov'd Israel, gazing on thee stands;
And in the Third, thick-kneeling at the Gate
As much amaz'd the humble Gentiles wait;
Wou'd Victims pay, struck with religious fear,
And think they see some God or Hero here:
Now wou'dst thou set thy injur'd Nation free
As did of old the valiant Maccabee,
Now is the time, the golden moment now;
Fate waits thy Will, a greater Hero thou:
No more these marks of Idol-bondage bear,
But drive yon Eagle, proudly perching there
Transfix'd with his own Thunder thro' the Air.
And see Occasion courts to mighty things
Well-worthy thee and thy long Race of Kings:
Below thee to the right direct thine eyes,
And see Antonia's Tow'r unguarded lies;
On th' other side regardless now of War
The Roman Youth, unbent, and sporting there
In Herod's spatious Amphitheatre:
Or else by Zions Daughters beauty won,
Dropping their Arms already they're undon.
Now may'st thou with success thy Title own;
Now bravely strike and be for ever known!
Thee then if ought the sense of Glory warms,
If Incense pleases, adoration charms;
Or what moves more, if glad thou wou'dst fullfil
What's all thy pleasure, thy great Fathers will;
Who made it Fate, declaring long before,
Thee Men, thee ev'n his Angels should adore;
Plunge hence in sight of all th' admiring Town,
And in the Altars flames waft softly down!
So shall the wond'ring World due honours bring
At once adore the God, and hail the King.
Nor canst thou, if true Heir of Earth and Skies,
Suspect th' event of this bold Enterprize;
For thus, while with his Notes fair Zion rung,
To his Harp inspir'd thy great Fore-father sung.
Well-worthy thee and thy long Race of Kings:
Below thee to the right direct thine eyes,
And see Antonia's Tow'r unguarded lies;
On th' other side regardless now of War
The Roman Youth, unbent, and sporting there
In Herod's spatious Amphitheatre:
99
Dropping their Arms already they're undon.
Now may'st thou with success thy Title own;
Now bravely strike and be for ever known!
Thee then if ought the sense of Glory warms,
If Incense pleases, adoration charms;
Or what moves more, if glad thou wou'dst fullfil
What's all thy pleasure, thy great Fathers will;
Who made it Fate, declaring long before,
Thee Men, thee ev'n his Angels should adore;
Plunge hence in sight of all th' admiring Town,
And in the Altars flames waft softly down!
So shall the wond'ring World due honours bring
At once adore the God, and hail the King.
Nor canst thou, if true Heir of Earth and Skies,
Suspect th' event of this bold Enterprize;
For thus, while with his Notes fair Zion rung,
To his Harp inspir'd thy great Fore-father sung.
Blest is the Man whose sure defence
Firm Faith and spotless Innocence!
Thrice blest, who compast round with Hosts of Foes
Can on the everlasting Arms repose!
Nor will that God whom thou thy hope dost make
Refuse to hear thy gasping Cry:
Nor will he helpless let thee die;
Nor will he thy Protection e'er forsake!
See with what hast the blessed Spirits above
At his Commands fly circling round,
And make thy Dwelling sacred ground!
See with what hast they to thy succour move!
With what officious Care and tender Love!
These, above, soft-hov'ring o'er,
These behind, and these before,
Thy glorious Guard de Cor?
Thee these gentle Spirits shall bear
Unhurt thro' yielding Air,
On their soft Wings, and set thee lightly down
Least thou sho'dst crush thy foot on some relentless stone.
Firm Faith and spotless Innocence!
Thrice blest, who compast round with Hosts of Foes
Can on the everlasting Arms repose!
Nor will that God whom thou thy hope dost make
Refuse to hear thy gasping Cry:
Nor will he helpless let thee die;
Nor will he thy Protection e'er forsake!
See with what hast the blessed Spirits above
At his Commands fly circling round,
And make thy Dwelling sacred ground!
See with what hast they to thy succour move!
With what officious Care and tender Love!
These, above, soft-hov'ring o'er,
These behind, and these before,
Thy glorious Guard de Cor?
Thee these gentle Spirits shall bear
Unhurt thro' yielding Air,
On their soft Wings, and set thee lightly down
Least thou sho'dst crush thy foot on some relentless stone.
100
He said and stopt,—with meekness in his Eyes
Temper'd severe, thus short our Lord replies:
As plain tis Writ.—
When murm'ring Israel went thro' Paran's Coasts,
“Thou shalt not Tempt thy God, the Lord of Hosts,
To whom the Fiend, tho' oft his force he'd try'd
Repuls'd, thus impudent, agen reply'd:
Temper'd severe, thus short our Lord replies:
As plain tis Writ.—
When murm'ring Israel went thro' Paran's Coasts,
“Thou shalt not Tempt thy God, the Lord of Hosts,
To whom the Fiend, tho' oft his force he'd try'd
Repuls'd, thus impudent, agen reply'd:
Less firmness cou'd I not expect to find
In one who owns such an exalted mind:
These petty Crowns with Justice you disdain
Who over all the World deserve to reign,
Come with me then one airy Journey more,
And see what Gifts I've yet reserv'd in store!
Nor sooner had he thus dissembling said
But snatching swift he thence our Lord convey'd
O'er lofty Olivet, who soon below
Enshemesh sees, and beauteous Jericho;
Thence lay their trackless road directly on,
Gilgal to th' left, and ancient Bohan's stone
To'th' right they leave, and thence as swift proceed
O'er Jordan's stream, nor ford nor ferry need;
Which past sublime, they on its Eastern side
The ruins of Ed's doubtful Altar spy'd,
Near Adam and Zaretans ancient Town,
Not far from whence he sets our Saviour down
On Pisgah-mount, whence long before he knew
Some courteous Angel did to Moses shew
Canaans blest Land on Jordan's either side,
Whilst wrapt in Clowds, the sly Seducer pry'd
And learn'd the wond'rous Art, the skill he learn'd
By which far distant Objects are discern'd;
Yet to th' Invention adds, Experience gain'd
By time, part truly shown, tho' more was feign'd:
With Mimic skill did aptly first prepare
Figures exactly wrought of pliant Air;
Then gave 'em Form, with Colours gilt the whole,
And where they needed fill'd with secret Soul.
Towns, Cities, Kingdoms, Bird, and Beast, and Man
All fitly rang'd, the Tempter thus began:
Well have we speeded by my Care and Skill
O'er field and sedgy brook, and dale and hill;
Conducted with no injury but fear
To Moab's plains and this fair station here:
Whence cast thine eyes around and see what e'er
The World can boast of excellent or fair
Of great or good! what e'er thou see'st is mine,
And at an easie rate shall all be thine.
West bending to the South, beneath thee, see
The Desart and the happy Araby!
Those Trains of Men and Beasts which strike thine Eyes
Rich-loaden Caravans of Gold and Spice;
Which Ishmael's wealthy Off-spring far away
Thro' those vast Sands from Persia's Gulf convey
To Zoan's fertile fields, and thence disperse
The wealthy Traffick of the Universe:
Still more to South vast Lubim's Desarts see!
Nor there a Kingdom will I offer thee;
Tho' proud of Golden Sands and Groves of Spice
They their parch'd Country think a Paradice:
From those wide Worlds let thy lost eye retire
And see if ought there is can please thee nigher!
To the great Western Ocean turn thine eyes,
Where many a beauteous Island scatter'd lies
Crete, Cyprus, Rhodes—but thou shalt these despise;
Ev'n fair Trinacria too thou shalt disdain
Whose three sharp Points defie the roaring Main:
To North of which behold yon lovely Plain
Washt by the sounding Sea on either side
Which thro' the midst a Ledge of Hills divide!
See to the South, not far within the Land
Near a fair Stream a Royal City stand;
On seven small pleasant Hills divinely built!
A thousand lofty Turrets richly gilt
She boasting shows, and climing over all
On that steep Rock, the glitt'ring Capitol:
'Tis Rome the Mistress of the World you see,
Which pleas'd shall bend its haughty Neck to thee:
Eternal Rome, which thee her Lord shall own
And raise thee to the Purple and the Throne:
Or wou'dst thou aim at something worthier praise;
By thine own arms a mighty Empire raise;
Over yon clowdy mountains with me go
Whose Tops all horrid with eternal snow;
And see that lovely Plain outstretcht below!
'Twixt where Garumna's waters gently creep,
And rapid Rhene runs foaming to the deep;
Wash'd by the Brittish and Ligustick Seas;
And by yon mighty Hills, (the Pyrenees
From old Tradition them the Natives call,)
Fenc'd to the South,—The fam'd Transalpine Gaul!
The people daring, curious, active, brave,
Yet will be slaves themselves while others they enslave:
Their diff'rent Tribes thou by my help mayst gain,
Unite 'em all and in Lutetia reign:
Nor this fair chance refuse till 'tis too late,
For if aright I scann'd the rolls of Fate
Here shall in after-days a Prince arise
Who tho' thy Name he bears will thee despise,
And aid the banners of thine Enemies:
Nor will like thee my proffer'd help disdain,
But gladly by my Arts and Arms will reign:
I'll make him Great, whoever dares rebel,
Great as my self, enthron'd and crown'd in Hell.
In one who owns such an exalted mind:
These petty Crowns with Justice you disdain
Who over all the World deserve to reign,
Come with me then one airy Journey more,
And see what Gifts I've yet reserv'd in store!
Nor sooner had he thus dissembling said
But snatching swift he thence our Lord convey'd
O'er lofty Olivet, who soon below
Enshemesh sees, and beauteous Jericho;
Thence lay their trackless road directly on,
Gilgal to th' left, and ancient Bohan's stone
To'th' right they leave, and thence as swift proceed
O'er Jordan's stream, nor ford nor ferry need;
Which past sublime, they on its Eastern side
The ruins of Ed's doubtful Altar spy'd,
Near Adam and Zaretans ancient Town,
Not far from whence he sets our Saviour down
On Pisgah-mount, whence long before he knew
Some courteous Angel did to Moses shew
Canaans blest Land on Jordan's either side,
Whilst wrapt in Clowds, the sly Seducer pry'd
And learn'd the wond'rous Art, the skill he learn'd
By which far distant Objects are discern'd;
Yet to th' Invention adds, Experience gain'd
By time, part truly shown, tho' more was feign'd:
With Mimic skill did aptly first prepare
Figures exactly wrought of pliant Air;
Then gave 'em Form, with Colours gilt the whole,
And where they needed fill'd with secret Soul.
Towns, Cities, Kingdoms, Bird, and Beast, and Man
All fitly rang'd, the Tempter thus began:
Well have we speeded by my Care and Skill
101
Conducted with no injury but fear
To Moab's plains and this fair station here:
Whence cast thine eyes around and see what e'er
The World can boast of excellent or fair
Of great or good! what e'er thou see'st is mine,
And at an easie rate shall all be thine.
West bending to the South, beneath thee, see
The Desart and the happy Araby!
Those Trains of Men and Beasts which strike thine Eyes
Rich-loaden Caravans of Gold and Spice;
Which Ishmael's wealthy Off-spring far away
Thro' those vast Sands from Persia's Gulf convey
To Zoan's fertile fields, and thence disperse
The wealthy Traffick of the Universe:
Still more to South vast Lubim's Desarts see!
Nor there a Kingdom will I offer thee;
Tho' proud of Golden Sands and Groves of Spice
They their parch'd Country think a Paradice:
From those wide Worlds let thy lost eye retire
And see if ought there is can please thee nigher!
To the great Western Ocean turn thine eyes,
Where many a beauteous Island scatter'd lies
Crete, Cyprus, Rhodes—but thou shalt these despise;
Ev'n fair Trinacria too thou shalt disdain
Whose three sharp Points defie the roaring Main:
To North of which behold yon lovely Plain
Washt by the sounding Sea on either side
Which thro' the midst a Ledge of Hills divide!
See to the South, not far within the Land
Near a fair Stream a Royal City stand;
On seven small pleasant Hills divinely built!
A thousand lofty Turrets richly gilt
She boasting shows, and climing over all
On that steep Rock, the glitt'ring Capitol:
'Tis Rome the Mistress of the World you see,
Which pleas'd shall bend its haughty Neck to thee:
Eternal Rome, which thee her Lord shall own
And raise thee to the Purple and the Throne:
Or wou'dst thou aim at something worthier praise;
102
Over yon clowdy mountains with me go
Whose Tops all horrid with eternal snow;
And see that lovely Plain outstretcht below!
'Twixt where Garumna's waters gently creep,
And rapid Rhene runs foaming to the deep;
Wash'd by the Brittish and Ligustick Seas;
And by yon mighty Hills, (the Pyrenees
From old Tradition them the Natives call,)
Fenc'd to the South,—The fam'd Transalpine Gaul!
The people daring, curious, active, brave,
Yet will be slaves themselves while others they enslave:
Their diff'rent Tribes thou by my help mayst gain,
Unite 'em all and in Lutetia reign:
Nor this fair chance refuse till 'tis too late,
For if aright I scann'd the rolls of Fate
Here shall in after-days a Prince arise
Who tho' thy Name he bears will thee despise,
And aid the banners of thine Enemies:
Nor will like thee my proffer'd help disdain,
But gladly by my Arts and Arms will reign:
I'll make him Great, whoever dares rebel,
Great as my self, enthron'd and crown'd in Hell.
Or wou'dst thou chuse a less luxuriant Soil
See in the Oceany on fair Western Isle,
Whose three sharp points th' insulting Waves divide!
See with what beauteous Rivers 'tis supply'd!
How rich the happy Fields thro' where they glide!
Well knew the old Phenicians that bless'd place:
Enur'd to Pain, there lives an hardy race;
Daring as Virtues self, for conquest made;
“Peace but their Recreation, War their Trade.
Jealous of Liberty they chains refuse,
Fair Death before inglorious Life they chuse;
Force cannot bend, but kindness may improve,
And mildly melt their gen'rous warmth to Love:
From one they love they never can retire,
But wade thro' Seas of blood and Walls of Fire:
These may thy Goodness and thy Wisdom charm,
Thy heav'nly Eloquence their rage disarm:
Polish the rugged mass, their Gold refine,
And make 't in its own native Lustre shine;
The gentle Arts of Peace implanting there,
Well worthy thy best Industry and Care.
Or woud'st thou rather them by Force obtain,
By Laws unbridled, absolutely reign,
As likes thee best thou shalt the Scepter gain:
Tho' that must cost us blood—See gath'ring there
Upon the Gallic side a hovering War
Refug'd Androgeus to the Throne to bear!
Of Horse and Foot the dusty-squadrons move,
Their skill they try, and Piles and Javelins prove:
Charge, and retreat, and wheel and charge agen:
Huge weighty Cataphracts, and Iron men
With other Troops commix'd, whose arms more light,
To change fair Albions cliffs to red from white:
If they go there, they must expect to fight!
For cross the Morine Seas (nor Sail nor Oar
Our passage needs,) on the Rutupian shore
Near Dubris point cov'ring the blacken'd strand
See there a thousand Chariots plough the Sand!
Ten thousand Warriers trebled, mustring near,
Each arm'd with Dart and Sword and knotty Spear.
Heark with what eager Shouts they rend the Skies
In hope to grapple soon their Enemies!
Yon milk-white-Steed, now stately trots around,
Now paws the Sand and beats the ecchoing Ground;
Proud of its weight, its Riders Glory shares,
The great, the brave Cassibelan it bears.
What diff'rent Int'rests he together ties:
What Worlds he arms 'gainst Britains Enemies!
Soul of the League and Head of the Allies.
Tho' Rome's proud Gen'ral's all the VVorld esteem
None ev'r coud think, or speak, or act like him;
In Counsel cool, in Action brave and warm,
Pallas his Head directs, and Mars his Arm:
Pursues unweary'd what he undertakes,
Ev'n of ill-Fortune just advantage makes?
Yet that he's Great he hardly seems to know,
Altho', except himself, all think him so.
Ev'n I must praise him, yet if thou to me,
I'll make him bend and homage pay to thee.
See in the Oceany on fair Western Isle,
Whose three sharp points th' insulting Waves divide!
See with what beauteous Rivers 'tis supply'd!
How rich the happy Fields thro' where they glide!
Well knew the old Phenicians that bless'd place:
Enur'd to Pain, there lives an hardy race;
Daring as Virtues self, for conquest made;
“Peace but their Recreation, War their Trade.
Jealous of Liberty they chains refuse,
Fair Death before inglorious Life they chuse;
Force cannot bend, but kindness may improve,
And mildly melt their gen'rous warmth to Love:
From one they love they never can retire,
But wade thro' Seas of blood and Walls of Fire:
These may thy Goodness and thy Wisdom charm,
Thy heav'nly Eloquence their rage disarm:
103
And make 't in its own native Lustre shine;
The gentle Arts of Peace implanting there,
Well worthy thy best Industry and Care.
Or woud'st thou rather them by Force obtain,
By Laws unbridled, absolutely reign,
As likes thee best thou shalt the Scepter gain:
Tho' that must cost us blood—See gath'ring there
Upon the Gallic side a hovering War
Refug'd Androgeus to the Throne to bear!
Of Horse and Foot the dusty-squadrons move,
Their skill they try, and Piles and Javelins prove:
Charge, and retreat, and wheel and charge agen:
Huge weighty Cataphracts, and Iron men
With other Troops commix'd, whose arms more light,
To change fair Albions cliffs to red from white:
If they go there, they must expect to fight!
For cross the Morine Seas (nor Sail nor Oar
Our passage needs,) on the Rutupian shore
Near Dubris point cov'ring the blacken'd strand
See there a thousand Chariots plough the Sand!
Ten thousand Warriers trebled, mustring near,
Each arm'd with Dart and Sword and knotty Spear.
Heark with what eager Shouts they rend the Skies
In hope to grapple soon their Enemies!
Yon milk-white-Steed, now stately trots around,
Now paws the Sand and beats the ecchoing Ground;
Proud of its weight, its Riders Glory shares,
The great, the brave Cassibelan it bears.
What diff'rent Int'rests he together ties:
What Worlds he arms 'gainst Britains Enemies!
Soul of the League and Head of the Allies.
Tho' Rome's proud Gen'ral's all the VVorld esteem
None ev'r coud think, or speak, or act like him;
In Counsel cool, in Action brave and warm,
Pallas his Head directs, and Mars his Arm:
Pursues unweary'd what he undertakes,
Ev'n of ill-Fortune just advantage makes?
Yet that he's Great he hardly seems to know,
Altho', except himself, all think him so.
104
I'll make him bend and homage pay to thee.
Thus have I offer'd what the world can boast
Of Rich or Great upon the Western Coast:
But ah! how little have I yet reveal'd,
To what's behind ith' wealthier East conceal'd.
Nor will I, in the passage, ask thy Eyes
For Dammesek, that earthly Paradise;
Nor stay thee long by fair Euphrates side,
Tho' there the Roman and the Parthian pride
This instant friendly meet, in yon small Isle
And Herod both attempts to reconcile:
Brave Artaban is he who highest there
Is plac'd—Observe his great, his warlike air!
Sprung from the old Arsacidæ
Much less will we in those wide regions stay
Where mighty Indus headlong cuts its way,
Thro' whose vast Currents Alexander hurl'd
Some Desarts won, and thought h' had all the World:
Still further on to' utmost Eastern bound
Direct thine Eye—“Where no more World is found:
Wide Fields, rich Towns, tall Groves, fair Rivers see,
Here, Son of God, 's a Country worthy thee?
No Histories as yet its Name have shown,
To Rome alike, and fabling Greece unknown.
'Tis China call'd, unnumber'd Millions there,
Who live so well, th' almost deserve thy care:
Pious and good, mild and ingenuous they,
One King, one God, those spacious realms obey.
There Arts and Arms in such perfection be,
As this cold Western World did never see:
Yon River which against the Temple glides
And thence exact in two vast streams divides.
That Bridge, prodigious, hanging in the air,
That more prodigious Wall outstretching there;
Wild Magogs's wand'ring off-spring to restrain,
Tho' oft it tries to curb their rage in vain,
All these th' effect of industry and pain,
All mortal works, altho' they hardly less
Than some divine Artificer confess.
There reigns a peaceful Prince, who, did he see
Thy Virtue, gladly wou'd submit to thee,
And hold his Kingdom as thy Deputy.
Of Rich or Great upon the Western Coast:
But ah! how little have I yet reveal'd,
To what's behind ith' wealthier East conceal'd.
Nor will I, in the passage, ask thy Eyes
For Dammesek, that earthly Paradise;
Nor stay thee long by fair Euphrates side,
Tho' there the Roman and the Parthian pride
This instant friendly meet, in yon small Isle
And Herod both attempts to reconcile:
Brave Artaban is he who highest there
Is plac'd—Observe his great, his warlike air!
Sprung from the old Arsacidæ
Much less will we in those wide regions stay
Where mighty Indus headlong cuts its way,
Thro' whose vast Currents Alexander hurl'd
Some Desarts won, and thought h' had all the World:
Still further on to' utmost Eastern bound
Direct thine Eye—“Where no more World is found:
Wide Fields, rich Towns, tall Groves, fair Rivers see,
Here, Son of God, 's a Country worthy thee?
No Histories as yet its Name have shown,
To Rome alike, and fabling Greece unknown.
'Tis China call'd, unnumber'd Millions there,
Who live so well, th' almost deserve thy care:
Pious and good, mild and ingenuous they,
One King, one God, those spacious realms obey.
There Arts and Arms in such perfection be,
As this cold Western World did never see:
Yon River which against the Temple glides
And thence exact in two vast streams divides.
That Bridge, prodigious, hanging in the air,
That more prodigious Wall outstretching there;
Wild Magogs's wand'ring off-spring to restrain,
Tho' oft it tries to curb their rage in vain,
All these th' effect of industry and pain,
All mortal works, altho' they hardly less
Than some divine Artificer confess.
105
Thy Virtue, gladly wou'd submit to thee,
And hold his Kingdom as thy Deputy.
More woud'st thou yet? from my exhaustless store
I've shown thee all this World, but yet have more:
Yet farther Worlds. For still more Northward see
Bending to East, what num'rous Droves there be
Marching in haste, a potent Colony
For a new World; from those I'll Subjects raise
Which shall be mine to long succeeding days:
See that small Strait already cover'd o'r,
Already have they reach'd the happy Shore,
One of my menial Spirits walks before:
First strikes that mighty Islands Western strand,
And safe conducts 'em to their destin'd Land:
Look not with partial Eyes, and you'll confess
Canaan itself 's to this a Wilderness:
A beauteous Face of Nature yet unseen,
The Flow'rs still fresh, the Trees are ever green;
Trees ever since the Worlds Creation, grown,
Delicious Fruits of Tasts and Names unknown!
You'd Eshcol's Grapes despise, if these I'd bring:
No Winter there, there reigns eternal Spring:
Hither, lest me my Subjects shou'd disown
At your approach, you all and I have none;
This chosen few I hither did convey
Where I'll enjoy an undisputed sway.
This promis'd Land I frankly gave, nor I
Am always envious, nor do always lye:
Nor from my Slaves large Tribute ask, content
With homage paid, and just acknowledgment:
Me Prince o'th' airy Host thy Father made,
Whom ever since have Spirits and Storms obey'd.
God of this World by him himself I'm stil'd,
And, like a God, I'm placable and mild
To those adore me—No uneasie task!
Yet this is all for all the World I ask;
Nay take both Worlds—here I'll erect thy Throne,
From East to West sway this vast Globe alone!
This only shall the fair Condition be
From us, as God, accept it on thy knee,
And as we're Heav'ns, be thou our Deputy!
I've shown thee all this World, but yet have more:
Yet farther Worlds. For still more Northward see
Bending to East, what num'rous Droves there be
Marching in haste, a potent Colony
For a new World; from those I'll Subjects raise
Which shall be mine to long succeeding days:
See that small Strait already cover'd o'r,
Already have they reach'd the happy Shore,
One of my menial Spirits walks before:
First strikes that mighty Islands Western strand,
And safe conducts 'em to their destin'd Land:
Look not with partial Eyes, and you'll confess
Canaan itself 's to this a Wilderness:
A beauteous Face of Nature yet unseen,
The Flow'rs still fresh, the Trees are ever green;
Trees ever since the Worlds Creation, grown,
Delicious Fruits of Tasts and Names unknown!
You'd Eshcol's Grapes despise, if these I'd bring:
No Winter there, there reigns eternal Spring:
Hither, lest me my Subjects shou'd disown
At your approach, you all and I have none;
This chosen few I hither did convey
Where I'll enjoy an undisputed sway.
This promis'd Land I frankly gave, nor I
Am always envious, nor do always lye:
Nor from my Slaves large Tribute ask, content
With homage paid, and just acknowledgment:
Me Prince o'th' airy Host thy Father made,
Whom ever since have Spirits and Storms obey'd.
God of this World by him himself I'm stil'd,
And, like a God, I'm placable and mild
To those adore me—No uneasie task!
Yet this is all for all the World I ask;
Nay take both Worlds—here I'll erect thy Throne,
From East to West sway this vast Globe alone!
106
From us, as God, accept it on thy knee,
And as we're Heav'ns, be thou our Deputy!
Unmov'd, our Lord till then the Tempter bore,
But when he thus blasphem'd, wou'd hear no more.
He lets thro his weak humane Nature shine,
As Sol thro' Clouds, one Ray of the Divine:
With this he drove the wicked Tempter thence,
When thus he'd said—Blasphemer get thee hence!
Thy time's elaps'd—Too much I heard before,
But now thy arrogance will bear no more:
'Tis writ—“The Lord thy God alone adore!
That God whose Vengeance thou woud'st scape in vain,
Who black Blasphemers dooms to endless Pain.
But when he thus blasphem'd, wou'd hear no more.
He lets thro his weak humane Nature shine,
As Sol thro' Clouds, one Ray of the Divine:
With this he drove the wicked Tempter thence,
When thus he'd said—Blasphemer get thee hence!
Thy time's elaps'd—Too much I heard before,
But now thy arrogance will bear no more:
'Tis writ—“The Lord thy God alone adore!
That God whose Vengeance thou woud'st scape in vain,
Who black Blasphemers dooms to endless Pain.
Enrag'd, confus'd, defeated, cursing fell,
Gnawing his Tongue, the baffl'd Prince of Hell:
Such Looks and Words he cou'd no longer bear,
His short-liv'd World's dissolv'd and lost in Air;
And down he sinks blaspheming in despair:
Did thence to th' howling Wilderness retire,
Born in a dusky Globe of Smoak and Fire.
Gnawing his Tongue, the baffl'd Prince of Hell:
Such Looks and Words he cou'd no longer bear,
His short-liv'd World's dissolv'd and lost in Air;
And down he sinks blaspheming in despair:
Did thence to th' howling Wilderness retire,
Born in a dusky Globe of Smoak and Fire.
The End of the Third Book.
114
BOOK IV.
THE ARGUMENT OF THE Fourth BOOK.
Our Saviour having now foil'd the Enemy, the Angels, who had all the while hovered over and been Spectators of the Combat, descend with a Banquet, and sing a Song of Triumph on his Victory, which ended, they wait him back to Jordan. The Baptist's further Testimony concerning him. Our Lord, departing thence, enters on his Ministerial Office; and ascending the Mount of the Beatitudes, chuses his Twelve Apostles, and then preaches that famous Sermon, containing the chief Heads of his Religion. Which he begins with an Enquiry after Happiness, removing the commonly received Notions about it, and fixing it rather in their Contraries. After which he repeats the Ten Commandments; assuring his Auditors he came not to destroy but to fulfil them; and instructs in Alms, Fasting, Prayer, and other Duties, giving 'em a particular Form to assist their Devotion, and concludes his Discourse with a lively Parable of two Houses, one built on the Rock, the other on the Sand. The Sermon finished, our Lord descends from the Mountain, and preaches in Galilee; working his first Miracle at Cana; and at Naim, not far from it, restoring the Widow's Son to Life. In the mean while the Baptist continued preaching Repentance, and acquiring a great Veneration among the People, and even from Herod himself, at that time Tetrarch of Galilee, who reforms from all his Vices but his unlawful Love to Herodias. The manner of his falling in Love with her; his Courtship, and, at length, accomplishing his Desires under the pretence of Platonic Love and an innocent Friendship. Their Familiarity continuing so long, till it grew publick; which St. John hearing of, comes to Court, and boldly reproves the King. At which Herodias being enrag'd, gets him imprisoned in Machætus, and some time after beheaded; he having first prophesied of the Invasion of Galilee, and the Discomfiture of Herod's Army; which soon after come to pass. Aretas, the King of Arabia, being enrag'd at the Injury done to his Daughter, whom Herod had formerly married; and entring his Country with an Army, which Herod prepares to encounter; but his Forces forsake him, and he loses the Day. All which our Saviour having advice of, and of the Rage of Herod upon these Losses, retires, with his Disciples, into the Desarts of Bethsaida.
115
'Tis pleasant, when the rugged Storm is o'er,
To see the Waves expiring on the Shore:
Like some new World, at distance to behold
The Silver Hills all Flame with heav'nly Gold:
The chiding Winds all hush'd, the Sky look fair,
The Fields in Smiles new clad, Sea, Earth and Air
A diff'rent Face put on, a diff'rent Dress,
And Mother Nature's self her Joys express:
So shin'd the Son of God, whose Love to Man,
His Conquests in his Suff'rings thus began;
Tho press'd with weight he still more pow'rful rose,
And, when he pleas'd, shook off th' infernal Foes;
Who, when they his unequal Might assay'd,
In vain so many a furious Onset made,
Slunk desp'rate back to their own conscious Shade:
Nor long remov'd, e'er brighter Guards were there,
Wafted, Triumphant thro' the yielding Air.
Hymning their Head, the heav'nly Host descend,
Who did before their needless Aid suspend,
And hov'ring high the VVars event attend:
Nor unconcern'd Spectators, had they staid,
But each in their own glitt'ring Arms array'd;
Indignant, saw the Fiend our Lord assail,
And o'er what Mortal was, so far prevail:
Saw the foul Spirit him mild and patient bear,
From place to place wide hurry'd in the Air;
Unfir'd, their dreadful Bolts cou'd hardly keep,
Oft had they sunk the Rebel to the Deep,
And Thunder-nail'd him there—
Oft had their ancient Valour on him shown,
Had they receiv'd Commission from the Throne;
Nor durst beyond their Line one step proceed,
Nor did our Lord th' officious Kindness need;
Nor did their Loyal Aid and Love refuse,
In Triumph, which in VVar he wou'd not use;
Tho' all the while he knew and mark'd 'em there,
And beckons now away; thro' yielding Air
They instantaneous glide, as Thoughts can fly,
Untrack'd, from East to West, from Earth to Sky:
Manna, Ambrosial-food, before him lay'd,
And VVine in beauteous Eden newly made;
Who tasts of these will regal Boards despise;
Such Angels, such the bless'd in Paradise:
No dregs they leave, nor earthly rellish know,
Nor ever tempt to these vain Joys below;
But Hope, and Peace, and heav'nly Love inspire,
And warm the Soul with pure immortal Fire:
While these our Lord upon the verdant ground
Refresh'd, his shining Train kept Guard around:
Some chearful wait, i'th' Air some hov'ring hung;
And thus his mighty Deeds in mighty Numbers Sung.
To see the Waves expiring on the Shore:
Like some new World, at distance to behold
The Silver Hills all Flame with heav'nly Gold:
The chiding Winds all hush'd, the Sky look fair,
The Fields in Smiles new clad, Sea, Earth and Air
A diff'rent Face put on, a diff'rent Dress,
And Mother Nature's self her Joys express:
So shin'd the Son of God, whose Love to Man,
His Conquests in his Suff'rings thus began;
116
And, when he pleas'd, shook off th' infernal Foes;
Who, when they his unequal Might assay'd,
In vain so many a furious Onset made,
Slunk desp'rate back to their own conscious Shade:
Nor long remov'd, e'er brighter Guards were there,
Wafted, Triumphant thro' the yielding Air.
Hymning their Head, the heav'nly Host descend,
Who did before their needless Aid suspend,
And hov'ring high the VVars event attend:
Nor unconcern'd Spectators, had they staid,
But each in their own glitt'ring Arms array'd;
Indignant, saw the Fiend our Lord assail,
And o'er what Mortal was, so far prevail:
Saw the foul Spirit him mild and patient bear,
From place to place wide hurry'd in the Air;
Unfir'd, their dreadful Bolts cou'd hardly keep,
Oft had they sunk the Rebel to the Deep,
And Thunder-nail'd him there—
Oft had their ancient Valour on him shown,
Had they receiv'd Commission from the Throne;
Nor durst beyond their Line one step proceed,
Nor did our Lord th' officious Kindness need;
Nor did their Loyal Aid and Love refuse,
In Triumph, which in VVar he wou'd not use;
Tho' all the while he knew and mark'd 'em there,
And beckons now away; thro' yielding Air
They instantaneous glide, as Thoughts can fly,
Untrack'd, from East to West, from Earth to Sky:
Manna, Ambrosial-food, before him lay'd,
And VVine in beauteous Eden newly made;
Who tasts of these will regal Boards despise;
Such Angels, such the bless'd in Paradise:
No dregs they leave, nor earthly rellish know,
Nor ever tempt to these vain Joys below;
But Hope, and Peace, and heav'nly Love inspire,
And warm the Soul with pure immortal Fire:
While these our Lord upon the verdant ground
Refresh'd, his shining Train kept Guard around:
Some chearful wait, i'th' Air some hov'ring hung;
117
Hail, Son of God! announc'd, confest, approv'd!
Saviour of Man, and Head of Angels hail!
Thee thus ador'd we sing; thus cast our Crowns,
With trembling aw, at thy triumphant Feet:
Before all Worlds, who, from the Mount of God,
When Lucifer had half dis-peopled Heav'n,
“Ledst forth th' embattel'd Seraphim to fight;
Met at the Head of his rebellious War,
Didst seize th' Arch-Traitor, all his Bands disperse,
And crush 'em underneath thy flaming Wheels.
We saw 'em from the top of Heav'ns high-Wall,
We saw 'em tumbl' abrupt, and Chaos wide,
Struck with a dreadful Flash of unknown Light,
Shrink back its sooty Waves, and inward roll
To find a new Abyss; till wheeling down,
Like falling Stars, th' Exile Spirits of Heav'n
On its black Bosom hiss'd, thick sprinkled o'er
With scatter'd Drops of dying sulph'rous Flame:
They, deep confin'd, thou, O Eternal Word,
Didst will this beauteous World from the dark Void:
High Hills, rich Dales, sweet Springs, Sea, Earth and Sky,
And those Eternal Lamps which flame above
To light the Lord of the Creation, Man;
The best, the last Essay of Wit divine;
Whose Godlike Form thou didst with Soul inspire,
Thee not unapt to Know and Love, design'd
To fill those Seats th' Apostate Angels lost,
And plac'd him happy in sweet Paradise:
Envious th' Arch-Fiend beheld, his Iron Teeth,
Vexatious, gnash'd with rage and rancour fell,
That Man shou'd Lord it o'er so fair a VVorld:
Shot up thro' Chaos and the frighted Deep,
On dang'rous Expedition bent, t'explore
His Rival's Force; then grapple and subdue,
And Captive drag t'his own Eternal Night;
Who, ah! too far prevail'd; nor cou'd weak Man,
The Woman and the Fiend, when leagu'd, resist:
He eat, he fell; the sick Creation groan'd,
And sympathiz'd with their lost Master's Fate:
We sighing saw the ruins of the World;
So wide the Breach we knew no Remedy;
Nor all our Wisdom Methods cou'd invent,
T'attone thy justly anger'd Father's Wrath,
Punish th' Arch-Fiend accurst, and Man restore:
Till in deep Consult of th' Eternal Three,
Thou didst stand forth and chuse the mighty Task;
The weight of heav'nly Vengeance chuse to bear;
Which feeble Mortals wou'd have crush'd to Hell:
The old Red-Dragon met, O spotless Dove!
By thy unequal Arms is doom'd to fall,
Tho' thou no Thunder in the Fight wilt use,
But naked Virtue, and pure Innocence.
Thou the chast Womans-Seed, O Virgin-born!
The mighty Serpent's vainly-threatning Head
Shalt crush beyond retrieve; while Spirits enrag'd,
And Life at once, and yellow Venom flow
From his wide Mouth, that open Sepulchre:
In long volum'nous Folds outstretch'd he lies,
The Wonder and the Burden of the Earth:
Hell's Principality thou shalt destroy,
And stoln Dominion here; while Thunderstruck,
And hurl'd headlong, the grinning Fiends forsake
Their Temples and fallacious Oracles:
What tho' their Malice, desp'rate, may prevail,
Permitted, o'er thy frail Humanity?
The God's still safe, and smiles at their weak rage;
While they their own Confusion only gain.
Hell's Masterpiece is Ill from Good to draw,
The Art of Heav'n Good from the worst of Ill:
Thy Death the Life of Man, a Ransom paid,
To thy just Father's Wrath for the lost World:
Which from his Bosom thou in mortal Clay
Didst come, first to instruct, and then to save.
Thy Triumphs here begin, O Son of God!
The Tempter foild with all his boasted Arts:
He no uxorious Adam found in thee,
No vain-consenting Eve—Salvation, Pow'r,
And Strength and Might, and Thanks, and Praise, and Love,
We thus ascribe to thee, O spotless Lamb!
Thus Allelujah! Allelujah sing.
Saviour of Man, and Head of Angels hail!
Thee thus ador'd we sing; thus cast our Crowns,
With trembling aw, at thy triumphant Feet:
Before all Worlds, who, from the Mount of God,
When Lucifer had half dis-peopled Heav'n,
“Ledst forth th' embattel'd Seraphim to fight;
Met at the Head of his rebellious War,
Didst seize th' Arch-Traitor, all his Bands disperse,
And crush 'em underneath thy flaming Wheels.
We saw 'em from the top of Heav'ns high-Wall,
We saw 'em tumbl' abrupt, and Chaos wide,
Struck with a dreadful Flash of unknown Light,
Shrink back its sooty Waves, and inward roll
To find a new Abyss; till wheeling down,
Like falling Stars, th' Exile Spirits of Heav'n
On its black Bosom hiss'd, thick sprinkled o'er
With scatter'd Drops of dying sulph'rous Flame:
They, deep confin'd, thou, O Eternal Word,
Didst will this beauteous World from the dark Void:
High Hills, rich Dales, sweet Springs, Sea, Earth and Sky,
And those Eternal Lamps which flame above
To light the Lord of the Creation, Man;
The best, the last Essay of Wit divine;
Whose Godlike Form thou didst with Soul inspire,
Thee not unapt to Know and Love, design'd
To fill those Seats th' Apostate Angels lost,
And plac'd him happy in sweet Paradise:
Envious th' Arch-Fiend beheld, his Iron Teeth,
Vexatious, gnash'd with rage and rancour fell,
That Man shou'd Lord it o'er so fair a VVorld:
Shot up thro' Chaos and the frighted Deep,
On dang'rous Expedition bent, t'explore
His Rival's Force; then grapple and subdue,
And Captive drag t'his own Eternal Night;
Who, ah! too far prevail'd; nor cou'd weak Man,
The Woman and the Fiend, when leagu'd, resist:
He eat, he fell; the sick Creation groan'd,
And sympathiz'd with their lost Master's Fate:
118
So wide the Breach we knew no Remedy;
Nor all our Wisdom Methods cou'd invent,
T'attone thy justly anger'd Father's Wrath,
Punish th' Arch-Fiend accurst, and Man restore:
Till in deep Consult of th' Eternal Three,
Thou didst stand forth and chuse the mighty Task;
The weight of heav'nly Vengeance chuse to bear;
Which feeble Mortals wou'd have crush'd to Hell:
The old Red-Dragon met, O spotless Dove!
By thy unequal Arms is doom'd to fall,
Tho' thou no Thunder in the Fight wilt use,
But naked Virtue, and pure Innocence.
Thou the chast Womans-Seed, O Virgin-born!
The mighty Serpent's vainly-threatning Head
Shalt crush beyond retrieve; while Spirits enrag'd,
And Life at once, and yellow Venom flow
From his wide Mouth, that open Sepulchre:
In long volum'nous Folds outstretch'd he lies,
The Wonder and the Burden of the Earth:
Hell's Principality thou shalt destroy,
And stoln Dominion here; while Thunderstruck,
And hurl'd headlong, the grinning Fiends forsake
Their Temples and fallacious Oracles:
What tho' their Malice, desp'rate, may prevail,
Permitted, o'er thy frail Humanity?
The God's still safe, and smiles at their weak rage;
While they their own Confusion only gain.
Hell's Masterpiece is Ill from Good to draw,
The Art of Heav'n Good from the worst of Ill:
Thy Death the Life of Man, a Ransom paid,
To thy just Father's Wrath for the lost World:
Which from his Bosom thou in mortal Clay
Didst come, first to instruct, and then to save.
Thy Triumphs here begin, O Son of God!
The Tempter foild with all his boasted Arts:
He no uxorious Adam found in thee,
No vain-consenting Eve—Salvation, Pow'r,
And Strength and Might, and Thanks, and Praise, and Love,
We thus ascribe to thee, O spotless Lamb!
119
Here ending, they their Lord triumphant bore,
To Jordan's reedy Banks, not long before
Bless'd with his sacred Feet, where lately he,
Baptiz'd by the great Son of Zachary,
All Righteousness fulfill'd—The Crowd, who mourn'd
His Loss, surpriz'd with Joy when he return'd.
Nor sooner him agen the Baptist spy'd,
When loud, 'tis he! Extatic all, he cry'd:
See Israel, see the Lamb of God, design'd
To purge your Sins, your heavy Chains unbind!
Him his great Father from the Clouds confest,
And I, th' attesting Dove my self attest:
He, the Messiah, freely I disclaim,
That next to our unutterable Name!
Me, tho unworthy, did high Heav'n prefer,
E'er his approach, to be his Harbinger;
That Israel him might with due Honours meet,
Unworthy e'en to kneel and kiss his Feet:
Tho' after-born, existing long before;
Shou'd we thro vast Eternal Ages soar,
His Birth we cannot reach—
He still must Live, while I to Dust descend;
His Kingdom and his Glory know no end.
To Jordan's reedy Banks, not long before
Bless'd with his sacred Feet, where lately he,
Baptiz'd by the great Son of Zachary,
All Righteousness fulfill'd—The Crowd, who mourn'd
His Loss, surpriz'd with Joy when he return'd.
Nor sooner him agen the Baptist spy'd,
When loud, 'tis he! Extatic all, he cry'd:
See Israel, see the Lamb of God, design'd
To purge your Sins, your heavy Chains unbind!
Him his great Father from the Clouds confest,
And I, th' attesting Dove my self attest:
He, the Messiah, freely I disclaim,
That next to our unutterable Name!
Me, tho unworthy, did high Heav'n prefer,
E'er his approach, to be his Harbinger;
That Israel him might with due Honours meet,
Unworthy e'en to kneel and kiss his Feet:
Tho' after-born, existing long before;
Shou'd we thro vast Eternal Ages soar,
His Birth we cannot reach—
He still must Live, while I to Dust descend;
His Kingdom and his Glory know no end.
He said, agen our Lord himself withdrew,
Tho' closely followed by a faithful few:
Who learn'd what Arts to use, what Methods take,
Others as happy as themselves to make:
Envious of none; more Rivals they desir'd,
Each Day, each Hour their Master more admir'd.
Thro' Galilee's wide Coast soon spread his Name,
His Auditors encreasing with his Fame:
Thick rolling Crowds promiscuous far and near,
Attend, the way to Life and Bliss to hear:
For ev'ry Ill mirac'lous Ease they find,
All Maladies of Body and of Mind.
Tho' closely followed by a faithful few:
Who learn'd what Arts to use, what Methods take,
Others as happy as themselves to make:
Envious of none; more Rivals they desir'd,
Each Day, each Hour their Master more admir'd.
Thro' Galilee's wide Coast soon spread his Name,
His Auditors encreasing with his Fame:
Thick rolling Crowds promiscuous far and near,
Attend, the way to Life and Bliss to hear:
For ev'ry Ill mirac'lous Ease they find,
All Maladies of Body and of Mind.
An easie Hill there is, whence looking down
Tiberias here, there fair Bethsaida's Town,
At equal distance seen; our Saviour there,
Did first entire his Father's Will declare.
Well pleas'd, around the plenteous Harvest saw;
And further still t'advance the Sacred Law,
Twice six did from his constant Foll'wers chuse,
Who might the same thro' the vast Globe diffuse.
The Noble, Great and Learn'd he did not take,
Poor Fishers most, who on the neighb'ring Lake,
In honest Industry their Lives had spent,
Equally Ignorant and Innocent:
Barjonas first, still eager to engage
In the fair Cause, and first in Zeal and Age;
Firm as a Rock, he bold our Lord confest,
Thence Cephas nam'd, by him who knows him best.
His Brother Andrew, of unspotted Fame,
The next, both from Bethsaida's Villa came:
Thence Philip, who Nathanael did invite,
Approv'd an undissembling Isra'lite:
Matthew, who freely did the VVorld forsake,
Fair Seat, and gainful Office on the Lake,
Near proud Capernaum: the lesser James,
Who justly honourable Kinred claims,
With our Lov'd Lord; Simon, whom Cana names,
His Brother Jude—All three did Mary bear
To Cleophas: next Jude our Treasurer;
Iscariot from his Birth-place styl'd; and he,
Whom his glad Mother in her Arms did see
But half a Birth—
We, more than all the rest of that high Grace,
Unworthy, fill the last and humblest place:
Zebedee's Sons, o'th' Galilean Race.
Tiberias here, there fair Bethsaida's Town,
At equal distance seen; our Saviour there,
Did first entire his Father's Will declare.
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And further still t'advance the Sacred Law,
Twice six did from his constant Foll'wers chuse,
Who might the same thro' the vast Globe diffuse.
The Noble, Great and Learn'd he did not take,
Poor Fishers most, who on the neighb'ring Lake,
In honest Industry their Lives had spent,
Equally Ignorant and Innocent:
Barjonas first, still eager to engage
In the fair Cause, and first in Zeal and Age;
Firm as a Rock, he bold our Lord confest,
Thence Cephas nam'd, by him who knows him best.
His Brother Andrew, of unspotted Fame,
The next, both from Bethsaida's Villa came:
Thence Philip, who Nathanael did invite,
Approv'd an undissembling Isra'lite:
Matthew, who freely did the VVorld forsake,
Fair Seat, and gainful Office on the Lake,
Near proud Capernaum: the lesser James,
Who justly honourable Kinred claims,
With our Lov'd Lord; Simon, whom Cana names,
His Brother Jude—All three did Mary bear
To Cleophas: next Jude our Treasurer;
Iscariot from his Birth-place styl'd; and he,
Whom his glad Mother in her Arms did see
But half a Birth—
We, more than all the rest of that high Grace,
Unworthy, fill the last and humblest place:
Zebedee's Sons, o'th' Galilean Race.
This past, to us he his bless'd Law reveal'd,
Which from the Wise and Prudent is conceal'd:
What Noble Paradoxes did he teach?
Above what humane VVisdom e'er cou'd reach;
As much beneath his Worth is our Esteem;
Sure never Man e'er spake, or liv'd like him!
He all false Eloquence, all Colours he
Of Grecian, or of Roman Sophistry
Disdain'd; nor Popularly low he bow'd,
To beg, or steal Applauses from the Crowd:
His Truths in their own native Beauty shine,
Deliver'd with Authority divine:
They pierc'd the secret Soul where e'r they came,
And warm'd each conscious Breast with heav'nly Flame:
Hear Fathers part of what he then express'd!
And, O that you from him wou'd learn the rest!
Which from the Wise and Prudent is conceal'd:
What Noble Paradoxes did he teach?
Above what humane VVisdom e'er cou'd reach;
As much beneath his Worth is our Esteem;
Sure never Man e'er spake, or liv'd like him!
He all false Eloquence, all Colours he
Of Grecian, or of Roman Sophistry
Disdain'd; nor Popularly low he bow'd,
To beg, or steal Applauses from the Crowd:
His Truths in their own native Beauty shine,
121
They pierc'd the secret Soul where e'r they came,
And warm'd each conscious Breast with heav'nly Flame:
Hear Fathers part of what he then express'd!
And, O that you from him wou'd learn the rest!
Our Saviour's Sermon of the Beatitudes, Matth. V.
Mistaken
men! He cries, who still complain,
Still search for happiness, but search in vain,
For when you dream you've found it, false as fair
It cheats your clasping arms with empty air.
There are who think their Bliss fast lockt they hold,
If their strong Chests are fill'd with Ophirs gold:
Base vulgar drossie minds, with more alloy
Then is that captive wealth they might enjoy;
Which Thieves may steal, which Rust or Fire destroy;
True happiness is always in our pow'r,
Beyond the reach of one unlucky hour
To rend away, 'tis for its self desir'd,
While Riches are for something else admir'd,
Pleasure or Ease, nor therefore can they be
The solid Basis of Felicity.
Woe, woe, eternal woe and pain are near
To those who only place their Treasure here.
Sooner may happiness be found with them
Whom for their Poverty the World contemn;
Who, when my Honour and their Conscience call
With generous unconcern'dness part with all:
If Providence a larger stock affords,
Its Gifts enjoy as Stewards, not as Lords:
These, rich in Faith, to Heav'n directly tend,
Heirs of a Kingdom that shall never end.
Still search for happiness, but search in vain,
For when you dream you've found it, false as fair
It cheats your clasping arms with empty air.
There are who think their Bliss fast lockt they hold,
If their strong Chests are fill'd with Ophirs gold:
Base vulgar drossie minds, with more alloy
Then is that captive wealth they might enjoy;
Which Thieves may steal, which Rust or Fire destroy;
True happiness is always in our pow'r,
Beyond the reach of one unlucky hour
To rend away, 'tis for its self desir'd,
While Riches are for something else admir'd,
Pleasure or Ease, nor therefore can they be
The solid Basis of Felicity.
Woe, woe, eternal woe and pain are near
To those who only place their Treasure here.
Sooner may happiness be found with them
Whom for their Poverty the World contemn;
Who, when my Honour and their Conscience call
With generous unconcern'dness part with all:
If Providence a larger stock affords,
Its Gifts enjoy as Stewards, not as Lords:
These, rich in Faith, to Heav'n directly tend,
Heirs of a Kingdom that shall never end.
Unwary youth which seldom chuses right,
Hurry'd by their unbridl'd appetite
Rush hot and furious after vain delight
And false delusive Bliss—No they'll not stay
Tho' Heav'n call'd back, and Hell were in their way.
And can a cheating short-liv'd vitious Joy,
Which ev'n one moments thinking can destroy,
Nay that it self.—Say, can it ever be
A reas'ning Creatures true felicity?
Ah foolish Boy! Ah wither wilt thou run?
Why in such headlong hast to be undone?
Thy mirth is madness; e'r too late return!
And learn how blest are those who truly mourn;
Who mourn their Sins while Life's swift sand do's last,
And dear irrevocable moments past:
O what a change! when those whom now they see
Spend all their days in thoughtless jollity
Shall howl in quenchless Flames; while such as here
Oft wet their Cheeks with a repentant Tear,
Oft heave with pious Sighs their working Breast,
Of him, whom long unseen they lov'd, possest
In Abrahams bosom find eternal rest.
Hurry'd by their unbridl'd appetite
Rush hot and furious after vain delight
And false delusive Bliss—No they'll not stay
Tho' Heav'n call'd back, and Hell were in their way.
And can a cheating short-liv'd vitious Joy,
Which ev'n one moments thinking can destroy,
122
A reas'ning Creatures true felicity?
Ah foolish Boy! Ah wither wilt thou run?
Why in such headlong hast to be undone?
Thy mirth is madness; e'r too late return!
And learn how blest are those who truly mourn;
Who mourn their Sins while Life's swift sand do's last,
And dear irrevocable moments past:
O what a change! when those whom now they see
Spend all their days in thoughtless jollity
Shall howl in quenchless Flames; while such as here
Oft wet their Cheeks with a repentant Tear,
Oft heave with pious Sighs their working Breast,
Of him, whom long unseen they lov'd, possest
In Abrahams bosom find eternal rest.
Others, as vain, attempt their Names to raise,
Their Lives employ'd in eager chase of praise:
Honour, that gawdy Nothing, they pursue,
For this in Blood their guilty Hands embrew:
For this unhinge the World, and when 'tis done
By all their long Fatigues what have they won?
What gains, what Trophies but a Blast of Breath,
Which seldom lives, tho' lowd, beyond their Death?
He then who here his Happiness wou'd find
As soon may grasp the Air, or track the Wind:
The gaudy Fly as soon as hatcht is flown,
'Tis in anothers pow'r and not our own:
True Magnanimity my Laws impart,
But fix it in a meek and humble heart:
What lies so low can no rough Tempest fear,
But unconcern'd, above, the Thunder hear:
Impenetrably soft's a lowly mind
Where wrongs glide off and can no Entrance find;
Not kindling into rage when e'r we see
The least appearance of an Injury;
Or suff'ring in ill Language wrath t'aspire,
Lest Angers flames be purg'd with hotter Fire.
If wrong'd, all private base Returns decline;
Your Wrath repress, Vengeance is only mine;
'Tis a false Liberty that leaves you free
Loving your Friend to hate your Enemy:
My Followers must to nobler things aspire,
My Laws exalt the humane Nature higher
Than e'er before; if mine your selves you'd prove
Bless them that curse, and those that hate you love!
Pray for their Lives who would not let you live!
As you your selves forgiveness hope, forgive!
This makes you likest God, and all divine,
Whose fruitful Rain does fall, whose Sun-beams shine
On good and bad promiscuous; thus you'll be
As far as suits with weak Humanity
Above the World, and perfect ev'n as he:
Thus wait and you'll at last the Conquest gain;
When the meek Soul shall over Nations reign.
Their Lives employ'd in eager chase of praise:
Honour, that gawdy Nothing, they pursue,
For this in Blood their guilty Hands embrew:
For this unhinge the World, and when 'tis done
By all their long Fatigues what have they won?
What gains, what Trophies but a Blast of Breath,
Which seldom lives, tho' lowd, beyond their Death?
He then who here his Happiness wou'd find
As soon may grasp the Air, or track the Wind:
The gaudy Fly as soon as hatcht is flown,
'Tis in anothers pow'r and not our own:
True Magnanimity my Laws impart,
But fix it in a meek and humble heart:
What lies so low can no rough Tempest fear,
But unconcern'd, above, the Thunder hear:
Impenetrably soft's a lowly mind
Where wrongs glide off and can no Entrance find;
Not kindling into rage when e'r we see
The least appearance of an Injury;
Or suff'ring in ill Language wrath t'aspire,
Lest Angers flames be purg'd with hotter Fire.
If wrong'd, all private base Returns decline;
Your Wrath repress, Vengeance is only mine;
'Tis a false Liberty that leaves you free
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My Followers must to nobler things aspire,
My Laws exalt the humane Nature higher
Than e'er before; if mine your selves you'd prove
Bless them that curse, and those that hate you love!
Pray for their Lives who would not let you live!
As you your selves forgiveness hope, forgive!
This makes you likest God, and all divine,
Whose fruitful Rain does fall, whose Sun-beams shine
On good and bad promiscuous; thus you'll be
As far as suits with weak Humanity
Above the World, and perfect ev'n as he:
Thus wait and you'll at last the Conquest gain;
When the meek Soul shall over Nations reign.
How few who any true Concern will show
For ought but these vain perishing Goods below!
To guard this Life mistaken Man contends,
But little for that Life which never ends:
How much of Toyl, how much of fruitless pain
No more than six small feet of Earth to gain?
How hard for those in this who happy are
For t'other World to take sufficient care?
If that neglected, they refuse to know
That Benefactor who did all bestow;
Full fed, refuse their stubborn Necks to yield,
Loose and unyoak'd fly wanton round the field;
Feasted themselves, despise and scorn the poor,
While Lazarus lies starving at their door;
The day, the dreadful day they soon shall see
When they in Torments, he in Bliss shall be:
One drop of Water then they'll ask in vain,
To cool their panting Tongues in endless pain:
But blest are those, such all who wou'd be mine,
Who thirst and hunger after Food divine,
Whom Heav'nly thoughts and meditations fill,
Whose meat and drink's to do my Father's will,
This their first Care, and firmly can repose
On him who all their wants and sorrows knows,
Be then your care for a good Life exprest,
Nor doubt but God will care for all the rest.
Why these distracted Thoughts? Why thus Dismay'd?
Wants he or Pow'r or Love to send thee Aid?
If more he gives, will lesser be deny'd?
If Life, he'll Food; if Food, he'll Cloaths provide.
All his Creation of his Love partake,
Nor will he ruine what himself did make.
Behold the feather'd Nations of the Air
Which sing in yonder Trees—how full, how fair,
They neither sow nor reap, nor plant nor plough,
Yet God provides their Food on every bush and bough:
And will He not for you? Who did inspire
Your breasts with part of his own Heav'nly fire.
Besides, such anxious thoughts but vex the mind,
Which thence can neither Ease nor Comfort find:
Nor more for Rayment care! tho forc'd to go
Beneath your Quality, mean, scorn'd and low:
What's not your Crime, no longer vainly grieve,
You spite of clamorous Sense must still believe.
Look on those lovely Lilies how they grow
Thoughtless and free in yonder Vale below!
For all those Robes they neither toil nor care,
Nor spin the Web at home, nor fetch't from far;
Yet Solomon himself, tho' cover'd o'er
With Gold and Purple from rich Sidon's shore,
Compar'd to these, had mean and homely shown;
His all but borrow'd Glories, theirs their own.
He then who thus the fading Herb supplies,
Which flourishes to day, to morrow dies,
Will he forget his Word and prove untrue?
Has he less kindness, or less care for you?
For ought but these vain perishing Goods below!
To guard this Life mistaken Man contends,
But little for that Life which never ends:
How much of Toyl, how much of fruitless pain
No more than six small feet of Earth to gain?
How hard for those in this who happy are
For t'other World to take sufficient care?
If that neglected, they refuse to know
That Benefactor who did all bestow;
Full fed, refuse their stubborn Necks to yield,
Loose and unyoak'd fly wanton round the field;
Feasted themselves, despise and scorn the poor,
While Lazarus lies starving at their door;
The day, the dreadful day they soon shall see
When they in Torments, he in Bliss shall be:
One drop of Water then they'll ask in vain,
To cool their panting Tongues in endless pain:
But blest are those, such all who wou'd be mine,
Who thirst and hunger after Food divine,
Whom Heav'nly thoughts and meditations fill,
Whose meat and drink's to do my Father's will,
This their first Care, and firmly can repose
On him who all their wants and sorrows knows,
Be then your care for a good Life exprest,
Nor doubt but God will care for all the rest.
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Wants he or Pow'r or Love to send thee Aid?
If more he gives, will lesser be deny'd?
If Life, he'll Food; if Food, he'll Cloaths provide.
All his Creation of his Love partake,
Nor will he ruine what himself did make.
Behold the feather'd Nations of the Air
Which sing in yonder Trees—how full, how fair,
They neither sow nor reap, nor plant nor plough,
Yet God provides their Food on every bush and bough:
And will He not for you? Who did inspire
Your breasts with part of his own Heav'nly fire.
Besides, such anxious thoughts but vex the mind,
Which thence can neither Ease nor Comfort find:
Nor more for Rayment care! tho forc'd to go
Beneath your Quality, mean, scorn'd and low:
What's not your Crime, no longer vainly grieve,
You spite of clamorous Sense must still believe.
Look on those lovely Lilies how they grow
Thoughtless and free in yonder Vale below!
For all those Robes they neither toil nor care,
Nor spin the Web at home, nor fetch't from far;
Yet Solomon himself, tho' cover'd o'er
With Gold and Purple from rich Sidon's shore,
Compar'd to these, had mean and homely shown;
His all but borrow'd Glories, theirs their own.
He then who thus the fading Herb supplies,
Which flourishes to day, to morrow dies,
Will he forget his Word and prove untrue?
Has he less kindness, or less care for you?
Injustice and Revenge the World divide,
Mistaken Censure, Cruelty and Pride:
Blest is the man himself who truly knows,
And Mercy, which he hopes, to others shows;
Whose Joy, the miserable to relieve,
Who tasts the mighty Pleasure to forgive:
Justly severe when he himself surveys,
As candid when he others Actions weighs:
Born for the World and not himself alone,
He always makes anothers Case his own.
Observe that Golden Rule of Equity,
Thy Neighbour treat as thou'dst have him treat thee!
Mistaken Censure, Cruelty and Pride:
Blest is the man himself who truly knows,
And Mercy, which he hopes, to others shows;
Whose Joy, the miserable to relieve,
Who tasts the mighty Pleasure to forgive:
Justly severe when he himself surveys,
As candid when he others Actions weighs:
Born for the World and not himself alone,
He always makes anothers Case his own.
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Thy Neighbour treat as thou'dst have him treat thee!
How vain the Glosses foolish men devise!
How do they blend eternal Truth with Lies!
Traditions teach you, if your Body's pure,
Your Mind's your own, and from all stain secure:
Whatever fond Pretences these invent
I ask the Heart, nor am with less content:
That must be purg'd from Sin, and all divine,
Holy and pure, a Temple fit t'enshrine
The sacred Dove, who never yet did rest
In muddy Soil or a polluted Breast;
Gross Acts in vain you shun, unless you're free
From th' heart's and eye's and hand's Adultery:
Part with that guilty hand, that wand'ring eye,
Or soon they they'll gangreen all, and you must die:
Call then the Wand'rers home! your Self command!
And make strict Covenants with the eye and hand!
Each secret Glance that glows with lawless fire,
And kindles in the Soul a loose desire;
Each trembling touch of a forbidden hand
By which the sparks into a flame are fann'd,
All these avoid, in vain you these wou'd hide
From him who them in their dark Causes spy'd
Long e'er they were—If him in Bliss you'd find
Rather than sin, be ever lame or blind!
While those who thus their Appetites deny,
Half-Martyrs for forgotten Chastity,
Bravely repelling every poyson'd Dart,
Holy and pure, alike in eyes and heart;
Who thus their eyes, who thus their hearts employ
The Beatific Vision shall enjoy;
Which e'n while wandring here shall on 'em shine,
In this dark World their Souls still more refine,
And fill with Heav'nly Love and Joy Divine.
How do they blend eternal Truth with Lies!
Traditions teach you, if your Body's pure,
Your Mind's your own, and from all stain secure:
Whatever fond Pretences these invent
I ask the Heart, nor am with less content:
That must be purg'd from Sin, and all divine,
Holy and pure, a Temple fit t'enshrine
The sacred Dove, who never yet did rest
In muddy Soil or a polluted Breast;
Gross Acts in vain you shun, unless you're free
From th' heart's and eye's and hand's Adultery:
Part with that guilty hand, that wand'ring eye,
Or soon they they'll gangreen all, and you must die:
Call then the Wand'rers home! your Self command!
And make strict Covenants with the eye and hand!
Each secret Glance that glows with lawless fire,
And kindles in the Soul a loose desire;
Each trembling touch of a forbidden hand
By which the sparks into a flame are fann'd,
All these avoid, in vain you these wou'd hide
From him who them in their dark Causes spy'd
Long e'er they were—If him in Bliss you'd find
Rather than sin, be ever lame or blind!
While those who thus their Appetites deny,
Half-Martyrs for forgotten Chastity,
Bravely repelling every poyson'd Dart,
Holy and pure, alike in eyes and heart;
Who thus their eyes, who thus their hearts employ
The Beatific Vision shall enjoy;
Which e'n while wandring here shall on 'em shine,
In this dark World their Souls still more refine,
And fill with Heav'nly Love and Joy Divine.
How many, not content with mortal Fame,
Are eager for an Hero's sounding name!
Poor Apotheosis! the God must die
And worse, among the Fiends in Torments lie:
But happy those who peaceful Triumphs gain!
'Tis the best Empire o'er our selves to reign.
O blest Employment! theirs: O happy state!
Who Peace twixt God and Man negotiate!
Who where they come my peaceful Law disperse,
Bear these glad Tidings round the Universe:
Ah! wou'd they practise but as these advise
How soon the World wou'd be a Paradise?
They must not there expect so calm a Fate;
Peace will, tho' strange, breed War, and Love breed Hate;
Murder and Blood my miscall'd Followers stain,
Discord and Spite, and wild Confusion reign:
Hell-born Ambition will invade the Skies,
And tow'ring Pride and griping Avarice;
Parties and Sects my seamless Garment rend,
The Cause their Interest, tho' they mine pretend:
Who dare but speak of Peace, they'll stop their breath,
Twixt different Parties ground, or starv'd to death;
As base betrayers of their Cause revil'd,
And Sons of Breadth by lewd Apostates stil'd,
But tho' cast out, and under-foot they're trod,
I'll give 'em better Names—they're Sons of God.
Are eager for an Hero's sounding name!
Poor Apotheosis! the God must die
And worse, among the Fiends in Torments lie:
But happy those who peaceful Triumphs gain!
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O blest Employment! theirs: O happy state!
Who Peace twixt God and Man negotiate!
Who where they come my peaceful Law disperse,
Bear these glad Tidings round the Universe:
Ah! wou'd they practise but as these advise
How soon the World wou'd be a Paradise?
They must not there expect so calm a Fate;
Peace will, tho' strange, breed War, and Love breed Hate;
Murder and Blood my miscall'd Followers stain,
Discord and Spite, and wild Confusion reign:
Hell-born Ambition will invade the Skies,
And tow'ring Pride and griping Avarice;
Parties and Sects my seamless Garment rend,
The Cause their Interest, tho' they mine pretend:
Who dare but speak of Peace, they'll stop their breath,
Twixt different Parties ground, or starv'd to death;
As base betrayers of their Cause revil'd,
And Sons of Breadth by lewd Apostates stil'd,
But tho' cast out, and under-foot they're trod,
I'll give 'em better Names—they're Sons of God.
However others widely then mistake,
And of their Reputations Idols make,
Even those, when I require, you must despise,
And unto mine, your Honour sacrifice!
In Curses let the World their Malice show,
And all their Leaden Thunders at you throw!
Let 'em, (the kindest thing they e'er can do)
As false Apostles, separate from you!
Out of their Synagogues and Councils hurl'd
As Hereticks, and Troublers of the World;
Or as by Priest-craft sly, and juggling skill
You'd fain bring men to Heav'n against their Will.
If you like Salt, a cleansing Virtue show,
And credit Piety where e'er you go;
If you still Light the World, who when they see
Your spotless Life, know what they ought to be;
If evil they, ungrate, for good, return,
And you in more than lambent flames wou'd burn;
Now doubly blest if Innocent you are,
If causless all for me you meekly bear:
Patience too mean a Virtue is, your Choice
Be something nobler here! Exult! Rejoice!
To Heav'n direct your Songs, your Hymns, your Pray'r!
A double Crown of Glory waits you there;
You first, Triumphant, from the Dust shall rise,
And with me ever reign in Paradise:
And of their Reputations Idols make,
Even those, when I require, you must despise,
And unto mine, your Honour sacrifice!
In Curses let the World their Malice show,
And all their Leaden Thunders at you throw!
Let 'em, (the kindest thing they e'er can do)
As false Apostles, separate from you!
Out of their Synagogues and Councils hurl'd
As Hereticks, and Troublers of the World;
Or as by Priest-craft sly, and juggling skill
You'd fain bring men to Heav'n against their Will.
If you like Salt, a cleansing Virtue show,
And credit Piety where e'er you go;
If you still Light the World, who when they see
Your spotless Life, know what they ought to be;
If evil they, ungrate, for good, return,
And you in more than lambent flames wou'd burn;
Now doubly blest if Innocent you are,
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Patience too mean a Virtue is, your Choice
Be something nobler here! Exult! Rejoice!
To Heav'n direct your Songs, your Hymns, your Pray'r!
A double Crown of Glory waits you there;
You first, Triumphant, from the Dust shall rise,
And with me ever reign in Paradise:
Nor think, whatever Spite and Envy say,
I come to show to Heav'n a nearer way
Than by Good Faith and Life, t'annul or break
One Word my Father did from Sinai speak:
I came not to destroy, but to fullfil,
To do and suffer my great Father's Will:
Each type and shadow now compleat shall be,
Hither they tend, and center all in me.
What Laws of moral Obligation are,
Eternal Truth, your pleasure be't and care
To keep inviolate, they'll still prevail,
Nor pass away tho' the Creation fail:
By God's own Hand they were to Moses given,
When thus he them had Thunder'd down from Heav'n.
I come to show to Heav'n a nearer way
Than by Good Faith and Life, t'annul or break
One Word my Father did from Sinai speak:
I came not to destroy, but to fullfil,
To do and suffer my great Father's Will:
Each type and shadow now compleat shall be,
Hither they tend, and center all in me.
What Laws of moral Obligation are,
Eternal Truth, your pleasure be't and care
To keep inviolate, they'll still prevail,
Nor pass away tho' the Creation fail:
By God's own Hand they were to Moses given,
When thus he them had Thunder'd down from Heav'n.
Exod. XX. The Ten Commandments.
Jehova
speaks, attend with awful Love and Fear!
From Egypts Bondage sav'd, O rescu'd Israel, hear!
From Egypts Bondage sav'd, O rescu'd Israel, hear!
I
With me let no false Gods thy Love and Praise divide,Nor from Heav'ns piercing Eye such Treason hope to hide!
II
By no Resemblance vain the Godhead dare t'express,Who'll down to Grandchild Ages plague such Wickedness.
128
III
No hallow'd thing let thy bold Sacrilege profane!Nor take thy mighty Makers Sacred Name in vain.
IV
Six parts of Time when freely I indulge to thee,Neither forget nor grudg to pay a seventh to me.
V
If thou long Life dost hope, and many a happy day,Thy Parent and thy Prince in all that's just obey.
VI
Dy not thy furious Hand in Murders guilty Red:For he that sheds Mans blood, by Man his blood be shed!
VII
Against thy Neighbour's Honour harbor no design,As thou his heavy Vengeance wou'dst avoid and mine!
VIII
Shun Thefts base sordid Sin, and mean unlawful gain,And for thy own provide with honest sweat and pain.
IX
What's false ne'er speak, much less in Courts thy self forswear,But know a greater Judg looks down and Ey's thee there!
X
Each Sin in Thought abhor, and not in Act aloneNor seek thy Neighbour's Goods, contented with thy own!
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Let these claim all your thoughts exactest care.
To these add Fasting, Alms, and fervent Pray'r.
If you desire your Fasts successful prove
Fear'd Ills t'avert, or what you feel remove,
Not like those Hypocrites distort your Face
Who make an ugly Look a mark of Grace:
Who with rough Robes and Sack-cloth raze their skin
Or cut with Whips, or lance it deeper in,
And mortifie themselves, but not their Sin.
Your Alms dispense as Stars shoot silent Light
Untrack'd and large thro' the dark Realms of Night.
In all let no vain Ostentation be.
To your good Deeds, no witness ask but me.
They shall not pass without a kind regard
But at the last Great-Day I'll them reward.
Discreet, yet warm and zealous be your Pray'r
And still and silent as the Angels are.
To these add Fasting, Alms, and fervent Pray'r.
If you desire your Fasts successful prove
Fear'd Ills t'avert, or what you feel remove,
Not like those Hypocrites distort your Face
Who make an ugly Look a mark of Grace:
Who with rough Robes and Sack-cloth raze their skin
Or cut with Whips, or lance it deeper in,
And mortifie themselves, but not their Sin.
Your Alms dispense as Stars shoot silent Light
Untrack'd and large thro' the dark Realms of Night.
In all let no vain Ostentation be.
To your good Deeds, no witness ask but me.
They shall not pass without a kind regard
But at the last Great-Day I'll them reward.
Discreet, yet warm and zealous be your Pray'r
And still and silent as the Angels are.
Since you a Form for your Direction need
Thus let your faithful Vows to Heav'n proceed.
Thus let your faithful Vows to Heav'n proceed.
The Lords Prayer.
O Father of the World! whose Throne on highIs plac'd in Light above the Crystal Sky,
Let all thy works thee their great Lord proclaim,
And with loud praises hymn thy sacred Name!
Let thy dear Son his promis'd Empire gain,
And over all th' obedient Nations reign!
Let Sin's and Hell's proud Kingdom soon decay,
And Earth as well as Heav'n their Lord obey!
For our frail Bodies needful food assign,
But chiefly feast our Souls with Food divine.
O thou on whose free Grace and Love we live
Forgive our Sins as others we forgive!
Save from the Tempter those who trust in Thee,
O Save at once from Sin and Misery!
Thy glorious Might no Time or Place restrain,
Thou dost, O God! to endless Ages reign!
Thus to the King of Heav'n devoutly pray,
Nor that enough, you must his Laws obey;
Else him in Glory ne'r expect to see
Nor with vain idle Faith depend on me!
If not your Lord, I can't your Saviour be.
Who then themselves my true Disciples show,
Not only know, but practise what they know;
Them to wise Master-builders I'll compare
Who in the solid Rock with sweat and care
Their firm Foundations lay, the Floods arise
And meet new Floods thick pou'ring from the Skies:
Th' impetuous Winds from stony Caves enlarg'd
With all their dusty Squadrons on 'em charg'd,
The House still stands, each vain assault can mock,
Nor can they move it, till they move the Rock:
But those who with cold Notions are content
Christians alone in Name and Complement;
To foolish Builders them I must compare
Who on th' unfaithful Sand their Houses rear:
Already, heark! the whistling storm is nigh!
See the black Tempest pouring from the Sky!
Waves ride on Waves and push each other on!
From the loose Earth the false Foundation's gone;
The foolish House falls with the mould'ring Shore,
And sinks i'th' vast Abyss to rise no more.
Nor that enough, you must his Laws obey;
130
Nor with vain idle Faith depend on me!
If not your Lord, I can't your Saviour be.
Who then themselves my true Disciples show,
Not only know, but practise what they know;
Them to wise Master-builders I'll compare
Who in the solid Rock with sweat and care
Their firm Foundations lay, the Floods arise
And meet new Floods thick pou'ring from the Skies:
Th' impetuous Winds from stony Caves enlarg'd
With all their dusty Squadrons on 'em charg'd,
The House still stands, each vain assault can mock,
Nor can they move it, till they move the Rock:
But those who with cold Notions are content
Christians alone in Name and Complement;
To foolish Builders them I must compare
Who on th' unfaithful Sand their Houses rear:
Already, heark! the whistling storm is nigh!
See the black Tempest pouring from the Sky!
Waves ride on Waves and push each other on!
From the loose Earth the false Foundation's gone;
The foolish House falls with the mould'ring Shore,
And sinks i'th' vast Abyss to rise no more.
He said—Still his pleas'd Auditors attend,
All thought too soon he his Discourse did end.
Which past, he did from the bless'd Mount descend
To Cana, whence the other Simon nam'd,
'Mongst Galilean Zealots widely fam'd:
There, whilst he at a Nuptial-Feast did dine
When Wine they want, he VVaters turns to Wine.
Nor far from thence, by pleasant Naims VValls
The mournful VVidows Son to Life recalls.
All thought too soon he his Discourse did end.
Which past, he did from the bless'd Mount descend
To Cana, whence the other Simon nam'd,
'Mongst Galilean Zealots widely fam'd:
There, whilst he at a Nuptial-Feast did dine
When Wine they want, he VVaters turns to Wine.
Nor far from thence, by pleasant Naims VValls
The mournful VVidows Son to Life recalls.
Mean while the Baptist did to Virtue press
His Voice, loud-sounding in the VVilderness:
Censor of Vice, unblemish'd as severe,
And as he none did fear, he none wou'd spare:
Ev'n Life it self by far too dear he thought
If with bare silence or mean Flatt'ry bought:
This honest Freedom and plain roughness pleas'd;
Nor rarely wrought a Cure on Minds diseas'd:
Arm'd with Elijah's spirit and holy fire
To his Acquaintance Royal Names aspire;
Virtues they wou'd not follow, forc'd t'admire!
Among the rest so often Herod went
And heard, he grew almost a Penitent;
With all besides one darling Vice did part,
That kept its hold, still festering in his heart:
Dishonourable Love, a lawless Flame,
Unnat'ral Crime, which Incests fouler name
Disgrac'd; the Cause HERODIAS, fair, but vain,
Whose Lord did in poor Trachonitis reign,
And wild Iturea, from whose petty Court
Where only bordering Arabs did resort
Not long before Herod invites her down
To fair Tiberias, his own stately Town:
Until his Brother from the Wars return'd,
Who, while she him at home half Widdow'd, mourn'd
Thro' stony Fields, and Woods of fatal Yew,
Did Bands of roving Ishmaelites pursue:
Arriv'd, her Beauties all the Court surprize,
Her Brother most, who feasts his wand'ring Eyes
On her forbidden Face, thence soon takes fire,
His careless Breast soon glows with loose desire:
All Arts on her weak Sex, prevail he try'd,
Flatters her Vanity, and feeds her Pride:
Now do's he stately Masks and Balls provide,
With Musicks melting Charms, and now apply
The powerful Bait of Courtly Luxury:
Her in his Royal Barge wou'd sometimes take,
And splendid treat, upon the neighb'ring Lake;
Now her convey to proud Caperna'ms Walls
Where, thro' broad Arches Jordan headlong falls:
To ancient Cinn'roth, or Bethsaida fair
To hunt or walk in lonely Desarts there;
Oft wou'd he gaze, and with a sudden sigh
As often—Ah! too happy Philip! cry!
Why shou'd his envious ragged Walls confine
A Treasure ought in Cesar's Court to shine?
Are these the richest Robes he can provide
For such a Queen? This all Iturea's pride?
Trample 'em sordid in the dust, and see
If ought Tiberias has more worthy Thee!
Then, costly Babylonian Robes he brings,
And Tyrian Silks, that cloath and ransom Kings:
All honour'd to be touch'd by her fair hand,
Who Salem and Sebaste might command;
In both his Royal Palaces did stand;
The worst of both to Philip's she'd prefer
And both were hers, tho' both unworthy her.
These Presents she receives, and more than these
Without a Frown,—Sure 'twas no sin to please!
With well-known Art repell'd, yet did invite,
—And wishes she his bounty cou'd requite.
But soon recalls that Wish—she had forgot
That Herod was her Brother—Think me not,
He trembling cries, my Gratitude to show,
I'd gladly give my Crown I were not so—
—Or if I am—
“Friendship so pure as mine, who can reprove?
“Minds have no Sexes 'tis your Mind I love:
Platonic all, her Honour he'll prefer
T'his Life and Love, nor wrong his Queen or her.
He'd only ask a wish, an hand, an eye:
Favours for which 'twas worth the while to dye,
And swears in these eternal Secrecy.
—What bounds has lawless Love? Soon headlong hence
They sunk to Sin, and thence to Impudence:
Bewitch'd with wicked Joy and stupid grown
No measures kept: To all the Court 'tis known,
Last to his Queen, whom he'll no longer own;
Whose Father long his peaceful Scepter sway'd
At fair Damascus, Zobah him obey'd,
Him Aram's fields, and those wild Troops which stray'd
Thro' Geshur's Realm, for Pastures ever green
Renown'd, and the wide wand'ring Hagarene:
To him enrag'd with loud Complaints she fled
Against the Rival of her Crown and Bed;
Her and her faithless Lord with mortal Hate
She prosecutes, and urges on their Fate;
Whilst her old Father, youthful Anger warms
Who for Revenge his fierce Arabians arms.
Herods lewd Court's all silent, or approve
With wicked flattery their Princes love;
Till to the Baptist brought by babbling Fame,
Whom Zeal to injur'd Virtue did inflame;
Inspir'd with that, he from the Desarts came;
Thence to the Court his steps directly bent,
The opening Crowd bow'd lowly as he went;
He past the Guards; struck with religious fear
None durst oppose his way; approaching near
Thro' every Gate and Antichamber past
Preventing his own Fame, arriv'd at last
To the retir'd Alcove; he thither prest,
Sees the false Charmer negligently drest,
Sees the luxurious King lean loosly on her Breast.
Fierce Herod rose at the unwonted Noise,
And hasty asks with a death-threat'ning Voice
And Eyes all flame, what bold Intruder he
Who dar'd invade his Princes privacy,
And rush on certain Fate?—Nay rather tell
How dares a bold Adulterer rush on Hell,
The Baptist firm replies.—No sooner saw
The guilty King, but struck with trembling awe
Silent he stood confus'd, his Queen the same,
With anger pale by turns, and red with shame:
So strange a pow'r undaunted Virtue brings,
Dazling e'en Beauties self and conquering Kings:
Hard was the struggle.—Now his nobler Part,
His Reason rul'd, and from his Royal Heart
Drew sighs of Penitence, Abortive sighs;
Nor sooner were his Tempters charming Eyes
Bent on him, but agen he doubtful stood;
Which that curst Spirit, eternal Foe to Good
Perceiving, found 'twas time himself t'engage,
Inspiring Him with Lust, and Her with Rage:
Silent the King, thus haughty Herodias said—
His Voice, loud-sounding in the VVilderness:
Censor of Vice, unblemish'd as severe,
And as he none did fear, he none wou'd spare:
Ev'n Life it self by far too dear he thought
If with bare silence or mean Flatt'ry bought:
This honest Freedom and plain roughness pleas'd;
Nor rarely wrought a Cure on Minds diseas'd:
131
To his Acquaintance Royal Names aspire;
Virtues they wou'd not follow, forc'd t'admire!
Among the rest so often Herod went
And heard, he grew almost a Penitent;
With all besides one darling Vice did part,
That kept its hold, still festering in his heart:
Dishonourable Love, a lawless Flame,
Unnat'ral Crime, which Incests fouler name
Disgrac'd; the Cause HERODIAS, fair, but vain,
Whose Lord did in poor Trachonitis reign,
And wild Iturea, from whose petty Court
Where only bordering Arabs did resort
Not long before Herod invites her down
To fair Tiberias, his own stately Town:
Until his Brother from the Wars return'd,
Who, while she him at home half Widdow'd, mourn'd
Thro' stony Fields, and Woods of fatal Yew,
Did Bands of roving Ishmaelites pursue:
Arriv'd, her Beauties all the Court surprize,
Her Brother most, who feasts his wand'ring Eyes
On her forbidden Face, thence soon takes fire,
His careless Breast soon glows with loose desire:
All Arts on her weak Sex, prevail he try'd,
Flatters her Vanity, and feeds her Pride:
Now do's he stately Masks and Balls provide,
With Musicks melting Charms, and now apply
The powerful Bait of Courtly Luxury:
Her in his Royal Barge wou'd sometimes take,
And splendid treat, upon the neighb'ring Lake;
Now her convey to proud Caperna'ms Walls
Where, thro' broad Arches Jordan headlong falls:
To ancient Cinn'roth, or Bethsaida fair
To hunt or walk in lonely Desarts there;
Oft wou'd he gaze, and with a sudden sigh
As often—Ah! too happy Philip! cry!
Why shou'd his envious ragged Walls confine
A Treasure ought in Cesar's Court to shine?
Are these the richest Robes he can provide
For such a Queen? This all Iturea's pride?
132
If ought Tiberias has more worthy Thee!
Then, costly Babylonian Robes he brings,
And Tyrian Silks, that cloath and ransom Kings:
All honour'd to be touch'd by her fair hand,
Who Salem and Sebaste might command;
In both his Royal Palaces did stand;
The worst of both to Philip's she'd prefer
And both were hers, tho' both unworthy her.
These Presents she receives, and more than these
Without a Frown,—Sure 'twas no sin to please!
With well-known Art repell'd, yet did invite,
—And wishes she his bounty cou'd requite.
But soon recalls that Wish—she had forgot
That Herod was her Brother—Think me not,
He trembling cries, my Gratitude to show,
I'd gladly give my Crown I were not so—
—Or if I am—
“Friendship so pure as mine, who can reprove?
“Minds have no Sexes 'tis your Mind I love:
Platonic all, her Honour he'll prefer
T'his Life and Love, nor wrong his Queen or her.
He'd only ask a wish, an hand, an eye:
Favours for which 'twas worth the while to dye,
And swears in these eternal Secrecy.
—What bounds has lawless Love? Soon headlong hence
They sunk to Sin, and thence to Impudence:
Bewitch'd with wicked Joy and stupid grown
No measures kept: To all the Court 'tis known,
Last to his Queen, whom he'll no longer own;
Whose Father long his peaceful Scepter sway'd
At fair Damascus, Zobah him obey'd,
Him Aram's fields, and those wild Troops which stray'd
Thro' Geshur's Realm, for Pastures ever green
Renown'd, and the wide wand'ring Hagarene:
To him enrag'd with loud Complaints she fled
Against the Rival of her Crown and Bed;
Her and her faithless Lord with mortal Hate
She prosecutes, and urges on their Fate;
Whilst her old Father, youthful Anger warms
133
Herods lewd Court's all silent, or approve
With wicked flattery their Princes love;
Till to the Baptist brought by babbling Fame,
Whom Zeal to injur'd Virtue did inflame;
Inspir'd with that, he from the Desarts came;
Thence to the Court his steps directly bent,
The opening Crowd bow'd lowly as he went;
He past the Guards; struck with religious fear
None durst oppose his way; approaching near
Thro' every Gate and Antichamber past
Preventing his own Fame, arriv'd at last
To the retir'd Alcove; he thither prest,
Sees the false Charmer negligently drest,
Sees the luxurious King lean loosly on her Breast.
Fierce Herod rose at the unwonted Noise,
And hasty asks with a death-threat'ning Voice
And Eyes all flame, what bold Intruder he
Who dar'd invade his Princes privacy,
And rush on certain Fate?—Nay rather tell
How dares a bold Adulterer rush on Hell,
The Baptist firm replies.—No sooner saw
The guilty King, but struck with trembling awe
Silent he stood confus'd, his Queen the same,
With anger pale by turns, and red with shame:
So strange a pow'r undaunted Virtue brings,
Dazling e'en Beauties self and conquering Kings:
Hard was the struggle.—Now his nobler Part,
His Reason rul'd, and from his Royal Heart
Drew sighs of Penitence, Abortive sighs;
Nor sooner were his Tempters charming Eyes
Bent on him, but agen he doubtful stood;
Which that curst Spirit, eternal Foe to Good
Perceiving, found 'twas time himself t'engage,
Inspiring Him with Lust, and Her with Rage:
Silent the King, thus haughty Herodias said—
—Bold Priest—this Insolence shall cost thy Head,
Is't not enough, hast thou not cheated well
Who can'st the Vulgar scare with Tales of Hell?
Let them drudge on, dull Virtues Laws obey,
But Princes find to Heav'n an easier way.
Guards, drag him hence, and him t'his Fate convey.
Is't not enough, hast thou not cheated well
Who can'st the Vulgar scare with Tales of Hell?
Let them drudge on, dull Virtues Laws obey,
134
Guards, drag him hence, and him t'his Fate convey.
The King arose, with the vex'd Fair debates
And her imperious Sentence mitigates:
His ent'ring Guards the Pris'ner bids secure
And him in strong Macherus walls immure:
Fain each brave Warrior wou'd himself excuse,
And had they dar'd, th' ungrateful Task refuse;
Fain, for the fearless Pris'ner intercede,
Who looks secure of Fate, and bids 'em lead.
Where e'er commanded by the Tyrant, they
With much regret and slowly, at last obey.
Nor after long, as chanc'd, the festal day
Of Herod's Birth arriv'd, at regal Bords,
As Custom call'd, his Captains and his Lords
And all his High Estates invited Dine:
The splendid Feast well o'er, in generous Wine
Concluded, Royal Musick finish'd all,
“Treating their noble Fancies at a Ball:
One Daughter, e'er from him Herodias fled
Had blest the injur'd Tetrarch's nuptial Bed;
Too plain in her the World her Mother spies,
The same fair Face and false deluding Eyes;
Like her, of Slaves she had a mighty band,
And cou'd like her, Smiles, Tears and Oaths command;
Like her, Sweet Poyson from her Eyes and Tongue
Distill'd; she like an Angel mov'd and sung.
Some soft Arabian Tune the Musick play,
She at the signal glides as soft away;
Her feet as nimbly as their fingers move,
From all that saw, she Wonder, forc'd or Love.
The King extravagantly pleas'd, and proud
As she her self to hear th' applauses loud
So justly on her thrown from every side,
Ask, by th' unutterable Name, he cry'd,
Ask what thou wilt, nor shall thou be deny'd,
Tho' half my Kingdom were the mighty Boon.
Instructed by her Mother, but too soon
She claims his Royal Word, Nor ought, she said,
Ought wou'd sh' accept, besides the Baptist's Head.
He struck the Board—Rather than that shou'd fall
Take, cruel Maid! not only half but all
My Realms, he cry'd; If you'll my Words release,
And leave the Holy Man to die in peace!
Inexorably wicked still she stood,
Nothing cou'd quench her Thirsty, but guiltless Blood.
The Council diff'rent suffrages divide,
Some Love engag'd, fair Murdress! on thy side;
Some pure Revenge—He at the Court did rail;
Some hers, because they thought she wou'd prevail.
A generous few there were, who tho' he'd sworn,
His Oath unlawful thought, but over-born
Are lost i'th Crowd—The King himself gives way,
And bids his Guards the Damsels word obey.
Scarce with long search they found a Villain, who
Was black enough the horrid work to do;
Whom from the Dungeon when the Baptist spy'd,
Warn'd he that moment must for Death provide,
Long since that bus'ness is dispatch'd he cry'd,
That I was mortal born, I ever knew;
And since this Debt's from all to Nature due,
The sooner paid the better, gladly I
In Gods fair Cause, and injur'd Virtue's die:
Nor if o'th' Edg of Life our Souls can see
Within the Realms of dark Futurity,
Shall long my guiltless blood unpunisht be.
I see th' Arabians from their Quivers pour
O'r Galilee a dusky deadly show'r;
I see—The ugly Headsman will afford
No longer time, his unrelenting Sword
Soon stop'd his breath, an easie way it found;
And Blood and Life at once gush'd from the ghastly wound.
His Head they to the Feast in triumph bear,
With joy receiv'd by false Herodias there;
Who, lest they should delude her Cruelty,
Wipes his wan bloody Face, and cries 'Tis he!
Now saucy Censures at thy betters fling!
Now, if thou canst, preach on, and scorn a King!
Short-liv'd her wicked Joys base triumphs were,
For in the midst a panting Messenger
With dust all cover'd, Terror and surprize
And hast and danger in his Face and Eyes,
Thro' the thick Circle pale and bloodless springs,
And from the Borders dismal Tidings brings;
That Aretas with his Arabian bands
Passage obtain'd thro' wrong'd Iturea's Lands,
Jordan's small streams had near Cesarea pass'd,
And all the higher Galilee laid wast
With Fire and Sword; to whom strong Abel's Town
Their Gates had open'd, marching Conq'ror down
Thro' old Zaanaims Grove to Kedesh near,
Which with high Ramah, struck with panic fear
Prepar'd to yield—Tho' Guilt in Herod's Eyes
Fear in his Face, to Arms, To Arms, he cries?
With speed the bold Invader meet, before
He march too far, his Troops shall rove no more!
His Forces then from proud Sebaste draws,
And strong Macherus, which th' Arabian aws
Wide-wandring thro' Baara's distant Vale;
From Carmel's Mount and Hermon's fruitful Dale:
With his own Troops his pow'rful Treasure brings
Of Ishmael's Race, Auxiliary Kings
From Jordan's Eastern side, and now cou'd boast
Had Heav'n stood still, a formidable Host:
Ev'n Heav'n it self to bribe t'his side he'll try
By unbecoming aukward Piety;
By mighty Gifts he to the Temple sent,
And more than all—he promis'd he'd repent.
In hast a Corier to the Prison sends,
The Baptist's body to his mourning Friends
He bids be strait deliver'd, him t'inter;
And he with Tears wou'd wash his Sepulchre:
Thro' the thin Vizard all with ease perceiv'd,
His penitence, nor Earth, nor Heav'n believ'd;
Loaden with Curses to the Field he went
But more with guiltless blood—You know th' event!
His swift Retreat, his num'rous Army broke,
The Day and Honour lost without a stroke.
All this did babbling Fame t'our Lord convey
Who with his Twelve at rich Caperna'm lay,
While the great Baptist his Disciples mourn'd,
Till Herod, furious to the Court return'd;
Then with wise Caution, no unworthy Fear,
Seeks a more safe Retreat in Desarts, near
Bethsaida's wealthy Villa, where before
He did, in Heav'nly Wisdoms sacred Lore,
Instruct his Auditors—Thither he went
With his lov'd few, and the calm Moments spent,
In thoughts of that great Work to which design'd,
And all the wond'rous Things were yet behind.
And her imperious Sentence mitigates:
His ent'ring Guards the Pris'ner bids secure
And him in strong Macherus walls immure:
Fain each brave Warrior wou'd himself excuse,
And had they dar'd, th' ungrateful Task refuse;
Fain, for the fearless Pris'ner intercede,
Who looks secure of Fate, and bids 'em lead.
Where e'er commanded by the Tyrant, they
With much regret and slowly, at last obey.
Nor after long, as chanc'd, the festal day
Of Herod's Birth arriv'd, at regal Bords,
As Custom call'd, his Captains and his Lords
And all his High Estates invited Dine:
The splendid Feast well o'er, in generous Wine
Concluded, Royal Musick finish'd all,
“Treating their noble Fancies at a Ball:
One Daughter, e'er from him Herodias fled
Had blest the injur'd Tetrarch's nuptial Bed;
Too plain in her the World her Mother spies,
The same fair Face and false deluding Eyes;
Like her, of Slaves she had a mighty band,
And cou'd like her, Smiles, Tears and Oaths command;
Like her, Sweet Poyson from her Eyes and Tongue
Distill'd; she like an Angel mov'd and sung.
Some soft Arabian Tune the Musick play,
She at the signal glides as soft away;
Her feet as nimbly as their fingers move,
From all that saw, she Wonder, forc'd or Love.
The King extravagantly pleas'd, and proud
As she her self to hear th' applauses loud
So justly on her thrown from every side,
Ask, by th' unutterable Name, he cry'd,
Ask what thou wilt, nor shall thou be deny'd,
Tho' half my Kingdom were the mighty Boon.
Instructed by her Mother, but too soon
She claims his Royal Word, Nor ought, she said,
Ought wou'd sh' accept, besides the Baptist's Head.
135
Take, cruel Maid! not only half but all
My Realms, he cry'd; If you'll my Words release,
And leave the Holy Man to die in peace!
Inexorably wicked still she stood,
Nothing cou'd quench her Thirsty, but guiltless Blood.
The Council diff'rent suffrages divide,
Some Love engag'd, fair Murdress! on thy side;
Some pure Revenge—He at the Court did rail;
Some hers, because they thought she wou'd prevail.
A generous few there were, who tho' he'd sworn,
His Oath unlawful thought, but over-born
Are lost i'th Crowd—The King himself gives way,
And bids his Guards the Damsels word obey.
Scarce with long search they found a Villain, who
Was black enough the horrid work to do;
Whom from the Dungeon when the Baptist spy'd,
Warn'd he that moment must for Death provide,
Long since that bus'ness is dispatch'd he cry'd,
That I was mortal born, I ever knew;
And since this Debt's from all to Nature due,
The sooner paid the better, gladly I
In Gods fair Cause, and injur'd Virtue's die:
Nor if o'th' Edg of Life our Souls can see
Within the Realms of dark Futurity,
Shall long my guiltless blood unpunisht be.
I see th' Arabians from their Quivers pour
O'r Galilee a dusky deadly show'r;
I see—The ugly Headsman will afford
No longer time, his unrelenting Sword
Soon stop'd his breath, an easie way it found;
And Blood and Life at once gush'd from the ghastly wound.
His Head they to the Feast in triumph bear,
With joy receiv'd by false Herodias there;
Who, lest they should delude her Cruelty,
Wipes his wan bloody Face, and cries 'Tis he!
Now saucy Censures at thy betters fling!
Now, if thou canst, preach on, and scorn a King!
Short-liv'd her wicked Joys base triumphs were,
For in the midst a panting Messenger
136
And hast and danger in his Face and Eyes,
Thro' the thick Circle pale and bloodless springs,
And from the Borders dismal Tidings brings;
That Aretas with his Arabian bands
Passage obtain'd thro' wrong'd Iturea's Lands,
Jordan's small streams had near Cesarea pass'd,
And all the higher Galilee laid wast
With Fire and Sword; to whom strong Abel's Town
Their Gates had open'd, marching Conq'ror down
Thro' old Zaanaims Grove to Kedesh near,
Which with high Ramah, struck with panic fear
Prepar'd to yield—Tho' Guilt in Herod's Eyes
Fear in his Face, to Arms, To Arms, he cries?
With speed the bold Invader meet, before
He march too far, his Troops shall rove no more!
His Forces then from proud Sebaste draws,
And strong Macherus, which th' Arabian aws
Wide-wandring thro' Baara's distant Vale;
From Carmel's Mount and Hermon's fruitful Dale:
With his own Troops his pow'rful Treasure brings
Of Ishmael's Race, Auxiliary Kings
From Jordan's Eastern side, and now cou'd boast
Had Heav'n stood still, a formidable Host:
Ev'n Heav'n it self to bribe t'his side he'll try
By unbecoming aukward Piety;
By mighty Gifts he to the Temple sent,
And more than all—he promis'd he'd repent.
In hast a Corier to the Prison sends,
The Baptist's body to his mourning Friends
He bids be strait deliver'd, him t'inter;
And he with Tears wou'd wash his Sepulchre:
Thro' the thin Vizard all with ease perceiv'd,
His penitence, nor Earth, nor Heav'n believ'd;
Loaden with Curses to the Field he went
But more with guiltless blood—You know th' event!
His swift Retreat, his num'rous Army broke,
The Day and Honour lost without a stroke.
All this did babbling Fame t'our Lord convey
Who with his Twelve at rich Caperna'm lay,
137
Till Herod, furious to the Court return'd;
Then with wise Caution, no unworthy Fear,
Seeks a more safe Retreat in Desarts, near
Bethsaida's wealthy Villa, where before
He did, in Heav'nly Wisdoms sacred Lore,
Instruct his Auditors—Thither he went
With his lov'd few, and the calm Moments spent,
In thoughts of that great Work to which design'd,
And all the wond'rous Things were yet behind.
The End of the Fourth Book.
144
Book V.
THE ARGUMENT OF THE Fifth BOOK.
The Apostle proceeds and relates the Miracle of the Loaves, at which the Multitude surpriz'd, would again have forc'd our Saviour to accept of the Kingdom; but he retires from them, and continues all Night praying in one of the Proseuchæ or Oratories of the Jews, having sent his Disciples cross the Lake towards Capernaum; whom he overtakes, walking on the Sea, before it was Day; the Disciples being affrighted, till knowing his Voice, St. Peter leaves the Ship and goes towards him, who, when ready to sink, supports him, and entring the Ship, they immediately land between Bethsaida and Capernaum; to the latter of which our Saviour goes with his Disciples, being followed by the Multitude, more for Interest than Devotion. His Sermon to them, in the Synagogue, on that Subject, and Discourse concerning eating his Flesh and drinking his Blood, at which, the Jews being offended, many of his Followers forsake him; and upon his Apostles Protestation of Fidelity, he prophesies that one of them should betray him. He cures the Son of Chuza, Herod's Steward, when desperately ill of a Fever, on which he himself, who had before been an Herodian, became his Follower, with all his House. The Miracle of the Centurion's Servant, Simon's Wife's-Mother, and the Paralytick, at Capernaum; and that on Blind Bartimæus, at Jericho. Going up to Jerusalem, he cures one that was born Blind, curses the Fig-tree; the first time purges the Temple of Buyers and Sellers, and cures the infirm Man, at the Pool of Bethesda. The Apostle next recites several of his Parables, that of the wicked Judg, and importunate Widow, the cruel Servant, the rich Miser, the Pharisee and Publican, and, more at large, that of the Prodigal Son; which newly finished, Chuza, who was an Acquaintant of Gamaliel's, being in Town against the Passover, comes to his House, brings his Friend the Centurion with him; where finding St. John and the other Disciples, whom he had formerly seen in Galilee, he desires a fuller account of the Mysteries of the Christian Faith, and the Person of our Saviour. This the beloved Disciple agrees to give him. Whose Preparations for it conclude the Fifth Book.
145
Thus far, attent, and pleas'd the Fathers hear,
Nor any signs of weariness appear;
Tho' half the day was past, and Sol had driv'n
His flaming Courses to the top of Heav'n:
Th' Apostle paus'd, his Hearers cou'd not stay
But urge him on, impatient of delay;
What yet behind more earnest press to tell,
Nay not t'omit one Word or Miracle:
Who thus proceeds—Nor long our Lord conceal'd
Lay there, e'en more by his Retreat reveal'd;
As the Suns Face is with more Eyes survey'd,
When veil'd in an Eclipses dusky shade:
Where he himself and his lov'd Twelve repos'd
Some Shepherds to the neighb'ring Towns disclos'd,
They flock by Thousands and the Saviour found,
As him the Twelve, they them encompass round:
Where on an easie Hillock rais'd he taught,
At once instructs, and cures who e'er were brought:
With him the Multitude unweary'd stay
Till length'ning shadows show'd declining day.
When the Disciples hasten'd them away
From the wild Desart, where with Hunger prest
And Travel tir'd, they'd neither Food nor Rest:
Compassionate our Saviour casts his Eyes
Amidst th' expecting Crowd, and thus replies:
And shall we so unhospitably use
Our Guests? a short Refreshment them refuse?
Whom if the Night and Hunger joyn'd oppress,
They'll faint and perish in the Wilderness?
Rather let's all our own small Stores impart,
Presented with a cheerful face and heart.
When frugal Philip and wise Andrew cry'd,
Whence shall we Bread for such vast Crowds provide?
Five Loaves our stock, to which we chanc'd to take
Two Fishes, lately angling on the Lake.
Give what you have out of your narrow store
Our Lord, rejoyns, nor I, nor Heav'n ask more:
Be't yours t'invite and place the Company,
Dispose of them, and leave the rest to me.
This with his wonted Majesty he said,
And they with faith and wonder mixt obey'd:
Five Thousand Souls tho' we unreckon'd pass
The weaker Sex and Age, upon the Grass,
Which plenteous flourish'd there, discumbent laid
For their great Benefactor's bounty staid:
Whom whilst half-fainting him intent they ey'd,
We in a hundred different Troops divide:
Then in those glorious Hands the Food he takes
By which what e'er he please, what e'er he please he makes;
His hands and eyes at once to Heav'n he rais'd
From whence all good, and the great Giver prais'd:
Then blest, and brake, and gave—A strange surprise
Seiz'd all, nor cou'd we trust our hands or eyes
Till tast assisted—we from him receive
And to th' astonish'd Crowd around us give
Both Fish and Bread, a welcom humble Treat,
Each wond'ring Guest with Thanks and Praises Eat:
Still unexhausted our miraculous store,
Till all the Company suffic'd give o'er;
When, as he bids, what still amaz'd us more,
Gathering the broken reliques of the Feast,
We saw the Wonder like the Loaves increas'd:
Twelve empty Baskets in the Vessel lay
Wherein we Fish from place to place convey:
For these t'our Mates on Shipboard left we call,
And with the wond'rous Fragments fill'd 'em all:
Loud shouts the People gave which shook the Ground,
Tabor and Carmel's distant hills resound:
In grateful Songs spread the soft Sex his Fame,
“And teach their stamm'ring Babes to lisp his Name:
The Men in frequent knots together crowd,
First whisp'ring, murm'ring then, then speak aloud:
The Heathen Yoke why shou'd they longer wear,
Proud Herod and th' insulting Romans bear,
When Heav'n had sent 'em a Deliverer;
Who all their Wounds cou'd cure, their Wants supply,
Nay e'en their Lives restore, if in his Cause they die?
Greater than Moses's self, by him foretold,
And all the holy Messengers of old:
That Greatness whence he learnt a Crown to scorn
Declares he for a Crown was only born:
We've Force enough, a greater Army we
Than joyn'd at Modin the brave Maccabee:
No longer his injurious modesty
Let's suffer thus to hide his worth in vain,
And thus defraud all Israel of his reign.
First for Tiberias under him we'll go,
Samaria next our Princes pow'r shall know;
And next Jerusalem, where stronger grown,
We'll fix him on his Father David's Throne:
Wrought to the height they Palms and Garments bring,
Hail promis'd Prince they cry'd, hail Israel's King!
Their dang'rous kindness quickly drives him thence,
Against a Crown, Flight's only his defence:
Of this far more than all his Foes, affraid;
By hast'ning night at once, and the thick shade
Favour'd, he scap'd, and did himself convey
T'a place remote where oft he us'd to pray;
Wall'd on the sides, as custom is, to yield
A shelter from wild Beasts that range the field:
Wide ope' to Heav'n, unless by chance 'twas found
With pleasant Trees, like some fair Arbor crown'd,
By pious Industry thick planted round:
Here stay'd alone, till night began to wear,
In Meditation, holy Hymns and Pray'r:
Mean while the chosen Twelve at his Command
Directly steer for rich Capern'um's Land,
Where with Bethsaida's pleasant Coasts 'tis joyn'd.
Long had we row'd and beat it in the Wind,
But yet with all our labour made no way;
And now shrill Cocks foretold th' approach of day
Which glad we heard, tho' yet no beam of light;
All Sea-marks hid in the tempestuous night:
Still wrought the Waves, the Bark so rudely tost,
Our Lord not there, we gave our selves for lost:
The Mast came close by th' Board, the Helm was gone;
An useless hulk we lay, and floated on,
As the Waves pleas'd, 'twas vain we thought to strive,
Nor cou'd two Glasses more expect to live:
Some Rafts, and Boards provide, some ready stand
To quit the Ship and try to reach the Land;
Then of each other our last farewel take;
—When sudden, thus concern'd, Barjonas spake;
Or my Eyes fail me, Mates! or on the Lake
Something approaching to the Ship I see:
We look'd, and all in the same thoughts agree.
Forward it mov'd, in humane Form appear'd,
Till with us close came up; anew we fear'd
Some danger worse than death—still nearer view'd
Some horrid Spectre 'tis, we all conclude;
Which when we at the very Poop perceive,
We with loud Shreeks prepare the Ship to leave;
While crowding to the Stern in hast we fled
Distinct th' Appearance spoke, and thus it said:
—“Courage my Friends! me still at need you'll find!
“'Tis I my self—Give these vain fears to th' Wind.
The dear-lov'd Voice we heard twixt hope and fear,
Yet hardly durst believe our help so near:
When Cephas thus, if Lord thy Voice it be
Agen let's hear, and bid me come to thee!
Agen he spake, whilst rapt in Joy we stand,
And mild, invites him with his Voice and Hand!
Away he springs on the wide watry field,
Solid as Rocks the Waves refus'd to yield:
With daring feet thro' paths unknown he goes,
And rises as the rolling Surges rose:
But when he saw the surly Ocean frown,
The hollow hanging Waves look lowring down,
He in a dreadful Vale, the Seas and Night
Conjoyn'd to intercept our Saviour's sight;
The Storm more fierce, the Winds obstruct his race,
And dash the twisted foam against his Face;
Surpriz'd with fear he felt the slipp'ry Wave
Sink underneath, and cry'd—O Master save!
He heard, and did his want of Faith upbraid:
He heard and sav'd, but asks him, Why affraid?
Whence he so soon cou'd so forgetful prove,
And whether he distrusts his Pow'r or Love?
Then to the Ship receiv'd—
We knew him all, and all our Lord adore,
And the next moment safely reach'd the shore:
Nor long upon the sounding Beach we walk'd
And of the various fears and dangers talk'd
That dreadful night escap'd, e'er welcom day
Did o'er sweet Hermon's Hill its beams display:
To meet the Sun on a warm sandy Bed
Fronting to East our Nets and Cloaths we spread;
These quickly dry'd, thence to Capernaum went,
To whose fair walls his steps our Saviour bent:
But e'er we reach'd the Town, as back we threw
Our wand'ring Eyes the pleasant Lake to view,
We saw the Western side thick cover'd or
With Ships and Men, we saw the cluster'd shore
Grow thinner by degrees, till black no more
Its Face appear'd, but a fair prospect yields;
Here ragged Rocks and Sands, there verdant Fields;
Whilst the green Sea as late the crouded strand
Is blacken'd o'r like some well-wooded Land:
So when their way a flight of Locusts takes
From Lubims wild and Chelonidian Lakes;
While Mizraim's Sons their sacred Ox implore
And trembling see the Plague wide hov'ring o'r;
So when the Westwind clears their reedy Shore,
Their Fields do's of their straggling Squadrons sweep,
Precipitating in the Arabian deep;
So looks the Gulph, when they a period find
To their long Voy'ge, and driven by the VVind
Almost from Shore to Shore, their Bodies spred,
Changing the Sea to black which once was red:
So lookt the Lake, when from the distant side
Under a gentle Gale their Oars they ply'd,
The Wind ver'd round to VVest, at once they sweep
With equal numerous strokes the angry deep;
At once their secret liquid way they find,
And leave alike long closing paths behind;
At once their Vessels cut the yielding Sand,
They at Chorazin or Caperna'm land:
Where soon surpriz'd, our Lord again they found,
For well they knew he cou'd not coast it round
By Land thro' fair Bethsaida's bending Shore,
Nor Boat, with winged Sail, or Fin-like Oar
To waft him cross, his own put off before.
Solicitous they ask him, when and how
He thither came; who with a steddy brow
Thus answers them severe, “If I shou'd tell
This would no more than the last Miracle
Convince your unbelief—Too well I see
You rather seek the wond'rous Loaves than me:
Fond Men! employ not thus your fruitless pain
The miscall'd Goods of this false VVorld to gain!
Why so much toil and care for per'shing meat,
And why no more for what th' Immortals eat?
With this I all my faithful Foll'wers cheer,
To scatter this my Father sent me here,
And seal's with Miracles; this you'll receive
If you his words obey, and mine believe.
Nor any signs of weariness appear;
Tho' half the day was past, and Sol had driv'n
His flaming Courses to the top of Heav'n:
Th' Apostle paus'd, his Hearers cou'd not stay
But urge him on, impatient of delay;
What yet behind more earnest press to tell,
Nay not t'omit one Word or Miracle:
Who thus proceeds—Nor long our Lord conceal'd
Lay there, e'en more by his Retreat reveal'd;
146
When veil'd in an Eclipses dusky shade:
Where he himself and his lov'd Twelve repos'd
Some Shepherds to the neighb'ring Towns disclos'd,
They flock by Thousands and the Saviour found,
As him the Twelve, they them encompass round:
Where on an easie Hillock rais'd he taught,
At once instructs, and cures who e'er were brought:
With him the Multitude unweary'd stay
Till length'ning shadows show'd declining day.
When the Disciples hasten'd them away
From the wild Desart, where with Hunger prest
And Travel tir'd, they'd neither Food nor Rest:
Compassionate our Saviour casts his Eyes
Amidst th' expecting Crowd, and thus replies:
And shall we so unhospitably use
Our Guests? a short Refreshment them refuse?
Whom if the Night and Hunger joyn'd oppress,
They'll faint and perish in the Wilderness?
Rather let's all our own small Stores impart,
Presented with a cheerful face and heart.
When frugal Philip and wise Andrew cry'd,
Whence shall we Bread for such vast Crowds provide?
Five Loaves our stock, to which we chanc'd to take
Two Fishes, lately angling on the Lake.
Give what you have out of your narrow store
Our Lord, rejoyns, nor I, nor Heav'n ask more:
Be't yours t'invite and place the Company,
Dispose of them, and leave the rest to me.
This with his wonted Majesty he said,
And they with faith and wonder mixt obey'd:
Five Thousand Souls tho' we unreckon'd pass
The weaker Sex and Age, upon the Grass,
Which plenteous flourish'd there, discumbent laid
For their great Benefactor's bounty staid:
Whom whilst half-fainting him intent they ey'd,
We in a hundred different Troops divide:
Then in those glorious Hands the Food he takes
By which what e'er he please, what e'er he please he makes;
His hands and eyes at once to Heav'n he rais'd
147
Then blest, and brake, and gave—A strange surprise
Seiz'd all, nor cou'd we trust our hands or eyes
Till tast assisted—we from him receive
And to th' astonish'd Crowd around us give
Both Fish and Bread, a welcom humble Treat,
Each wond'ring Guest with Thanks and Praises Eat:
Still unexhausted our miraculous store,
Till all the Company suffic'd give o'er;
When, as he bids, what still amaz'd us more,
Gathering the broken reliques of the Feast,
We saw the Wonder like the Loaves increas'd:
Twelve empty Baskets in the Vessel lay
Wherein we Fish from place to place convey:
For these t'our Mates on Shipboard left we call,
And with the wond'rous Fragments fill'd 'em all:
Loud shouts the People gave which shook the Ground,
Tabor and Carmel's distant hills resound:
In grateful Songs spread the soft Sex his Fame,
“And teach their stamm'ring Babes to lisp his Name:
The Men in frequent knots together crowd,
First whisp'ring, murm'ring then, then speak aloud:
The Heathen Yoke why shou'd they longer wear,
Proud Herod and th' insulting Romans bear,
When Heav'n had sent 'em a Deliverer;
Who all their Wounds cou'd cure, their Wants supply,
Nay e'en their Lives restore, if in his Cause they die?
Greater than Moses's self, by him foretold,
And all the holy Messengers of old:
That Greatness whence he learnt a Crown to scorn
Declares he for a Crown was only born:
We've Force enough, a greater Army we
Than joyn'd at Modin the brave Maccabee:
No longer his injurious modesty
Let's suffer thus to hide his worth in vain,
And thus defraud all Israel of his reign.
First for Tiberias under him we'll go,
Samaria next our Princes pow'r shall know;
And next Jerusalem, where stronger grown,
We'll fix him on his Father David's Throne:
148
Hail promis'd Prince they cry'd, hail Israel's King!
Their dang'rous kindness quickly drives him thence,
Against a Crown, Flight's only his defence:
Of this far more than all his Foes, affraid;
By hast'ning night at once, and the thick shade
Favour'd, he scap'd, and did himself convey
T'a place remote where oft he us'd to pray;
Wall'd on the sides, as custom is, to yield
A shelter from wild Beasts that range the field:
Wide ope' to Heav'n, unless by chance 'twas found
With pleasant Trees, like some fair Arbor crown'd,
By pious Industry thick planted round:
Here stay'd alone, till night began to wear,
In Meditation, holy Hymns and Pray'r:
Mean while the chosen Twelve at his Command
Directly steer for rich Capern'um's Land,
Where with Bethsaida's pleasant Coasts 'tis joyn'd.
Long had we row'd and beat it in the Wind,
But yet with all our labour made no way;
And now shrill Cocks foretold th' approach of day
Which glad we heard, tho' yet no beam of light;
All Sea-marks hid in the tempestuous night:
Still wrought the Waves, the Bark so rudely tost,
Our Lord not there, we gave our selves for lost:
The Mast came close by th' Board, the Helm was gone;
An useless hulk we lay, and floated on,
As the Waves pleas'd, 'twas vain we thought to strive,
Nor cou'd two Glasses more expect to live:
Some Rafts, and Boards provide, some ready stand
To quit the Ship and try to reach the Land;
Then of each other our last farewel take;
—When sudden, thus concern'd, Barjonas spake;
Or my Eyes fail me, Mates! or on the Lake
Something approaching to the Ship I see:
We look'd, and all in the same thoughts agree.
Forward it mov'd, in humane Form appear'd,
Till with us close came up; anew we fear'd
Some danger worse than death—still nearer view'd
Some horrid Spectre 'tis, we all conclude;
149
We with loud Shreeks prepare the Ship to leave;
While crowding to the Stern in hast we fled
Distinct th' Appearance spoke, and thus it said:
—“Courage my Friends! me still at need you'll find!
“'Tis I my self—Give these vain fears to th' Wind.
The dear-lov'd Voice we heard twixt hope and fear,
Yet hardly durst believe our help so near:
When Cephas thus, if Lord thy Voice it be
Agen let's hear, and bid me come to thee!
Agen he spake, whilst rapt in Joy we stand,
And mild, invites him with his Voice and Hand!
Away he springs on the wide watry field,
Solid as Rocks the Waves refus'd to yield:
With daring feet thro' paths unknown he goes,
And rises as the rolling Surges rose:
But when he saw the surly Ocean frown,
The hollow hanging Waves look lowring down,
He in a dreadful Vale, the Seas and Night
Conjoyn'd to intercept our Saviour's sight;
The Storm more fierce, the Winds obstruct his race,
And dash the twisted foam against his Face;
Surpriz'd with fear he felt the slipp'ry Wave
Sink underneath, and cry'd—O Master save!
He heard, and did his want of Faith upbraid:
He heard and sav'd, but asks him, Why affraid?
Whence he so soon cou'd so forgetful prove,
And whether he distrusts his Pow'r or Love?
Then to the Ship receiv'd—
We knew him all, and all our Lord adore,
And the next moment safely reach'd the shore:
Nor long upon the sounding Beach we walk'd
And of the various fears and dangers talk'd
That dreadful night escap'd, e'er welcom day
Did o'er sweet Hermon's Hill its beams display:
To meet the Sun on a warm sandy Bed
Fronting to East our Nets and Cloaths we spread;
These quickly dry'd, thence to Capernaum went,
To whose fair walls his steps our Saviour bent:
But e'er we reach'd the Town, as back we threw
150
We saw the Western side thick cover'd or
With Ships and Men, we saw the cluster'd shore
Grow thinner by degrees, till black no more
Its Face appear'd, but a fair prospect yields;
Here ragged Rocks and Sands, there verdant Fields;
Whilst the green Sea as late the crouded strand
Is blacken'd o'r like some well-wooded Land:
So when their way a flight of Locusts takes
From Lubims wild and Chelonidian Lakes;
While Mizraim's Sons their sacred Ox implore
And trembling see the Plague wide hov'ring o'r;
So when the Westwind clears their reedy Shore,
Their Fields do's of their straggling Squadrons sweep,
Precipitating in the Arabian deep;
So looks the Gulph, when they a period find
To their long Voy'ge, and driven by the VVind
Almost from Shore to Shore, their Bodies spred,
Changing the Sea to black which once was red:
So lookt the Lake, when from the distant side
Under a gentle Gale their Oars they ply'd,
The Wind ver'd round to VVest, at once they sweep
With equal numerous strokes the angry deep;
At once their secret liquid way they find,
And leave alike long closing paths behind;
At once their Vessels cut the yielding Sand,
They at Chorazin or Caperna'm land:
Where soon surpriz'd, our Lord again they found,
For well they knew he cou'd not coast it round
By Land thro' fair Bethsaida's bending Shore,
Nor Boat, with winged Sail, or Fin-like Oar
To waft him cross, his own put off before.
Solicitous they ask him, when and how
He thither came; who with a steddy brow
Thus answers them severe, “If I shou'd tell
This would no more than the last Miracle
Convince your unbelief—Too well I see
You rather seek the wond'rous Loaves than me:
Fond Men! employ not thus your fruitless pain
The miscall'd Goods of this false VVorld to gain!
151
And why no more for what th' Immortals eat?
With this I all my faithful Foll'wers cheer,
To scatter this my Father sent me here,
And seal's with Miracles; this you'll receive
If you his words obey, and mine believe.
The indocil Croud more VVonders still desire,
New Signs from Heav'n, yet more august and higher:
Nothing but Manna pleases, that they fain
Wou'd tast, their stiff-neck'd Fathers did disdain:
For Angels Food they long, to gratifie.
Their curious, yet their lazy Luxury:
How gladly he had their Messia been
T'have sav'd 'em from their work, tho' not their Sin!
For this the Empire of the World to gain
That they in solid sloth might ever reign:
Not so our Lord, who Labour recommends,
And but th' industrious, none esteems his Friends:
Nor wou'd more Wonders work, lest if they grow
Too cheap and mean, they shou'd no more be so:
But tells 'em, 'twas not Moses did bestow
That Manna, which they did from Heav'n receive,
Nor was ev'n that the best that Heav'n cou'd give:
Its choicest Fare had Virtues far more high,
Virtues which those who tast can never die.
That Bread they fain wou'd have, That Bread am I,
Rejoins our Lord, tho' not as you desire;
I not the Body, but the Mind inspire
With Strength Celestial, Vigour all Divine,
To do my Fathers Will, and his is mine:
Who thus I'll guard till Life's sad Scene be o'r,
Nor shall they ever thirst or hunger more:
Who e'r my Father sends, by the sure Sign
Of a good Faith and Life distinguish'd mine;
These with his Grace and Holy Spirit endu'd,
(Man's bad is all his own, Heav'ns all his good;)
These I'll receive, none e'r repell'd shall be,
Who leave the World and Sin and come to me:
Yes, those who to my sacred Laws incline,
And keep sincere, for only those are mine;
Nor Earths weak force, nor Hells infernal bands
Shall snatch or wrest from my tenacious hands:
Them will I guard and keep in secret there
Until the last great Day, then with me bear
To judg the World unjust and doom to pain,
Then by my side in endless Glory reign.
New Signs from Heav'n, yet more august and higher:
Nothing but Manna pleases, that they fain
Wou'd tast, their stiff-neck'd Fathers did disdain:
For Angels Food they long, to gratifie.
Their curious, yet their lazy Luxury:
How gladly he had their Messia been
T'have sav'd 'em from their work, tho' not their Sin!
For this the Empire of the World to gain
That they in solid sloth might ever reign:
Not so our Lord, who Labour recommends,
And but th' industrious, none esteems his Friends:
Nor wou'd more Wonders work, lest if they grow
Too cheap and mean, they shou'd no more be so:
But tells 'em, 'twas not Moses did bestow
That Manna, which they did from Heav'n receive,
Nor was ev'n that the best that Heav'n cou'd give:
Its choicest Fare had Virtues far more high,
Virtues which those who tast can never die.
That Bread they fain wou'd have, That Bread am I,
Rejoins our Lord, tho' not as you desire;
I not the Body, but the Mind inspire
With Strength Celestial, Vigour all Divine,
To do my Fathers Will, and his is mine:
Who thus I'll guard till Life's sad Scene be o'r,
Nor shall they ever thirst or hunger more:
Who e'r my Father sends, by the sure Sign
Of a good Faith and Life distinguish'd mine;
These with his Grace and Holy Spirit endu'd,
(Man's bad is all his own, Heav'ns all his good;)
These I'll receive, none e'r repell'd shall be,
Who leave the World and Sin and come to me:
Yes, those who to my sacred Laws incline,
And keep sincere, for only those are mine;
152
Shall snatch or wrest from my tenacious hands:
Them will I guard and keep in secret there
Until the last great Day, then with me bear
To judg the World unjust and doom to pain,
Then by my side in endless Glory reign.
These new uncommon Truths still more amuse,
More harden still th' already harden'd Jews:
Him for low Birth and high pretence they scorn,
What—Was he not a Galilean born
In little Naz'reth? Know we not, they cry
His humble Parents, can he them deny?
Joseph the Carpenter—H' has oft workt here;
His Mother Mary—his Relations near
On either side—How can it ever be?
Did these too come from Heav'n as well as he?
More harden still th' already harden'd Jews:
Him for low Birth and high pretence they scorn,
What—Was he not a Galilean born
In little Naz'reth? Know we not, they cry
His humble Parents, can he them deny?
Joseph the Carpenter—H' has oft workt here;
His Mother Mary—his Relations near
On either side—How can it ever be?
Did these too come from Heav'n as well as he?
Our Saviour thus—if this you not receive
How will ye yet far stranger Truths believe?
Murmur no more in vain—Agen, I say,
'Tis I, I only am to Heav'n the way;
My Flesh such Bread, who tasts it never dies:
My Body an unblemish'd Sacrifice
To my great Fathers pleasure I resign,
My Blood effus'd at large, the only Wine
Can cheer your Souls; unless you these obtain
Your hope of Immortality's in vain.
Seems this so strange that I from Heav'n came down
Stript from my Robes of Light and starry Crown?
What Admiration wou'd possess you then
If thro' the Air you see me mount agen?
If Angels you my Ministers shou'd find
A Cloud my Chariot, and my Wings the Wind?
O hard of heart! Yet won't you understand
What I reveal, nor do what I command?
Your gross, your carnal minds immers'd in Love
Of this low World, unfit for that above:
A hidden secret Sense my words imply,
Those who believe my words shall never die.
Nor this can their false prejudice prevent
Murm'ring, the giddy Croud from Jesus went;
Reprov'd and disappointed leave the Shore
In shoals as thick as they arriv'd before:
Almost alone himself our Lord did find
And none besides his chosen Twelve behind;
Then with a sigh which not from Pride did flow
But Pity, mildly asks—Will you too go?
When fervent Cephas thus, who scarce cou'd bear
So hard a thought—To whom dear Lord, or where?
Thou, endless Life on those who thee implore
Bestow'st, and is there any can give more?
We know thou must the true Messiah be,
Our Hopes, our Souls, are all repos'd on thee.
Agen with Sighs he did his sorrow show,
More you, he says, than you your selves I know:
Your Folly, and your Frailty I survey,
Your deepest thoughts as light and clear as day:
I know the wretch who will his Lord betray;
One of the Twelve I from the World did chuse
T'obey my Father, thence my Life I lose:
Soon will he with base Slanders me accuse,
Soon will the Fiend himself, a dreadful Guest
Seise for his own his avaritious breast.
We all with just concern and horror hear,
Each ey'd the next, but for himself did fear:
How will ye yet far stranger Truths believe?
Murmur no more in vain—Agen, I say,
'Tis I, I only am to Heav'n the way;
My Flesh such Bread, who tasts it never dies:
My Body an unblemish'd Sacrifice
To my great Fathers pleasure I resign,
My Blood effus'd at large, the only Wine
Can cheer your Souls; unless you these obtain
Your hope of Immortality's in vain.
Seems this so strange that I from Heav'n came down
Stript from my Robes of Light and starry Crown?
What Admiration wou'd possess you then
If thro' the Air you see me mount agen?
If Angels you my Ministers shou'd find
A Cloud my Chariot, and my Wings the Wind?
O hard of heart! Yet won't you understand
What I reveal, nor do what I command?
Your gross, your carnal minds immers'd in Love
Of this low World, unfit for that above:
A hidden secret Sense my words imply,
Those who believe my words shall never die.
Nor this can their false prejudice prevent
Murm'ring, the giddy Croud from Jesus went;
153
In shoals as thick as they arriv'd before:
Almost alone himself our Lord did find
And none besides his chosen Twelve behind;
Then with a sigh which not from Pride did flow
But Pity, mildly asks—Will you too go?
When fervent Cephas thus, who scarce cou'd bear
So hard a thought—To whom dear Lord, or where?
Thou, endless Life on those who thee implore
Bestow'st, and is there any can give more?
We know thou must the true Messiah be,
Our Hopes, our Souls, are all repos'd on thee.
Agen with Sighs he did his sorrow show,
More you, he says, than you your selves I know:
Your Folly, and your Frailty I survey,
Your deepest thoughts as light and clear as day:
I know the wretch who will his Lord betray;
One of the Twelve I from the World did chuse
T'obey my Father, thence my Life I lose:
Soon will he with base Slanders me accuse,
Soon will the Fiend himself, a dreadful Guest
Seise for his own his avaritious breast.
We all with just concern and horror hear,
Each ey'd the next, but for himself did fear:
Why shou'd I strive to mention what in thought
I scarce cou'd track, each mighty VVonder wrought,
While in Caperna'ms fruitful Coasts he stay'd?
What crowds of Fiends his dread Commands obey'd?
What crowds of Men by Physicks feebler aid
Left desp'rate, by their Friends and selves giv'n o'r,
His healing touch or pow'rful Word restore?
With these, as oft as he occasion saw,
His perfect Doctrine mix'd and sacred Law:
Sometimes unveil'd relates, and sometimes tells
In moving Schemes and lively Parables:
Now do's some antient Prophesie explain,
And blames the hardness of their hearts in vain:
Then a false gloss from some true Text remove,
And teach the People what to hate and love.
All must not pass untold and some express'd,
You'll easier form a Notion of the rest.
I scarce cou'd track, each mighty VVonder wrought,
While in Caperna'ms fruitful Coasts he stay'd?
What crowds of Fiends his dread Commands obey'd?
What crowds of Men by Physicks feebler aid
Left desp'rate, by their Friends and selves giv'n o'r,
His healing touch or pow'rful Word restore?
With these, as oft as he occasion saw,
His perfect Doctrine mix'd and sacred Law:
Sometimes unveil'd relates, and sometimes tells
In moving Schemes and lively Parables:
Now do's some antient Prophesie explain,
And blames the hardness of their hearts in vain:
Then a false gloss from some true Text remove,
And teach the People what to hate and love.
All must not pass untold and some express'd,
154
As chanc'd, (with us 'twas Chance, with him Design)
Where at the Feast he Water chang'd to Wine
Returning from the Pasch a while we stay'd
Nor there we long our Residence had made
E'r thither posting from Capern'um came
A rich and pow'rful Lord, Chuza his Name;
Herod's high Steward he, and did beside
O'r all the upper Galilee preside,
Who when Youth spurr'd to pleasure and excess
Himself did of th' Herodian Sect profess:
Worse ev'n than Sadduces, tho' near the same;
Virtue they only thought an empty Name;
All Good and Bad designing Statesmens Rules,
And Heav'n and Hell but Tales to frighten fools:
What wonder then, if madly they employ
Their thoughtless hours in lewd voluptuous Joy?
If each some new delight each day contrives
And to their Genius sacrifice their Lives?
Among the rest too long young Chuza staid
In the luxurious Court, too long betray'd
By Vices wiles, and Pleasures flatt'ring Charms,
Who claspt him close in their soft treach'rous Arms.
Till riper years the dang'rous Cheat reveal'd
And Judgment shew'd what Passion had conceal'd:
To Business now, e'r 'twas too late, grown wise,
Once his Aversion, he himself applies:
One secret Cause which with success did move
To such a happy Change was virtuous Love:
The bright Joanna she that caus'd his Flame,
Who ev'n in such a Court preserv'd her Fame:
Almost her looks with Virtue them inspir'd
Her Mind and Lovely Form alike admir'd:
Of a just stature and Majestic meen,
With sweetness, in the great, but rarely seen:
She like an Angel look'd, and liv'd, and sung;
Virtue that fill'd her Breast inspir'd her tongue:
Her oft with transport had young Chuza ey'd,
Well-born and Fair, without one spark of pride:
He saw and lov'd, and won her for his Bride;
With wise Susanna then, whose pious care
Had form'd her tender Mind, did soon prepare
His Treasure from the dang'rous Court to bear:
So her desire; and sought a blest retreat
At his Hereditary Country Seat,
Near fair Capern'ums Walls; nor long they went,
E'er Heav'n a joyful Heir to Chuza sent;
Who now beneath a Feavers mortal rage,
One Lustre hardly past of his short Age,
Lay struggling, all sad signs of death appear
T'his frighted Parents, both half dead with fear;
Whilst his sad Mother weeping o'er him stood,
With quick uneven stroaks the poison'd blood
Did thro' his throbbing Veins small Flood-gates roll,
And beat a march to the departing Soul:
Black his chapt Tongue, earthy his Breath and short,
Unnatural motions his quick Eyes distort;
Little Convulsions in each part appear,
He catches swift at every Object near.
When Art was pos'd, and him they yielded lost,
They heard that thro' the Galilean Coast
Our Lord was seen returning, who they knew
By his Allmighty Word cou'd all things do:
Away the Father posts, more swift than death,
For Cana, or for lofty Nazareth;
And vow'd, if he his Son restor'd receive,
He'd the next hour with all his house believe.
When near small Jephthael's streams our Lord he found,
Quitting his Chariot, prostrate on the Ground
He lowly adores, and begs, if not too late,
T'Reverse his only Son's untimely Fate.
Our Lord who knew, tho' far remov'd, his Vow,
Who best knows when to help, and where, and how,
Resolv'd his Patience and his Faith to try,
He'd his Request nor grant, nor yet deny:
But turning to the Crowd his radiant Face
His Followers thus accosts—O harden'd Race!
How far shall Infidelity proceed?
How long will you these signs and wonders need?
How long shall stubborn Sense 'gainst Faith rebell?
Why will you not be sav'd without a Miracle?
Th' impatient Father cou'd no longer stay
But interrupts—“The Case bears no delay:
Tho' to the Town we back like Jehu drive
We hardly now shall find the Child alive:
To whom our Saviour this kind Answer gives
Disturb thy self and me no more—He lives
With Faith and Joy his Chariot he ascends
And back his course to rich Capern'um bends,
The officious Servants meet him at the Gate
With the glad News—Tho' their glad News too late:
What he well knew, they all in Transport tell
His Son was on the sudden strangely well;
He, whom giv'n o'er as lost, they lately mourn'd,
His health, nay e'en his strength agen return'd:
Careful he asks, exact, the time, the hour
When first they did observe the Feavers power
Abated—they the easie Question soon
Resolve, 'twas when the Sun was past his Noon,
The Day before,—'Twas then, he Ravish'd, cries,
Lifting to Heav'n his grateful Hands and Eyes,
Precisely then the mighty Prophets Word
Declar'd my Son was from the Grave restor'd!
Beauteous Joanna heard with Tears of Joy,
And in her hand she led the smiling Boy;
Him safe and well to his pleas'd Father shows,
About his neck his little arms he throws,
And welcom'd home, with pretty folly said
—What e'er the Servants told, he was not dead!
Lab'ring with Thanks the noble Chuza now
T'his Family declares his sacred Vow:
All freely grant he cou'd perform no less,
And Jesus the Messia all confess!
Nor long e'er thither with our Lord we went,
Whose Fame did his Arrival still prevent.
The news of his approach was soon aloud
Proclaim'd, the doors, the streets, the roads they crowd
With half dead Patients, by his Touch restor'd
Or Look, or Word, they kneel'd and him ador'd:
A brave Centurion there among the rest
By Proxy humbly his desire exprest;
Whose Word, the Roman Garrison that lay
To bridle hot Capern'um's Youth, obey;
The Cause, a Servant he from Rome had brought,
Whom justly dear for his deserts he thought
Whom many a painful day he faithful found,
And many a night spent on the frozen Ground:
Full Thirty hard Campaigns he had endur'd,
To Southern Heats, and Pontick Snows inur'd:
But when his Fiftith Winter now did wear,
His Age feels what his Youth with ease cou'd bear:
Afflictive Cramps his stubborn Sinews bend,
Which stronger in a deadly Palsey end:
Helpless he more than half a carcass lay;
A lump of cold disanimated Clay.
All his right-side, his left but little less,
And only his strong Vitals Life confess:
Vast Sums in vain for his recovery spent,
What Nature cou'd produce or Art invent
His Master try'd, first to the Bathes he sent,
Near where Calirrhoe's Sov'raign Waters fall
By Lasha's Brook, and strong Macheru's Wall:
When these no alteration on him make,
Him next the King's Physicians undertake;
A tedious Course prescribe his health to gain,
But they too find their boasted Art's in vain:
No humane help did now untry'd remain,
His generous Master did his Fate deplore,
And kindly sigh'd that he cou'd do no more:
A Servant whom such Faith and Love commend
He justly thought a less familiar Friend;
“Valiant and true, he him had often try'd,
“No danger ever made him leave his side;
“Nor gold cou'd tempt his Secrets to betray,
“Nor knew he his own Worth too well t'obey:
When now all humane Remedies were vain
He seeks Divine, for only those remain:
“With ill-directed Pray'rs devoutly made
To his own Æsculapius flies for Aid;
Vows he'd a Cock and greater Presents give
T'enrich his Fane, if his lov'd Servant live:
But the poor Marble Idol was not near,
Or else too busie, or too dull to hear;
His Vow's in vain, his Servant desp'rate grew;
When some who of our Lord's Arrival knew
Came panting in, the welcom News to bear,
Persuading him to seek for Succor there:
He rose and vow'd, if him our Lord wou'd hear
He all his helpless Gods wou'd strait cashier:
Not Mars himself shou'd stay—Long since his Mind,
Tho' weak, had been to Truths blest Laws inclin'd:
He lov'd our Nation, their Devotion prais'd,
And a fair Synagogue his noble Bounty rais'd:
Thus fix'd, his Servant, he'd have fain convey'd
Abroad, and at the Feet of Jesus laid,
But 'twas too late, he's gasping thick for Breath,
And struggling in the agonies of Death:
Yet durst he not himself to Jesus go,
His Thoughts were of himself too mean and low;
But ah! he rightly did not Jesus know:
None for their Merits e'er did with him stay,
None for Humility he turns away:
Jairus for him, and other Friends implore
That he his much lov'd Servant wou'd restore:
He yields, and kindly to the house repair'd,
Of whose approach when the Centurion heard,
No, 'tis too much he cries—It must not be!
Too much to go one single step for me.
Tho' he e'en a lost Gentile not disdain,
Unworthy him those Walls to entertain!
All I desire he'd do, which well he may,
Since Hand-maid Nature must her Lord obey,
(As me my Soldiers under Discipline,
Observant of each beck and secret sign,
Nay hardly dare in Thought my Will controul;)
Is, that he'd speak the Word and make him whole.
Pleas'd with his noble Faith our Lord looks round,
The like in his own Israel never found,
Aloud professing, nor were they alone
Design'd Assessors on th' Almighty Throne:
Who fear and serve him with a perfect mind
In every Nation shou'd acceptance find;
And while lost Israel's Sons expect in vain,
In bliss with all the holy Patriarchs reign.
But Faith like this what is there can withstand?
'Twill e'en Omnipotence it self command:
Bid the brave Man return, his grant is seal'd,
And e'en this moment his lov'd Servant heal'd:
—He said, 'tis done, he ease and strength receives,
His Master, he, and all the house believes.
Where at the Feast he Water chang'd to Wine
Returning from the Pasch a while we stay'd
Nor there we long our Residence had made
E'r thither posting from Capern'um came
A rich and pow'rful Lord, Chuza his Name;
Herod's high Steward he, and did beside
O'r all the upper Galilee preside,
Who when Youth spurr'd to pleasure and excess
Himself did of th' Herodian Sect profess:
Worse ev'n than Sadduces, tho' near the same;
Virtue they only thought an empty Name;
All Good and Bad designing Statesmens Rules,
And Heav'n and Hell but Tales to frighten fools:
What wonder then, if madly they employ
Their thoughtless hours in lewd voluptuous Joy?
If each some new delight each day contrives
And to their Genius sacrifice their Lives?
Among the rest too long young Chuza staid
In the luxurious Court, too long betray'd
By Vices wiles, and Pleasures flatt'ring Charms,
Who claspt him close in their soft treach'rous Arms.
Till riper years the dang'rous Cheat reveal'd
And Judgment shew'd what Passion had conceal'd:
To Business now, e'r 'twas too late, grown wise,
Once his Aversion, he himself applies:
One secret Cause which with success did move
To such a happy Change was virtuous Love:
The bright Joanna she that caus'd his Flame,
Who ev'n in such a Court preserv'd her Fame:
Almost her looks with Virtue them inspir'd
Her Mind and Lovely Form alike admir'd:
Of a just stature and Majestic meen,
With sweetness, in the great, but rarely seen:
She like an Angel look'd, and liv'd, and sung;
Virtue that fill'd her Breast inspir'd her tongue:
Her oft with transport had young Chuza ey'd,
Well-born and Fair, without one spark of pride:
He saw and lov'd, and won her for his Bride;
155
Had form'd her tender Mind, did soon prepare
His Treasure from the dang'rous Court to bear:
So her desire; and sought a blest retreat
At his Hereditary Country Seat,
Near fair Capern'ums Walls; nor long they went,
E'er Heav'n a joyful Heir to Chuza sent;
Who now beneath a Feavers mortal rage,
One Lustre hardly past of his short Age,
Lay struggling, all sad signs of death appear
T'his frighted Parents, both half dead with fear;
Whilst his sad Mother weeping o'er him stood,
With quick uneven stroaks the poison'd blood
Did thro' his throbbing Veins small Flood-gates roll,
And beat a march to the departing Soul:
Black his chapt Tongue, earthy his Breath and short,
Unnatural motions his quick Eyes distort;
Little Convulsions in each part appear,
He catches swift at every Object near.
When Art was pos'd, and him they yielded lost,
They heard that thro' the Galilean Coast
Our Lord was seen returning, who they knew
By his Allmighty Word cou'd all things do:
Away the Father posts, more swift than death,
For Cana, or for lofty Nazareth;
And vow'd, if he his Son restor'd receive,
He'd the next hour with all his house believe.
When near small Jephthael's streams our Lord he found,
Quitting his Chariot, prostrate on the Ground
He lowly adores, and begs, if not too late,
T'Reverse his only Son's untimely Fate.
Our Lord who knew, tho' far remov'd, his Vow,
Who best knows when to help, and where, and how,
Resolv'd his Patience and his Faith to try,
He'd his Request nor grant, nor yet deny:
But turning to the Crowd his radiant Face
His Followers thus accosts—O harden'd Race!
How far shall Infidelity proceed?
How long will you these signs and wonders need?
How long shall stubborn Sense 'gainst Faith rebell?
156
Th' impatient Father cou'd no longer stay
But interrupts—“The Case bears no delay:
Tho' to the Town we back like Jehu drive
We hardly now shall find the Child alive:
To whom our Saviour this kind Answer gives
Disturb thy self and me no more—He lives
With Faith and Joy his Chariot he ascends
And back his course to rich Capern'um bends,
The officious Servants meet him at the Gate
With the glad News—Tho' their glad News too late:
What he well knew, they all in Transport tell
His Son was on the sudden strangely well;
He, whom giv'n o'er as lost, they lately mourn'd,
His health, nay e'en his strength agen return'd:
Careful he asks, exact, the time, the hour
When first they did observe the Feavers power
Abated—they the easie Question soon
Resolve, 'twas when the Sun was past his Noon,
The Day before,—'Twas then, he Ravish'd, cries,
Lifting to Heav'n his grateful Hands and Eyes,
Precisely then the mighty Prophets Word
Declar'd my Son was from the Grave restor'd!
Beauteous Joanna heard with Tears of Joy,
And in her hand she led the smiling Boy;
Him safe and well to his pleas'd Father shows,
About his neck his little arms he throws,
And welcom'd home, with pretty folly said
—What e'er the Servants told, he was not dead!
Lab'ring with Thanks the noble Chuza now
T'his Family declares his sacred Vow:
All freely grant he cou'd perform no less,
And Jesus the Messia all confess!
Nor long e'er thither with our Lord we went,
Whose Fame did his Arrival still prevent.
The news of his approach was soon aloud
Proclaim'd, the doors, the streets, the roads they crowd
With half dead Patients, by his Touch restor'd
Or Look, or Word, they kneel'd and him ador'd:
A brave Centurion there among the rest
157
Whose Word, the Roman Garrison that lay
To bridle hot Capern'um's Youth, obey;
The Cause, a Servant he from Rome had brought,
Whom justly dear for his deserts he thought
Whom many a painful day he faithful found,
And many a night spent on the frozen Ground:
Full Thirty hard Campaigns he had endur'd,
To Southern Heats, and Pontick Snows inur'd:
But when his Fiftith Winter now did wear,
His Age feels what his Youth with ease cou'd bear:
Afflictive Cramps his stubborn Sinews bend,
Which stronger in a deadly Palsey end:
Helpless he more than half a carcass lay;
A lump of cold disanimated Clay.
All his right-side, his left but little less,
And only his strong Vitals Life confess:
Vast Sums in vain for his recovery spent,
What Nature cou'd produce or Art invent
His Master try'd, first to the Bathes he sent,
Near where Calirrhoe's Sov'raign Waters fall
By Lasha's Brook, and strong Macheru's Wall:
When these no alteration on him make,
Him next the King's Physicians undertake;
A tedious Course prescribe his health to gain,
But they too find their boasted Art's in vain:
No humane help did now untry'd remain,
His generous Master did his Fate deplore,
And kindly sigh'd that he cou'd do no more:
A Servant whom such Faith and Love commend
He justly thought a less familiar Friend;
“Valiant and true, he him had often try'd,
“No danger ever made him leave his side;
“Nor gold cou'd tempt his Secrets to betray,
“Nor knew he his own Worth too well t'obey:
When now all humane Remedies were vain
He seeks Divine, for only those remain:
“With ill-directed Pray'rs devoutly made
To his own Æsculapius flies for Aid;
Vows he'd a Cock and greater Presents give
158
But the poor Marble Idol was not near,
Or else too busie, or too dull to hear;
His Vow's in vain, his Servant desp'rate grew;
When some who of our Lord's Arrival knew
Came panting in, the welcom News to bear,
Persuading him to seek for Succor there:
He rose and vow'd, if him our Lord wou'd hear
He all his helpless Gods wou'd strait cashier:
Not Mars himself shou'd stay—Long since his Mind,
Tho' weak, had been to Truths blest Laws inclin'd:
He lov'd our Nation, their Devotion prais'd,
And a fair Synagogue his noble Bounty rais'd:
Thus fix'd, his Servant, he'd have fain convey'd
Abroad, and at the Feet of Jesus laid,
But 'twas too late, he's gasping thick for Breath,
And struggling in the agonies of Death:
Yet durst he not himself to Jesus go,
His Thoughts were of himself too mean and low;
But ah! he rightly did not Jesus know:
None for their Merits e'er did with him stay,
None for Humility he turns away:
Jairus for him, and other Friends implore
That he his much lov'd Servant wou'd restore:
He yields, and kindly to the house repair'd,
Of whose approach when the Centurion heard,
No, 'tis too much he cries—It must not be!
Too much to go one single step for me.
Tho' he e'en a lost Gentile not disdain,
Unworthy him those Walls to entertain!
All I desire he'd do, which well he may,
Since Hand-maid Nature must her Lord obey,
(As me my Soldiers under Discipline,
Observant of each beck and secret sign,
Nay hardly dare in Thought my Will controul;)
Is, that he'd speak the Word and make him whole.
Pleas'd with his noble Faith our Lord looks round,
The like in his own Israel never found,
Aloud professing, nor were they alone
Design'd Assessors on th' Almighty Throne:
159
In every Nation shou'd acceptance find;
And while lost Israel's Sons expect in vain,
In bliss with all the holy Patriarchs reign.
But Faith like this what is there can withstand?
'Twill e'en Omnipotence it self command:
Bid the brave Man return, his grant is seal'd,
And e'en this moment his lov'd Servant heal'd:
—He said, 'tis done, he ease and strength receives,
His Master, he, and all the house believes.
In vain I all his Wonders wou'd relate,
How many rescu'd from the brink of Fate:
How with a Touch he Simon's Mother rais'd:
How him the joyful Paralytic prais'd:
How, Jairus! thy Daughter he restor'd;
Tho' dead she heard, tho' dead obey'd his Word.
What Virtues e'en his sacred Robes diffus'd;
How by th' ungrateful Nazarites abus'd
He vanish'd thro' the crowd, they beat the Air,
Nor ever since his Presence blest 'em there.
What wond'rous Truths he did the Woman tell
In curst Samaria's Fields by Jacob's Well:
How many long of their dear sight bereav'd,
Earthly and Heav'nly Light at once receiv'd:
This all Bethsaida's wond'ring confines know,
And this thy Gates, delightful Jericho!
E'en yet old Bartimeus lives, who there
Did many a doleful year in darkness wear;
To which yet still a heavier plague was joyn'd,
He's miserably poor, e'en worse than blind:
His head with reverend baldness doubly bare,
Expos'd to all th' Inclemencies oth' Air,
To heat and cold—Methinks I see him there!
Or in the Gate I see him begging lie,
Or at the lovely Balsom-Gardens nigh:
Once as it chanc'd our Master passing by
Vast multitudes attending, he admir'd
The Cause, and earnest what it meant enquir'd,
For he their noise and trampling feet cou'd hear,
And well he knew some mighty Concourse near:
Nor sooner to the Blind was Jesus nam'd
But he with Faith and holy Hope enflam'd,
(For oft he heard what Miracles he'd done)
Exclaims—O mercy! mercy! David's Son!
Some bid be still! some cry to take him thence,
Nor let him with his loud Impertinence
Disturb our Lord, nor will he yet give o'er,
But cries more loud and earnest than before,
Great Son of David! let me mercy find!
O shew thy wonted pity on the Blind!
—None e'er deny'd or sad from Jesus part,
His earnest Pray'rs soon reach'd his ears and heart,
And till he's call'd he wou'd no further go;
Soon did th' old man the joyful Tidings know
From those about him, soon he cheerful rose,
Away his Staff and ragged Garment throws;
His Garment lest it might impeach his speed,
His Staff, which he shou'd now no longer need:
Away he runs, nor for a guide wou'd stay,
Following the Voice, oft stumbling in the way,
Of whom when near arriv'd, our Lord inquir'd
What Boon with such loud outcries he desir'd?
Lord! thou canst do't, he with large Tears replies,
And thou alone, restore me my dear eyes!
—'Tis thy victorious Faith directs thee right,
Well pleas'd our Lord rejoyns,—Receive thy sight!
'Tis said, 'tis done, a thick and churlish skin
Which stop'd the windows of his Soul within,
Flew off, nor did he ought that's painful find,
Like Cobwebs loose, unravel'd with the Wind,
He saw, his Saviour with loud Thanks did meet,
Embrac'd his knees, and prostrate kiss'd his feet.
How many rescu'd from the brink of Fate:
How with a Touch he Simon's Mother rais'd:
How him the joyful Paralytic prais'd:
How, Jairus! thy Daughter he restor'd;
Tho' dead she heard, tho' dead obey'd his Word.
What Virtues e'en his sacred Robes diffus'd;
How by th' ungrateful Nazarites abus'd
He vanish'd thro' the crowd, they beat the Air,
Nor ever since his Presence blest 'em there.
What wond'rous Truths he did the Woman tell
In curst Samaria's Fields by Jacob's Well:
How many long of their dear sight bereav'd,
Earthly and Heav'nly Light at once receiv'd:
This all Bethsaida's wond'ring confines know,
And this thy Gates, delightful Jericho!
E'en yet old Bartimeus lives, who there
Did many a doleful year in darkness wear;
To which yet still a heavier plague was joyn'd,
He's miserably poor, e'en worse than blind:
His head with reverend baldness doubly bare,
Expos'd to all th' Inclemencies oth' Air,
To heat and cold—Methinks I see him there!
Or in the Gate I see him begging lie,
Or at the lovely Balsom-Gardens nigh:
Once as it chanc'd our Master passing by
Vast multitudes attending, he admir'd
The Cause, and earnest what it meant enquir'd,
For he their noise and trampling feet cou'd hear,
And well he knew some mighty Concourse near:
160
But he with Faith and holy Hope enflam'd,
(For oft he heard what Miracles he'd done)
Exclaims—O mercy! mercy! David's Son!
Some bid be still! some cry to take him thence,
Nor let him with his loud Impertinence
Disturb our Lord, nor will he yet give o'er,
But cries more loud and earnest than before,
Great Son of David! let me mercy find!
O shew thy wonted pity on the Blind!
—None e'er deny'd or sad from Jesus part,
His earnest Pray'rs soon reach'd his ears and heart,
And till he's call'd he wou'd no further go;
Soon did th' old man the joyful Tidings know
From those about him, soon he cheerful rose,
Away his Staff and ragged Garment throws;
His Garment lest it might impeach his speed,
His Staff, which he shou'd now no longer need:
Away he runs, nor for a guide wou'd stay,
Following the Voice, oft stumbling in the way,
Of whom when near arriv'd, our Lord inquir'd
What Boon with such loud outcries he desir'd?
Lord! thou canst do't, he with large Tears replies,
And thou alone, restore me my dear eyes!
—'Tis thy victorious Faith directs thee right,
Well pleas'd our Lord rejoyns,—Receive thy sight!
'Tis said, 'tis done, a thick and churlish skin
Which stop'd the windows of his Soul within,
Flew off, nor did he ought that's painful find,
Like Cobwebs loose, unravel'd with the Wind,
He saw, his Saviour with loud Thanks did meet,
Embrac'd his knees, and prostrate kiss'd his feet.
Nor need I, Fathers! wast the day to tell
Those Wonders all the City know so well:
The blasted Fig-tree, which you yet may see
Without the Walls, i'th' way to Bethany,
Him who at Silo'm's streams receiv'd his sight,
Nor ever saw, till then, the cheerful light;
Where, after their exactest scrutiny,
No fraud the angry Sanhedrim cou'd see.
Him who so long at fam'd Bethesda lay,
Beyond the Angels Cure, sent heal'd away
By' our Saviour's pow'rful Word, whom harden'd still
For that good work the Jews attempt to kill:
Those Wonders all the City know so well:
The blasted Fig-tree, which you yet may see
Without the Walls, i'th' way to Bethany,
Him who at Silo'm's streams receiv'd his sight,
Nor ever saw, till then, the cheerful light;
Where, after their exactest scrutiny,
No fraud the angry Sanhedrim cou'd see.
161
Beyond the Angels Cure, sent heal'd away
By' our Saviour's pow'rful Word, whom harden'd still
For that good work the Jews attempt to kill:
Too well, says Joseph, I their Envy know,
At him whom height of Virtue makes their Foe:
Much I rememb'ring learnt from what he taught,
Witness of many a mighty Action wrought;
But few have scap'd me here; my self I saw
With what just anger and majestick awe
He did his Father's House the Temple cleanse,
And chas'd the Sacrilegious Merchants thence.
I saw too, when our captious Elders brought
Th' Adultress in the very Action caught;
Whence them he self-condemn'd and blushing sent,
And clear'd the fair convicted Penitent.
But of this Miracle I only knew
By Fame, and glad wou'd learn the Truth from you.
At him whom height of Virtue makes their Foe:
Much I rememb'ring learnt from what he taught,
Witness of many a mighty Action wrought;
But few have scap'd me here; my self I saw
With what just anger and majestick awe
He did his Father's House the Temple cleanse,
And chas'd the Sacrilegious Merchants thence.
I saw too, when our captious Elders brought
Th' Adultress in the very Action caught;
Whence them he self-condemn'd and blushing sent,
And clear'd the fair convicted Penitent.
But of this Miracle I only knew
By Fame, and glad wou'd learn the Truth from you.
'Twas at the famous Pool, well known to all
Jerusalem, that Heav'nly Hospital
Where every injur'd Sense a Cure may find,
The Deaf, the Blasted, Palsy'd, Lame and Blind;
Here, says the Apostle, at the Sun's first rise,
While they present the Morning-Sacrifice,
You know from Heav'n some courteous Angel brings
Unfailing Cures beneath his healing Wings
To such as to the Water first descend,
You know too him who did so long attend,
Who Blasted in his tender Youth, had stay'd
Almost six weeks of years expecting Aid:
In vain expecting, weak and Bed-rid laid,
Whence others, readier, still stept in before,
Till disappointed oft, he hop'd no more;
His only Comfort now was in Despair,
With speed to end his Life and Torments there:
Our Saviour saw, and asks, his Faith to try,
If for his pain he wish'd a remedy?
Yes, Death, said he, with unconcern'd neglect,
Nor any other ease must I expect:
The rich crowd in, and meet a speedy Cure,
Tho' e'en an Angel will not help the poor:
But that will I, our Saviour, kind, replies,
And bids him in his Fathers Name Arise!
Arise and Walk, and thence his Couch convey!
His blasted Limbs their Makers Word obey;
Vigorous and strong he in a moment grows,
His Blood thro' its forgotten channels flows;
All o'er himself he views, but do's so strange
T'himself appear, he scarce believes the change.
Jerusalem, that Heav'nly Hospital
Where every injur'd Sense a Cure may find,
The Deaf, the Blasted, Palsy'd, Lame and Blind;
Here, says the Apostle, at the Sun's first rise,
While they present the Morning-Sacrifice,
You know from Heav'n some courteous Angel brings
Unfailing Cures beneath his healing Wings
To such as to the Water first descend,
You know too him who did so long attend,
Who Blasted in his tender Youth, had stay'd
Almost six weeks of years expecting Aid:
In vain expecting, weak and Bed-rid laid,
Whence others, readier, still stept in before,
Till disappointed oft, he hop'd no more;
His only Comfort now was in Despair,
With speed to end his Life and Torments there:
Our Saviour saw, and asks, his Faith to try,
If for his pain he wish'd a remedy?
Yes, Death, said he, with unconcern'd neglect,
Nor any other ease must I expect:
The rich crowd in, and meet a speedy Cure,
162
But that will I, our Saviour, kind, replies,
And bids him in his Fathers Name Arise!
Arise and Walk, and thence his Couch convey!
His blasted Limbs their Makers Word obey;
Vigorous and strong he in a moment grows,
His Blood thro' its forgotten channels flows;
All o'er himself he views, but do's so strange
T'himself appear, he scarce believes the change.
Such Acts, such Crimes as these, if Crimes they be
Have made our Sanhedrim his Enemy:
True, on the Sabbath he this Wonder wrought,
And has against their vain Traditions taught,
But sure those Works for which him Heav'n did send
To this bad World, can never Heav'n offend.
All Holy Works of Charity confest,
Nor do's from them e'en his great Father rest;
Nor do's he old Traditions blame but where
With Laws divine they clash or interfere!
For never man so meek, so good, so kind;
All Love himself, all Love b' his Laws enjoyn'd:
Compassion, Alms, Forgiveness oft he prest,
And a good Life, true Faith's unfailing Test,
These the fair Terms on which he Pardon gave,
“He came his People from their sins to save.
This did he oft his crowding Audience tell,
Now plain, now in some lively Parable,
As ancient Seers us'd—And, but I fear
Already I've too long detain'd you here,
Some of the Cheif, I, Fathers! wou'd recite,
Equally yielding profit and delight:
Almost they're angry at so short a stay;
All, all, they ask, impatient of delay.
Th' Apostle thus—Then gladly I'll relate
The Prodigals Return, the Misers Fate:
The Lord who with his Servant did contend,
His Cruelty, and just tho' dreadful end;
The Widdow and the Judge did God nor Man
Regard, the Pharisee and Publican:
Have made our Sanhedrim his Enemy:
True, on the Sabbath he this Wonder wrought,
And has against their vain Traditions taught,
But sure those Works for which him Heav'n did send
To this bad World, can never Heav'n offend.
All Holy Works of Charity confest,
Nor do's from them e'en his great Father rest;
Nor do's he old Traditions blame but where
With Laws divine they clash or interfere!
For never man so meek, so good, so kind;
All Love himself, all Love b' his Laws enjoyn'd:
Compassion, Alms, Forgiveness oft he prest,
And a good Life, true Faith's unfailing Test,
These the fair Terms on which he Pardon gave,
“He came his People from their sins to save.
This did he oft his crowding Audience tell,
Now plain, now in some lively Parable,
As ancient Seers us'd—And, but I fear
Already I've too long detain'd you here,
Some of the Cheif, I, Fathers! wou'd recite,
Equally yielding profit and delight:
Almost they're angry at so short a stay;
All, all, they ask, impatient of delay.
Th' Apostle thus—Then gladly I'll relate
The Prodigals Return, the Misers Fate:
The Lord who with his Servant did contend,
His Cruelty, and just tho' dreadful end;
The Widdow and the Judge did God nor Man
Regard, the Pharisee and Publican:
To prove we ought repeated Pray'rs to make
At Gods high Throne, and no denyal take
This Parable did our lov'd Lord declare,
—A Judge there was, no matter when or where:
Neither on Honour he or Conscience stood,
Grown fat with Bribes, and Orphans Tears, and Blood:
A Widdow near him h'had long since bereft
Of her lov'd Lord, and poor and friendless left:
Whom a vexatious Neighbour us'd to wrong,
No help she had besides her Tears and Tongue;
No Oyly Advocate her Gold cou'd bribe
To espouse her Cause, no subtle smooth Tongu'd Scribe:
What shou'd she do, worse mischief to prevent?
E'en to the wicked Judge himself she went;
And with loud Outcries close besieg'd his door,
With long Petitions begs he'd help the poor!
There did she everlasting Centry keep,
Nor wou'd in quiet let him eat or sleep:
In vain's the threat'n'd Lash, as much in vain
His Servants drag her thence, she comes again:
If in his Robes he to the Bench repair,
Or pays a Visit, or but takes the Air
'Tis still the same, she haunts him every where.
Attends him like his shade, go where he will,
And worries him with Justice, Justice still!
He grievs, he rages, fumes and swears in vain
Sweats, stamps, and rails, she still comes on again.
What's to be done, when he by chance got breath!
Was ever Judge before thus talk'd to death,
T'himself he cries—Altho' I neither care
For Man, nor God himself, much less for her,
Her for my own sake I must right, or she,
As many I have done, will murder me:
Good Woman say—What is't that you require?
She ask'd, he gave her all her hearts desire;
Punish'd her Foe, and then, and not before
She rais'd her siege and left his Lordships door.
163
This Parable did our lov'd Lord declare,
—A Judge there was, no matter when or where:
Neither on Honour he or Conscience stood,
Grown fat with Bribes, and Orphans Tears, and Blood:
A Widdow near him h'had long since bereft
Of her lov'd Lord, and poor and friendless left:
Whom a vexatious Neighbour us'd to wrong,
No help she had besides her Tears and Tongue;
No Oyly Advocate her Gold cou'd bribe
To espouse her Cause, no subtle smooth Tongu'd Scribe:
What shou'd she do, worse mischief to prevent?
E'en to the wicked Judge himself she went;
And with loud Outcries close besieg'd his door,
With long Petitions begs he'd help the poor!
There did she everlasting Centry keep,
Nor wou'd in quiet let him eat or sleep:
In vain's the threat'n'd Lash, as much in vain
His Servants drag her thence, she comes again:
If in his Robes he to the Bench repair,
Or pays a Visit, or but takes the Air
'Tis still the same, she haunts him every where.
Attends him like his shade, go where he will,
And worries him with Justice, Justice still!
He grievs, he rages, fumes and swears in vain
Sweats, stamps, and rails, she still comes on again.
What's to be done, when he by chance got breath!
Was ever Judge before thus talk'd to death,
T'himself he cries—Altho' I neither care
For Man, nor God himself, much less for her,
Her for my own sake I must right, or she,
As many I have done, will murder me:
Good Woman say—What is't that you require?
She ask'd, he gave her all her hearts desire;
Punish'd her Foe, and then, and not before
She rais'd her siege and left his Lordships door.
The moral easie is, and plain in view;
If Importunity so much can do
E'en with the worst of men, if that can sway
The Great, and all but Gold it self outweigh;
If here so strong, it will not less avail
In Heav'ns high-Court, nor there of answer fail:
Nor that th' Almighty Judge above can e'r
As those below be tyr'd with mortal Pray'r;
But tho' he's always prone and free to give,
Man is not fit the Blessing to receive
Till his unweary'd Faith to Heav'n aspire,
And help with ardent humble Vows desire.
Then will he aid, for he can aid alone
Those injur'd Souls who under th' Altar groan;
Justice aloud their guiltless Blood demands;
Close by th' All-high full charg'd his Thunder stands:
“Vengeance has lead'n feet, but iron hands.
Vengeance is Gods, his Wisdom us secures
It cannot but be just; be mercy yours!
If you'd of Heav'n no such requital have
As that bad Servant whom his Lord forgave.
We beg to hear 't, which thus he did relate.
If Importunity so much can do
E'en with the worst of men, if that can sway
The Great, and all but Gold it self outweigh;
164
In Heav'ns high-Court, nor there of answer fail:
Nor that th' Almighty Judge above can e'r
As those below be tyr'd with mortal Pray'r;
But tho' he's always prone and free to give,
Man is not fit the Blessing to receive
Till his unweary'd Faith to Heav'n aspire,
And help with ardent humble Vows desire.
Then will he aid, for he can aid alone
Those injur'd Souls who under th' Altar groan;
Justice aloud their guiltless Blood demands;
Close by th' All-high full charg'd his Thunder stands:
“Vengeance has lead'n feet, but iron hands.
Vengeance is Gods, his Wisdom us secures
It cannot but be just; be mercy yours!
If you'd of Heav'n no such requital have
As that bad Servant whom his Lord forgave.
We beg to hear 't, which thus he did relate.
A Lord of mighty Wealth, and vast Estate
Ten thousand Talents to his Servant lent,
Which either he in Luxury mispent,
Or lost by negligence—As on a day
His Lord by chance did his Accounts survey
And found he neither Int'rest wou'd pay,
Nor Principal, he strait the whole demands,
Nor longer will he trust it in his Hands;
Speechless and pale th' insolvent Servant stands;
Trembling with Guilt and Fear; his Lord displeas'd
Gives order, he and all his House be seiz'd:
Low at his Feet the miserable fell
And a short respite begs—His all he'd sell
All his Estate, and his Friends bounty try,
Rather than in abhorr'd confinement die:
Nor his Petition unsuccessful prov'd
His Words, and Tears his gen'rous Master mov'd.
Nor wou'd he seize his House, nor him enslave,
But frankly all the mighty Sum forgave:
Thence went th' ungrate, his Fellow-servant met,
A hundred Pence was all his trifling Debt:
Yet grasps him by the Throat, with furious Hands,
And every mite immediately demands:
Trembling and pale he at his Feet did fall,
Begs but a little Time he'd pay him all.
Ev'n that deny'd he's into th' Dungeon thrown:
Whose Fate when to his Fellow-servants known,
Themselves concern'd lest they his Fate shou'd share,
They to their Lord th' unpleasing Tidings bear,
For him, enrag'd, he the next moment sent,
And thus, arriv'd, did his just anger vent.
—O worst of Wickeds! cruel and ungrate!
Did I forgive so vast a Sum so late
And is't so soon forgot? such pity shewn
To thee Distress'd, hast thou for others none?
Guards! without Pity drag him hence, and bear,
Repriev'd no more, to th' Executioner.
Slav'ry's too little now; him scourge and bind
That owns so much a worse than servile Mind:
Ten thousand Talents to his Servant lent,
Which either he in Luxury mispent,
Or lost by negligence—As on a day
His Lord by chance did his Accounts survey
And found he neither Int'rest wou'd pay,
Nor Principal, he strait the whole demands,
Nor longer will he trust it in his Hands;
Speechless and pale th' insolvent Servant stands;
Trembling with Guilt and Fear; his Lord displeas'd
Gives order, he and all his House be seiz'd:
Low at his Feet the miserable fell
And a short respite begs—His all he'd sell
All his Estate, and his Friends bounty try,
Rather than in abhorr'd confinement die:
Nor his Petition unsuccessful prov'd
His Words, and Tears his gen'rous Master mov'd.
Nor wou'd he seize his House, nor him enslave,
But frankly all the mighty Sum forgave:
Thence went th' ungrate, his Fellow-servant met,
A hundred Pence was all his trifling Debt:
Yet grasps him by the Throat, with furious Hands,
165
Trembling and pale he at his Feet did fall,
Begs but a little Time he'd pay him all.
Ev'n that deny'd he's into th' Dungeon thrown:
Whose Fate when to his Fellow-servants known,
Themselves concern'd lest they his Fate shou'd share,
They to their Lord th' unpleasing Tidings bear,
For him, enrag'd, he the next moment sent,
And thus, arriv'd, did his just anger vent.
—O worst of Wickeds! cruel and ungrate!
Did I forgive so vast a Sum so late
And is't so soon forgot? such pity shewn
To thee Distress'd, hast thou for others none?
Guards! without Pity drag him hence, and bear,
Repriev'd no more, to th' Executioner.
Slav'ry's too little now; him scourge and bind
That owns so much a worse than servile Mind:
So justly will my heavenly Father do,
So will severely be reveng'd on you,
Unless you, as becomes my Foll'wers, live;
And from the heart your Brother you forgive.
Why can you not this Worlds vain Goods contemn?
Why are they Lords of you while you of them?
On those if all your happiness depend
You must expect the cheated Misers end:
Who scarce himself his countless Treasures knew,
Scarce ever all his own Demeans did view;
On ev'ry side cou'd lose his wilder'd Eye;
Scarce o'r one half a panting Kite cou'd fly,
But short of midway rest.—
His Bags, his Chests so full, they both ran o'r,
His Barns so full, long since they'd hold no more,
High close-pil'd Stacks, besides his Granaries
In ev'ry corner of his yard he sees.
Let the poor curse! he hopes 'twill be more dear,
Nor will one handful sell till the next year:
Press'd with thick clay, and sunk in worldly care,
He none for his neglected Soul can spare:
Or fondly thinks, he that might always please
With sordid VVealth, or dull voluptuous Ease:
For this considers deep what course to take,
Resolves new Houses and new Barns to make:
Pull down, says he, those Hovels rais'd before;
Here's not half-room for my increasing store,
And add me twenty Bays of building more!
Let's treat the moments kindly while they stay!
I'll ev'n enjoy my self, and live to day:
Sure I've enough, nor need a Famine fear,
Enough for many a long voluptuous year!
—He said, when the same hour his Fate is seal'd,
Which in loud Thunder thus the All-high reveal'd:
Ah fool, who fondly dost thy self deceive!
Nor one day more is thine lost wretch! to live!
Another cheerful Sun thou ne'r shalt see,
This very Night the Fiends shall seize on thee:
Then whose shall all thy boasted Treasures be?
Hence for your Souls be studious whilst you may;
Intend their safety while 'tis call'd to Day!
They'll ask your utmost diligence and care
To root out Vice, and plant each Virtue there:
And all this done; to save the Heav'n-born Soul
An humble modesty must crown the whole:
Pride's the most dang'rous, and the last mistake,
Of Saints as well as Angels, Fiends 'twill make:
The best you do needs an attoning Friend;
Despise not others, nor your selves commend,
To fix this Truth more deeply, yet attend
And hear a Parable!—Two Men there were
Who to the Temple went one morn to Pray'r,
A Pharisee and Publican; the first
Who t'other scorn'd, the proudest and the worst:
What dost thou here, he cries, thy Pray'r's in vain:
Touch not my holy Robes—Stand off profane;
With stately steps then to the Altar goes,
And thus, erect, tells Heav'n how much it ows:
—O Israels God! aloud I praise thy Name
For such a Life as Envy cannot blame:
That there shou'd such a Gulph, such Diff'rence be
Betwixt th' ungodly carnal World and me:
That no man e'r I've wrong'd by Force or guile,
Or ever did my Neighbor's Bed defile:
Unblameable my Life by God or Man;
Not like that reprobated Publican!
Each week I set apart two days as thine,
Which almost equal makes thy Time and mine.
Nor am of those whose wicked boast 'twou'd be
Of rightful Tithes to wrong thy Priests and thee;
If ought from thence they gain, triumphing more
Than all their less belov'd Lay-Cheats before:
Not the least Herb which in thy Garden grows,
Not the least Gain which from my Labor flows,
Nought Tithe-free made by Custom or Design:
E'r I dare ever touch the other Nine
I separate the sacred Tenth as thine.
So will severely be reveng'd on you,
Unless you, as becomes my Foll'wers, live;
And from the heart your Brother you forgive.
Why can you not this Worlds vain Goods contemn?
Why are they Lords of you while you of them?
On those if all your happiness depend
You must expect the cheated Misers end:
Who scarce himself his countless Treasures knew,
Scarce ever all his own Demeans did view;
On ev'ry side cou'd lose his wilder'd Eye;
Scarce o'r one half a panting Kite cou'd fly,
But short of midway rest.—
His Bags, his Chests so full, they both ran o'r,
His Barns so full, long since they'd hold no more,
High close-pil'd Stacks, besides his Granaries
In ev'ry corner of his yard he sees.
Let the poor curse! he hopes 'twill be more dear,
Nor will one handful sell till the next year:
Press'd with thick clay, and sunk in worldly care,
He none for his neglected Soul can spare:
Or fondly thinks, he that might always please
With sordid VVealth, or dull voluptuous Ease:
166
Resolves new Houses and new Barns to make:
Pull down, says he, those Hovels rais'd before;
Here's not half-room for my increasing store,
And add me twenty Bays of building more!
Let's treat the moments kindly while they stay!
I'll ev'n enjoy my self, and live to day:
Sure I've enough, nor need a Famine fear,
Enough for many a long voluptuous year!
—He said, when the same hour his Fate is seal'd,
Which in loud Thunder thus the All-high reveal'd:
Ah fool, who fondly dost thy self deceive!
Nor one day more is thine lost wretch! to live!
Another cheerful Sun thou ne'r shalt see,
This very Night the Fiends shall seize on thee:
Then whose shall all thy boasted Treasures be?
Hence for your Souls be studious whilst you may;
Intend their safety while 'tis call'd to Day!
They'll ask your utmost diligence and care
To root out Vice, and plant each Virtue there:
And all this done; to save the Heav'n-born Soul
An humble modesty must crown the whole:
Pride's the most dang'rous, and the last mistake,
Of Saints as well as Angels, Fiends 'twill make:
The best you do needs an attoning Friend;
Despise not others, nor your selves commend,
To fix this Truth more deeply, yet attend
And hear a Parable!—Two Men there were
Who to the Temple went one morn to Pray'r,
A Pharisee and Publican; the first
Who t'other scorn'd, the proudest and the worst:
What dost thou here, he cries, thy Pray'r's in vain:
Touch not my holy Robes—Stand off profane;
With stately steps then to the Altar goes,
And thus, erect, tells Heav'n how much it ows:
—O Israels God! aloud I praise thy Name
For such a Life as Envy cannot blame:
That there shou'd such a Gulph, such Diff'rence be
Betwixt th' ungodly carnal World and me:
That no man e'r I've wrong'd by Force or guile,
167
Unblameable my Life by God or Man;
Not like that reprobated Publican!
Each week I set apart two days as thine,
Which almost equal makes thy Time and mine.
Nor am of those whose wicked boast 'twou'd be
Of rightful Tithes to wrong thy Priests and thee;
If ought from thence they gain, triumphing more
Than all their less belov'd Lay-Cheats before:
Not the least Herb which in thy Garden grows,
Not the least Gain which from my Labor flows,
Nought Tithe-free made by Custom or Design:
E'r I dare ever touch the other Nine
I separate the sacred Tenth as thine.
Thus he, with Voice articulate and clear,
Then round him looks in hopes that some did hear:
While thus i'th' outer Court the Publican
With Voice and Eyes submiss to Heav'n began.
Then round him looks in hopes that some did hear:
While thus i'th' outer Court the Publican
With Voice and Eyes submiss to Heav'n began.
O searcher of all Hearts who know'st me best!
I'm an unworthy Sinner, 'tis confest:
Father of mercy! Mercy I implore
For Sins are past, and Grace to Sin no more!
This humble self-condemning Penitent
Answer'd and pardon'd from the Temple went:
The Pharisee returns as he came in,
Or more confirm'd in Vanity and Sin.
I'm an unworthy Sinner, 'tis confest:
Father of mercy! Mercy I implore
For Sins are past, and Grace to Sin no more!
This humble self-condemning Penitent
Answer'd and pardon'd from the Temple went:
The Pharisee returns as he came in,
Or more confirm'd in Vanity and Sin.
These he, and many more; but most of all
That of the poor returning Prodigal
Deep fix'd I still retain—
And were not Day well wasted—Wast no more
Gamaliel says, more earnest than before
To hear the rest, while Nicodemus cries
Those only wast the Day who lost in Vice
The sliding Hours profusely misemploy
In short-liv'd pleasures and voluptuous Joy:
Who while the sliding Hours fly swift away
Fondly themselves beguile, and not the Day:
But who like us their happy moments past
'Tis they, they onl' of Life have a true tast,
They use their Time, which others only wast.
But pray proceed, those Parables recite
Which mix Instruction with so much Delight.
Slip not one word or passage careless o'r,
Believe we long to hear it all and more.
That of the poor returning Prodigal
Deep fix'd I still retain—
And were not Day well wasted—Wast no more
Gamaliel says, more earnest than before
To hear the rest, while Nicodemus cries
Those only wast the Day who lost in Vice
The sliding Hours profusely misemploy
In short-liv'd pleasures and voluptuous Joy:
Who while the sliding Hours fly swift away
Fondly themselves beguile, and not the Day:
But who like us their happy moments past
'Tis they, they onl' of Life have a true tast,
They use their Time, which others only wast.
168
Which mix Instruction with so much Delight.
Slip not one word or passage careless o'r,
Believe we long to hear it all and more.
Then thus the younger Son of Zebedee:
Since yet I find I shall not tedious be
At large I'll every Circumstance relate,
In the young Prodigal's strange happy Fate:
Since yet I find I shall not tedious be
At large I'll every Circumstance relate,
In the young Prodigal's strange happy Fate:
A good old Sire there was, whom Age and Cares
Had blest with Wealth and crown'd with silver Hairs:
Two Sons he had, his ages Prop and Pride
Who at his Death must all his Wealth divide:
The Elder grave and “careful of the main,
Enur'd to earn his Bread with sweat and pain;
Not so the younger, whom profuse and vain
His careful Father long with anxious mind
To lewdness and ill Courses found inclin'd:
He hated Work, but if a Wake or Fair
In many a Mile, he'd never fail b'ing there:
Above his business he, too great and wise;
Did long the sordid Country Dirt despise:
What car'd he tho' th' Old man did chide and frown,
So he for a few Days but saw the Town?
Oft he flew out, and prodigally spent
His own allowance and his Fathers rent;
In vain he, prudent, every Method tries,
To make him quit each darling dang'rous Vice;
Oft begs with delug'd Cheeks and flowing Eyes,
He wou'd from what must prove his ruin, part;
What wou'd he gain to break a Fathers heart?
Inexorably lewd he stops his Ears
Against his Words, or laughs at what he hears:
And thus ungracious answers—If he fears
To see his ruine, give him but his share
He'd strait be gone, nor longer cause his care.
With Hopes he might in time grow wise agen,
If trav'ling far he manners saw and men,
The Father grants his wish, his Portion gives
Lib'ral and large, which he o'rjoy'd receives;
To this his Mother adds (her darling, He,)
Gold, which before the Sun did never see,
But rusting close remain'd for many Years;
With these both give their Blessings and their Tears;
Tho' neither did he, Graceless, much regard,
But thought th' old Folks, that trouble might have spar'd:
To bid 'em both Farewel, he scarce cou'd stay,
But to some forein Region speeds away:
Thither arriv'd, rich, young, prophane and gay,
Resolves to tast what e'er the World can give,
And to the height of lawless Pleasure live:
In Masks and Balls, in Gaming, Treats and Plays,
In Mirth and Wine, he spent his thoughtless Days;
Wit, Beauty, Musick, all the World can boast,
Their Forces joyn, and they're a pow'rful Host,
To Charm him theirs.—How did he now despise
His old, his doating Fathers grave advice!
His Brother, who still drudg'd for sordid Pelf!
And how applaud his wise and happy self!
Thus liv'd he till his Bags, exhaustless thought
At first, to their low desp'rate Ebb were brought:
And worse, when thence the last slow Drop h'had drain'd,
O'er all those Realms a dreadful Famine reign'd:
His Trencher-Friends now no Relief afford,
But drive him from their Houses and their Board:
One only who more Kindness had profess'd,
And whom h'had more oblig'd than all the rest,
Him entertains, first by himself did seat,
Soon after bids him with his Servants eat;
Till by degrees he lower did proceed,
And sends him to the Fields his Swine to feed:
With them he lives, like them, or worse he fares,
For his allowance narr'wer far than theirs:
On Acorns they, or Wildings richly dine,
He sighing sits, and envy's e'en the Swine;
Tho' Hunger gnaws, he wisely did refuse
To steal from them, lest he his Place shou'd lose:
In this sad Posture when himself he found,
Cold, naked, hungry, fainting on the Ground;
Pleasures false mists from his deluded Eyes
Remov'd, he views himself, and inward—Sighs;
Recalls to mind how vast the Gulf, between
What now he was, and what he once had been:
How oft his Fathers Plenty he despis'd,
When to his Lust his Wealth he sacrific'd:
Then thus, his long despairing Silence broke,
With trickling Tears, and deep-fetch'd Sighs, he spoke:
—Ah Wretch! who didst thy Fathers House despise!
Ah hapless Youth! unwary and unwise!
Whilst here for Want, I perish in despair,
And only think of Plenty reigning there:
Nor dare I from his Table ought desire;
That Bread which those partake, who serve for hire
My utmost Wish, and thither gladly, I
Wou'd now return tho' at his Feet to die;
At least if mine have strength enough, I'll try
To bear me on—With much of Pain he rose,
And by short Journies, homeward feebly goes;
Of his unhop'd return his Father hears,
Up starts the rev'rend Sire with joyful Tears;
And do's far off in hast to meet him go,
Love wings his Feet, his Age no longer slow:
See how they meet! How tenderly embrace!
What different Passions reign in eithers Face!
Here, with Compassion mixt, is painted fair,
Ingenuous Love, Ingenuous Shame dwells there.
Surpriz'd he shou'd such kind Reception meet,
The Son falls trembling at his Fathers Feet:
Where thus—O Father! If you not disclaim
That long abus'd, that dear, tho' injur'd Name;
If 'tis not yet too late my Crimes to grieve,
If either Heav'n or You can yet forgive:
Tho' I to a Sons Honour may'nt aspire,
That Title lost, O let me serve for Hire!
So may I oft enjoy the envy'd Grace,
E'en tho' he Frown, to see a Fathers Face:
Nothing to this, o'erjoy'd, th' old Man replies,
Or if he speaks, 'tis only with his Eyes:
Nothing to him, but to his Servants there,
Gives Order they his Festal Robes prepare;
Which brought, he in the richest and the best,
With his own Hands, did his lov'd Son invest:
With this his Signet from his Finger gave,
A mark of Honour, he no more a Slave:
Then bids a plenteous Feast that Night prepare,
And call his Friends, so just a Joy to share:
They crowding came, and the blest Moments spent,
In temp'rate Joy, and harmless Merriment;
In Songs which Heav'n it self did erst inspire,
And Seraphs sing to David's royal Lyre:
In modest Dances, no Dishonour thought,
When th' Ark of God to beauteous Zion brought.
The sober Glass with sparkling Gaza crown'd,
Grateful to God and Man, walks slow and cheerful round:
Had blest with Wealth and crown'd with silver Hairs:
Two Sons he had, his ages Prop and Pride
Who at his Death must all his Wealth divide:
The Elder grave and “careful of the main,
Enur'd to earn his Bread with sweat and pain;
Not so the younger, whom profuse and vain
His careful Father long with anxious mind
To lewdness and ill Courses found inclin'd:
He hated Work, but if a Wake or Fair
In many a Mile, he'd never fail b'ing there:
Above his business he, too great and wise;
Did long the sordid Country Dirt despise:
What car'd he tho' th' Old man did chide and frown,
So he for a few Days but saw the Town?
Oft he flew out, and prodigally spent
His own allowance and his Fathers rent;
In vain he, prudent, every Method tries,
To make him quit each darling dang'rous Vice;
Oft begs with delug'd Cheeks and flowing Eyes,
He wou'd from what must prove his ruin, part;
What wou'd he gain to break a Fathers heart?
Inexorably lewd he stops his Ears
Against his Words, or laughs at what he hears:
And thus ungracious answers—If he fears
To see his ruine, give him but his share
He'd strait be gone, nor longer cause his care.
With Hopes he might in time grow wise agen,
If trav'ling far he manners saw and men,
The Father grants his wish, his Portion gives
Lib'ral and large, which he o'rjoy'd receives;
To this his Mother adds (her darling, He,)
169
But rusting close remain'd for many Years;
With these both give their Blessings and their Tears;
Tho' neither did he, Graceless, much regard,
But thought th' old Folks, that trouble might have spar'd:
To bid 'em both Farewel, he scarce cou'd stay,
But to some forein Region speeds away:
Thither arriv'd, rich, young, prophane and gay,
Resolves to tast what e'er the World can give,
And to the height of lawless Pleasure live:
In Masks and Balls, in Gaming, Treats and Plays,
In Mirth and Wine, he spent his thoughtless Days;
Wit, Beauty, Musick, all the World can boast,
Their Forces joyn, and they're a pow'rful Host,
To Charm him theirs.—How did he now despise
His old, his doating Fathers grave advice!
His Brother, who still drudg'd for sordid Pelf!
And how applaud his wise and happy self!
Thus liv'd he till his Bags, exhaustless thought
At first, to their low desp'rate Ebb were brought:
And worse, when thence the last slow Drop h'had drain'd,
O'er all those Realms a dreadful Famine reign'd:
His Trencher-Friends now no Relief afford,
But drive him from their Houses and their Board:
One only who more Kindness had profess'd,
And whom h'had more oblig'd than all the rest,
Him entertains, first by himself did seat,
Soon after bids him with his Servants eat;
Till by degrees he lower did proceed,
And sends him to the Fields his Swine to feed:
With them he lives, like them, or worse he fares,
For his allowance narr'wer far than theirs:
On Acorns they, or Wildings richly dine,
He sighing sits, and envy's e'en the Swine;
Tho' Hunger gnaws, he wisely did refuse
To steal from them, lest he his Place shou'd lose:
In this sad Posture when himself he found,
Cold, naked, hungry, fainting on the Ground;
Pleasures false mists from his deluded Eyes
Remov'd, he views himself, and inward—Sighs;
170
What now he was, and what he once had been:
How oft his Fathers Plenty he despis'd,
When to his Lust his Wealth he sacrific'd:
Then thus, his long despairing Silence broke,
With trickling Tears, and deep-fetch'd Sighs, he spoke:
—Ah Wretch! who didst thy Fathers House despise!
Ah hapless Youth! unwary and unwise!
Whilst here for Want, I perish in despair,
And only think of Plenty reigning there:
Nor dare I from his Table ought desire;
That Bread which those partake, who serve for hire
My utmost Wish, and thither gladly, I
Wou'd now return tho' at his Feet to die;
At least if mine have strength enough, I'll try
To bear me on—With much of Pain he rose,
And by short Journies, homeward feebly goes;
Of his unhop'd return his Father hears,
Up starts the rev'rend Sire with joyful Tears;
And do's far off in hast to meet him go,
Love wings his Feet, his Age no longer slow:
See how they meet! How tenderly embrace!
What different Passions reign in eithers Face!
Here, with Compassion mixt, is painted fair,
Ingenuous Love, Ingenuous Shame dwells there.
Surpriz'd he shou'd such kind Reception meet,
The Son falls trembling at his Fathers Feet:
Where thus—O Father! If you not disclaim
That long abus'd, that dear, tho' injur'd Name;
If 'tis not yet too late my Crimes to grieve,
If either Heav'n or You can yet forgive:
Tho' I to a Sons Honour may'nt aspire,
That Title lost, O let me serve for Hire!
So may I oft enjoy the envy'd Grace,
E'en tho' he Frown, to see a Fathers Face:
Nothing to this, o'erjoy'd, th' old Man replies,
Or if he speaks, 'tis only with his Eyes:
Nothing to him, but to his Servants there,
Gives Order they his Festal Robes prepare;
Which brought, he in the richest and the best,
171
With this his Signet from his Finger gave,
A mark of Honour, he no more a Slave:
Then bids a plenteous Feast that Night prepare,
And call his Friends, so just a Joy to share:
They crowding came, and the blest Moments spent,
In temp'rate Joy, and harmless Merriment;
In Songs which Heav'n it self did erst inspire,
And Seraphs sing to David's royal Lyre:
In modest Dances, no Dishonour thought,
When th' Ark of God to beauteous Zion brought.
The sober Glass with sparkling Gaza crown'd,
Grateful to God and Man, walks slow and cheerful round:
Mean while the Elder of the Sons, who now,
Night hasting on, came sweating from the Plough,
Much wonder'd when, the House approaching near,
He Light did see, and Songs and Musick hear;
The Cause inquir'd, a Servant thus replies,
With hast at once, and pleasure in his Eyes;
Your Brother whom so long as lost, we mourn'd,
In distant Lands, this Evening is return'd:
For his arrival all this Joy's exprest,
And only you are wanting at the Feast;
Where, with impatience you've expected been—
—Enrag'd the Brother, wou'd not enter in:
The Guests disturb'd, began to quit their Seats,
The Father comes, and mildly him intreats:
Still resolute and fierce without he stay'd,
And thus displeas'd did th' old Sire upbraid:
—How many a Year, still stupidly content,
Have I in your unthankful Service spent?
Slavishly dutiful I've with you stay'd,
Nor ever yet displeas'd or disobey'd;
Yet never cou'd I yet presented be,
With one small Kid t'oblige my Friends and me:
But when your hopeful Son, your Darling's come
From Stews and Brothels, stript and naked home;
For him has all this Feast and Rev'ling been:
Give me my Portion too!—I'll not come in.
—Agen the Father mildly thus replies,
Son! Why this Anger in your Words and Eyes?
Thou know'st I only thee my Heir design,
Wait a few Days, and all th' Estate is thine!
Why art thou Angry then, and Discontent,
At this small part upon thy Brother spent?
Why shou'd we not Rejoyce, when since his Birth,
There never yet has been such cause of Mirth?
Whom giv'n for dead, we strangely see revive,
Lost and despair'd, again receive alive.
Night hasting on, came sweating from the Plough,
Much wonder'd when, the House approaching near,
He Light did see, and Songs and Musick hear;
The Cause inquir'd, a Servant thus replies,
With hast at once, and pleasure in his Eyes;
Your Brother whom so long as lost, we mourn'd,
In distant Lands, this Evening is return'd:
For his arrival all this Joy's exprest,
And only you are wanting at the Feast;
Where, with impatience you've expected been—
—Enrag'd the Brother, wou'd not enter in:
The Guests disturb'd, began to quit their Seats,
The Father comes, and mildly him intreats:
Still resolute and fierce without he stay'd,
And thus displeas'd did th' old Sire upbraid:
—How many a Year, still stupidly content,
Have I in your unthankful Service spent?
Slavishly dutiful I've with you stay'd,
Nor ever yet displeas'd or disobey'd;
Yet never cou'd I yet presented be,
With one small Kid t'oblige my Friends and me:
But when your hopeful Son, your Darling's come
From Stews and Brothels, stript and naked home;
For him has all this Feast and Rev'ling been:
Give me my Portion too!—I'll not come in.
—Agen the Father mildly thus replies,
172
Thou know'st I only thee my Heir design,
Wait a few Days, and all th' Estate is thine!
Why art thou Angry then, and Discontent,
At this small part upon thy Brother spent?
Why shou'd we not Rejoyce, when since his Birth,
There never yet has been such cause of Mirth?
Whom giv'n for dead, we strangely see revive,
Lost and despair'd, again receive alive.
Scarce he the lively Parable did end,
When Chuza came, our Saviour's grateful Friend,
And wise Gamaliel's both, whose welcom Guest,
He often was at the great Paschal-Feast:
Enters with him the brave Centurion too,
Their Benefactor all our Nation knew:
The first Endearments past, when looking round,
Th' Apostles well-known Faces, Chuza found:
More pleas'd, he each Embrac'd, and tells 'em he,
Hop'd not to meet so much good Company:
I know, he adds, your blest Employment still,
Is to perform and teach your Master's Will:
I interrupted your Discourse, I fear,
Which none, than me, with greater Joy wou'd hear:
So much my self to that great Man I owe,
You'll highly Oblige me if his Truths you'll show,
Something I know, but more I wish to know:
Forgive me that I call'd him Man before!
For sure his Godlike Actions speak him more;
Around his Face mild Rays of Goodness Shine,
His Life and Laws confess him All-divine.
Say, you who happy in his Bosom lie,
If ought of this tremendous Mystery,
Ought, which from Vulgar Ears is yet conceal'd,
May be to us, your Trust still safe, reveal'd?
When Chuza came, our Saviour's grateful Friend,
And wise Gamaliel's both, whose welcom Guest,
He often was at the great Paschal-Feast:
Enters with him the brave Centurion too,
Their Benefactor all our Nation knew:
The first Endearments past, when looking round,
Th' Apostles well-known Faces, Chuza found:
More pleas'd, he each Embrac'd, and tells 'em he,
Hop'd not to meet so much good Company:
I know, he adds, your blest Employment still,
Is to perform and teach your Master's Will:
I interrupted your Discourse, I fear,
Which none, than me, with greater Joy wou'd hear:
So much my self to that great Man I owe,
You'll highly Oblige me if his Truths you'll show,
Something I know, but more I wish to know:
Forgive me that I call'd him Man before!
For sure his Godlike Actions speak him more;
Around his Face mild Rays of Goodness Shine,
His Life and Laws confess him All-divine.
Say, you who happy in his Bosom lie,
If ought of this tremendous Mystery,
Ought, which from Vulgar Ears is yet conceal'd,
May be to us, your Trust still safe, reveal'd?
Yes, Sir, the Son of Zebedee reply'd;
We from the harden'd Crowd some Truths must hide,
Till more prepar'd to hear 'em; but to you
Rank'd by our Lord among the favour'd few,
And these good Men, who tho' they much discern,
From our low Converse, not disdain to learn;
I'll speak, permitted, what from him I heard,
What he in Closet-Privacy declar'd;
What in my Breast th' unerring Spirit seals,
And by my acted Tongue to you reveals.
We from the harden'd Crowd some Truths must hide,
Till more prepar'd to hear 'em; but to you
Rank'd by our Lord among the favour'd few,
And these good Men, who tho' they much discern,
From our low Converse, not disdain to learn;
173
What he in Closet-Privacy declar'd;
What in my Breast th' unerring Spirit seals,
And by my acted Tongue to you reveals.
He said—But O! how vast a Change they spy?
What awful Grandeur sparkled in his Eye?
So Truth wou'd look, cou'd she a Body take,
And as like Truth he look'd, like Truth he spake:
Greater he seem'd, and something more than Man;
And thus our Saviour's happy Friend began.
What awful Grandeur sparkled in his Eye?
So Truth wou'd look, cou'd she a Body take,
And as like Truth he look'd, like Truth he spake:
Greater he seem'd, and something more than Man;
And thus our Saviour's happy Friend began.
The End of the Fifth Book.
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BOOK VI.
THE ARGUMENT OF THE Sixth BOOK.
St. John, in a Pindarique Ode, asserts the Divinity and Eternity of our Saviour, as he has done in his Gospel and Epistles; describing the Trinity in the greatest part of the three first Stanza's; the Creation of the World by the Son in the fourth; the Fall and Restitution in the fifth and sixth; Proving our Saviour's Existence before his Birth, by his appearing to, and conversing with, the Patriarchs in humane Form, in the seventh; and like an Angel with the Israelites in the eighth; further, in the ninth, proving him to be God by Isaiah's Vision and Prophecy; and that he, some way or other, enlightens all Men, in the tenth; as he is the Divine Word, and Eternal Essential Reason.
The Centurion appears surpriz'd at his Discourse, thinking he had been deeply read in the Platonic Philosophy, the Sibyls, &c. and wondring to find so much Learning among the Jews, whereas they were represented, both by Grecian and Roman Historians, as a
182
183
I.
Loe! th' Eternal Word I sing,Whose great Spirit my Breast inspire!
Whilst I touch the sounding string,
Tune, some Angel! Tune my Lyre!
Rise, my Eagle-Soul! arise!
Mount and mean thy Native Skies,
And view th' eternal Sun with thy ambitious Eyes!
(If once direct his Glories on me shin'd,
How gladly wou'd I be for ever Blind?)
Let thy first bold Essay be,
184
To sing the Father of the World and Thee:
—In the beginning of his endless now,
Before this beauteous World was made,
Before the Earths Foundations laid,
Before th' officious Angels round his Throne did bow;
He was, he ever is, we know not how.
No mean Succession his Duration knows,
That Spring of Being neither ebbs nor flows:
No Point can mortal Thought assign,
In his interminable Line,
Nor our short Compass meet the Circle All-divine.
II.
Whatever was, was God, e'er Time or Place;Endless Duration he, and boundless Space:
Fill'd with himself, whereever Thought can pierce
He fill'd, himself alone the Universe.
One undissolv'd, nor ceases to be One,
Tho' with him ever reigns th' eternal Son.
In his eternal Mind conceiv'd,
Not to be argu'd, but believ'd.
Down goes my Reason, if it dares Rebel,
As the ambitious Angels sunk to Hell.
Ineffable the way, for who
Th' Almighty to Perfection ever knew?
But he himself has said it, and it must be true.
The Fathers Image he, as great, as bright,
Cloth'd in the same unsufferable Light;
More closely joyn'd, more intimately one
With his great Father, than the Light and Sun.
Equal in Goodness, and in Might,
True God of God, and Light of Light:
Him, with the Father we adore;
There is no After, or Before.
Equal in their Existence have they been,
Nor ever did the Son begin;
No room for one short Moment, or bold Thought between.
185
III.
The Father lov'd the Son, the Spirit cameFrom their conspiring mutual Flame,
From both proceeding, yet with both the same.
Equal to th' Father and th' eternal Word,
The eternal God, th' eternal Lord,
With equal Reverence his Great Name ador'd.
One God, for what's supreme can be but one:
Three more then Names, the Father, Spirit and Son.
Triad and Monad both, where Faith may find
What strikes Philosophy and Nature blind,
Three Great self-conscious Persons, One self-conscious Mind.
Who made the World is God, and he
Who made all Time must needs Eternal be.
This by the Spirit did the Son,
The Fathers Will by both was done,
As was resolv'd i'th' Consult of the great Three-One;
High on his Throne with dazling Glory crown'd
Sate the Algood, Alwise,
And with his piercing Eyes
Surveys wide fields of nothing round,
Privations airy Realms, and Wast profound.
To his lov'd Son ay-reigning by his side
With equal Glory dignify'd,
Let's make a World he cry'd!
Those fair Idea's be express'd
Retain'd in our Almighty Breast.
This, mild, no sooner said
His ready Son, his lov'd Commands obey'd.
IV.
And first the Heav'ns he builtNot those above we see
So gaily deckt in glitt'ring Bravery,
With Luna's silver Waves and Sol's fierce beauties gilt.
Far more refin'd, far more remov'd than they,
Their Light wou'd soon put out Sol's twinkling Ray,
186
The Angels next he made
In Love and Flame array'd
The new-born Angels, chearfully adore
Their Maker and their Lord unseen before:
Their new-born Voice and Lyre they try
In sweet Celestial Poessy,
In lofty Hymns, and Heav'nly Harmony.
The Refuse of their World did ours compose
Which yet's so beautiful and bright
Each scatter'd spark of Heav'nly Light
Falling from thence some Sun or Planet grows.
But first on the dark Void the gentle Spirit descends,
First, Matter wills, then Form to Matter lends,
First different Somethings makes, then makes those Somethings Friends.
No longer with wild Ferment now they strove,
O'er Matters Waves the gentle Spirit did move,
And all around was Light, and all around was Love.
V.
After the glorious Orbs above were madeAnd Earth and Sea and Air were fram'd,
The Alhigh with Pleasure all his Works survey'd,
And Man the King of all his Works he nam'd:
But ah! how short his reign!
How soon by God who plac'd him on the Throne
When Lawless he and Arbitrary grown,
By God who had the Pow'r alone
Dethron'd again.
Ill Councellors his Fall, he did receive
Into his Cabinet the Devil and Eve.
Th' Alhigh as much as what's Divine can grieve
Resents his Fate, and fain wou'd save
Both him and that fair World he for his Palace gave,
But first he must his Justice show
Before he Mercy cou'd bestow.
If any, asks, wou'd satisfie
His Wrath, that Adam might not dye?
Archangels trembl'd, no bright Warriors there
187
Rather all Earth and Heav'n they'd chuse to bear
Than the Creator's Wrath, sad Notes they sing;
Each Cherub seems to flag his beauteous Wing;
Those gentle Spirits soft signs of pity gave,
And mourn'd the loss of man they cou'd not save.
VI.
When forth th' Eternal Son undaunted stood;(How vast, how infinite his Love?
How deeply him did our sad Ruins move?)
The dang'rous Enterprize to prove,
To God to reconcile us by his Blood.
A Body he did for himself prepare,
To save the World by suffering there.
Nor like an Angels, form'd of air
Which when their Work on Earth is done
Is the next moment into Atoms flown,
But true and solid like our own,
In all but Sin, like man—With goodness mild
On his lov'd Son the Father smil'd,
Accepts his offer and declares
For him the guilty World he spares.
Whilst th' accursed Spirits below
Trembling fear a greater Blow:
While the gentle Spirits above,
Who Mankind protect and love,
The Great Redeemer's Glory raise
In lofty Notes of Godlike praise.
VII.
'Twas he who oft in humane Form attir'dStoop'd to our VVorld below.
As he our State wou'd better know,
Or Company desir'd.
Now shorter he, now longer Visits made,
And once in Royal Robes array'd,
At sacred Salem stay'd.
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At once a wondrous Prophet, Priest and King.
He, frequent, with the Holy Patriarchs walkt,
With him they eat, with him they talkt?
At hospitable Father Abraham's Feast
He, with two menial Angels, once a Guest,
Where the old Sire his kindness did requite
When coming faint and weary from the Fight,
He him t'his frugal Board did call:
There Abraham saw his Day and did rejoyce,
To Heav'n he rais'd his grateful Eye and Voyce,
And gave him Tithes of All.
VIII.
'Twas he who did the wand'ring Jacob guide;'Twas he, who met by Jabbock's side
That valiant Shepherd try'd;
His more than holy boldness did dislike,
And him with gentle Lameness strike.
'Twas he to whom the expiring Father pray'd,
When on his Grandsons head his Hands he laid,
And begs he them as well as him wou'd aid.
This uncreated Angel he
Whom Moses in the Bush did see
When it with Lambent Lightning flam'd,
What Angel else those Titles durst have claim'd,
In every sacred Page Adonai nam'd.
Him Royal Esay saw, whose lofty Vein
Excels bold Pindar's Dithyrambic strain,
Him saw and lov'd, and learnt his Will
Whose Glory did the Temple fill,
Officious Seraphs waited round
And Holy! Holy! Holy! sound.
And when with Sacred Fire they touch'd his Tongue
Almost as loud as them he thus their Master sung.
IX.
“Sad Israel! Weep no more!“Dry those vain Tears, those Sighs give o'r!
189
“He comes, he comes! Welcome as the sweet Morn
“That follows tedious Night, the lovely Boy is born,
“The lovely Boy, in whose auspicious Face
“Already opens each Majestic Grace.
“With Virtues equal to so vast a care
“Unmov'd the Frame of Heav'n and Earth he'll bear.
“But who, alas! who can proclaim
“All his high-Titles, and his awful Name?
“Proclaim his Titles far abroad?
“Stupendous Wisdom! O all-pow'rful God!
“Eternal Father! for he's one
“With his Eternal Son.
“O Salems Prince! with speed thy Empire gain,
“And o'r the peaceful Nations ever reign!
X.
—Tho' us, who from the Word a difference boastHe with more large effusions do's inspire,
Not the poor Gentiles are entirely lost,
Their Reason is a spark of his Celestial Fire:
His Beams, than Sol himself more strong and fair
Enlight'ning all, and every where.
They Life and Light at once impart,
Thro' Error's scattering mists like Thunder dart
Direct the Head, and warm the Heart;
Altho' alas! to most they useless be,
Who, stupid, close their Eyes, and will not see;
Useless to those who in the Twilight stay
When Revelation brings the Day,
Too short, too dim to show to Heav'n the VVay
Yet still there were a wiser few
Improv'd and practis'd what they knew,
Devout and pious, chast and just,
And did in their unknown Creator trust;
These shall acceptance find where e'er they live;
Who well improve their narrow store,
Kind Heaven will soon indulge 'em more,
190
That faint, that glimm'ring Light
Which pierces thro' the Clowds, and shines in spight
Of Errors and of Vices Night,
If follow'd close will to such Beams convey
Such orient Lustre, so Divine a Ray
As shall encrease to perfect, and eternal Day,
That this is God, the Argument stands fair.
It can do all things, and is every where,
Or God himself, or at the least must be
Some Emanation of the Deity.
The VVord Divine, tho' not b'his own receiv'd
Expected by the Fathers and believ'd.
In the Messia this must center'd be,
And if conjoyn'd the Baptist, Heav'n, and we
Can ought of Faith deserve, our Lord is He.
Surpriz'd a while were all the Audience by,
With such mysterious Truths, august and high,
Beyond the reach of narrow Natures Rules,
Or Roman Eloquence, or Grecian Schools:
Tho' something not unlike in Greece which you
From ancient sacred Hebrew Fountains drew
Your pleasant Walks divinest Plato knew:
Hence the vain Heathen World, and vainer Tribe
Of Atheistick Fools to thee ascribe
Many a noble Truth and Mystery,
More ancient than the Grecian Name, or Thee,
From all the blinded VVorld before conceal'd,
And only to the chosen Jews reveal'd,
Nay ev'n by them kept secret, and alone
To the few wise and good amongst 'em known,
To all his Follw'ers by our Saviour shewn.
Hence even the learned Doctors they outdo,
Who wonder'd whence such wond'rous things they knew:
So those who here—But freer than the rest
Thus the Centurion his surprize exprest.
—That you're good men is easily discern'd,
But I confess I never thought you learn'd:
And are the Grecian Arts too hither spred?
With such mysterious Truths, august and high,
Beyond the reach of narrow Natures Rules,
Or Roman Eloquence, or Grecian Schools:
Tho' something not unlike in Greece which you
From ancient sacred Hebrew Fountains drew
Your pleasant Walks divinest Plato knew:
Hence the vain Heathen World, and vainer Tribe
Of Atheistick Fools to thee ascribe
Many a noble Truth and Mystery,
More ancient than the Grecian Name, or Thee,
From all the blinded VVorld before conceal'd,
And only to the chosen Jews reveal'd,
Nay ev'n by them kept secret, and alone
To the few wise and good amongst 'em known,
To all his Follw'ers by our Saviour shewn.
Hence even the learned Doctors they outdo,
Who wonder'd whence such wond'rous things they knew:
So those who here—But freer than the rest
Thus the Centurion his surprize exprest.
—That you're good men is easily discern'd,
But I confess I never thought you learn'd:
And are the Grecian Arts too hither spred?
191
For I perceive, Sir! you have Plato read!
Nay e'en our Virgil or I guess amiss,
For many strokes of yours resemble his.
Our Sybils too, who mingling false with true
I nought believ'd till 'twas confirm'd by you.
I find our Roman Writers, to be free,
Unjustly brand you with Barbarity.
Nay e'en our Virgil or I guess amiss,
For many strokes of yours resemble his.
Our Sybils too, who mingling false with true
I nought believ'd till 'twas confirm'd by you.
I find our Roman Writers, to be free,
Unjustly brand you with Barbarity.
To whom Gamaliel thus reply'd, and smil'd:
Learning which is at Greece and Rome a Child
Has been so long amongst the Hebrews known,
'Tis at full Age, if not decrepid grown.
Egypt from us, from us the Grecians drew
Their Arts, and as their own they lent 'em you,
Who borrow all you think of us you know
From fabling Greece, and falser Manetho,
Who by Abuses cunningly provide
Their ancient Thefts from all the World to hide.
What have they that 's not ours, had all their due,
'Twere easie to convince you this is true.
That who the Jews as barbarous contemn,
Have borrow'd all from us, we none from them,
Their very Gods, their ancient History,
Their Shipping, and their boasted Poetry.
Letters and Laws—Half this if you cou'd prove
Replies the Roman, you'd my wonder move,
Till then, excuse my Smiles, for Truth to tell
Yet, Doctor! I'm a very Infidel.
I ask no favour, no Opponent fear
Replies the Sage—Lend an impartial Ear
And first their Gods, with which when wand'ring wide
Phenicia all the Heathen World supply'd.
To us their Gods Phenice and Egypt owe,
We only their true Origin can show.
Their ancient mighty Jao was the same
With our conceal'd, unutterable Name,
Their false Jove from our true—Adonai came.
And he to whom you did a Temple rear,
Was only the Phenician Thunderer.
Tho' skulking in as many different shapes
As when employ'd below in Thefts and Rapes.
Now Hammon him from ancient Cham you call,
Now Belus name him from our injur'd Baal;
Your Juno has the same Original
Howe'er disguis'd as when she once did rove
O'er all the Earth in quest of wand'ring Jove.
Whether by Sydon nam'd, Baaltis she,
Belisama, or fair Astarte be:
Where is not great Astarte known? the same
Th' Egyptians Isis, you Diana name,
Whom when your Matrons fruitful pangs invade
They loud invoking cry, Lucina aid!
Now Berecynthia, Mother of the Gods,
A Huntress she in Ida's sacred Woods;
Rhea the same, the same with both the Moon,
Whose beauteous silver Rays make Nights pale noon.
Thus track 'em to the Spring and still you're poor,
Your Gods but few amidst your boasted store,
In vain you one poor Idol oft divide,
He's still the same however multiply'd;
The same in vain's in different figures thrown,
All our Three hundred Joves are scarcely one,
From Phenice first he round the World did rove,
Old Saturn, Moloch, Phæbus, all but Jove.
Learning which is at Greece and Rome a Child
Has been so long amongst the Hebrews known,
'Tis at full Age, if not decrepid grown.
Egypt from us, from us the Grecians drew
Their Arts, and as their own they lent 'em you,
Who borrow all you think of us you know
From fabling Greece, and falser Manetho,
Who by Abuses cunningly provide
Their ancient Thefts from all the World to hide.
What have they that 's not ours, had all their due,
'Twere easie to convince you this is true.
That who the Jews as barbarous contemn,
Have borrow'd all from us, we none from them,
Their very Gods, their ancient History,
Their Shipping, and their boasted Poetry.
Letters and Laws—Half this if you cou'd prove
Replies the Roman, you'd my wonder move,
Till then, excuse my Smiles, for Truth to tell
Yet, Doctor! I'm a very Infidel.
I ask no favour, no Opponent fear
Replies the Sage—Lend an impartial Ear
And first their Gods, with which when wand'ring wide
Phenicia all the Heathen World supply'd.
To us their Gods Phenice and Egypt owe,
We only their true Origin can show.
Their ancient mighty Jao was the same
With our conceal'd, unutterable Name,
Their false Jove from our true—Adonai came.
And he to whom you did a Temple rear,
Was only the Phenician Thunderer.
Tho' skulking in as many different shapes
As when employ'd below in Thefts and Rapes.
192
Now Belus name him from our injur'd Baal;
Your Juno has the same Original
Howe'er disguis'd as when she once did rove
O'er all the Earth in quest of wand'ring Jove.
Whether by Sydon nam'd, Baaltis she,
Belisama, or fair Astarte be:
Where is not great Astarte known? the same
Th' Egyptians Isis, you Diana name,
Whom when your Matrons fruitful pangs invade
They loud invoking cry, Lucina aid!
Now Berecynthia, Mother of the Gods,
A Huntress she in Ida's sacred Woods;
Rhea the same, the same with both the Moon,
Whose beauteous silver Rays make Nights pale noon.
Thus track 'em to the Spring and still you're poor,
Your Gods but few amidst your boasted store,
In vain you one poor Idol oft divide,
He's still the same however multiply'd;
The same in vain's in different figures thrown,
All our Three hundred Joves are scarcely one,
From Phenice first he round the World did rove,
Old Saturn, Moloch, Phæbus, all but Jove.
Roundly you all assert, but Sir, I fear
The Roman urg'd, we little proof shall hear.
Sol, Saturn, Jove—You young and old confound,
In Errors endless Circle wand'ring round.
Astarte, Isis, Juno—How the same?
What likeness in their Worship or their Name?
How from Phenicians we, and they from you
Derive their Gods? and if th' Assertion 's true
How you'll avoid the shame of Idols too.
The Roman urg'd, we little proof shall hear.
Sol, Saturn, Jove—You young and old confound,
In Errors endless Circle wand'ring round.
Astarte, Isis, Juno—How the same?
What likeness in their Worship or their Name?
How from Phenicians we, and they from you
Derive their Gods? and if th' Assertion 's true
How you'll avoid the shame of Idols too.
To your Objections freely I'll reply,
And doubt not but I them shall satisfie
Rejoyns Gamaliel—You must with me bear
While first the rise of Idols I declare.
When Man forgot his God, he soon began
Himself t'adore, and make a God of Man:
With Gods true Knowledge all good Arts beside
In a few Centuries decay'd and dy'd:
The wicked World grew barbarous agen,
As e'r the Flood, and monstrous Beasts and men
Rang'd o'er the Plains, the strong the weaker awe,
Love then was only Lust, and Force was Law:
Among the rest some few bright Spirits arose
Who shield the Weak, and Force with Force oppose;
Incense as well as Praise the Vulgar bring,
Nor was't enough to make a Heroe, King;
But of their Benefactors they devise
Prodigious Tales, and numerous grateful Lies:
A Centaur then who e'r a Horse bestrod,
And he that kill'd a Bear was made a God.
Of some departed Father, Friend, or Lord
They first an Image form'd, and then ador'd;
While others, who above the rest cou'd boast
Their skill and knowledge of the heavenly Host,
How all things by the Suns kind Influence grow,
And Seas, as Luna bids them, ebb and flow;
What friendly Influences fill the Skies,
When o'er th' Horizon the sweet Pleiads rise,
Or mighty Mazzeroth, thro' silent Night
Scatters profuse his Donatives of Light;
These scorn'd their Adoration there to give
From whence they cou'd no Benefits receive,
While to the glorious Bodies plac'd above
Which some thought living, for they saw 'em move;
Which chearful Heat and Light to all dispense,
And as they dream, some secret Influence,
Which as they pleas'd, unblest or happy make,
To these, by a too incident mistake
To humane Minds, they think they all things ow,
Which from the first Great Cause of Causes flow:
These they adore, not him did them create,
Their kindly properties they celebrate.
Hence came the ancient Mythologic Tribe,
Who secret venerable Names ascribe
To what they worship'd, tho' as Time roll'd on,
The Reason of the name perhaps unknown,
Yet Footsteps of our Language still remain
In spite of Time and Ign'rance so plain,
They their first Origin wou'd hide in vain.
Sometimes their Heroes they, and Stars wou'd join,
And both to' oblige, they make 'em both Divine:
At others, they import, afraid, and loth
To disoblige 'em, Gods of foreign growth:
Fish, Fowl and Beasts and Man their Gods they call,
Nay to make all things sure, the Fiends and all.
They'd need some kind of Pantheon now provide
So much at last the Race is multiply'd,
Which neither they nor we can marshal right,
For Truth is one, but Error infinite:
How e'r we've yet some glimm'ring Tracks of Light,
Some marks in most, which not unlikely show
From whence at first they came, where e'r they go.
Most of Phenician growth and Language be,
The same we not in fruitful Egypt see,
First founded on our Tongue, or History.
Of Jove, if more there need, I'll prov't agen,
Father by you esteem'd of Gods and Men,
Now him Baalsamen, the Phenicians call
Great Lord of Heav'n, now Eliun, Belus, Baal.
'Tis plain they only mean the Sun, by all.
Moloch and Belus is with them the same,
Saturn with both, the diff'rence but in name
These one Inscription oft together ties,
Alike their Form, alike their Sacrifice.
To both the Nations their Bœtylia raise,
And both far more for Fear, then Love they praise.
Agen, that Isis, Io, Juno, are
The same, your own best VVriters oft declare.
The same their way of Life, all giv'n to rove,
And all, (but one indeed,) the Wife of Jove.
All horn'd alike their Images we see,
Whence Jove himself too in the mode must be,
For Isis, e'er to Libyan Wasts he fled
With her own double Crown adorn'd his Head.
But what's more plain than that so odd a Dress
In Hieroglyphicks did the Moon express?
Tho' something further too was their intent,
Their sacred Oxe did Joseph represent;
Him then t'a Star they join'd, and long before
Your Rome was Rome, his Crest their Idols wore
E'en their Astronomy by us was taught,
By Father Abraham first from Chaldee brought,
Whether from Seth's eternal Pillars learn'd,
Or by Traditions glimm'ring Light discern'd.
To them the use of Letters long unknown,
Their boasted Hermes ours, and not their own,
Nay e'en the old Chaldeans sacred Fire,
Which Delphos, you, and all the World admire,
Your Vesta, Persia's Mitra, are but one,
The same with Moloch, Ammon, and the Sun.
With as much ease I shall convince you soon
Astarte's Juno, Isis, and the Moon:
Th' Egyptian Isis, Queen of Heav'n you name
Your Juno, our Astarte is the same,
And all the Moon, in Venus all agen
You find, great Mother she of Gods and Men.
And doubt not but I them shall satisfie
Rejoyns Gamaliel—You must with me bear
While first the rise of Idols I declare.
When Man forgot his God, he soon began
Himself t'adore, and make a God of Man:
With Gods true Knowledge all good Arts beside
In a few Centuries decay'd and dy'd:
193
As e'r the Flood, and monstrous Beasts and men
Rang'd o'er the Plains, the strong the weaker awe,
Love then was only Lust, and Force was Law:
Among the rest some few bright Spirits arose
Who shield the Weak, and Force with Force oppose;
Incense as well as Praise the Vulgar bring,
Nor was't enough to make a Heroe, King;
But of their Benefactors they devise
Prodigious Tales, and numerous grateful Lies:
A Centaur then who e'r a Horse bestrod,
And he that kill'd a Bear was made a God.
Of some departed Father, Friend, or Lord
They first an Image form'd, and then ador'd;
While others, who above the rest cou'd boast
Their skill and knowledge of the heavenly Host,
How all things by the Suns kind Influence grow,
And Seas, as Luna bids them, ebb and flow;
What friendly Influences fill the Skies,
When o'er th' Horizon the sweet Pleiads rise,
Or mighty Mazzeroth, thro' silent Night
Scatters profuse his Donatives of Light;
These scorn'd their Adoration there to give
From whence they cou'd no Benefits receive,
While to the glorious Bodies plac'd above
Which some thought living, for they saw 'em move;
Which chearful Heat and Light to all dispense,
And as they dream, some secret Influence,
Which as they pleas'd, unblest or happy make,
To these, by a too incident mistake
To humane Minds, they think they all things ow,
Which from the first Great Cause of Causes flow:
These they adore, not him did them create,
Their kindly properties they celebrate.
Hence came the ancient Mythologic Tribe,
Who secret venerable Names ascribe
To what they worship'd, tho' as Time roll'd on,
The Reason of the name perhaps unknown,
Yet Footsteps of our Language still remain
In spite of Time and Ign'rance so plain,
They their first Origin wou'd hide in vain.
194
And both to' oblige, they make 'em both Divine:
At others, they import, afraid, and loth
To disoblige 'em, Gods of foreign growth:
Fish, Fowl and Beasts and Man their Gods they call,
Nay to make all things sure, the Fiends and all.
They'd need some kind of Pantheon now provide
So much at last the Race is multiply'd,
Which neither they nor we can marshal right,
For Truth is one, but Error infinite:
How e'r we've yet some glimm'ring Tracks of Light,
Some marks in most, which not unlikely show
From whence at first they came, where e'r they go.
Most of Phenician growth and Language be,
The same we not in fruitful Egypt see,
First founded on our Tongue, or History.
Of Jove, if more there need, I'll prov't agen,
Father by you esteem'd of Gods and Men,
Now him Baalsamen, the Phenicians call
Great Lord of Heav'n, now Eliun, Belus, Baal.
'Tis plain they only mean the Sun, by all.
Moloch and Belus is with them the same,
Saturn with both, the diff'rence but in name
These one Inscription oft together ties,
Alike their Form, alike their Sacrifice.
To both the Nations their Bœtylia raise,
And both far more for Fear, then Love they praise.
Agen, that Isis, Io, Juno, are
The same, your own best VVriters oft declare.
The same their way of Life, all giv'n to rove,
And all, (but one indeed,) the Wife of Jove.
All horn'd alike their Images we see,
Whence Jove himself too in the mode must be,
For Isis, e'er to Libyan Wasts he fled
With her own double Crown adorn'd his Head.
But what's more plain than that so odd a Dress
In Hieroglyphicks did the Moon express?
Tho' something further too was their intent,
Their sacred Oxe did Joseph represent;
Him then t'a Star they join'd, and long before
195
E'en their Astronomy by us was taught,
By Father Abraham first from Chaldee brought,
Whether from Seth's eternal Pillars learn'd,
Or by Traditions glimm'ring Light discern'd.
To them the use of Letters long unknown,
Their boasted Hermes ours, and not their own,
Nay e'en the old Chaldeans sacred Fire,
Which Delphos, you, and all the World admire,
Your Vesta, Persia's Mitra, are but one,
The same with Moloch, Ammon, and the Sun.
With as much ease I shall convince you soon
Astarte's Juno, Isis, and the Moon:
Th' Egyptian Isis, Queen of Heav'n you name
Your Juno, our Astarte is the same,
And all the Moon, in Venus all agen
You find, great Mother she of Gods and Men.
See then whence your Divinities do flow!
Or Sun and Moon above, or Men below.
Your Vulgar e'en their Images implore,
And the less stupid sacred Blocks adore;
From place to place where e'er they trav'ling come
Officious, carry, or they'd stay'd at home;
For whatsoever their false Priests declare
That Gods meet Gods, fierce-justling in the Air,
Further than them their Votaries did bear,
They never stirr'd—Thus came Astarte o'er
To Cyprus first, from the Sidonian shore,
Cypria, and Paphia call'd, and thence went on
From Isle to Isle, and past Icaria gone
At Samos touch'd, where they her Temple rais'd,
And by the Grecian Name of Juno prais'd:
Whence Men the neighb'ring Land Ionia stile
And Samos bears the name of Juno's Isle:
Nor far remov'd other Erythians live,
To whom the neighb'ring Goddess Name did give,
Fair Erycina call'd, when wafted o'er
By Cytheron to rich Trinacria's shore,
Melita past, thence her the Tyrians bore.
By her old Name to those new Walls they found
Your Rival Carthage—West to utmost ground
They next proceed, where no more World is found;
To Gades, and the rich Tertessian strand
Arriv'd, and fierce Geryon's fertile Land
Whom their brave Captain slew in manful Fight,
And seizes his rich Isle by Conquest's right;
It's Name it changes, as it chang'd its Lord
Erythia call'd, from Venus there ador'd
Now Aphrodisia it the Ancient's stile,
Astarta now, now Juno's sacred Isle.
Nay, thro' Herculean straits ne'er past before
To that new World without their Gods they bore,
Whose fair white Rocks oppose the Celtic shore
Where Cesar late, for Life, not Honour fought,
And at so dear a price their Conquest bought,
Bel and Astarte known and worshipp'd there,
And Taramis, the dreaded Thunderer.
If back agen to East you turn your Eye
In the Red Sea a little Isle you'll spy
Which Erythra, the name pronouncing false
The Fabling Grecian for Erythia calls:
To Venus here a Fane the Tyrians found,
And gave her the whole Isle as sacred Ground.
From her Astarte term'd—Still further on
Past e'en the Ethiopian Floods they're gone,
There early and undrest surpriz'd the Sun:
Where he retir'd, least Mortals shou'd behold,
By Heav'nly Art turns the blest Earth to Gold.
Where Gomer's Land thrusts out its double head
To West of Ganges-Gulf, e'en there they spred
Their Idols praise, tho' by a different Name,
Colias, is Venus call'd, tho' still the same.
Next more to East, threat'ning the Seas and Skies,
Outstretch'd the Corean Promontory lies;
Near where a Town the Natives Cory stile,
In Taproban, that ancient Indian Isle;
Which easily, I think may be believ'd
From Chora, Juno's Name, their own receiv'd:
Nor more than her has Jove himself stood still,
First born to Crete, and then to Ida's Hill.
Now you at fam'd Olympus him might view;
Then wand'ring with the Corybantic Crew
The Thracian Samos him did entertain,
Where he did with the sad Cabiri reign
Or Sun and Moon above, or Men below.
Your Vulgar e'en their Images implore,
And the less stupid sacred Blocks adore;
From place to place where e'er they trav'ling come
Officious, carry, or they'd stay'd at home;
For whatsoever their false Priests declare
That Gods meet Gods, fierce-justling in the Air,
Further than them their Votaries did bear,
They never stirr'd—Thus came Astarte o'er
To Cyprus first, from the Sidonian shore,
Cypria, and Paphia call'd, and thence went on
From Isle to Isle, and past Icaria gone
At Samos touch'd, where they her Temple rais'd,
And by the Grecian Name of Juno prais'd:
Whence Men the neighb'ring Land Ionia stile
And Samos bears the name of Juno's Isle:
Nor far remov'd other Erythians live,
To whom the neighb'ring Goddess Name did give,
Fair Erycina call'd, when wafted o'er
By Cytheron to rich Trinacria's shore,
Melita past, thence her the Tyrians bore.
196
Your Rival Carthage—West to utmost ground
They next proceed, where no more World is found;
To Gades, and the rich Tertessian strand
Arriv'd, and fierce Geryon's fertile Land
Whom their brave Captain slew in manful Fight,
And seizes his rich Isle by Conquest's right;
It's Name it changes, as it chang'd its Lord
Erythia call'd, from Venus there ador'd
Now Aphrodisia it the Ancient's stile,
Astarta now, now Juno's sacred Isle.
Nay, thro' Herculean straits ne'er past before
To that new World without their Gods they bore,
Whose fair white Rocks oppose the Celtic shore
Where Cesar late, for Life, not Honour fought,
And at so dear a price their Conquest bought,
Bel and Astarte known and worshipp'd there,
And Taramis, the dreaded Thunderer.
If back agen to East you turn your Eye
In the Red Sea a little Isle you'll spy
Which Erythra, the name pronouncing false
The Fabling Grecian for Erythia calls:
To Venus here a Fane the Tyrians found,
And gave her the whole Isle as sacred Ground.
From her Astarte term'd—Still further on
Past e'en the Ethiopian Floods they're gone,
There early and undrest surpriz'd the Sun:
Where he retir'd, least Mortals shou'd behold,
By Heav'nly Art turns the blest Earth to Gold.
Where Gomer's Land thrusts out its double head
To West of Ganges-Gulf, e'en there they spred
Their Idols praise, tho' by a different Name,
Colias, is Venus call'd, tho' still the same.
Next more to East, threat'ning the Seas and Skies,
Outstretch'd the Corean Promontory lies;
Near where a Town the Natives Cory stile,
In Taproban, that ancient Indian Isle;
Which easily, I think may be believ'd
From Chora, Juno's Name, their own receiv'd:
Nor more than her has Jove himself stood still,
197
Now you at fam'd Olympus him might view;
Then wand'ring with the Corybantic Crew
The Thracian Samos him did entertain,
Where he did with the sad Cabiri reign
Thus far we're then advanc'd, and you I've shown
That Isis, Juno, Venus are but one;
As Moloch, Saturn, Hammon, and the Sun,
That those choice Gods were from Phenicia born
From utmost West, to utmost rising-morn:
What yet remains as easie 'tis to clear,
That they'd their very Names and Language here
As Greece and you from them, and yet that we
Cannot be blam'd for their Idolatry,
Beelsamen, Ashteroth, Baaltis, Baal
Howe'er since chang'd from their Original,
Must at the first be own'd pure Hebrew all.
Some Names of God, which the vain Mimic Tribe
Of Idol-slaves to their false Gods ascribe;
(Those which so high an Honour cannot boast
At least claim Kindred with the Heav'nly Host:)
If hard enough, they well contented be,
For then there's something in't of mystery:
Like our unutterable Name 'twill show,
Tho' not their Priests themselves the meaning know.
From Hebrew Histories ill-understood,
They sometimes borrow; hence with humane Blood
Barbarous, Heav'ns angry King they strive t'attone,
With Virtue and with Mercy pleas'd alone.
Hence Moloch's cruel Food at ancient Tyre
Where precious Victims fed their sacred Fire,
Thence did the Savage Rites to Carthage come,
And thence, if I'm not missinform'd, to Rome;
Where oft your bravest Youth devoted dies,
Or them, to save the Herd you sacrifice.
The same curst Offerings are in Albion made
When of their dreadful Painted Foes affraid.
From Isaac all, whose Fathers Faith to try
His Friend his Son requir'd, but wou'd not let him dye.
Ill Apes of what they think from us they learn,
Or by Traditions glimm'ring Beams discern
Those two great Lights our Books describe, which sway
By their successive motion night and day;
Hence to those Lights the stupid Gentiles pray,
Now several Hero's they in one comprize,
To ancient Truths new Dreams and Tales devise,
And oft they know not whom they Idolize;
Now mighty Nimrod they their Bacchus make,
Then our great Moses for the same mistake;
Who sometimes must the fam'd Taautes be,
The German and Egyptian Mercury.
That Isis, Juno, Venus are but one;
As Moloch, Saturn, Hammon, and the Sun,
That those choice Gods were from Phenicia born
From utmost West, to utmost rising-morn:
What yet remains as easie 'tis to clear,
That they'd their very Names and Language here
As Greece and you from them, and yet that we
Cannot be blam'd for their Idolatry,
Beelsamen, Ashteroth, Baaltis, Baal
Howe'er since chang'd from their Original,
Must at the first be own'd pure Hebrew all.
Some Names of God, which the vain Mimic Tribe
Of Idol-slaves to their false Gods ascribe;
(Those which so high an Honour cannot boast
At least claim Kindred with the Heav'nly Host:)
If hard enough, they well contented be,
For then there's something in't of mystery:
Like our unutterable Name 'twill show,
Tho' not their Priests themselves the meaning know.
From Hebrew Histories ill-understood,
They sometimes borrow; hence with humane Blood
Barbarous, Heav'ns angry King they strive t'attone,
With Virtue and with Mercy pleas'd alone.
Hence Moloch's cruel Food at ancient Tyre
Where precious Victims fed their sacred Fire,
Thence did the Savage Rites to Carthage come,
And thence, if I'm not missinform'd, to Rome;
Where oft your bravest Youth devoted dies,
Or them, to save the Herd you sacrifice.
The same curst Offerings are in Albion made
When of their dreadful Painted Foes affraid.
From Isaac all, whose Fathers Faith to try
His Friend his Son requir'd, but wou'd not let him dye.
Ill Apes of what they think from us they learn,
198
Those two great Lights our Books describe, which sway
By their successive motion night and day;
Hence to those Lights the stupid Gentiles pray,
Now several Hero's they in one comprize,
To ancient Truths new Dreams and Tales devise,
And oft they know not whom they Idolize;
Now mighty Nimrod they their Bacchus make,
Then our great Moses for the same mistake;
Who sometimes must the fam'd Taautes be,
The German and Egyptian Mercury.
That Letters did from us, and Learning flow
The Elements themselves, consulted, show.
From us—Had yours their Order, Names, and Pow'rs,
Their very Form not much estrang'd from ours.
Cadmus who taught the Grecians first to write,
What was he but a Coward Cadmonite?
Who long in Rocks and Holes was skulking laid,
Of God's and Joshua's vengeful Sword afraid,
Whence their old stories, mingling false with true,
Make him at last a Serpent's Form indue:
Nor only this, the Letters Colour too
Where large and great, their Origin confess,
Their rise in glorious Tyrian stains express.
Those Letters first to the Phenicians came
From Grandsire Sem, and Father Abraham,
Whose mighty Pray'rs, nor less prevailing Hand
Incredible! with his small faithful Band
From four invading Kings set free their grateful Land:
Then, Arts and Piety amongst 'em brought,
Which Abraham Sem, Sem holy Noah taught;
Whose story learnt, like his they Vessels wrought,
And coasting, travers'd many a distant shore,
E'er Rome was Rome, or Grecia handled Oar.
This he whose Birth-place Samos boasts well knew,
Whom Fame of Hebrew Knowledge hither drew,
Nor thought his Blood too dear a price, to learn
Those sacred Truths which only we discern;
These once obtain'd, the precious Treasure bore
To Croton's Walls, and your Calabrian shore,
This learn'd Hermippus owns, who with delight
And diligence his Masters Life did write;
This Plato's self had done, whose piercing Eyes
Unveil'd beheld our deepest mysteries,
Had that great man but been as just as wise.
His One and Many he from us receiv'd,
And our mysterious Triad he believ'd:
His Psyche, Logos, En, what can they be
But Elohims great undivided Three?
Who e'er his Works with curious Eyes survey'd,
Wou'd there perceive a VVorld of Nothing made,
By the first Cause; the Angels, and the Fall,
And strokes of our great Moses in them all.
Whom the first Legislator you must own,
The Founder he of written Laws alone.
Nor was this useful Art by him conceal'd,
By God to him, by him to us reveal'd,
Before Troy's VVar, as from our Books appears,
By many rolling Centuries of years.
Hence Grecian Lawgivers their Pandects drew,
Who when they of so rich a Treasure knew
Did to our neighb'ring Isles from Greece retire,
And steal some sparks of our Celestial Fire.
To us the Attic Laws, esteem'd so wise,
To them your old Twelve Tables owe their Rise.
The Elements themselves, consulted, show.
From us—Had yours their Order, Names, and Pow'rs,
Their very Form not much estrang'd from ours.
Cadmus who taught the Grecians first to write,
What was he but a Coward Cadmonite?
Who long in Rocks and Holes was skulking laid,
Of God's and Joshua's vengeful Sword afraid,
Whence their old stories, mingling false with true,
Make him at last a Serpent's Form indue:
Nor only this, the Letters Colour too
Where large and great, their Origin confess,
Their rise in glorious Tyrian stains express.
Those Letters first to the Phenicians came
From Grandsire Sem, and Father Abraham,
Whose mighty Pray'rs, nor less prevailing Hand
Incredible! with his small faithful Band
From four invading Kings set free their grateful Land:
Then, Arts and Piety amongst 'em brought,
Which Abraham Sem, Sem holy Noah taught;
Whose story learnt, like his they Vessels wrought,
And coasting, travers'd many a distant shore,
E'er Rome was Rome, or Grecia handled Oar.
This he whose Birth-place Samos boasts well knew,
Whom Fame of Hebrew Knowledge hither drew,
Nor thought his Blood too dear a price, to learn
Those sacred Truths which only we discern;
These once obtain'd, the precious Treasure bore
To Croton's Walls, and your Calabrian shore,
199
And diligence his Masters Life did write;
This Plato's self had done, whose piercing Eyes
Unveil'd beheld our deepest mysteries,
Had that great man but been as just as wise.
His One and Many he from us receiv'd,
And our mysterious Triad he believ'd:
His Psyche, Logos, En, what can they be
But Elohims great undivided Three?
Who e'er his Works with curious Eyes survey'd,
Wou'd there perceive a VVorld of Nothing made,
By the first Cause; the Angels, and the Fall,
And strokes of our great Moses in them all.
Whom the first Legislator you must own,
The Founder he of written Laws alone.
Nor was this useful Art by him conceal'd,
By God to him, by him to us reveal'd,
Before Troy's VVar, as from our Books appears,
By many rolling Centuries of years.
Hence Grecian Lawgivers their Pandects drew,
Who when they of so rich a Treasure knew
Did to our neighb'ring Isles from Greece retire,
And steal some sparks of our Celestial Fire.
To us the Attic Laws, esteem'd so wise,
To them your old Twelve Tables owe their Rise.
For Poetry, which you your selves confess
An Heav'nly Art, and we believe no less;
Long e'er 'twas ape'd in Greece, we had it here,
And can assign the Century, the Year,
When our best Authors flourish'd, yet we show
Their VVorks, which true and genuine all we know,
Within our sacred Archives kept with care,
Each Line, each Word, each Letter number'd there.
Then Poetry was pure, a Vestal then,
The Acts of God she sung, and Godlike men;
By the Great sacred Spirit himself inspir'd,
And not by Wine, or Gain, or Passion fir'd:
Poet and Prophet then indeed the same,
Their Inspiration, not an empty Name.
Past, future, present at one glance they see,
Fathers their Children blest in Poetry.
When righteous Heav'n some monstrous Tyrants crimes
Aveng'd, his Fall they sung in sacred Rhimes;
How on the Clouds great El'him conq'ring rod,
And all the ancient glorious VVars of God;
Nor did such Godlike men forget to praise
Whom for those arduous Works he pleas'd to raise;
Good Princes, which by suffering bad, we know
The best good thing Heav'n can on man bestow;
For Love they praise, not sordid Hopes of gain,
Reward enough to share their peaceful reign.
To wicked Nations they just Plagues foretel,
But promise to the virtuous All things well;
And Heav'n with Signs attests their Oracle.
This saw th' Arch-Fiend, and better to beguile
The Nations, strove to ape the sacred Style.
But ill at first succeeded the design,
His Priests invoking him, and all the nine
With much of pain wrung out one doggrel Line.
Rough and deform'd with ease their Author known
Ev'n Envies self wou'd think 'em Satan's own.
Ah! had he such a Poet still remain'd
He ne'r had thus the cheated World enchain'd:
Some Renegadoes to his side he drew,
Who something of our sacred Learning knew;
Old Linus, first enticing cross the Seas
The Master of the Tyrian Hercules;
Fam'd Orpheus next, whose hot unnat'ral blood
Stain'd the wild Thracian Fields, and Hebrus flood;
His Priests and Poets they, his rites attend,
File his rough Verse, his frightful Style they mend;
And that they might not him ungrateful call
He to requite 'em, made 'em Laureats all.
Aided by them his Idol-worship spred,
And all the World ador'd the Stars or Dead:
Yet all by Rote they sung, the Prince of Night
Yet had not taught his Votaries to write:
Nor he himself, who next succeeded these
The Grecian Bard, old Melesigenes
His Works e'er saw to written Rolls consign'd
Worse than the Sibyls, wand'ring in the Wind,
But leaning on a Staff, (the Bard was blind)
T'his Harp he sung, his Follow'rs do the same,
Thence Rhapsodies his scatter'd fragments name.
But to whatever distant Fields they've gone
Our Siloam first supply'd their Helicon.
Something of the first Tast there still remains
Tho' ting'd with passing thro' such various Veins.
Hence his fam'd Chaos, drew th' Ascræan Sage,
And many a God that fills his antic Page.
Hence ev'n your Ovid his, and if y'admire
Whence we our Learning; we more justly' enquire,
Whence he the Old World's Flood, the New's last fated Fire.
An Heav'nly Art, and we believe no less;
Long e'er 'twas ape'd in Greece, we had it here,
And can assign the Century, the Year,
When our best Authors flourish'd, yet we show
Their VVorks, which true and genuine all we know,
Within our sacred Archives kept with care,
Each Line, each Word, each Letter number'd there.
Then Poetry was pure, a Vestal then,
The Acts of God she sung, and Godlike men;
By the Great sacred Spirit himself inspir'd,
And not by Wine, or Gain, or Passion fir'd:
Poet and Prophet then indeed the same,
Their Inspiration, not an empty Name.
200
Fathers their Children blest in Poetry.
When righteous Heav'n some monstrous Tyrants crimes
Aveng'd, his Fall they sung in sacred Rhimes;
How on the Clouds great El'him conq'ring rod,
And all the ancient glorious VVars of God;
Nor did such Godlike men forget to praise
Whom for those arduous Works he pleas'd to raise;
Good Princes, which by suffering bad, we know
The best good thing Heav'n can on man bestow;
For Love they praise, not sordid Hopes of gain,
Reward enough to share their peaceful reign.
To wicked Nations they just Plagues foretel,
But promise to the virtuous All things well;
And Heav'n with Signs attests their Oracle.
This saw th' Arch-Fiend, and better to beguile
The Nations, strove to ape the sacred Style.
But ill at first succeeded the design,
His Priests invoking him, and all the nine
With much of pain wrung out one doggrel Line.
Rough and deform'd with ease their Author known
Ev'n Envies self wou'd think 'em Satan's own.
Ah! had he such a Poet still remain'd
He ne'r had thus the cheated World enchain'd:
Some Renegadoes to his side he drew,
Who something of our sacred Learning knew;
Old Linus, first enticing cross the Seas
The Master of the Tyrian Hercules;
Fam'd Orpheus next, whose hot unnat'ral blood
Stain'd the wild Thracian Fields, and Hebrus flood;
His Priests and Poets they, his rites attend,
File his rough Verse, his frightful Style they mend;
And that they might not him ungrateful call
He to requite 'em, made 'em Laureats all.
Aided by them his Idol-worship spred,
And all the World ador'd the Stars or Dead:
Yet all by Rote they sung, the Prince of Night
Yet had not taught his Votaries to write:
Nor he himself, who next succeeded these
The Grecian Bard, old Melesigenes
201
Worse than the Sibyls, wand'ring in the Wind,
But leaning on a Staff, (the Bard was blind)
T'his Harp he sung, his Follow'rs do the same,
Thence Rhapsodies his scatter'd fragments name.
But to whatever distant Fields they've gone
Our Siloam first supply'd their Helicon.
Something of the first Tast there still remains
Tho' ting'd with passing thro' such various Veins.
Hence his fam'd Chaos, drew th' Ascræan Sage,
And many a God that fills his antic Page.
Hence ev'n your Ovid his, and if y'admire
Whence we our Learning; we more justly' enquire,
Whence he the Old World's Flood, the New's last fated Fire.
He said, and paus'd—The Roman,—I must own
Far more than I cou'd e'er believe you've shown,
Evincing clear to an impartial View
That all the VVorld has been at School with you;
And there's some Reason for the Nations Pride,
Whom we unjust, as barbarous deride,
Far more our selves—But might I Sir, be free,
For those Iv'e left, I've yet some Charity;
And in my Judgment, you Idolatry
Unjustly on 'em charge; for Images
They only make the Properties t'express
Of that Great Jove who fills the Thund'rers Throne,
Whom King of Heav'n and Earth we all must own.
Nor scarce the stupid Vulgars selves believe
Those Images relief or aid can give,
Only design'd to fix the Thoughts and Eye,
And since at once we scarce can mount so high
Or apprehend Heav'ns boundless Majesty,
What fits frail Mortals shorter steps they take,
The Mediums these of their Devotions make:
This better still t'attain, for this beside
They all their Train of lesser Joves provide;
In these their weakness, and their Maker's State
Consult, betwixt 'em both they mediate,
For since when here, they Mortals ne'r did fail,
Much more the Heroes will, when Gods, prevail,
If this the Vulgar Gods, much rather then
The mighty Mother both of Gods and men,
The glorious Queen of Heav'n that reigns above,
The pow'rful Mother of our mortal Jove.
Isis her self, who may her Son command,
And stop the Thunder in his lifted Hand.
Far more than I cou'd e'er believe you've shown,
Evincing clear to an impartial View
That all the VVorld has been at School with you;
And there's some Reason for the Nations Pride,
Whom we unjust, as barbarous deride,
Far more our selves—But might I Sir, be free,
For those Iv'e left, I've yet some Charity;
And in my Judgment, you Idolatry
Unjustly on 'em charge; for Images
They only make the Properties t'express
Of that Great Jove who fills the Thund'rers Throne,
Whom King of Heav'n and Earth we all must own.
Nor scarce the stupid Vulgars selves believe
Those Images relief or aid can give,
Only design'd to fix the Thoughts and Eye,
And since at once we scarce can mount so high
Or apprehend Heav'ns boundless Majesty,
What fits frail Mortals shorter steps they take,
The Mediums these of their Devotions make:
This better still t'attain, for this beside
They all their Train of lesser Joves provide;
In these their weakness, and their Maker's State
Consult, betwixt 'em both they mediate,
For since when here, they Mortals ne'r did fail,
Much more the Heroes will, when Gods, prevail,
202
The mighty Mother both of Gods and men,
The glorious Queen of Heav'n that reigns above,
The pow'rful Mother of our mortal Jove.
Isis her self, who may her Son command,
And stop the Thunder in his lifted Hand.
The fairest Plea that is, or e'er can be
Reply'd the Sage, for their Idolatry
You've now produc'd, and if I that confute
I've then for ever silenc'd this Dispute.
For what you've urg'd, and oft has been before,
That they the very Image don't adore,
I must dissent, since evident we see
In numerous Instances the contrary.
From these all good they ask, all bad they fear,
These they from conquer'd Cities with them bear;
They to the very Image lift their Eyes,
To that pay Incense, Pray'rs and Sacrifice,
If then their Incense, Vows, and Trust, and Pray'r
Not proper Acts of Adoration are,
We fain wou'd know what 'tis they such believe?
What have they more to Jove himself to give?
Besides, if them they Mediums only made,
Why should not all alike Devotion aid?
Why glutted this with Pray'r and Sacrifice,
While that forsaken and neglected lies?
Where foul and old he's sour and wayward grown,
Half starv'd to Death sits gloomy on his Throne.
Whilst o'er his mouth their Nets the Spiders spred,
And Owls and Bats perch on his Godships head.
Why they the great Diana magnifie
That dropt from Heav'n—Unless her Priests do lye?
To all her Sister Idols her prefer,
Tho' as well made substantial Blocks as her?
Those whom they chuse for greater Ease and State
Betwixt their Jove and them to mediate,
Whom they their Demy-Gods or Heroes call
Were now the worst of men, now none at all,
Meer fabled Names; now Death's and Hell's sad Lord
In Satyr's or in humane Form ador'd.
But grant 'em Good, yet wou'd it, think you, be
A Testimony of your Loyalty
To snatch your Prince's Scepter from his Hand,
And contrary to his express Command
That and his Crown to some great Courtier bring,
And seated on his Throne, salute him King?
Agen, if we this baffled Plea shou'd take
That Stocks and Men they only Mediums make;
E'en this, if God himself a Judge may be,
Reason or God, is still Idolatry.
For Reason's self declares, the Deity
A Spirit unbodied, boundless, simple, pure,
And thence can no base Mimic Form endure.
This e'en your ancient Law-givers confess,
Old Numa's Temples knew no Images.
Our sacred Books in every Page declare
God's Glory he with others scorns to share.
All Images forbid in that Command
Spoke by th' Almighty's Voice, writ by th' Almighty's Hand,
So plain exprest, 'twill no excuse admit,
No vain perverse Essay of humane Wit.
Reply'd the Sage, for their Idolatry
You've now produc'd, and if I that confute
I've then for ever silenc'd this Dispute.
For what you've urg'd, and oft has been before,
That they the very Image don't adore,
I must dissent, since evident we see
In numerous Instances the contrary.
From these all good they ask, all bad they fear,
These they from conquer'd Cities with them bear;
They to the very Image lift their Eyes,
To that pay Incense, Pray'rs and Sacrifice,
If then their Incense, Vows, and Trust, and Pray'r
Not proper Acts of Adoration are,
We fain wou'd know what 'tis they such believe?
What have they more to Jove himself to give?
Besides, if them they Mediums only made,
Why should not all alike Devotion aid?
Why glutted this with Pray'r and Sacrifice,
While that forsaken and neglected lies?
Where foul and old he's sour and wayward grown,
Half starv'd to Death sits gloomy on his Throne.
Whilst o'er his mouth their Nets the Spiders spred,
And Owls and Bats perch on his Godships head.
Why they the great Diana magnifie
That dropt from Heav'n—Unless her Priests do lye?
To all her Sister Idols her prefer,
Tho' as well made substantial Blocks as her?
Those whom they chuse for greater Ease and State
Betwixt their Jove and them to mediate,
Whom they their Demy-Gods or Heroes call
Were now the worst of men, now none at all,
Meer fabled Names; now Death's and Hell's sad Lord
In Satyr's or in humane Form ador'd.
203
A Testimony of your Loyalty
To snatch your Prince's Scepter from his Hand,
And contrary to his express Command
That and his Crown to some great Courtier bring,
And seated on his Throne, salute him King?
Agen, if we this baffled Plea shou'd take
That Stocks and Men they only Mediums make;
E'en this, if God himself a Judge may be,
Reason or God, is still Idolatry.
For Reason's self declares, the Deity
A Spirit unbodied, boundless, simple, pure,
And thence can no base Mimic Form endure.
This e'en your ancient Law-givers confess,
Old Numa's Temples knew no Images.
Our sacred Books in every Page declare
God's Glory he with others scorns to share.
All Images forbid in that Command
Spoke by th' Almighty's Voice, writ by th' Almighty's Hand,
So plain exprest, 'twill no excuse admit,
No vain perverse Essay of humane Wit.
Nor yet, replies the Roman, must I yield,
Once more I'll charge before I quit the Field.
Once more I'll charge before I quit the Field.
No solid Reason e'er I yet cou'd see
Why that Command you urge confin'd must be
To such a Sense, since God by whom 'twas writ
More largely seems himself t'Interpret it:
Did not that Moses whom you all admire
When God he met in Sinai's smoak and fire,
Observe his Laws, and his Direction take,
By that, exact, your moving Temple make.
And did not he, as your own Books declare,
Place glorious Forms with Wings extended there?
Besides, if you a final end of strife,
A Rule exact and sure, of Faith and Life,
Those sacred Books affirm, the World contemn,
How comes it you your selves appeal from them!
Your Corban you'd unwillingly decide
By that, but take Tradition as your Guide.
Why that Command you urge confin'd must be
To such a Sense, since God by whom 'twas writ
More largely seems himself t'Interpret it:
Did not that Moses whom you all admire
When God he met in Sinai's smoak and fire,
Observe his Laws, and his Direction take,
By that, exact, your moving Temple make.
And did not he, as your own Books declare,
Place glorious Forms with Wings extended there?
Besides, if you a final end of strife,
A Rule exact and sure, of Faith and Life,
Those sacred Books affirm, the World contemn,
How comes it you your selves appeal from them!
Your Corban you'd unwillingly decide
By that, but take Tradition as your Guide.
204
The Rabbi thus—The Cherubin we own,
By which the Form of God was never shown,
But of those bright Attendants round his Throne,
These there by his express Command were wrought,
Tho' of their Worship yet we never thought.
Not visible, how can they Idols be,
Or Images ador'd we never see?
None e'en o'th' Priests themselves might enter there
None but great Aaron's Mitred Successor,
And he himself no more but once a year.
By which the Form of God was never shown,
But of those bright Attendants round his Throne,
These there by his express Command were wrought,
Tho' of their Worship yet we never thought.
Not visible, how can they Idols be,
Or Images ador'd we never see?
None e'en o'th' Priests themselves might enter there
None but great Aaron's Mitred Successor,
And he himself no more but once a year.
For what you further argue, to be free,
Other Opponents you must seek than me:
Corban for Corban's self must plead, I fear,
But if their usual Arguments you'd hear,
A Youth there is at ancient Tarsus bred,
Of Hebrew Race, whose Father lately dead
Him to my Charge committed, deeply read
In all that Rome or Athens yet have known,
In boasted Grecian Learning, and our own;
Deeply in all our Principles imbu'd,
Altho' too hot his Zeal, too warm his Blood:
In him, or I mistake, if you're inclin'd
His Force to try—
You'll no contemptible Opponent find.
Other Opponents you must seek than me:
Corban for Corban's self must plead, I fear,
But if their usual Arguments you'd hear,
A Youth there is at ancient Tarsus bred,
Of Hebrew Race, whose Father lately dead
Him to my Charge committed, deeply read
In all that Rome or Athens yet have known,
In boasted Grecian Learning, and our own;
Deeply in all our Principles imbu'd,
Altho' too hot his Zeal, too warm his Blood:
In him, or I mistake, if you're inclin'd
His Force to try—
You'll no contemptible Opponent find.
Gladly, rejoyns the Roman, wou'd I hear
Their utmost strength, but since my own I fear,
Least a good Cause, and this I'm sure is so
Disgrace by an ill Champion undergo,
The Argument I gladly wou'd transmit
To these good men, who oft have handl'd it:
Oft have they heard, with Eloquence Divine
This Topic manag'd by their Lord and mine:
(For since for me such mighty Works h'has shown,
'Twere base, if I his Service shou'd disown:)
Whom both at Feasts, and Synagogues I've heard
As of Traditions he his Sense declar'd,
And e'en your Sect who teach 'em, nothing spar'd.
The fair Proposal, James, desir'd by all
Accepts, when speedy, at Gamaliel's call
His Pupil enters, who no sooner knows
The Cause, but glad his Art and Zeal he shows;
Thus, eager, all Opponents did prevent,
Full of himself, and the lov'd Argument.
Their utmost strength, but since my own I fear,
Least a good Cause, and this I'm sure is so
Disgrace by an ill Champion undergo,
The Argument I gladly wou'd transmit
To these good men, who oft have handl'd it:
Oft have they heard, with Eloquence Divine
This Topic manag'd by their Lord and mine:
(For since for me such mighty Works h'has shown,
'Twere base, if I his Service shou'd disown:)
Whom both at Feasts, and Synagogues I've heard
As of Traditions he his Sense declar'd,
And e'en your Sect who teach 'em, nothing spar'd.
The fair Proposal, James, desir'd by all
Accepts, when speedy, at Gamaliel's call
His Pupil enters, who no sooner knows
205
Thus, eager, all Opponents did prevent,
Full of himself, and the lov'd Argument.
Still were those wholsom Laws our Fathers made
In force, nor thus despis'd, and disobey'd;
Who their Traditions break, condemn'd, t'expire
'Midst show'rs of stones, or sheets of deadly fire,
That wou'd the curst Transgressors best confute,
For ever silence the abhorr'd Dispute:
But since our ancient Discipline is broke,
Our shoulders worn beneath the Conqu'rers yoke,
With Reason's Sword we now content must be;
With that alone extirpate Heresie:
Whose Patrons, sacred Oral Truths deny,
And to the Scriptures still for shelter fly:
“For Heresies have all the same pretence,
“And quote the Scripture in their own defence:
Thus I demonstrate then from Reason's School
The Word is neither clear, nor perfect Rule.
Not clear—It can't the doubtful Sense declare
“When Piles meet Piles, contending in the Air,
“Squadrons of Texts drawn out on either side,
How shall the controverted Truth be try'd,
Without a last Appeal to some unfailing Guide?
And where shou'd that, search all the World around,
But in th' High Priest and Sanhedrim be found?
In force, nor thus despis'd, and disobey'd;
Who their Traditions break, condemn'd, t'expire
'Midst show'rs of stones, or sheets of deadly fire,
That wou'd the curst Transgressors best confute,
For ever silence the abhorr'd Dispute:
But since our ancient Discipline is broke,
Our shoulders worn beneath the Conqu'rers yoke,
With Reason's Sword we now content must be;
With that alone extirpate Heresie:
Whose Patrons, sacred Oral Truths deny,
And to the Scriptures still for shelter fly:
“For Heresies have all the same pretence,
“And quote the Scripture in their own defence:
Thus I demonstrate then from Reason's School
The Word is neither clear, nor perfect Rule.
Not clear—It can't the doubtful Sense declare
“When Piles meet Piles, contending in the Air,
“Squadrons of Texts drawn out on either side,
How shall the controverted Truth be try'd,
Without a last Appeal to some unfailing Guide?
And where shou'd that, search all the World around,
But in th' High Priest and Sanhedrim be found?
Nor perfect is the Word, since much is lost
Of what the ancient Hebrew Church cou'd boast;
And Moses self did to the Guides commit
Many a sacred Truth that ne'er was writ:
Those Cabala, the Fathers did receive,
To the great Synagogue and Ezra leave,
As they to us, these all Disputes decide,
By these the doubtful Word it self is try'd,
They our unerring Rule, the Church our Guide.
“Thus ev'ry Age do's on another move,
“And trusts no farther than the next above.
“Our good old Doctors always took this way,
“Each asks but what he heard his Father say,
All doom'd to Death who dar'd their Sentence disobey.
Of what the ancient Hebrew Church cou'd boast;
And Moses self did to the Guides commit
Many a sacred Truth that ne'er was writ:
Those Cabala, the Fathers did receive,
To the great Synagogue and Ezra leave,
As they to us, these all Disputes decide,
By these the doubtful Word it self is try'd,
They our unerring Rule, the Church our Guide.
“Thus ev'ry Age do's on another move,
“And trusts no farther than the next above.
“Our good old Doctors always took this way,
“Each asks but what he heard his Father say,
All doom'd to Death who dar'd their Sentence disobey.
206
Thus he, with zealous Fury in his eyes,
To whom thus, temperate, the Saint replies.
To whom thus, temperate, the Saint replies.
With those who are to your sage Sect inclin'd,
Beyond gross Sense and Reason too refin'd,
The surest way to see is to be blind;
That thus, their eyes subdu'd, and mortify'd,
They, with Tradition's broken Reed supply'd,
May grope about for some unerring Guide.
That Criminal must have a desperate Cause
Whose only Plea's t'object against the Laws:
The Statute's clear, but those it won't acquit
May well use all their skill to darken it.
Cast by plain Texts, you to your selves appeal,
By your own Votes declar'd infallible.
Reason and Scripture both alike cry down,
Since they defend not you, you them disown.
You urge not Reason, you, but its pretence,
Not Scripture, but false Glosses drawn from thence,
Reject—But is it not the same if you,
Must the sole Judges be of false and true?
Reason you plead, if you it seems t'acquit,
But if condemn'd, its Vote you won't admit.
But still, if private Reason you pretend
Must be the Judge, Disputes will never end:
Were this suppos'd, you cou'd but thence infer
That men must still be men, and still may err.
Nor shall they that, if they with Minds prepar'd
A higher Guide than Reason's self regard,
Attending, free from Prejudice and Sin
The Word without, th' unfailing Spirit within.
Still you complain the Scriptures are not clear,
And you the Spirits must try before you hear:
Your meaning is, you fairly both reject,
For both Tradition and the Church erect:
But what can easier be to understand
Than Gods own Word, his own express Command?
Or what's more plain than that on no pretence
You ought must add, or ought diminish thence?
That his blest Law all perfect is, and pure,
Nor can Tradition's base Alloy endure.
Perfect as well as clear, approv'd and try'd,
In every part of Life a Rule and Guide.
In Faith and Life the Scriptures both avail,
Nor can you give one Instance where they fail.
The justest Notions they, of God, impart,
And teach to serve him with a humble heart,
Describe the terms of Happiness, and more
That wond'rous Prince who shall the World restore,
That Christ, that true Messia we adore:
By whom, if ought from Ages past conceal'd,
The Fathers Will's entirely now reveal'd.
If then some Books are lost, (which if they are,
Where's the High Priests and Elders boasted Care?)
This not affects the rest, since still we find
A clear and perfect Rule is left behind.
Much of the Cabala, so highly priz'd
Are Trifles by the Learned World despis'd;
Your Sephiroth are Truths i'th' Scriptures plain,
But darken'd whilst you them unfold in vain.
Ezra and the great Synagogue you boast,
Whose Doctrine both and Piety you've lost:
Much younger those Traditions you embrace
Beside the Word; for them in vain you'd trace
One step beyond the Hasmonæan race.
Fallacious all those Arguments you use,
And for Infallibility produce:
Tho' manag'd they with all your Art and Care
They still against plain Fact expresly bear;
For tho' High Priest and Sanhedrim you say
Can without Error shew to Heav'n the way,
'Tis plain to Sense, you this unjustly boast,
Themselves in Error oft, or Vices lost,
Sometimes th' High Priests, as you must own, embrace
Th' abhorr'd Opinions of curst Sadoc's Race;
The Elders too, as sacred Writ averrs
Have Israel's God deny'd, and turn'd Idolaters:
And can two crooked Lines compose one right?
Two Finites ever make an Infinite?
Beyond gross Sense and Reason too refin'd,
The surest way to see is to be blind;
That thus, their eyes subdu'd, and mortify'd,
They, with Tradition's broken Reed supply'd,
May grope about for some unerring Guide.
That Criminal must have a desperate Cause
Whose only Plea's t'object against the Laws:
The Statute's clear, but those it won't acquit
May well use all their skill to darken it.
Cast by plain Texts, you to your selves appeal,
By your own Votes declar'd infallible.
Reason and Scripture both alike cry down,
Since they defend not you, you them disown.
You urge not Reason, you, but its pretence,
Not Scripture, but false Glosses drawn from thence,
Reject—But is it not the same if you,
Must the sole Judges be of false and true?
Reason you plead, if you it seems t'acquit,
But if condemn'd, its Vote you won't admit.
But still, if private Reason you pretend
Must be the Judge, Disputes will never end:
Were this suppos'd, you cou'd but thence infer
That men must still be men, and still may err.
Nor shall they that, if they with Minds prepar'd
A higher Guide than Reason's self regard,
Attending, free from Prejudice and Sin
The Word without, th' unfailing Spirit within.
Still you complain the Scriptures are not clear,
And you the Spirits must try before you hear:
Your meaning is, you fairly both reject,
For both Tradition and the Church erect:
But what can easier be to understand
Than Gods own Word, his own express Command?
Or what's more plain than that on no pretence
You ought must add, or ought diminish thence?
That his blest Law all perfect is, and pure,
Nor can Tradition's base Alloy endure.
207
In every part of Life a Rule and Guide.
In Faith and Life the Scriptures both avail,
Nor can you give one Instance where they fail.
The justest Notions they, of God, impart,
And teach to serve him with a humble heart,
Describe the terms of Happiness, and more
That wond'rous Prince who shall the World restore,
That Christ, that true Messia we adore:
By whom, if ought from Ages past conceal'd,
The Fathers Will's entirely now reveal'd.
If then some Books are lost, (which if they are,
Where's the High Priests and Elders boasted Care?)
This not affects the rest, since still we find
A clear and perfect Rule is left behind.
Much of the Cabala, so highly priz'd
Are Trifles by the Learned World despis'd;
Your Sephiroth are Truths i'th' Scriptures plain,
But darken'd whilst you them unfold in vain.
Ezra and the great Synagogue you boast,
Whose Doctrine both and Piety you've lost:
Much younger those Traditions you embrace
Beside the Word; for them in vain you'd trace
One step beyond the Hasmonæan race.
Fallacious all those Arguments you use,
And for Infallibility produce:
Tho' manag'd they with all your Art and Care
They still against plain Fact expresly bear;
For tho' High Priest and Sanhedrim you say
Can without Error shew to Heav'n the way,
'Tis plain to Sense, you this unjustly boast,
Themselves in Error oft, or Vices lost,
Sometimes th' High Priests, as you must own, embrace
Th' abhorr'd Opinions of curst Sadoc's Race;
The Elders too, as sacred Writ averrs
Have Israel's God deny'd, and turn'd Idolaters:
And can two crooked Lines compose one right?
Two Finites ever make an Infinite?
But what the Fathers told, you must believe,
Since such good men nor cou'd, nor wou'd deceive,
Since every Age do's on the other move,
“And trusts no farther than the next above:
—But the blind Heathen take the self same way,
“Each asks but what he heard his Father say,
He errs, they follow, and stupidly obey.
While those no false or dangerous steps shall make
Who Reason's and the Words safe conduct take;
Which them, if from their paths they never stray,
To our great Prophet will at last convey,
Whose Divine Spirit shall with resistless might
Soon fill the dazled World with Heav'nly Light:
Gentile and Jew shall his blest Law receive,
Vain Idols, and as vain Traditions leave;
E'en you your self—Unless amiss I see
In the unerring Glass of Prophesie,
You, who so fiercely now our Law oppose,
And think us Gods at once, and Cesar's Foes,
Struck to the Earth by a kind dazling flame,
Your Conqueror shall to Gentile Worlds proclaim,
And round the spacious Globe shall spread the Christian Name.
He said, th' young Disputant shot furious thence
Too weak, and much enrag'd to make defence.
When Chuza thus—You so successful prove
In this, my doubts I hope you'll too remove:
From a loose Court to Sadok's Sect inclin'd,
Some Notions I imbib'd which yet disturb my mind,
These in their usual Words I'll urge, nor fear
To find a just and candid Answer here.
You know that Sect all future Life decry,
All Immaterial Substances deny:
A Spirit they'll not believe, unless they see,
What they've no Notion of can never be,
No pains for th' ill, or joys for those live well;
They laugh, as idle Tales, at Heav'n and Hell.
Those distant hopes and fears alike despise,
Impossible to them the dead shou'd rise;
Much less, shou'd they an after-state receive,
Cou'd ought therein of endless pains believe,
Since finite Sin is disproportion'd quite,
They think to Punishment that's infinite
And hard, for Thoughts or wand'ring or impure,
We shou'd t'eternal Ages, pains endure.
This is the sum of what they Reas'ning call,
The rest Scurrility, and Nonsense all:
Since such good men nor cou'd, nor wou'd deceive,
208
“And trusts no farther than the next above:
—But the blind Heathen take the self same way,
“Each asks but what he heard his Father say,
He errs, they follow, and stupidly obey.
While those no false or dangerous steps shall make
Who Reason's and the Words safe conduct take;
Which them, if from their paths they never stray,
To our great Prophet will at last convey,
Whose Divine Spirit shall with resistless might
Soon fill the dazled World with Heav'nly Light:
Gentile and Jew shall his blest Law receive,
Vain Idols, and as vain Traditions leave;
E'en you your self—Unless amiss I see
In the unerring Glass of Prophesie,
You, who so fiercely now our Law oppose,
And think us Gods at once, and Cesar's Foes,
Struck to the Earth by a kind dazling flame,
Your Conqueror shall to Gentile Worlds proclaim,
And round the spacious Globe shall spread the Christian Name.
He said, th' young Disputant shot furious thence
Too weak, and much enrag'd to make defence.
When Chuza thus—You so successful prove
In this, my doubts I hope you'll too remove:
From a loose Court to Sadok's Sect inclin'd,
Some Notions I imbib'd which yet disturb my mind,
These in their usual Words I'll urge, nor fear
To find a just and candid Answer here.
You know that Sect all future Life decry,
All Immaterial Substances deny:
A Spirit they'll not believe, unless they see,
What they've no Notion of can never be,
No pains for th' ill, or joys for those live well;
They laugh, as idle Tales, at Heav'n and Hell.
Those distant hopes and fears alike despise,
Impossible to them the dead shou'd rise;
Much less, shou'd they an after-state receive,
Cou'd ought therein of endless pains believe,
Since finite Sin is disproportion'd quite,
They think to Punishment that's infinite
209
We shou'd t'eternal Ages, pains endure.
This is the sum of what they Reas'ning call,
The rest Scurrility, and Nonsense all:
Thus, modest he objects, thus calm and wise,
He who of antient Rama nam'd, replies.
He who of antient Rama nam'd, replies.
That immaterial Substance cannot be,
Because some can't conceive't, and none can see,
VVith ease is answer'd—Brutish Atheists own
They can't conceive a God, but is there none?
Ask the received Sense of all Mankind!
Is there no Sun because the Beetle's blind?
Their Breath, the Air, their Thoughts they cannot see,
Yet still they Breathing, Thinking Creatures be.
That God's a Substance 'tis confess'd by all,
VVhom, but Blasphemers, none material call:
Matter's extended, passive, finite own'd;
If God be such, he's from his Heav'n dethron'd,
Equal with that vile Man of Dust he made,
Nay lower yet, and nearer Nothing laid.
He must have Parts, Mutation must prevail
O'er his weak Frame, “and what may change may fail.
Angelic minds who ever reign above,
Ay hymning the Great Spring of Joy and Love;
These are all Spirits, for they, tho' young and fair
They seem to Men, drest in light robes of Air;
Their business done their short-liv'd Bodies leave,
Their elemented Form the Winds receive.
Loose from dull matters Laws no longer stay,
But the next moment think themselves away;
Preventing ev'n th' amaz'd Spectators Eyes,
From East to VVest, from Earth to Paradise;
And from the Altar oft to Heav'n aspire
In Clouds of curling Smoak, and Globes of Fire.
Can you such Pow'rs as these in Matter find?
Can ought do this, unless 'tis perfect Mind?
Because some can't conceive't, and none can see,
VVith ease is answer'd—Brutish Atheists own
They can't conceive a God, but is there none?
Ask the received Sense of all Mankind!
Is there no Sun because the Beetle's blind?
Their Breath, the Air, their Thoughts they cannot see,
Yet still they Breathing, Thinking Creatures be.
That God's a Substance 'tis confess'd by all,
VVhom, but Blasphemers, none material call:
Matter's extended, passive, finite own'd;
If God be such, he's from his Heav'n dethron'd,
Equal with that vile Man of Dust he made,
Nay lower yet, and nearer Nothing laid.
He must have Parts, Mutation must prevail
O'er his weak Frame, “and what may change may fail.
Angelic minds who ever reign above,
Ay hymning the Great Spring of Joy and Love;
These are all Spirits, for they, tho' young and fair
They seem to Men, drest in light robes of Air;
Their business done their short-liv'd Bodies leave,
Their elemented Form the Winds receive.
Loose from dull matters Laws no longer stay,
But the next moment think themselves away;
Preventing ev'n th' amaz'd Spectators Eyes,
From East to VVest, from Earth to Paradise;
And from the Altar oft to Heav'n aspire
In Clouds of curling Smoak, and Globes of Fire.
Can you such Pow'rs as these in Matter find?
Can ought do this, unless 'tis perfect Mind?
There is a Spirit in Man, th' Almighty's Breath;
Something Divine, that must survive his Death.
Who can with patience think he all must die,
And in dark Nothing's Chaos floating lie,
Who wou'd not rather wish a blest Eternity?
If Man, as Sadoc dreams, all matter were,
How cou'd he apprehend, compound, infer?
How Universals form, Reflect, or Will,
And on those Acts make new Reflections still?
How Sciences invent, or Arts devise,
And ev'n by Folly and Mistakes grow wise?
How everlasting Poems, Works divine,
Which to compose both Earth and Heav'n must join;
How these produce, how weave each Notion there,
And give each stubborn Thought its Turn and Air?
As soon wild Atoms into Whirlpools hurld
Might make this beauteous Poem of the VVorld.
A heap of Letters in a Mirror seen
As soon might form great Maro's Works therein.
If all were Matter, Sadoc argues well,
Wou'd no Hereafter be, no Heav'n or Hell?
All wou'd be Fate, and Man as justly then
Might punish Stones, as God cou'd punish Men.
But shan't the Judge of all Men justly do?
Shall not eternal Truth it self be true?
That here things equally he don't dispense,
Ev'n Sadoc's Sons must own, who argue thence
Against his Justice and his Providence:
Tho' we more fairly a future World conclude
To plague th' Unjust, and recompence the Good;
Which by th' inspir'd of old in every Age
Was fair inscrib'd on many a sacred Page;
Tho' far more legibly than all the rest,
By him of Heav'n and Earth belov'd, exprest.
Nor this last Refuge to th' unjust remains,
This glimm'ring Hope, that Time shall end their pains:
As soon the Fiends may break their Iron Chains,
As wretched Souls from their sad Prisons rise,
From those eternal Shades, regain the lightsom Skies.
Habits of Vice are Hell, that World of Woe,
They needs must with 'em bear, where e'er they go:
The loss of Heav'n is Hell, who banish'd thence,
Their pain of Loss equals their pain of Sense;
And cou'd they to that blissful Place repair,
Yet what, ah! what cou'd vicious Souls do there?
Who Life and Death propos'd, the latter chuse,
And a fair Option granted, Heav'n refuse.
Something Divine, that must survive his Death.
Who can with patience think he all must die,
And in dark Nothing's Chaos floating lie,
Who wou'd not rather wish a blest Eternity?
210
How cou'd he apprehend, compound, infer?
How Universals form, Reflect, or Will,
And on those Acts make new Reflections still?
How Sciences invent, or Arts devise,
And ev'n by Folly and Mistakes grow wise?
How everlasting Poems, Works divine,
Which to compose both Earth and Heav'n must join;
How these produce, how weave each Notion there,
And give each stubborn Thought its Turn and Air?
As soon wild Atoms into Whirlpools hurld
Might make this beauteous Poem of the VVorld.
A heap of Letters in a Mirror seen
As soon might form great Maro's Works therein.
If all were Matter, Sadoc argues well,
Wou'd no Hereafter be, no Heav'n or Hell?
All wou'd be Fate, and Man as justly then
Might punish Stones, as God cou'd punish Men.
But shan't the Judge of all Men justly do?
Shall not eternal Truth it self be true?
That here things equally he don't dispense,
Ev'n Sadoc's Sons must own, who argue thence
Against his Justice and his Providence:
Tho' we more fairly a future World conclude
To plague th' Unjust, and recompence the Good;
Which by th' inspir'd of old in every Age
Was fair inscrib'd on many a sacred Page;
Tho' far more legibly than all the rest,
By him of Heav'n and Earth belov'd, exprest.
Nor this last Refuge to th' unjust remains,
This glimm'ring Hope, that Time shall end their pains:
As soon the Fiends may break their Iron Chains,
As wretched Souls from their sad Prisons rise,
From those eternal Shades, regain the lightsom Skies.
Habits of Vice are Hell, that World of Woe,
They needs must with 'em bear, where e'er they go:
The loss of Heav'n is Hell, who banish'd thence,
Their pain of Loss equals their pain of Sense;
And cou'd they to that blissful Place repair,
Yet what, ah! what cou'd vicious Souls do there?
211
And a fair Option granted, Heav'n refuse.
Thus he—When Chuza—Easily we learn
Those Truths we might from Natures self discern,
And you my Faith with small reluctance, gain
T'unmatter'd Minds, and endless Joy and Pain:
But that which shocks Philosophy and Sense,
And crosses all our Notions drawn from thence,
Is your assertion that the dead shall rise,
Our mouldring dust agen enjoy the Skies;
Those Seeds of things thro' Air and Water tost,
Thro' Earth and Fire, Bodies in Bodies lost;
That these shall be in their old Form rejoyn'd,
Each Atom shall its brother Atom find:
If then there's ought your sacred Books contain,
If ought in Reasons School can this explain,
The useful Knowledge candidly impart,
And ever more command a grateful Heart.
Those Truths we might from Natures self discern,
And you my Faith with small reluctance, gain
T'unmatter'd Minds, and endless Joy and Pain:
But that which shocks Philosophy and Sense,
And crosses all our Notions drawn from thence,
Is your assertion that the dead shall rise,
Our mouldring dust agen enjoy the Skies;
Those Seeds of things thro' Air and Water tost,
Thro' Earth and Fire, Bodies in Bodies lost;
That these shall be in their old Form rejoyn'd,
Each Atom shall its brother Atom find:
If then there's ought your sacred Books contain,
If ought in Reasons School can this explain,
The useful Knowledge candidly impart,
And ever more command a grateful Heart.
Gamaliel thus—Who erring minds regain,
Their Pleasure richly do's reward their Pain;
And Reasons self no worse success secures
In those so well prepar'd for Truth as yours.
Not that from Nature you clear proofs can see
Of what's a supernat'ral Mystery.
But first we'll prove 't, tho' from the World conceal'd,
By Gods unerring Spirit to us reveal'd,
Then to our Faith the aid of Reason bring,
And prove no Contradiction in the Thing.
The Law, the Prophets, and the Psalms contain,
This Truth the Sadducee denies in vain.
When Fate the Souls and Body's link unties
The Spirit says, Man rather sleeps then dies.
Express great Esay writes the Dead shall rise;
When the last Trump the joyous news shall bring,
That those who dwell in Dust shall rise and sing.
Tho' this seems strange to our short sights who dwell
In mortal Clay, with God 'tis possible.
His Pow'r can do what Nature's never can,
And reproduce the same numeric Man;
From various things that Body can restore
Which his dread Word from Nothing made before.
Those Seeds of things too fine for humane Sight,
Tho' granted numerous, can't be infinite;
But were they, the Almighty is the same,
And knows 'em all who calls the Stars by Name;
Each Atom can t'his proper place return,
And raise a Phænix from a dusty Urn.
Tho' shou'd he different parts of matter take,
With the same Soul he the same Man wou'd make:
The Soul's the Form, by this dull matter lives,
And th' individuating Seal it gives;
That still survives, for what can that destroy?
The Bodies Harbinger in Pain or Joy.
While Body's still in Flux, still loose it flies,
Ev'n join'd to Soul, each Day 'tis born and dies,
And when Fate calls, it thence divided, must
Scatter in Air or moulder into Dust.
Their Pleasure richly do's reward their Pain;
And Reasons self no worse success secures
In those so well prepar'd for Truth as yours.
Not that from Nature you clear proofs can see
Of what's a supernat'ral Mystery.
But first we'll prove 't, tho' from the World conceal'd,
By Gods unerring Spirit to us reveal'd,
Then to our Faith the aid of Reason bring,
And prove no Contradiction in the Thing.
The Law, the Prophets, and the Psalms contain,
This Truth the Sadducee denies in vain.
When Fate the Souls and Body's link unties
The Spirit says, Man rather sleeps then dies.
Express great Esay writes the Dead shall rise;
When the last Trump the joyous news shall bring,
That those who dwell in Dust shall rise and sing.
Tho' this seems strange to our short sights who dwell
In mortal Clay, with God 'tis possible.
His Pow'r can do what Nature's never can,
And reproduce the same numeric Man;
From various things that Body can restore
212
Those Seeds of things too fine for humane Sight,
Tho' granted numerous, can't be infinite;
But were they, the Almighty is the same,
And knows 'em all who calls the Stars by Name;
Each Atom can t'his proper place return,
And raise a Phænix from a dusty Urn.
Tho' shou'd he different parts of matter take,
With the same Soul he the same Man wou'd make:
The Soul's the Form, by this dull matter lives,
And th' individuating Seal it gives;
That still survives, for what can that destroy?
The Bodies Harbinger in Pain or Joy.
While Body's still in Flux, still loose it flies,
Ev'n join'd to Soul, each Day 'tis born and dies,
And when Fate calls, it thence divided, must
Scatter in Air or moulder into Dust.
He said and paus'd, all pleas'd with what he spoke,
When zealous Cephas thus his silence broke.
When zealous Cephas thus his silence broke.
Well have you reason'd, Fathers! and as well
For Truth have urg'd Truths sacred Oracle;
Yet Reason some evade by Sophistry,
Some Scriptures wrest, but none can Sense deny.
To this our Lord by Miracles appeals,
In all those Truths which he from Heav'n reveals
By Miracles him his Great Father seals;
Which thousands can as well as we attest,
By Friends admir'd, by Enemies confest:
Who can by his own Pow'r both Worlds command,
And raise the Dead by his dread Voice or Hand;
Whom Heav'n and Earth obey, all must believe,
His Testimony all the World receive.
But never Man like him these Truths e'er taught,
He Immortality to Light has brought;
That Heav'n the Good with endless Joy shall gain,
The wicked mourn in Hell with endless Pain.
As little, immaterial Substance, we
Can doubt, so much we've heard, so much we see.
Legions of Fiends we see our Lord obey,
VVho spightful him confess, and hast away;
Whether to their own dark Abyss confin'd,
Or them he in the howling Desart bind;
Whether before they haunt some lonely Tomb,
Or bolder into Towns and Cities come,
And strike afflicted Mortals blind or dumb.
This have Capernaum's VValls with wonder seen,
This from his Hills th' affrighted Gadarene,
Where to their Saviour they their Swine preferr'd,
Where Beasts and Fiends obscene in Legions herd.
Were our Eyes false, we've stronger Evidence,
And proof ev'n more infallible than Sense.
These Truths did Truth it self to us reveal,
Or plain, or in some lively Parable:
One I among the rest remember yet,
And think I hardly ever can forget;
Still are, methinks the Scene's before my Eyes
The pains of Hell, the joys of Paradise;
And were not Day well wasted—Wast no more
Gamaliel says, more earnest than before
To hear the whole: while Nicodemus cries,
Those only wast the Day who, lost in Vice,
The sliding Hours profusely misemploy
In shortliv'd Pleasures and voluptuous Joy,
VVho while the sliding Hours fly swift away,
Fondly themselves beguile, and not the Day:
But who like us their happy Sands have past,
'Tis they, and they alone, Life truly tast,
They use their Time which others only wast.
But pray proceed, slip not one passage o'er,
Believe we long to hear it all and more.
He thus—I'll every circumstance relate;
Thus was the Poor-Rich-Mans tremendous Fate,
—See his luxurious Body cover'd o'er
With Royal Purple, fetch'd from Tyre's proud shore.
The softest Linnen next his tender skin
Richly perfum'd, (and need) to hide within
A lothsom Load of Vanity and Sin:
Arabia's choicest Odors, purchas'd thence
With the exactest Care and vast Expence
Rich Nard, Amomum, sacred Frankincense:
All these profusely smoaking fill'd the Air,
As if the Land of Spices had been there,
Where nothing else they burn; the choisest Fare
His Tables load, the panting Servants come
Half crush'd with their pil'd weight into the room:
Those Birds with which wise Heav'n our Fathers fed,
And thought the fittest meat with Angels bread,
As coarser Fare, despis'd, he'd scarce afford
A room at th' end of his luxurious Board:
The beauteous Fowl by distant Phasis bred,
Almost as richly as their Master fed;
Both fatted for destruction, scarce he'd deign
To tast, almost untouch'd born off again;
And cou'd the fancy'd Phenix self been caught,
The Dish he at a Kingdom's price had bought.
While in a stately Gallery hard by,
Adorn'd with Babylonian Tapistry
His Honours Musick sate, and as they bring
Each Course, anew they sweep the sounding string;
At once to charm his Conscience and his Cares,
Lull his loose Soul with melting Lydian Airs,
Or soft Anacreon's Words from Greece they bring,
Which Eunuchs bought from Rome or Egypt sing;
No Words e'er better chosen to excite
His sated, yet his furious Appetite,
And urge to lawless Loves, and vain Delight;
Thus on his yielding Couch reclin'd he lay,
Thus he, Luxurious, past the scorching Day
Till cooler Evening come, he bids prepare
His stately Chariot—He must take the Air:
At his broad Gates arriv'd he casts his Eye
And sees a miserable Object lie
With sores all cover'd—Strait with cruel Pride
He turns his Head and haughty Eyes aside,
Then frowning, thus t'his crouching Servants near
Take hence this Dirt he cries, what makes he here?
Drag him to th' Dunghil, that's the fittest place;
Let him rot there, and not these Walks disgrace:
Too soon they obey, and spurning bid him rise
And get him thence—He lifts his fainting eyes,
With much of Pain he lifts his heavy head,
Which soon fell down agen, and sighing said
With a low Voice—What hurt or injury
Will't be, if here you let me faint and die;
Tho' while I might have liv'd, you'd not afford,
'Twas all I ask'd, the Fragments of your Board
Which e'en the Dogs had left—The Wretch dares prate,
Replies the Lord—Here trail him from the Gate!
They did, across the more relenting Stones,
Scarce cou'd he speak, but just expiring groans;
The kinder Hounds, who as it chanc'd were there,
Soon scented him, where half expos'd and bare,
His fest'ring nauseous Sores infect the Air;
Scarcely one part from head to foot was sound,
One frightful Ulcer he, all o'er a Wound:
Around him the poor Curs with pity wait,
And as they cou'd seem'd to bemoan his Fate;
They of their Masters cruelty complain;
With heads thrown up they deeply howl—In vain
The Huntsman rates 'em off, they ne'er the more
Will from him stir, but gently lick'd his Sore.
Some Ease he found e'en in the pangs of death,
Tho' whence he knew not; with his parting Breath,
Too late's your Aid, who e'er you be, he cry'd,
Requite you Heav'n!—With all his strength he try'd,
A little rais'd his Head, then sunk and dy'd!
—His active Spirit no sooner wing'd away
From her untenantable house of Clay,
But strait fair Angels from the Clouds descend,
And thitherward their Course directly bend;
His shiv'ring Soul wide wand'ring in the Air,
On their warm Purple Wings to bliss they bear;
Safe to the Realms of endless Peace convey'd,
And in great Abraham's bosom softly laid;
There all the glorious Orders round him shine,
“And calm the Relicks of his Grief with Hymns Divine.
For Truth have urg'd Truths sacred Oracle;
Yet Reason some evade by Sophistry,
Some Scriptures wrest, but none can Sense deny.
To this our Lord by Miracles appeals,
In all those Truths which he from Heav'n reveals
By Miracles him his Great Father seals;
Which thousands can as well as we attest,
By Friends admir'd, by Enemies confest:
Who can by his own Pow'r both Worlds command,
And raise the Dead by his dread Voice or Hand;
Whom Heav'n and Earth obey, all must believe,
His Testimony all the World receive.
But never Man like him these Truths e'er taught,
He Immortality to Light has brought;
That Heav'n the Good with endless Joy shall gain,
The wicked mourn in Hell with endless Pain.
As little, immaterial Substance, we
Can doubt, so much we've heard, so much we see.
Legions of Fiends we see our Lord obey,
VVho spightful him confess, and hast away;
213
Or them he in the howling Desart bind;
Whether before they haunt some lonely Tomb,
Or bolder into Towns and Cities come,
And strike afflicted Mortals blind or dumb.
This have Capernaum's VValls with wonder seen,
This from his Hills th' affrighted Gadarene,
Where to their Saviour they their Swine preferr'd,
Where Beasts and Fiends obscene in Legions herd.
Were our Eyes false, we've stronger Evidence,
And proof ev'n more infallible than Sense.
These Truths did Truth it self to us reveal,
Or plain, or in some lively Parable:
One I among the rest remember yet,
And think I hardly ever can forget;
Still are, methinks the Scene's before my Eyes
The pains of Hell, the joys of Paradise;
And were not Day well wasted—Wast no more
Gamaliel says, more earnest than before
To hear the whole: while Nicodemus cries,
Those only wast the Day who, lost in Vice,
The sliding Hours profusely misemploy
In shortliv'd Pleasures and voluptuous Joy,
VVho while the sliding Hours fly swift away,
Fondly themselves beguile, and not the Day:
But who like us their happy Sands have past,
'Tis they, and they alone, Life truly tast,
They use their Time which others only wast.
But pray proceed, slip not one passage o'er,
Believe we long to hear it all and more.
He thus—I'll every circumstance relate;
Thus was the Poor-Rich-Mans tremendous Fate,
—See his luxurious Body cover'd o'er
With Royal Purple, fetch'd from Tyre's proud shore.
The softest Linnen next his tender skin
Richly perfum'd, (and need) to hide within
A lothsom Load of Vanity and Sin:
Arabia's choicest Odors, purchas'd thence
With the exactest Care and vast Expence
Rich Nard, Amomum, sacred Frankincense:
214
As if the Land of Spices had been there,
Where nothing else they burn; the choisest Fare
His Tables load, the panting Servants come
Half crush'd with their pil'd weight into the room:
Those Birds with which wise Heav'n our Fathers fed,
And thought the fittest meat with Angels bread,
As coarser Fare, despis'd, he'd scarce afford
A room at th' end of his luxurious Board:
The beauteous Fowl by distant Phasis bred,
Almost as richly as their Master fed;
Both fatted for destruction, scarce he'd deign
To tast, almost untouch'd born off again;
And cou'd the fancy'd Phenix self been caught,
The Dish he at a Kingdom's price had bought.
While in a stately Gallery hard by,
Adorn'd with Babylonian Tapistry
His Honours Musick sate, and as they bring
Each Course, anew they sweep the sounding string;
At once to charm his Conscience and his Cares,
Lull his loose Soul with melting Lydian Airs,
Or soft Anacreon's Words from Greece they bring,
Which Eunuchs bought from Rome or Egypt sing;
No Words e'er better chosen to excite
His sated, yet his furious Appetite,
And urge to lawless Loves, and vain Delight;
Thus on his yielding Couch reclin'd he lay,
Thus he, Luxurious, past the scorching Day
Till cooler Evening come, he bids prepare
His stately Chariot—He must take the Air:
At his broad Gates arriv'd he casts his Eye
And sees a miserable Object lie
With sores all cover'd—Strait with cruel Pride
He turns his Head and haughty Eyes aside,
Then frowning, thus t'his crouching Servants near
Take hence this Dirt he cries, what makes he here?
Drag him to th' Dunghil, that's the fittest place;
Let him rot there, and not these Walks disgrace:
Too soon they obey, and spurning bid him rise
And get him thence—He lifts his fainting eyes,
215
Which soon fell down agen, and sighing said
With a low Voice—What hurt or injury
Will't be, if here you let me faint and die;
Tho' while I might have liv'd, you'd not afford,
'Twas all I ask'd, the Fragments of your Board
Which e'en the Dogs had left—The Wretch dares prate,
Replies the Lord—Here trail him from the Gate!
They did, across the more relenting Stones,
Scarce cou'd he speak, but just expiring groans;
The kinder Hounds, who as it chanc'd were there,
Soon scented him, where half expos'd and bare,
His fest'ring nauseous Sores infect the Air;
Scarcely one part from head to foot was sound,
One frightful Ulcer he, all o'er a Wound:
Around him the poor Curs with pity wait,
And as they cou'd seem'd to bemoan his Fate;
They of their Masters cruelty complain;
With heads thrown up they deeply howl—In vain
The Huntsman rates 'em off, they ne'er the more
Will from him stir, but gently lick'd his Sore.
Some Ease he found e'en in the pangs of death,
Tho' whence he knew not; with his parting Breath,
Too late's your Aid, who e'er you be, he cry'd,
Requite you Heav'n!—With all his strength he try'd,
A little rais'd his Head, then sunk and dy'd!
—His active Spirit no sooner wing'd away
From her untenantable house of Clay,
But strait fair Angels from the Clouds descend,
And thitherward their Course directly bend;
His shiv'ring Soul wide wand'ring in the Air,
On their warm Purple Wings to bliss they bear;
Safe to the Realms of endless Peace convey'd,
And in great Abraham's bosom softly laid;
There all the glorious Orders round him shine,
“And calm the Relicks of his Grief with Hymns Divine.
When now Sol's Beams almost had left the Air,
Back did the Miserably-rich repair;
Who near his house, the lifeless Carcass there
Did at first glance a little startled see,
But soon himself recalls—What is't to me,
If he be dead, he did insulting cry?
That Wretch had nothing else to do but die.
For me, I better can my time employ,
And many an unexhausted Year of Joy:
Shou'd Fate and Death be sawcy and pretend
To rush into my presence e'er I for 'em send;
Rich Cordials soon shou'd make 'em quit their hold,
I'd bribe 'em thence with show'rs of liquid Gold,
—Now let 'em keep their distance—When I'm old,
With Virtue and the Palsey bedrid lie,
Return, I may have leisure then to die.
—He said, and a new Banquet bids prepare,
Rich Syrian Unguents crown his flowing Hair;
Resolv'd that Night in all the Joys to live
That Wit or Wine, or flatt'ring Vice cou'd give;
A few choice Friends, as great, as lewd as he,
Sate round, t'augment and share his Jollity;
At length the Tables clear'd, the Banquet o'er,
Profusely plentiful as that before,
He a huge golden Goblet rais'd on high,
And swears to all their Healths he'd drink it dry,
Then brought t'his head, when on the sudden, fall,
His lips scarce touch'd, he, Goblet, Wine and all;
The Servants shreeking overturn the Board,
And run to th' aid of their expiring Lord;
Rich Cordials fetch'd, they force 'em down in vain,
His hand upon his heart, there, there his Pain;
Death-struck, he fell, hard comes his rattling breath,
His jolly Face now pale and cold as Death;
Atheist no more, believes a God too late,
Trembling with Horror of approaching Fate:
All Arts in vain, with wild distorted eyes
He desp'rate in their arms reluctant dies;
So soon his Carcass, black and horrid grown
Corrupts, it longer cou'd be born by none;
But as the time permitted, they Inter
With State, in his Parental Sepulchre;
Proud Hatchments o'er, perhaps some praise him too
For twenty Virtues that he never knew;
Their Flatt'ries help him not, nor reach him, where
His Soul, by th' ugly Dæmons of the Air
Is seiz'd their own, their Mark they on him found,
Which in firm Adamantine Fetters bound,
To Ætna's Gulf, or further on, they bear
To the sad Northern World thro' mirksom Air,
O'er utmost Thule, thence thro' Hecla steep,
Sink with him down headlong to the boundless Deep.
Back did the Miserably-rich repair;
Who near his house, the lifeless Carcass there
Did at first glance a little startled see,
216
If he be dead, he did insulting cry?
That Wretch had nothing else to do but die.
For me, I better can my time employ,
And many an unexhausted Year of Joy:
Shou'd Fate and Death be sawcy and pretend
To rush into my presence e'er I for 'em send;
Rich Cordials soon shou'd make 'em quit their hold,
I'd bribe 'em thence with show'rs of liquid Gold,
—Now let 'em keep their distance—When I'm old,
With Virtue and the Palsey bedrid lie,
Return, I may have leisure then to die.
—He said, and a new Banquet bids prepare,
Rich Syrian Unguents crown his flowing Hair;
Resolv'd that Night in all the Joys to live
That Wit or Wine, or flatt'ring Vice cou'd give;
A few choice Friends, as great, as lewd as he,
Sate round, t'augment and share his Jollity;
At length the Tables clear'd, the Banquet o'er,
Profusely plentiful as that before,
He a huge golden Goblet rais'd on high,
And swears to all their Healths he'd drink it dry,
Then brought t'his head, when on the sudden, fall,
His lips scarce touch'd, he, Goblet, Wine and all;
The Servants shreeking overturn the Board,
And run to th' aid of their expiring Lord;
Rich Cordials fetch'd, they force 'em down in vain,
His hand upon his heart, there, there his Pain;
Death-struck, he fell, hard comes his rattling breath,
His jolly Face now pale and cold as Death;
Atheist no more, believes a God too late,
Trembling with Horror of approaching Fate:
All Arts in vain, with wild distorted eyes
He desp'rate in their arms reluctant dies;
So soon his Carcass, black and horrid grown
Corrupts, it longer cou'd be born by none;
But as the time permitted, they Inter
With State, in his Parental Sepulchre;
Proud Hatchments o'er, perhaps some praise him too
For twenty Virtues that he never knew;
217
His Soul, by th' ugly Dæmons of the Air
Is seiz'd their own, their Mark they on him found,
Which in firm Adamantine Fetters bound,
To Ætna's Gulf, or further on, they bear
To the sad Northern World thro' mirksom Air,
O'er utmost Thule, thence thro' Hecla steep,
Sink with him down headlong to the boundless Deep.
Amidst the dreadful Pains of that sad State,
Which for all those who now despise 'em, wait;
Where long he Tortur'd lay, he lifts his Eyes
Unto the now almost forgotten Skies;
The Earth to him, Diaphanous as Air,
With ease look'd thro', for Souls see every where;
Beyond Heav'ns mighty Gulf he saw as well,
Tho' vast as that, from th' under-World to Hell;
Within whose shining Borders soon he found
Sweet Paradise, that blest, that happy Ground
Where Father Abraham sits, the Patriarchs round,
And holy Souls, ay reign in boundless Light,
Expecting greater Bliss than Infinite;
Among the rest when Lazarus he spy'd,
With a loud lamentable Voice he cry'd,
O Father Abraham! Tho' so far from thee
Remov'd, O Father hear, and pity me!
To live in yon blest Realms I must despair,
What wou'd, alas! my guilty Soul do there?
All the small Boon I ask, O that I might
Obtain 't! Is but less Pain than infinite;
Since I in this dire Place must ever dwell,
O give but a more tolerable Hell!
If this too much, one Moments respite give,
What's that t'a Wretch must here for ever live?
Still less than that, yet let me, let me gain
Some small alleviation of my Pain:
The happy Lazarus!—O what a Change,
(But sure the Blest above knew no Revenge,)
Betwixt his Fate and mine! Let him descend,
And with one drop of Water me befriend,
Tortur'd in quenchless Flames e'er since I fell,
And Thirst, next Guilt, the greatest Plague of Hell.
Which for all those who now despise 'em, wait;
Where long he Tortur'd lay, he lifts his Eyes
Unto the now almost forgotten Skies;
The Earth to him, Diaphanous as Air,
With ease look'd thro', for Souls see every where;
Beyond Heav'ns mighty Gulf he saw as well,
Tho' vast as that, from th' under-World to Hell;
Within whose shining Borders soon he found
Sweet Paradise, that blest, that happy Ground
Where Father Abraham sits, the Patriarchs round,
And holy Souls, ay reign in boundless Light,
Expecting greater Bliss than Infinite;
Among the rest when Lazarus he spy'd,
With a loud lamentable Voice he cry'd,
O Father Abraham! Tho' so far from thee
Remov'd, O Father hear, and pity me!
To live in yon blest Realms I must despair,
What wou'd, alas! my guilty Soul do there?
All the small Boon I ask, O that I might
Obtain 't! Is but less Pain than infinite;
Since I in this dire Place must ever dwell,
O give but a more tolerable Hell!
If this too much, one Moments respite give,
What's that t'a Wretch must here for ever live?
Still less than that, yet let me, let me gain
Some small alleviation of my Pain:
The happy Lazarus!—O what a Change,
(But sure the Blest above knew no Revenge,)
Betwixt his Fate and mine! Let him descend,
And with one drop of Water me befriend,
Tortur'd in quenchless Flames e'er since I fell,
218
Ah miscall'd Son, Abraham severe replies,
With unrelenting Justice in his Eyes,
The time of Mercy's now for ever o'er,
No more thy Friend, thy Father now no more:
Then, then thou shou'dst have su'd, when long in vain
God did a Pardon offer, you disdain;
Nay dar'd, ungrate, his Providence arraign:
E'en from his Goodness, wou'd no God believe,
Because he suffer'd such a Wretch to live:
Then thou in Wealth and Opulence didst flow;
Two are too much, thou hadst one Heav'n below,
Where Lazarus his Hell; now all things weigh'd
In his just Ballance, Retribution's made;
He lives in endless Joy, who then did mourn;
Thou in unpity'd Flames must ever burn.
Besides, th' interminable Gulf's so wide,
That do's 'twixt your sad Realms and ours divide;
Yours cannot hope a Change, nor ours can fear,
You must be ever there, we always here.
With unrelenting Justice in his Eyes,
The time of Mercy's now for ever o'er,
No more thy Friend, thy Father now no more:
Then, then thou shou'dst have su'd, when long in vain
God did a Pardon offer, you disdain;
Nay dar'd, ungrate, his Providence arraign:
E'en from his Goodness, wou'd no God believe,
Because he suffer'd such a Wretch to live:
Then thou in Wealth and Opulence didst flow;
Two are too much, thou hadst one Heav'n below,
Where Lazarus his Hell; now all things weigh'd
In his just Ballance, Retribution's made;
He lives in endless Joy, who then did mourn;
Thou in unpity'd Flames must ever burn.
Besides, th' interminable Gulf's so wide,
That do's 'twixt your sad Realms and ours divide;
Yours cannot hope a Change, nor ours can fear,
You must be ever there, we always here.
If then my Pain I must uneas'd deplore,
O let it not (but can it?) e'er be more,
The hopeless Wretch returns; for even here
In Hell it self I've something worse to fear:
I'th' lightsom World above I call to mind,
I yet have Five dear Brethren left behind;
Them my false Rhet'ric did too oft entice,
My bad Example them inclin'd to Vice:
I fear lest their Damnation mine enchance,
Their added Sums my vast Account advance:
If he so long a Journey must not go,
Or make a Visit to our Worlds of Woe;
At least half-way let Lazarus descend,
Rowze 'em from Vice, and warn of my sad End;
This, this wou'd strike their Souls with pious Fear,
Sure they'd the Dead, tho' not the Living hear.
O let it not (but can it?) e'er be more,
The hopeless Wretch returns; for even here
In Hell it self I've something worse to fear:
I'th' lightsom World above I call to mind,
I yet have Five dear Brethren left behind;
Them my false Rhet'ric did too oft entice,
My bad Example them inclin'd to Vice:
I fear lest their Damnation mine enchance,
Their added Sums my vast Account advance:
If he so long a Journey must not go,
Or make a Visit to our Worlds of Woe;
At least half-way let Lazarus descend,
Rowze 'em from Vice, and warn of my sad End;
This, this wou'd strike their Souls with pious Fear,
Sure they'd the Dead, tho' not the Living hear.
Nor e'en can that be granted, Abraham says,
If they neglect Lifes fix'd and stated ways,
What the great Moses their Forefathers told,
Thunder'd from Heav'n, what all th' Inspir'd of old;
If they the Law and Prophets not receive,
Nor wou'd they the returning Dead believe.
—He said, the Fiends about their Pris'ner came,
And sink him deep in liquid Worlds of Flame;
While Lazarus forgets those Miseries,
By which he thinks too cheap his Crown he buys,
And learns triumphant Hymns in Paradise.
If they neglect Lifes fix'd and stated ways,
What the great Moses their Forefathers told,
Thunder'd from Heav'n, what all th' Inspir'd of old;
219
Nor wou'd they the returning Dead believe.
—He said, the Fiends about their Pris'ner came,
And sink him deep in liquid Worlds of Flame;
While Lazarus forgets those Miseries,
By which he thinks too cheap his Crown he buys,
And learns triumphant Hymns in Paradise.
The Apostle breaths, the Story all commend;
Hence Fathers! See, reply'd our Saviour's Friend,
Our Master came not, as the envious say,
The Sanction of our Laws to take away,
Or mighty Moses teach to disobey;
Perpetual Doctor of the Churches, where
His Truths of moral Obligation are,
Nay even those who sit in Mose's Chair,
He bids obey in all that's just and right,
Suffer or do, nor must his Servants fight.
Hence Fathers! See, reply'd our Saviour's Friend,
Our Master came not, as the envious say,
The Sanction of our Laws to take away,
Or mighty Moses teach to disobey;
Perpetual Doctor of the Churches, where
His Truths of moral Obligation are,
Nay even those who sit in Mose's Chair,
He bids obey in all that's just and right,
Suffer or do, nor must his Servants fight.
Gamaliel thus—Since you so much have shown,
I've now far other Thoughts, I frankly own,
Of your great Masters Doctrine, than before,
And must th' Iniquity o'th' Age deplore
That him rejects, our Rulers Spite and Hate
The Cause, he worthy a far better Fate.
But chance what may, avert my boding Fear,
Kind Heav'n! You ever shall be welcom here.
I've now far other Thoughts, I frankly own,
Of your great Masters Doctrine, than before,
And must th' Iniquity o'th' Age deplore
That him rejects, our Rulers Spite and Hate
The Cause, he worthy a far better Fate.
But chance what may, avert my boding Fear,
Kind Heav'n! You ever shall be welcom here.
And now the Sun behind the Mountains fell,
Gilding, with parting Beams, fair Siloam's Well;
The Guests arise, Gamaliel with 'em rose,
Since they'll no longer stay, he forward goes,
Conducts 'em to the Gate, and parting there,
Back the Disciples to our Lord repair.
Gilding, with parting Beams, fair Siloam's Well;
The Guests arise, Gamaliel with 'em rose,
Since they'll no longer stay, he forward goes,
Conducts 'em to the Gate, and parting there,
Back the Disciples to our Lord repair.
The End of the Sixth Book.
234
BOOK VII.
THE ARGUMENT OF THE Seventh BOOK.
Our Saviour and his Disciples come early to the Temple, the Musick whereof is described, and the several Instruments the Jews made use of in their Sacred Service. The Morning Anthem. The Buyers and Sellers in the Temple, and our Saviour's driving 'em thence, pursuing 'em to Solomon's Porch, which is described, with the Valley of Kidron, and the Precipice between Mount Moriah and Olivet. In the mean while his Disciples survey the Buildings of the Temple, the Gates, the Courts, the Pillars, and the Golden Vine, and finding our Saviour, with Admiration shew them to him, and discourse of them; who prophesies the Destruction of all those stately Buildings; which he more at large describes, on their Desire, as ascending thence, and looking back on the City and Temple from the Mount of Olives; mentioning also the Rise of a False Christ, or Antichrist, in the World; and, on their still desiring to know more of these Matters, foreshews the Opposition his Followers should first meet with by the Roman Empire, under the Ten Persecutions; when Constantine should conquer the Heathens under his Banner, and embrace the Christian Religion. After which, on the Degeneracy of the Church, Mahometanism arises in the Eastern, and Popery in the Western World, the latter followed and check'd by the Reformation, and at last destroyed by Christ's second Coming. Which he goes on to describe, and exhorts 'em to be always ready for it, the precise Hour not known, first by Parables that of the ten Virgins, and of the Lord and his Servants. Then by a plain Relation of the manner and Pomp of the last Judgment. The Conflagration of the World. The Sentence of the Just and Unjust, and their eternal Bliss and Misery. The Book concluding with a Prayer of the Author, being a Paraphrase on that Part of the Litany, In all Time of our Tribulation, in all Time of our Wealth, in the Hour of Death, and in the Day of Judgment, Libera nos.
235
Did over lofty Olivet arise;
Gently he rose, as him some sacred Awe
Had seiz'd, when first the Temple Roofs he saw;
Saw thro' the Shades, nor durst directly see,
Lest that shou'd dazle him, as mortal he:
Scarce cou'd his own reflected Image bear,
From the vast Golden Mirrour flaming there:
Earlier than he his watchful Maker rose,
As early to his Fathers House he goes
236
The mighty Gates, heavy with loads of Gold:
Twice Ten robustous Servants there attend,
Who to the Work their Shoulders panting lend:
The Gentiles, and the Womens Court they pass
To the Third Gate, of rich Corinthian Brass;
Next Israel's Court they enter, prostrate there,
T'attone high Heav'n with pious Hymns and Pray'r,
In decent ranks the Vested Priests begin,
Loud answer'd by the full-mouth'd Quire within:
Musick's soft Notes, and loud Majestick sound;
From the gilt Roofs and vaulted Courts rebound,
And distant Zion-hill beats back the sacred Sound:
Nature and Art in the blest Service joyn,
Voices and tuneful Instruments combine;
The Consort first sweet Aijeleth begun,
And welcom'd to the World the cheerful Sun;
Next the Creator's Praises they recite
On Alamoth, chast Virgins best delight;
Grave Jonath, soft Mahalah mixt with these,
And melting Harps that never fail'd to please:
Shrill Cornets, clanging Trumpets, apt t'inspire,
With holy Raptures, or with Martial Fire;
The Anthem this, once sung to David's royal Lyre.
PSALM 135.
Hallelujah!
Lofty Hallelujahs sing
To th' Alwise, th' Almighty King!
Him with Hearts and Voices raise!
Him, ye his blest Servants, Praise!
To th' Alwise, th' Almighty King!
Him with Hearts and Voices raise!
Him, ye his blest Servants, Praise!
Ye who ever stand to bless,
In the Beauty of Holiness!
In his House, with Glory crown'd,
Or the sacred Courts around,
In the Beauty of Holiness!
In his House, with Glory crown'd,
Or the sacred Courts around,
Him, the Spring of Life and Light,
Boundless Goodness, boundless Might!
Him, and his great Name record!
The Service is its own reward.
Boundless Goodness, boundless Might!
Him, and his great Name record!
The Service is its own reward.
237
You, O Isra'l's Sons rejoice!
Your Father's God's peculiar Choice!
Great and high! What Idol dare
With the Lord of Hosts compare?
Your Father's God's peculiar Choice!
Great and high! What Idol dare
With the Lord of Hosts compare?
His Pow'r no other Limits knows,
But what his Goodness will impose:
Heav'n, Earth and Sea his Orders keep;
Close he seals the Aged Deep.
But what his Goodness will impose:
Heav'n, Earth and Sea his Orders keep;
Close he seals the Aged Deep.
See his Clouds make black the Skies,
Lightnings glare, and Storms arise;
And freed from their dark stony Cave,
Hark, th' impetuous Whirlwinds rave!
Lightnings glare, and Storms arise;
And freed from their dark stony Cave,
Hark, th' impetuous Whirlwinds rave!
To Zoan's Fields, with Blood o'erflown,
Too well his Signs and Wonders known;
Known by their First-born too well,
First they, and then their Fathers fell.
Too well his Signs and Wonders known;
Known by their First-born too well,
First they, and then their Fathers fell.
He pow'rful Nations did subdue;
Monsters quell'd, and Tyrants slew:
Sihon, by th' Amorite obey'd,
And mighty Og, who Bashan sway'd.
Monsters quell'd, and Tyrants slew:
Sihon, by th' Amorite obey'd,
And mighty Og, who Bashan sway'd.
In vain proud Can'ans Kings combine,
Their weak Arms in vain they joyn;
The sooner all they Captive stand,
To Israel, God dispos'd their Land.
Their weak Arms in vain they joyn;
The sooner all they Captive stand,
To Israel, God dispos'd their Land.
Still, O God! Thou art the same,
Still we sing thy glorious Name;
Our glad Hymns thy Justice raise,
And thy pard'ning Goodness praise.
Still we sing thy glorious Name;
Our glad Hymns thy Justice raise,
And thy pard'ning Goodness praise.
Not so the Gods by Mortals made,
To whom vain Vows and Incense paid;
In vain for their Advice they come,
Mouths they have, but still are dumb.
To whom vain Vows and Incense paid;
In vain for their Advice they come,
Mouths they have, but still are dumb.
238
Lifeless Eyes, which see no more
Than those Stocks who them adore;
Nor their Ears the sound can take,
Which their lost Devotions make.
Than those Stocks who them adore;
Nor their Ears the sound can take,
Which their lost Devotions make.
Tho' they lean their Nostrils down,
If they've no Incense, they'll not Frown;
Such are they, and such are those,
Who on them their Hopes repose.
If they've no Incense, they'll not Frown;
Such are they, and such are those,
Who on them their Hopes repose.
You, O Israel, who alone,
The great God of Gods have known;
You, who guard his holy Place,
Mitred Aaron's sacred Race!
The great God of Gods have known;
You, who guard his holy Place,
Mitred Aaron's sacred Race!
You, who from great Levi spring,
His illustrious Praises sing!
You too ought to do the same,
Each good Man that fear his Name.
His illustrious Praises sing!
You too ought to do the same,
Each good Man that fear his Name.
At once let all our Vows aspire!
Let our glad Voices fill the Quire;
Him bless who do's at Salem dwell,
The Saviour of his Israel!
Let our glad Voices fill the Quire;
Him bless who do's at Salem dwell,
The Saviour of his Israel!
Hallelujah!
Mean while, rich Incense feeds the sacred Fire,
And odorif'rous Clouds to Heav'n aspire;
Next on the Brazen-Altar bleeding lies
A Milk-white Lamb, the morning Sacrifice;
With these the Priests, the holiest Mincha joyn,
A cheerful blaze of Flow'r, and Oyl and Wine:
In silence then, their private Pray'rs they make,
Then frequent Crowds the sacred Walls forsake;
Our Saviour last; but such as still remain,
With Isr'el's God t'adore their Idol Gain:
Scarce from their Knees they rose, (and worldly Care
Had seiz'd their Thoughts, e'en while dissembling there;)
When strait a busie Hum ran round the place,
And all things strait put on a different Face:
The Temple a profane Exchange was made,
Religion vanish'd thence, or grown a Trade;
Some in the Cloisters gainful Shops unfold,
And spread on Tables glitt'ring heaps of Gold;
Some fair-neck'd Doves, and murm'ring Turtles bring,
The poor Good-mans accepted Offering.
Thus the arch'd-Roofs, while the void space between
Soon fills with dusty droves of Beasts and Men;
Here free-neck'd Bullocks which disdain'd the Yoke,
Stand ready for the Sacrificers stroke;
The largest that rich Basan's Pasture feeds,
The choice of all that Flowry Hermon breeds:
Here num'rous Flocks from Sharon's lovely Plain
Stand bleating by, or drag their pond'rous Train;
While spotless Lambs the next partition fill,
Driv'n with more ease from Carmel's fertile Hill.
All eager bent on the hot chase of Gain,
Some bargain, some advise, and some complain:
All were deceiv'd, or else Deceivers there,
Dust and a confused Noise fills the Air.
And odorif'rous Clouds to Heav'n aspire;
Next on the Brazen-Altar bleeding lies
A Milk-white Lamb, the morning Sacrifice;
With these the Priests, the holiest Mincha joyn,
A cheerful blaze of Flow'r, and Oyl and Wine:
In silence then, their private Pray'rs they make,
Then frequent Crowds the sacred Walls forsake;
Our Saviour last; but such as still remain,
With Isr'el's God t'adore their Idol Gain:
Scarce from their Knees they rose, (and worldly Care
Had seiz'd their Thoughts, e'en while dissembling there;)
233
And all things strait put on a different Face:
The Temple a profane Exchange was made,
Religion vanish'd thence, or grown a Trade;
Some in the Cloisters gainful Shops unfold,
And spread on Tables glitt'ring heaps of Gold;
Some fair-neck'd Doves, and murm'ring Turtles bring,
The poor Good-mans accepted Offering.
Thus the arch'd-Roofs, while the void space between
Soon fills with dusty droves of Beasts and Men;
Here free-neck'd Bullocks which disdain'd the Yoke,
Stand ready for the Sacrificers stroke;
The largest that rich Basan's Pasture feeds,
The choice of all that Flowry Hermon breeds:
Here num'rous Flocks from Sharon's lovely Plain
Stand bleating by, or drag their pond'rous Train;
While spotless Lambs the next partition fill,
Driv'n with more ease from Carmel's fertile Hill.
All eager bent on the hot chase of Gain,
Some bargain, some advise, and some complain:
All were deceiv'd, or else Deceivers there,
Dust and a confused Noise fills the Air.
The Saviour saw, and strait such Frowns he wore,
As ne'er were seen on his calm Face before:
Blushes at once of Shame and Anger rise;
A just Resentment sparkling in his Eyes,
Soon breaks in Words—Avoid profane! he cries!
Hence sacrilegious Wretches, nor disgrace
With your unhallow'd Feet this sacred Place!
That House where holy Pray'rs shou'd force the Skies,
You've made a Den of Thieves, a Scene of Cheats and Lies.
Actions his Words succeed, when slow they went,
Them thence with unexpected hast he sent;
A Scourge, with Slaves the fittest Argument,
He do's of strongly-twisted Cords prepare,
And soon with strokes and cries resounds the Air:
None durst resist, but murm'ring melt away,
As guilty Ghosts fly swift th' approach of Day.
To the bright Eastern-gate he them pursu'd,
Which Kidron's horrid Vale beneath it view'd;
Unfathom'd Precipice! to the lost sight
At once affording Terror and Delight.
Yet here great Solomon, and none but he
Cou'd do't, with much of Pain and Industry,
A wondrous Pile, in spite of Nature rais'd,
Whilst all the Nations round him fear'd and prais'd:
The Work-men min'd deep, wond'rous deep below,
As to the Center's self they meant to goe:
Of Tyre they were, and oft had plough'd those Seas,
Where lie the doubtful Cassiterides:
Beneath some Hill that threats the angry Main,
There had they oft pursu'd some wand'ring Vein,
And dug almost to Hell in search of Gain;
Yet ne'er so near as now—The Turrets rise
As high above the Earth, as deep amidst the Skies:
Beneath whose spacious Arch our Saviour taught;
For whose kind touch th' Infirm and Maim'd they brought,
He Cur'd 'em all, wide spreads his Fame around,
And Death and Med'cine no employment found.
As ne'er were seen on his calm Face before:
Blushes at once of Shame and Anger rise;
A just Resentment sparkling in his Eyes,
Soon breaks in Words—Avoid profane! he cries!
Hence sacrilegious Wretches, nor disgrace
With your unhallow'd Feet this sacred Place!
That House where holy Pray'rs shou'd force the Skies,
You've made a Den of Thieves, a Scene of Cheats and Lies.
Actions his Words succeed, when slow they went,
Them thence with unexpected hast he sent;
A Scourge, with Slaves the fittest Argument,
He do's of strongly-twisted Cords prepare,
And soon with strokes and cries resounds the Air:
None durst resist, but murm'ring melt away,
As guilty Ghosts fly swift th' approach of Day.
To the bright Eastern-gate he them pursu'd,
Which Kidron's horrid Vale beneath it view'd;
234
At once affording Terror and Delight.
Yet here great Solomon, and none but he
Cou'd do't, with much of Pain and Industry,
A wondrous Pile, in spite of Nature rais'd,
Whilst all the Nations round him fear'd and prais'd:
The Work-men min'd deep, wond'rous deep below,
As to the Center's self they meant to goe:
Of Tyre they were, and oft had plough'd those Seas,
Where lie the doubtful Cassiterides:
Beneath some Hill that threats the angry Main,
There had they oft pursu'd some wand'ring Vein,
And dug almost to Hell in search of Gain;
Yet ne'er so near as now—The Turrets rise
As high above the Earth, as deep amidst the Skies:
Beneath whose spacious Arch our Saviour taught;
For whose kind touch th' Infirm and Maim'd they brought,
He Cur'd 'em all, wide spreads his Fame around,
And Death and Med'cine no employment found.
Thus busy'd there, his chosen Twelve the while,
Wond'ring, survey the Temples glorious Pile;
On solid Rock the firm Foundations laid,
Of Earthquakes or of Thunder not afraid;
Firm as the Centers self on which they stay'd:
Those everlasting Gates the Porches close,
Tall as the mighty Cedars them compose;
The spacious Courts, which such vast Crowds cou'd hold;
The glitt'ring Pillars, and the Vine of Gold:
The Temples self, all gilt its Front, and Side,
A Godlike-Work, and worthy Herod's pride:
The stately Porch twixt two vast Columns rose,
Jachin and Boaz scarce more tall than those,
Of the Corinthian Order, fair and high,
Sweet Beauty joyn'd with awful Majesty:
The Stones so huge, they scarce dare trust their Sense;
Each a whole Mountain seem'd, not hew'd from thence:
Yet these vast Ribs of Iron closer chain
So large, each rather seem'd a Native Vein.
A heap of Miracles—When long they stay'd,
And all things with unweary'd Eyes survey'd;
Wond'ring, they to the beauteous Porch repair,
And find with Joy their much lov'd Master there;
Whom they, yet full of the prodigious Sight,
To the same Entertainment wou'd invite:
What Stones, what Building here! how rare, how vast!
Sure these as long as Time it self must last!
To whom, with a wise sadness in his Eyes,
Which boded something more, our Lord replies;
—With such vain Hopes no more your selves deceive,
Prepare to meet that Fate you won't believe!
Not one of those proud Tow'rs which Heav'n invade,
Whose strong Foundations, deep as Hell are laid;
But soon must kiss the Dust—Not one of those
Prodigious Stones which this huge Pile compose;
Now, e'en by more than their own weight combin'd,
As parts of Matter, close to Matter joyn'd;
Not one, but by a Force superior born,
From its old Seat, from its strong Brethren torn,
Must from these Walls and firm Foundations go,
And sink for ever in the Vale below.
Wond'ring, survey the Temples glorious Pile;
On solid Rock the firm Foundations laid,
Of Earthquakes or of Thunder not afraid;
Firm as the Centers self on which they stay'd:
Those everlasting Gates the Porches close,
Tall as the mighty Cedars them compose;
The spacious Courts, which such vast Crowds cou'd hold;
The glitt'ring Pillars, and the Vine of Gold:
The Temples self, all gilt its Front, and Side,
A Godlike-Work, and worthy Herod's pride:
The stately Porch twixt two vast Columns rose,
Jachin and Boaz scarce more tall than those,
Of the Corinthian Order, fair and high,
Sweet Beauty joyn'd with awful Majesty:
The Stones so huge, they scarce dare trust their Sense;
Each a whole Mountain seem'd, not hew'd from thence:
Yet these vast Ribs of Iron closer chain
So large, each rather seem'd a Native Vein.
A heap of Miracles—When long they stay'd,
235
Wond'ring, they to the beauteous Porch repair,
And find with Joy their much lov'd Master there;
Whom they, yet full of the prodigious Sight,
To the same Entertainment wou'd invite:
What Stones, what Building here! how rare, how vast!
Sure these as long as Time it self must last!
To whom, with a wise sadness in his Eyes,
Which boded something more, our Lord replies;
—With such vain Hopes no more your selves deceive,
Prepare to meet that Fate you won't believe!
Not one of those proud Tow'rs which Heav'n invade,
Whose strong Foundations, deep as Hell are laid;
But soon must kiss the Dust—Not one of those
Prodigious Stones which this huge Pile compose;
Now, e'en by more than their own weight combin'd,
As parts of Matter, close to Matter joyn'd;
Not one, but by a Force superior born,
From its old Seat, from its strong Brethren torn,
Must from these Walls and firm Foundations go,
And sink for ever in the Vale below.
Struck with these dreadful Truths they silent stood,
Pale Fear had stop'd their Words and chill'd their Blood:
Bold Cephas first reviv'd, and as they went
Their well known way, o'er Olivets ascent
Thro' the cool Shades for pleasant Bethanie,
Submiss, he asks, When these dread Things shou'd be?
What sure Prognosticks their approach declare,
And his, that wise, they might for both prepare?
What dreadful Sights his Coming shou'd foreshow?
How they the Worlds and Temples End might know?
Pale Fear had stop'd their Words and chill'd their Blood:
Bold Cephas first reviv'd, and as they went
Their well known way, o'er Olivets ascent
Thro' the cool Shades for pleasant Bethanie,
Submiss, he asks, When these dread Things shou'd be?
What sure Prognosticks their approach declare,
And his, that wise, they might for both prepare?
What dreadful Sights his Coming shou'd foreshow?
How they the Worlds and Temples End might know?
Silent our Lord awhile, and looking down
Compassionate on the devoted Town,
Intent he stood, and fix'd his lab'ring Mind,
On the prodigious Scene of Woes behind;
Till Tears and Words at length well-mingled brake,
From his sad Eyes and Lips, and thus he spake.
Compassionate on the devoted Town,
Intent he stood, and fix'd his lab'ring Mind,
On the prodigious Scene of Woes behind;
Till Tears and Words at length well-mingled brake,
From his sad Eyes and Lips, and thus he spake.
Ah lost Jerusalem! how much, how oft
Hast thou thy Ruin, I thy Welfare sought!
Oft didst my Prophets, as Impostors, stone,
And shed their Blood who came to save thy own:
E'en I, the Heir, who left my Native Sky,
Ungrate! to bring thee Life, my self must Die.
How oft wou'd I thy wand'ring Flocks have led
To Crystal Streams, in Flowry Pastures fed?
Thy stubborn Sons my kind Protection lent,
At once preserv'd 'em safe and innocent?
As heat and warmth the royal Eagle brings,
And cherishes her Young beneath her Wings.
Still all was then in vain, now all too late,
Heav'n has thy Ruin seal'd, and made it Fate.
Hast thou thy Ruin, I thy Welfare sought!
Oft didst my Prophets, as Impostors, stone,
236
E'en I, the Heir, who left my Native Sky,
Ungrate! to bring thee Life, my self must Die.
How oft wou'd I thy wand'ring Flocks have led
To Crystal Streams, in Flowry Pastures fed?
Thy stubborn Sons my kind Protection lent,
At once preserv'd 'em safe and innocent?
As heat and warmth the royal Eagle brings,
And cherishes her Young beneath her Wings.
Still all was then in vain, now all too late,
Heav'n has thy Ruin seal'd, and made it Fate.
For you, my chosen Few, who firm remain,
No sanguine Dreams of Pleasure entertain!
Be ever on your Guard, your Lamps shine clear!
The Night, the long, the fatal Night is near:
How unprepar'd the most, as those who fell
In Noah's Flood, thro' Earths black Vaults to Hell?
On their rich Carpets some Luxurious laid,
Some underneath their Vineyards leafy Shade;
Some in the busie Markets Sweat, and some
Their glitt'ring Brides conduct in Triumph home:
Th' old Prophet all despise, and dread no more
The Plague denounc'd an hundred Years before.
This saw just Heav'n, and strait the signal gave;
Nature agast shrinks back, the roaring Wave
Rides foaming o'er the Beach, new Rivers flow,
In Earthquakes born from frightful Gulfs below:
While pitchy Clouds a long continu'd show'r,
From Heav'ns wide Cataracts incessant pour:
O'er Tow'rs and Hills th' impetuous Floods arise,
Sweep the lewd Earth, and vindicate the Skies:
No sanguine Dreams of Pleasure entertain!
Be ever on your Guard, your Lamps shine clear!
The Night, the long, the fatal Night is near:
How unprepar'd the most, as those who fell
In Noah's Flood, thro' Earths black Vaults to Hell?
On their rich Carpets some Luxurious laid,
Some underneath their Vineyards leafy Shade;
Some in the busie Markets Sweat, and some
Their glitt'ring Brides conduct in Triumph home:
Th' old Prophet all despise, and dread no more
The Plague denounc'd an hundred Years before.
This saw just Heav'n, and strait the signal gave;
Nature agast shrinks back, the roaring Wave
Rides foaming o'er the Beach, new Rivers flow,
In Earthquakes born from frightful Gulfs below:
While pitchy Clouds a long continu'd show'r,
From Heav'ns wide Cataracts incessant pour:
O'er Tow'rs and Hills th' impetuous Floods arise,
Sweep the lewd Earth, and vindicate the Skies:
So sudden, so unthought will I appear;
The Change as much expected there as here.
Sudden to th' stupid World, who not regard
The threatn'd Wrath, but You not unprepar'd,
Secure shall be in my Protection found,
And see unmov'd the tott'ring World around:
Then many a vile Impostor shall pretend
My Name, and meet a just, a dreadful End;
These, mischiefs shall in close Cabals conspire,
Those to the lonely Wilderness retire:
All vain alike, when I from Heav'n appear,
The Lightning's not so sudden or so clear:
But first for all the Injuries prepare,
Which Malice can inflict, or Virtue bear!
Hated by all, abus'd, contemn'd, betray'd,
My very Name and yours shall Crimes be made:
Dragg'd to Tribunals, hurry'd up and down,
Kings shall your Judges sit, and Princes frown.
Yet still intrepid, face 'em all, for I,
My faithful Friends! unseen, will still be by:
To me remit the care of your Defence,
Safe in my Pow'r and your own Innocence!
This all their pompous Rhet'ric shall outdo,
Your guilty Judges trembling more than you!
And much, much greater Cause have they to fear;
When to this height arriv'd, their fall is near;
My Blood and yours for loud Revenge will cry,
Which Deluges of theirs must satisfie:
Fierce War its wasting Squadrons scatt'ring wide,
Shall o'er the guilty Land triumphant stride;
Death, Rapine, Murder shall compose its Train,
And after proudly walk on heaps of Slain.
Nation with Nation, Tribe with Tribe engage,
Excuse the common Foe, and save their Conqu'rors rage:
Who left, abroad, from these Distractions be,
Unhappy Solyma! shall fly to thee;
To thee shall just Destruction with 'em bear,
And all th' unnumber'd Miseries of War.
The mighty Foe, with long Successes crown'd,
Shall with a Fourth, thy Three proud Walls surround;
Fly e'er 'tis done, a Moment more's too late;
Fly, or prepare for your approaching Fate!
Fly those curst Walls, for nought behind you stay,
Scape for your Life, and on wild Mountains stray!
But first th' abhor'd Prophaners of your Law,
Which Heav'n-lov'd Daniels piercing Eyes foresaw;
The Holy place with wicked Arms shall seize,
And fill with Blood and piles of Carcasses;
The Guardian Minds shall the sad Word receive,
And to those humane Fiends the Temple leave;
Leave with a Voice wou'd chill the firmest Heart,
A deep, a mournful Voice—Let us depart!
Scarce can the dreadful Sights above foreshow
Worse Plagues than those, they then shall feel below:
Tho' high in Heav'n a bloody Sword shall glare,
A Besom of Destruction sweep the Air;
Horses and Chariots arm'd look gastly down,
And show'rs of Blood, stain all the trembling Town:
Thunders and Earthquakes then they'll scarcely mind,
Harden'd with what they feel and what's behind.
All these, alas, compar'd to what remains,
But the beginning of their hopeless Pains;
For now the Famine enters its sad reign,
Attended by a gastly meager Train:
A single Death less dreadful in each Street,
The half-starv'd Citizens like Ghosts shall meet;
Thence starting at the sight, each other fly,
And tott'ring a few steps, fall down and Die:
Tho' now you think a barren Womb a curse,
Woe to the Mother then, and vainly-fruitful Nurse!
The miserable Mother shall become
Her own dear Infant's Murd'rer and his Tomb:
All Piety and Nature banish'd there,
Bread shall the Sons from gasping Fathers tear,
From them the ravening Soldier; Bread the Cry!
Who gain it, are but longer e'er they Die.
Within Sedition reigns, without the Foe,
Above your Tow'rs, above your Walls they goe;
This after that each day resistless win,
And like a Deluge over all come pouring in.
What a sad Conquest shall their Fury find?
How few by Plague and Famine left behind?
Yet ah! too many shall the Sword devour,
The greedy Sword—These from a half-burnt Tow'r,
Precipitate th' invading Soldier fly,
And run on Death because they fear to die:
While desp'rate, these leap headlong from the Wall,
In hopes to kill a Roman by their fall;
These to the Altar, sacred now no more
For Refuge fly, they'd that Prophan'd before:
—Here still they Fight, and a new War's begun,
Till—See! the Temple fir'd, the Work is done.
Jerusalem's no more, one Ruin all;
This the last fatal Blaze before her Fall:
Her Flames and dying Groans at once aspire,
While Blood enough is shed to've quench'd the Fire:
Salem's no more, nor can she now Repent,
Her Children's, and her own sad Monument:
Nor e'er shall Israel's Race these Walls regain,
Till Heav'n has clos'd the Gentiles destin'd reign.
But first must many a wond'rous Thing befal,
First my pure Doctrine fill the spacious Ball.
What passes here, what here we've done or said,
Shall be by after-Ages, wond'ring read.
Four Scribes will I to that great Task assign,
Whilst the blest Spirit shall dictate every Line.
Thence, till I come, my Friends my Law shall teach,
In Times successive Links how vast a Breach!
Which yet no points in Gods Duration reach:
Nor must my Followers soon a Calm enjoy,
Nor soon my Rebels pow'r will I destroy;
First he'll a Rival raise my Seat to claim,
And in the Church usurp my Throne and Name;
Between the Seas superb, his Palace rear,
On seven proud Hills, long tyrannizing there;
The World shall wonder, Kings his Train shall bear
And kiss his Feet; my Followers, who refuse
The servile Mark, he'll treat as me the Jews;
By Inquisitions, Tortures, Poyson, Fire
Unnumber'd Thousands must prepare t'expire.
Conqu'rers in all, these all shall have the Grace
To joyn their Great Forefathers Martyr'd Race;
The Beatific Vision first enjoy,
And with me reign, when Babel I destroy.
The Change as much expected there as here.
Sudden to th' stupid World, who not regard
The threatn'd Wrath, but You not unprepar'd,
Secure shall be in my Protection found,
And see unmov'd the tott'ring World around:
Then many a vile Impostor shall pretend
My Name, and meet a just, a dreadful End;
These, mischiefs shall in close Cabals conspire,
237
All vain alike, when I from Heav'n appear,
The Lightning's not so sudden or so clear:
But first for all the Injuries prepare,
Which Malice can inflict, or Virtue bear!
Hated by all, abus'd, contemn'd, betray'd,
My very Name and yours shall Crimes be made:
Dragg'd to Tribunals, hurry'd up and down,
Kings shall your Judges sit, and Princes frown.
Yet still intrepid, face 'em all, for I,
My faithful Friends! unseen, will still be by:
To me remit the care of your Defence,
Safe in my Pow'r and your own Innocence!
This all their pompous Rhet'ric shall outdo,
Your guilty Judges trembling more than you!
And much, much greater Cause have they to fear;
When to this height arriv'd, their fall is near;
My Blood and yours for loud Revenge will cry,
Which Deluges of theirs must satisfie:
Fierce War its wasting Squadrons scatt'ring wide,
Shall o'er the guilty Land triumphant stride;
Death, Rapine, Murder shall compose its Train,
And after proudly walk on heaps of Slain.
Nation with Nation, Tribe with Tribe engage,
Excuse the common Foe, and save their Conqu'rors rage:
Who left, abroad, from these Distractions be,
Unhappy Solyma! shall fly to thee;
To thee shall just Destruction with 'em bear,
And all th' unnumber'd Miseries of War.
The mighty Foe, with long Successes crown'd,
Shall with a Fourth, thy Three proud Walls surround;
Fly e'er 'tis done, a Moment more's too late;
Fly, or prepare for your approaching Fate!
Fly those curst Walls, for nought behind you stay,
Scape for your Life, and on wild Mountains stray!
But first th' abhor'd Prophaners of your Law,
Which Heav'n-lov'd Daniels piercing Eyes foresaw;
The Holy place with wicked Arms shall seize,
And fill with Blood and piles of Carcasses;
The Guardian Minds shall the sad Word receive,
238
Leave with a Voice wou'd chill the firmest Heart,
A deep, a mournful Voice—Let us depart!
Scarce can the dreadful Sights above foreshow
Worse Plagues than those, they then shall feel below:
Tho' high in Heav'n a bloody Sword shall glare,
A Besom of Destruction sweep the Air;
Horses and Chariots arm'd look gastly down,
And show'rs of Blood, stain all the trembling Town:
Thunders and Earthquakes then they'll scarcely mind,
Harden'd with what they feel and what's behind.
All these, alas, compar'd to what remains,
But the beginning of their hopeless Pains;
For now the Famine enters its sad reign,
Attended by a gastly meager Train:
A single Death less dreadful in each Street,
The half-starv'd Citizens like Ghosts shall meet;
Thence starting at the sight, each other fly,
And tott'ring a few steps, fall down and Die:
Tho' now you think a barren Womb a curse,
Woe to the Mother then, and vainly-fruitful Nurse!
The miserable Mother shall become
Her own dear Infant's Murd'rer and his Tomb:
All Piety and Nature banish'd there,
Bread shall the Sons from gasping Fathers tear,
From them the ravening Soldier; Bread the Cry!
Who gain it, are but longer e'er they Die.
Within Sedition reigns, without the Foe,
Above your Tow'rs, above your Walls they goe;
This after that each day resistless win,
And like a Deluge over all come pouring in.
What a sad Conquest shall their Fury find?
How few by Plague and Famine left behind?
Yet ah! too many shall the Sword devour,
The greedy Sword—These from a half-burnt Tow'r,
Precipitate th' invading Soldier fly,
And run on Death because they fear to die:
While desp'rate, these leap headlong from the Wall,
In hopes to kill a Roman by their fall;
These to the Altar, sacred now no more
239
—Here still they Fight, and a new War's begun,
Till—See! the Temple fir'd, the Work is done.
Jerusalem's no more, one Ruin all;
This the last fatal Blaze before her Fall:
Her Flames and dying Groans at once aspire,
While Blood enough is shed to've quench'd the Fire:
Salem's no more, nor can she now Repent,
Her Children's, and her own sad Monument:
Nor e'er shall Israel's Race these Walls regain,
Till Heav'n has clos'd the Gentiles destin'd reign.
But first must many a wond'rous Thing befal,
First my pure Doctrine fill the spacious Ball.
What passes here, what here we've done or said,
Shall be by after-Ages, wond'ring read.
Four Scribes will I to that great Task assign,
Whilst the blest Spirit shall dictate every Line.
Thence, till I come, my Friends my Law shall teach,
In Times successive Links how vast a Breach!
Which yet no points in Gods Duration reach:
Nor must my Followers soon a Calm enjoy,
Nor soon my Rebels pow'r will I destroy;
First he'll a Rival raise my Seat to claim,
And in the Church usurp my Throne and Name;
Between the Seas superb, his Palace rear,
On seven proud Hills, long tyrannizing there;
The World shall wonder, Kings his Train shall bear
And kiss his Feet; my Followers, who refuse
The servile Mark, he'll treat as me the Jews;
By Inquisitions, Tortures, Poyson, Fire
Unnumber'd Thousands must prepare t'expire.
Conqu'rers in all, these all shall have the Grace
To joyn their Great Forefathers Martyr'd Race;
The Beatific Vision first enjoy,
And with me reign, when Babel I destroy.
He said, but tho' such wond'rous Things exprest,
Their modest Silence still did more request:
He knew their Hearts, nor their Confession needs;
And thus on the same mystic Theme proceeds.
Their modest Silence still did more request:
He knew their Hearts, nor their Confession needs;
And thus on the same mystic Theme proceeds.
The World for the Elect was chiefly made,
And by the Church the Fates of Empires sway'd;
Who that defend shall stand, who that oppose,
Can never grapple such unequal Foes;
The Heav'nly Host all rang'd in bright array,
Suspended till their King commands away;
These o'er their stated Provinces preside,
And these the mighty Turns of Nations guide:
My Flock amidst a World of Wolves defend,
While those that hate 'em meet a dreadful End.
The World declines, Time rolling down the Hill,
Shall soon the ancient Prophesies fulfil:
The mighty Image ('twas a wond'rous sight)
Which Daniel saw in Visions of the Night,
Now wears apace, and verges to decay,
Soon will his Iron Feet be mix'd with Clay:
The pond'rous Stone cut from the Mountains side,
Shall soon th' ill-mingled Policy divide;
The lifeless Trunk and Limbs to Powder grind,
Its very dust wide-scattering in the Wind:
The Fourth prophetic Beast, foreseen from far,
Is enter'd now on the Worlds Theatre;
Fiercer than all the rest—The Roman Pow'r,
Which the contending Nations shall devour:
This, Hell shall to its Int'rests soon engage,
And you must grapple their united Rage:
What Men and Devils, what Arts and Arms can do,
Bravely prepare to meet, and conquer too!
Ten furious Tyrants, fierce as ever wore,
Their Purple double dy'd in guiltless Gore,
Shall their keen Axes and their Rods employ,
And vainly wou'd your Name and mine destroy:
On their devoted Heads the Curse shall fall;
An heavy Vengeance hovers o'er 'em all.
240
Who that defend shall stand, who that oppose,
Can never grapple such unequal Foes;
The Heav'nly Host all rang'd in bright array,
Suspended till their King commands away;
These o'er their stated Provinces preside,
And these the mighty Turns of Nations guide:
My Flock amidst a World of Wolves defend,
While those that hate 'em meet a dreadful End.
The World declines, Time rolling down the Hill,
Shall soon the ancient Prophesies fulfil:
The mighty Image ('twas a wond'rous sight)
Which Daniel saw in Visions of the Night,
Now wears apace, and verges to decay,
Soon will his Iron Feet be mix'd with Clay:
The pond'rous Stone cut from the Mountains side,
Shall soon th' ill-mingled Policy divide;
The lifeless Trunk and Limbs to Powder grind,
Its very dust wide-scattering in the Wind:
The Fourth prophetic Beast, foreseen from far,
Is enter'd now on the Worlds Theatre;
Fiercer than all the rest—The Roman Pow'r,
Which the contending Nations shall devour:
This, Hell shall to its Int'rests soon engage,
And you must grapple their united Rage:
What Men and Devils, what Arts and Arms can do,
Bravely prepare to meet, and conquer too!
Ten furious Tyrants, fierce as ever wore,
Their Purple double dy'd in guiltless Gore,
Shall their keen Axes and their Rods employ,
And vainly wou'd your Name and mine destroy:
On their devoted Heads the Curse shall fall;
An heavy Vengeance hovers o'er 'em all.
A Wretch the first, who shall Mankind disgrace,
To them a Foe as to your sacred Race:
On his own Town and Mother first shall try
In Fire and Sword, his Infant Cruelty;
Murder'd and Burnt, yet their desert they'll have;
This gave the Monster Birth, and that a Scepter gave:
Pity on them is lost, but guiltless you,
Whom he'll with the same Fire and Sword pursue:
You in his festal Flames shall shine, and be
The first bright Martyrs burnt for Heresie.
But Vengeance shall the Parricide attend,
His own curst Hand his hated Life shall end;
At once deliver the vex'd World and you,
The only Good the Wretch will ever do.
To them a Foe as to your sacred Race:
On his own Town and Mother first shall try
In Fire and Sword, his Infant Cruelty;
Murder'd and Burnt, yet their desert they'll have;
This gave the Monster Birth, and that a Scepter gave:
Pity on them is lost, but guiltless you,
241
You in his festal Flames shall shine, and be
The first bright Martyrs burnt for Heresie.
But Vengeance shall the Parricide attend,
His own curst Hand his hated Life shall end;
At once deliver the vex'd World and you,
The only Good the Wretch will ever do.
Who next shall against Heav'n renew the Fight,
Is Mankind's Hate; (his Brother their delight!)
The foul aspiring Fiend a God wou'd be,
Mixture of Lewdness and of Blasphemy:
If in his Race there's ought remains of good,
Jealous, by Martyrdom he'll purge his Blood:
Then you, my Friend! from distant Asia born,
At once his utmost Rage shall feel, and Scorn;
Tho' plung'd in flaming Oil, you need not fear,
Still shall the Son of God's bright Form be near;
Still safe you shall at the weak Tyrant smile,
When kindly banish'd to some desart Isle:
Ev'n there I'll meet thee, there agen relate
In wond'rous Types, the Worlds and Churches Fate;
Whilst our proud Foe a hasty Death shall seize,
And his mild Successor our Friends release.
Is Mankind's Hate; (his Brother their delight!)
The foul aspiring Fiend a God wou'd be,
Mixture of Lewdness and of Blasphemy:
If in his Race there's ought remains of good,
Jealous, by Martyrdom he'll purge his Blood:
Then you, my Friend! from distant Asia born,
At once his utmost Rage shall feel, and Scorn;
Tho' plung'd in flaming Oil, you need not fear,
Still shall the Son of God's bright Form be near;
Still safe you shall at the weak Tyrant smile,
When kindly banish'd to some desart Isle:
Ev'n there I'll meet thee, there agen relate
In wond'rous Types, the Worlds and Churches Fate;
Whilst our proud Foe a hasty Death shall seize,
And his mild Successor our Friends release.
Nor must the Churches then, long hope for Peace:
Then restless Schism, and wilder Heresie
Shall all invade, and with bold Blasphemy,
Some, ev'n the Lord that bought 'em, shall deny:
To worldly Domination some aspire,
And soon my Field will need a purging Fire;
Which the third Time shall kindle, that dread Day
Shall sift the VVheat, and sweep the Tares away:
Nor he himself, who wields the weighty Rod
Of injur'd Heav'n, and a revenging God,
Unplagu'd escapes a destin'd dire Event,
Unless on your repenting he repent.
Then restless Schism, and wilder Heresie
Shall all invade, and with bold Blasphemy,
Some, ev'n the Lord that bought 'em, shall deny:
To worldly Domination some aspire,
And soon my Field will need a purging Fire;
Which the third Time shall kindle, that dread Day
Shall sift the VVheat, and sweep the Tares away:
Nor he himself, who wields the weighty Rod
Of injur'd Heav'n, and a revenging God,
Unplagu'd escapes a destin'd dire Event,
Unless on your repenting he repent.
Unwarn'd the next to th' Purple will succeed,
And you agen in Crowds must burn and bleed;
But more the Jews, whom their false Christ shall head,
Their short-liv'd Meteor to destruction lead.
Rebellious, justly they, you guiltless, fall;
Nor long unheard your Blood shall Vengeance call:
What Plagues shall your vain Persecutor seize?
How oft he'd fly to Death in vain for ease?
How oft his little flutt'ring Soul away,
Which Vengeance makes in the loath'd Carcass stay?
And you agen in Crowds must burn and bleed;
But more the Jews, whom their false Christ shall head,
Their short-liv'd Meteor to destruction lead.
Rebellious, justly they, you guiltless, fall;
242
What Plagues shall your vain Persecutor seize?
How oft he'd fly to Death in vain for ease?
How oft his little flutt'ring Soul away,
Which Vengeance makes in the loath'd Carcass stay?
By him who next succeeds, Barbarians tam'd,
A peaceful Prince, and Pious more than Nam'd:
God's Empire he'll, without design, restore,
And punish those who tortur'd you before.
A peaceful Prince, and Pious more than Nam'd:
God's Empire he'll, without design, restore,
And punish those who tortur'd you before.
A Vain Philosopher shall next arise,
By whom the Just with various torments dies:
Till to my Follow'rs he his Life shall owe,
Vict'ry, and Rain their pow'rful Pray'rs bestow;
As great Elisha once three Kings did save,
And Water to their Host, and Conquest gave.
This a far fiercer Tyrant knows in vain;
Swift moves his Fate, nor has he long to Reign.
Whose wicked Sons as barbarous as lewd,
In one anothers, shall revenge your Blood.
By whom the Just with various torments dies:
Till to my Follow'rs he his Life shall owe,
Vict'ry, and Rain their pow'rful Pray'rs bestow;
As great Elisha once three Kings did save,
And Water to their Host, and Conquest gave.
This a far fiercer Tyrant knows in vain;
Swift moves his Fate, nor has he long to Reign.
Whose wicked Sons as barbarous as lewd,
In one anothers, shall revenge your Blood.
Next a fell VVolf, who, the mild Shepherd slain,
Shall by false Treason the World's Empire gain;
Short his keen Rage, the Soldiers him displace,
And ease the World of him and all his Race.
Shall by false Treason the World's Empire gain;
Short his keen Rage, the Soldiers him displace,
And ease the World of him and all his Race.
The next an equal Guilt and Fate attend,
Oppress'd in VVar by an untimely End.
Oppress'd in VVar by an untimely End.
Another yet will you and Heav'n engage;
Cruel Old Man! What means this impious Rage?
For you the worst of Tortures he'll prepare;
How little thinks he what himself must bear?
Cruel Old Man! What means this impious Rage?
For you the worst of Tortures he'll prepare;
How little thinks he what himself must bear?
These Nine fierce VVaves in vain already gone,
The Tenth, with all their Force comes rolling on:
Two Monsters shall the groaning World divide,
And rule with equal Cruelty and Pride:
With doubled Rage, the Fiend, and doubled Fear,
Ranges the Earth, he knows his Fall is near;
Knows the wise Nations will his Gods despise,
The Idol-Banners stoop, and Cross must rise:
Their vainly-thund'ring Jove himself, and all
Their helpless Fry of spurious Gods must fall,
Once more the fatal Stone shall claim the Capitol:
The Tyrants drop by Justice or Despair,
And my blest Champion shall the Purple wear.
See those brave Men his Throne and Honors share,
Whose pow'rful Pray'rs and Arms had fix'd him there!
See him the rev'rend Confessors embrace,
And by his Royal Side triumphant, place!
With Admiration, he'll, and Transport, see
Those glorious Scars they wear for Truth and me;
“Of foregone ills almost the Trace remove;
They blest in his, he in his Empires Love:
So much of Good, ev'n one good Prince can do!
So much I'll favour those who favour you!
Yet still some Signs of antient Fraud remain;
Still shall the Lust of Empire and of Gain,
Distract the World—Nor yet my fated Reign.
Scandals must come, those in the Church arise,
Who tho' they bear my Name, my Name despise:
Vengeance at length th' ungrateful World pursue,
New suffer'd Ills shall punish those they do:
Fierce Magog's Sons shall in the East embrace
A cursed Law, with Ishmael's wand'ring Race;
Whilst all the VVest a fiercer Tyrant spoils,
Hated and fear'd by Cittim and the Isles;
Nay the dire mortal Gangrene shall disperse,
It's hateful Poison round the Universe:
Widely the Cath'lick Mischief shall prevail;
Some Stars to Earth drawn by the Dragon's Tail:
The Earthly Gods this Monster shall dethrone,
Ev'n him in Heav'n he wou'd, and reign alone:
Tho' that he can t', he'll with his Laws dispence,
Sure Death to all appear in their Defence:
But first, what lets must be remov'd away,
The mighty Roman Empire first decay:
Then shall this Name of Blasphemy arise,
And soon renew the VVar against the Skies:
Flatt'ry and Murder shall his Title gain,
Which he'll, by the same cursed Arts maintain;
Luxurious, he shall Abstinence enjoin
From what kind Heav'n did for Man's Use design,
Chast Marriage shall the worst of Crimes be grown,
Tho' all the Sins of Sodom shall be none:
Long shall he Reign, but when he sits on high,
Sits most secure of Fate, his Fall is nigh:
A Swan in Gomer's spacious Fields shall rise,
Will all his Laws, as he does mine, despise:
Then ev'n repenting Kings shall hate the Whore
As much as they enchanted, lov'd before;
Th' Ill-gotten Empire by degrees decay,
Till by my Sword and Thunder driven away:
Then shall the Just their promis'd Kingdom gain,
“And then the Saints of the most high shall reign.
The Tenth, with all their Force comes rolling on:
Two Monsters shall the groaning World divide,
And rule with equal Cruelty and Pride:
With doubled Rage, the Fiend, and doubled Fear,
Ranges the Earth, he knows his Fall is near;
Knows the wise Nations will his Gods despise,
The Idol-Banners stoop, and Cross must rise:
Their vainly-thund'ring Jove himself, and all
Their helpless Fry of spurious Gods must fall,
Once more the fatal Stone shall claim the Capitol:
243
And my blest Champion shall the Purple wear.
See those brave Men his Throne and Honors share,
Whose pow'rful Pray'rs and Arms had fix'd him there!
See him the rev'rend Confessors embrace,
And by his Royal Side triumphant, place!
With Admiration, he'll, and Transport, see
Those glorious Scars they wear for Truth and me;
“Of foregone ills almost the Trace remove;
They blest in his, he in his Empires Love:
So much of Good, ev'n one good Prince can do!
So much I'll favour those who favour you!
Yet still some Signs of antient Fraud remain;
Still shall the Lust of Empire and of Gain,
Distract the World—Nor yet my fated Reign.
Scandals must come, those in the Church arise,
Who tho' they bear my Name, my Name despise:
Vengeance at length th' ungrateful World pursue,
New suffer'd Ills shall punish those they do:
Fierce Magog's Sons shall in the East embrace
A cursed Law, with Ishmael's wand'ring Race;
Whilst all the VVest a fiercer Tyrant spoils,
Hated and fear'd by Cittim and the Isles;
Nay the dire mortal Gangrene shall disperse,
It's hateful Poison round the Universe:
Widely the Cath'lick Mischief shall prevail;
Some Stars to Earth drawn by the Dragon's Tail:
The Earthly Gods this Monster shall dethrone,
Ev'n him in Heav'n he wou'd, and reign alone:
Tho' that he can t', he'll with his Laws dispence,
Sure Death to all appear in their Defence:
But first, what lets must be remov'd away,
The mighty Roman Empire first decay:
Then shall this Name of Blasphemy arise,
And soon renew the VVar against the Skies:
Flatt'ry and Murder shall his Title gain,
Which he'll, by the same cursed Arts maintain;
Luxurious, he shall Abstinence enjoin
From what kind Heav'n did for Man's Use design,
Chast Marriage shall the worst of Crimes be grown,
244
Long shall he Reign, but when he sits on high,
Sits most secure of Fate, his Fall is nigh:
A Swan in Gomer's spacious Fields shall rise,
Will all his Laws, as he does mine, despise:
Then ev'n repenting Kings shall hate the Whore
As much as they enchanted, lov'd before;
Th' Ill-gotten Empire by degrees decay,
Till by my Sword and Thunder driven away:
Then shall the Just their promis'd Kingdom gain,
“And then the Saints of the most high shall reign.
If more you ask, the Day, the Hour precise
VVhen I appear, my Father this denies;
The wisest Mind that near the Throne does wait,
And deepest read in the dark Rolls of Fate,
Must own this Myst'ry is from him conceal'd,
Nor to the Son himself, as Man, reveal'd;
Since, if far off, it might prevent your Care,
If near, might sink in Terror and Despair.
Your Task is—Still be ready—VVatch and Pray!
Thus arm against the Fears of this dread Day!
Come learn a Parable—Ten Virgins fair,
Together liv'd, no matter when or where!
Five Prudent, whom no danger cou'd surprize;
All fair, tho' th' other Five more Fair than Wise.
These once a Royal Bridegroom did invite
T'a Princely Feast, on his blest Nuptial Night:
Five had their Silver Lamps all clear and bright,
With purest Oil supply'd; not so the rest,
Whose empty Lamps their Negligence confest:
Yet all prepare the joyful Pomp to meet;
The Prince and his fair Princess lowly greet:
They travell'd long, but still no Bridegroom near,
Nor any News of his approach they hear;
Night hasten'd on, and the cold Air they fear;
Unwholsom Mists, and dropping Evening Dew:
At a Friends House, which on the Road they knew
They all take up, convenient t'was and nigh,
They'd soon be ready when the rest came by:
There enter'd, long they waiting there in vain,
With various Talk each other entertain;
Till Sleep had seiz'd and seal'd their weary'd Eyes,
When the pale Moon had measur'd half the Skies;
And scarce they on the downy Couch were laid,
E'er at the Gate the joyful Cry was made,
He comes, he comes—Quick starting at the sound,
All rising, for their Lamps they search'd around,
E'er we'll awake; theirs soon the Prudent found;
Well worth their Care, glorious they shin'd and bright,
And shot new Day across the gloomy Night:
Nor Light nor Oil in theirs the others find,
Unpleasing Reliques only left behind;
Recruits for both they from the Wise intreat,
In vain, for their own Store was not too great:
They to the Merchants send 'em, there to buy,
What might their thirsty Bankrupt Lamps supply,
Then join themselves the Train, not yet too late,
And find a cheerful welcom at the Gate.
VVhen I appear, my Father this denies;
The wisest Mind that near the Throne does wait,
And deepest read in the dark Rolls of Fate,
Must own this Myst'ry is from him conceal'd,
Nor to the Son himself, as Man, reveal'd;
Since, if far off, it might prevent your Care,
If near, might sink in Terror and Despair.
Your Task is—Still be ready—VVatch and Pray!
Thus arm against the Fears of this dread Day!
Come learn a Parable—Ten Virgins fair,
Together liv'd, no matter when or where!
Five Prudent, whom no danger cou'd surprize;
All fair, tho' th' other Five more Fair than Wise.
These once a Royal Bridegroom did invite
T'a Princely Feast, on his blest Nuptial Night:
Five had their Silver Lamps all clear and bright,
With purest Oil supply'd; not so the rest,
Whose empty Lamps their Negligence confest:
Yet all prepare the joyful Pomp to meet;
The Prince and his fair Princess lowly greet:
They travell'd long, but still no Bridegroom near,
Nor any News of his approach they hear;
Night hasten'd on, and the cold Air they fear;
Unwholsom Mists, and dropping Evening Dew:
At a Friends House, which on the Road they knew
They all take up, convenient t'was and nigh,
They'd soon be ready when the rest came by:
There enter'd, long they waiting there in vain,
245
Till Sleep had seiz'd and seal'd their weary'd Eyes,
When the pale Moon had measur'd half the Skies;
And scarce they on the downy Couch were laid,
E'er at the Gate the joyful Cry was made,
He comes, he comes—Quick starting at the sound,
All rising, for their Lamps they search'd around,
E'er we'll awake; theirs soon the Prudent found;
Well worth their Care, glorious they shin'd and bright,
And shot new Day across the gloomy Night:
Nor Light nor Oil in theirs the others find,
Unpleasing Reliques only left behind;
Recruits for both they from the Wise intreat,
In vain, for their own Store was not too great:
They to the Merchants send 'em, there to buy,
What might their thirsty Bankrupt Lamps supply,
Then join themselves the Train, not yet too late,
And find a cheerful welcom at the Gate.
Not so the other, who in darkness stray'd;
Till all was shut, they their return delay'd:
Now all too late, they no admittance meet,
Expos'd t'Affronts and Dangers in the Street:
Clam'rous and loud when clos'd the Gates they found,
They knock and call, the Courts and VValls resound:
Till from the Board the Bridegroom's self arose,
And to the sounding Gates in anger goes;
As loud demanding what ill-manner'd Guest,
Unseasonably there disturb'd the Feast?
Forward and bold they answer—Lord 'tis VVe,
Part of thy own invited Company;
Prepar'd and ready at the Gates we stand,
But wish'd admittance, yet in vain demand;
Repuls'd by the rude Servants—But you here,
We now no longer can our Entrance fear.
—Ah 'tis too late, the time for that is o'er—
'Tis past, already past, and comes no more;
The Lord rejoins—You're Strangers all to me,
And utter Darkness must your portion be.
Till all was shut, they their return delay'd:
Now all too late, they no admittance meet,
Expos'd t'Affronts and Dangers in the Street:
Clam'rous and loud when clos'd the Gates they found,
They knock and call, the Courts and VValls resound:
Till from the Board the Bridegroom's self arose,
And to the sounding Gates in anger goes;
As loud demanding what ill-manner'd Guest,
Unseasonably there disturb'd the Feast?
Forward and bold they answer—Lord 'tis VVe,
Part of thy own invited Company;
Prepar'd and ready at the Gates we stand,
But wish'd admittance, yet in vain demand;
Repuls'd by the rude Servants—But you here,
We now no longer can our Entrance fear.
—Ah 'tis too late, the time for that is o'er—
'Tis past, already past, and comes no more;
The Lord rejoins—You're Strangers all to me,
And utter Darkness must your portion be.
The Moral easie is, and evident;
Delay no longer! Now, ev'n now repent!
Devout and vigilant, still on your Guard,
Lest the Judg comes, and finds you unprepar'd:
Lest such your Fate as that bad Servants, whom,
His angry Lord did to just Torments doom.
Delay no longer! Now, ev'n now repent!
246
Lest the Judg comes, and finds you unprepar'd:
Lest such your Fate as that bad Servants, whom,
His angry Lord did to just Torments doom.
Earnest they ask't, intent and fix'd upon
Each VVord he spoke, our Saviour thus goes on.
Each VVord he spoke, our Saviour thus goes on.
A Lord there was, whose business call'd him far
From his own House, whether for Peace of VVar,
Not matters much, but his Estate was large,
Of which he Part thinks fit to leave in charge
With his remaining Servants; well he knew
What each was worth, and what they all cou'd do;
Five Talents this receiv'd, the other Two,
One ev'n the least; he this Division makes,
And strait he his far distant Journey takes:
Who had the Five, by Merchandise and Trade,
So well improv'd his Stock, Five more they made:
Who Two, receiv'd proportionable Gain;
Who only One, and even that One in vain;
Digs in the Earth, his Talent there he leaves,
No pain he takes, or profit thence receives:
Long after comes their Lord from foreign Lands,
And of his Servants their Accounts demands:
The two with humble Joy their Master meet,
And cast their Labours product at his Feet;
Both from him meet a just and kind regard,
And both his gen'rous bounty did reward;
With guilty Eyes demiss and conscious Face,
The third comes in, and thus with an ill Grace
Accosts his Lord—I knew you ev'r you went,
A hard Exactor of what Sums you lent.
Rigid and hard, nay did from others pains
Expect, I know, large unproportion'd Gains?
How could I then propose my self to save,
If I in Trade had lost those Sums you gave?
With these vexatious Thoughts I struggling lay
A while, but took at last the safest way:
Your Talent I entrusted to the Ground,
And there the same agen in Specie found:
'Tis here, tho' I've no Interest gain'd, here's all,
Each Mite and farthing of the Principal.
From his own House, whether for Peace of VVar,
Not matters much, but his Estate was large,
Of which he Part thinks fit to leave in charge
With his remaining Servants; well he knew
What each was worth, and what they all cou'd do;
Five Talents this receiv'd, the other Two,
One ev'n the least; he this Division makes,
And strait he his far distant Journey takes:
Who had the Five, by Merchandise and Trade,
So well improv'd his Stock, Five more they made:
Who Two, receiv'd proportionable Gain;
Who only One, and even that One in vain;
Digs in the Earth, his Talent there he leaves,
No pain he takes, or profit thence receives:
Long after comes their Lord from foreign Lands,
And of his Servants their Accounts demands:
The two with humble Joy their Master meet,
And cast their Labours product at his Feet;
Both from him meet a just and kind regard,
And both his gen'rous bounty did reward;
With guilty Eyes demiss and conscious Face,
The third comes in, and thus with an ill Grace
Accosts his Lord—I knew you ev'r you went,
A hard Exactor of what Sums you lent.
Rigid and hard, nay did from others pains
Expect, I know, large unproportion'd Gains?
How could I then propose my self to save,
If I in Trade had lost those Sums you gave?
With these vexatious Thoughts I struggling lay
A while, but took at last the safest way:
Your Talent I entrusted to the Ground,
And there the same agen in Specie found:
'Tis here, tho' I've no Interest gain'd, here's all,
247
To him his Lord, whose Eyes just Anger dart—
—“Wicked and slothful Servant as thou art—!
If gain from others Labour I desire,
Whose all is mine, I but my own require:
But since thou this didst know, since so austere
A Lord I was, a Master so severe,
Since honest Pain like these thou woud'st not take,
Why might not others the advantage make
Of what I left: but since I see my cost,
And kindness all on thee, Ungrate! are lost,
Thy Talent giv'n to those who'll it improve;
Hence let thy Fellow-Servants thee remove,
Thee hence, unprofitable Wretch, convey,
Hid, like thy Talent from the cheerful Day,
In noisom Dungeons; bound and fetter'd there
For ever mourn in Darkness and Despair.
—“Wicked and slothful Servant as thou art—!
If gain from others Labour I desire,
Whose all is mine, I but my own require:
But since thou this didst know, since so austere
A Lord I was, a Master so severe,
Since honest Pain like these thou woud'st not take,
Why might not others the advantage make
Of what I left: but since I see my cost,
And kindness all on thee, Ungrate! are lost,
Thy Talent giv'n to those who'll it improve;
Hence let thy Fellow-Servants thee remove,
Thee hence, unprofitable Wretch, convey,
Hid, like thy Talent from the cheerful Day,
In noisom Dungeons; bound and fetter'd there
For ever mourn in Darkness and Despair.
But if these Truths you more distinct and clear
Without a Parable desire to hear,
Attend while I th' amazing Scenes display,
The awful prospect of the last Great Day?
Without a Parable desire to hear,
Attend while I th' amazing Scenes display,
The awful prospect of the last Great Day?
My Harbingers the Seven Archangels bright,
Heark how their Trumps the guilty World affright!
The awful Trumps of God! a Call they sound,
Is heard thro' Nature's universal Round;
That Signal heard from the dissolving Sky,
Decrepid Nature lays her down to die:
Not so Man's deathless Race, who now revive,
And must in Joy or Pain for ever live:
From long-confining Tombs each dusky Guest
Disturb'd arise, most, never more to rest;
The clust'ring Atoms as before they were
Together Troop; the Earth, the Sea, the Air
Give up their Dead—How diff'rent all they rise?
These light and chearful, these behold the Skies
With Looks obverse and horrid, how they shine
All dreadful bright, all red with Wrath divine.
Ev'n yon fair Star, whose Webs of Light disperse
Their golden Threds around the Universe.
Loose from it's Center down Heav'ns Hill must roll,
And by its Fall unhinge the steddy Pole;
And whilst he, hissing in th' Abyss, is drown'd,
Ten thousand lesser Suns lie scatter'd round.
The Moon's bright Eye shall dark and bloodshot grow,
Reflecting only Smoak and Fire below.
Vast Heaps on Heaps, thick Orbs on Orbs are hurl'd,
Chaos on Chaos, World confus'd in World:
Huge Spheres, so fast each after other roll'd,
Ev'n boundless space their ruines scarce will hold:
If the Great Whole no more from Fate secure,
What Ravage shall this little part endure!
This Point in the great Circle! As before,
When by th' impetuous Deluge floated o'er;
The Oceans both of Heav'n and Earth did join,
Both with the Fountains of the Deep combine;
And Wave did after Wave unweary'd come,
Sea after Sea from its hydropick VVomb;
So from the Sources whence that ruin came,
Delug'd with Seas of Fire, and Waves of Flame:
As when Heav'ns Vengeance on curst Sodom fell;
The World's one Tophet now, one Etna or one Hell.
From Earth's wide Womb large Floods of Flame shall flow,
The fi'ry World above shall meet with that below:
Thence holy Souls refin'd and made more bright,
Shall safe emerge to VVorlds of calmer Light;
While those still stain'd with odious marks of Sin,
Must desp'rate sink, for ever sink therein.
But first that Doom which they deserve so well,
They must receive, that Sentence, half their Hell;
The Thrones are set, the conscious Angels wait,
And turn th' eternal brazen Leaves of Fate;
High in the midst shall my Tribunal stand,
Apostles, Prophets, Saints on my Right-hand,
Martyrs and Confessors—A glorious Train!
Now well-content they suffer, then to reign.
Whilst on the left, a dismal gloomy Band,
Of Kings, proud Nobles, factious Commons stand;
Lewd Priests, Apostate Poets, who disgrace
Their Character, and stain their Heav'n-born Race.
Lean Hypocrites, who by long Fasts and Pray'r
Get damn'd, with much of pain, and much of care:
—But strange! there will not be one Atheist there.
All Marshal'd thus, tho' now they're mingled seen;
To you I'll with applauding Smiles begin.
Heark how their Trumps the guilty World affright!
The awful Trumps of God! a Call they sound,
Is heard thro' Nature's universal Round;
That Signal heard from the dissolving Sky,
Decrepid Nature lays her down to die:
Not so Man's deathless Race, who now revive,
And must in Joy or Pain for ever live:
From long-confining Tombs each dusky Guest
Disturb'd arise, most, never more to rest;
The clust'ring Atoms as before they were
Together Troop; the Earth, the Sea, the Air
Give up their Dead—How diff'rent all they rise?
These light and chearful, these behold the Skies
With Looks obverse and horrid, how they shine
All dreadful bright, all red with Wrath divine.
Ev'n yon fair Star, whose Webs of Light disperse
Their golden Threds around the Universe.
Loose from it's Center down Heav'ns Hill must roll,
248
And whilst he, hissing in th' Abyss, is drown'd,
Ten thousand lesser Suns lie scatter'd round.
The Moon's bright Eye shall dark and bloodshot grow,
Reflecting only Smoak and Fire below.
Vast Heaps on Heaps, thick Orbs on Orbs are hurl'd,
Chaos on Chaos, World confus'd in World:
Huge Spheres, so fast each after other roll'd,
Ev'n boundless space their ruines scarce will hold:
If the Great Whole no more from Fate secure,
What Ravage shall this little part endure!
This Point in the great Circle! As before,
When by th' impetuous Deluge floated o'er;
The Oceans both of Heav'n and Earth did join,
Both with the Fountains of the Deep combine;
And Wave did after Wave unweary'd come,
Sea after Sea from its hydropick VVomb;
So from the Sources whence that ruin came,
Delug'd with Seas of Fire, and Waves of Flame:
As when Heav'ns Vengeance on curst Sodom fell;
The World's one Tophet now, one Etna or one Hell.
From Earth's wide Womb large Floods of Flame shall flow,
The fi'ry World above shall meet with that below:
Thence holy Souls refin'd and made more bright,
Shall safe emerge to VVorlds of calmer Light;
While those still stain'd with odious marks of Sin,
Must desp'rate sink, for ever sink therein.
But first that Doom which they deserve so well,
They must receive, that Sentence, half their Hell;
The Thrones are set, the conscious Angels wait,
And turn th' eternal brazen Leaves of Fate;
High in the midst shall my Tribunal stand,
Apostles, Prophets, Saints on my Right-hand,
Martyrs and Confessors—A glorious Train!
Now well-content they suffer, then to reign.
Whilst on the left, a dismal gloomy Band,
Of Kings, proud Nobles, factious Commons stand;
Lewd Priests, Apostate Poets, who disgrace
Their Character, and stain their Heav'n-born Race.
249
Get damn'd, with much of pain, and much of care:
—But strange! there will not be one Atheist there.
All Marshal'd thus, tho' now they're mingled seen;
To you I'll with applauding Smiles begin.
“Come you, by me and my great Father blest!
“Come, holy Souls, to endless Peace and Rest!
“For some short Years of Misery and Pain,
“In Light and Joy for ever with me reign
“In that blest Place, before all Worlds prepar'd
“By Heav'nly Skill, by Hands Almighty rear'd:
“In that bad World your selves you've faithful shown,
“You own'd me there, and you in this I'll own:
“Fainting for Hunger, me you oft reliev'd,
“And burnt with Thirst, I your kind Aid receiv'd;
“Wide wand'ring thro' the World, you entertain'd;
“Half Naked, not my Poverty disdain'd,
“But careful, Cloathed; when Sick, your help did lend;
“Nay, e'en Imprison'd, not forsook your Friend.
“Come, holy Souls, to endless Peace and Rest!
“For some short Years of Misery and Pain,
“In Light and Joy for ever with me reign
“In that blest Place, before all Worlds prepar'd
“By Heav'nly Skill, by Hands Almighty rear'd:
“In that bad World your selves you've faithful shown,
“You own'd me there, and you in this I'll own:
“Fainting for Hunger, me you oft reliev'd,
“And burnt with Thirst, I your kind Aid receiv'd;
“Wide wand'ring thro' the World, you entertain'd;
“Half Naked, not my Poverty disdain'd,
“But careful, Cloathed; when Sick, your help did lend;
“Nay, e'en Imprison'd, not forsook your Friend.
With modest Joy, in their enlighten'd Eyes,
Thus humble, all the righteous Host replies:
—“Thy Mercy, not our Merits, Lord, we own,
Must place us by thee, on thy radiant Throne:
Much, of our selves, of Ill, our selves we knew,
Such Good, alas, when did we ever do?
Thus humble, all the righteous Host replies:
—“Thy Mercy, not our Merits, Lord, we own,
Must place us by thee, on thy radiant Throne:
Much, of our selves, of Ill, our selves we knew,
Such Good, alas, when did we ever do?
Thus they—Thus will agen the King rejoyn—
Those Kindnesses I still accounted mine,
My Friends receiv'd; these did I still record,
And this great Day shall bring their full Reward.
Those Kindnesses I still accounted mine,
My Friends receiv'd; these did I still record,
And this great Day shall bring their full Reward.
Then to th' unjust he turns, who trembling wait,
Their too-well-known intolerable Fate;
Justice unmix'd dwells on his angry Brow,
Tho' Mercy only there, and Pardon now;
Ah what a Change? why will they not relent?
Since now they may—Why will they not repent?
Yet, yet there's hope, I'll cover all their Sins!
—Then all too late, for thus their Judge begins.
Their too-well-known intolerable Fate;
Justice unmix'd dwells on his angry Brow,
Tho' Mercy only there, and Pardon now;
Ah what a Change? why will they not relent?
Since now they may—Why will they not repent?
Yet, yet there's hope, I'll cover all their Sins!
—Then all too late, for thus their Judge begins.
“Go, ye accurst! to endless Torments go!
“(For such your Choice) to endless Worlds of Woe!
“Prepar'd at first for those lost Sp'rits who fell;
“You shar'd their Crimes, now doom'd to share their Hell.
“I'th' other World unkind your selves you've shown,
“Me you disown'd, you now I here disown.
“Fainting for Hunger, me you not relieve,
“For Thirst, you'd not one Cup of Water give;
“When wand'ring thro' the World, ne'er entertain'd;
“Half Naked, Poor and Mean, you me disdain'd,
“Or Cloath'd with Stripes, when Sick did Curses lend
“For Balm; Imprison'd, Stones for Bread wou'd send.
“(For such your Choice) to endless Worlds of Woe!
“Prepar'd at first for those lost Sp'rits who fell;
250
“I'th' other World unkind your selves you've shown,
“Me you disown'd, you now I here disown.
“Fainting for Hunger, me you not relieve,
“For Thirst, you'd not one Cup of Water give;
“When wand'ring thro' the World, ne'er entertain'd;
“Half Naked, Poor and Mean, you me disdain'd,
“Or Cloath'd with Stripes, when Sick did Curses lend
“For Balm; Imprison'd, Stones for Bread wou'd send.
With all the hast of impudent Despair,
They'll all deny, and ask me when and where?
To them my Answer like the last shall be,
—What to my Brethren's done, is done to me.
They'll all deny, and ask me when and where?
To them my Answer like the last shall be,
—What to my Brethren's done, is done to me.
A Place there is, from Heav'ns sweet Light debarr'd,
Where dismal Shrieks of guilty Souls are heard;
Loud Yells, deep Groans, thick Stripes, long Clanks of Chains;
There solid, everlasting Darkness reigns:
E'en that sad Fire, which on the Wretched feeds,
Nor new supplies of Matter ever needs,
Lends 'em no Gleam, no comfortable Ray,
But change of Torments measures Night and Day:
Hither black Fiends shall snatch th' Unjust away,
Tormentors and Tormented—Deep they fall,
And on the ruines of this flaming Ball
Whirl to th' Abyss, on Waves of Sulphur tost,
In that black direful Gulf for ever lost.
Where dismal Shrieks of guilty Souls are heard;
Loud Yells, deep Groans, thick Stripes, long Clanks of Chains;
There solid, everlasting Darkness reigns:
E'en that sad Fire, which on the Wretched feeds,
Nor new supplies of Matter ever needs,
Lends 'em no Gleam, no comfortable Ray,
But change of Torments measures Night and Day:
Hither black Fiends shall snatch th' Unjust away,
Tormentors and Tormented—Deep they fall,
And on the ruines of this flaming Ball
Whirl to th' Abyss, on Waves of Sulphur tost,
In that black direful Gulf for ever lost.
Not so the Just, who shall their Lord attend
To Worlds of Joy, that know no bound or end:
To Worlds of Joy, that know no bound or end:
A Place there is, remov'd far, far away,
From that faint Lamp that makes this mortal Day:
A blissful Place, that knows no Clouds or Night,
But Gods high Throne scatters perpetual Light:
There Angels live, there Saints, so far refin'd,
Their Bodies scarce less glorious than their Mind:
There, true, eternal Friendship all profess;
There, in the height of Piety, possess
The Heav'n of Heav'n, the height of Happiness:
Perfect their Joys, yet still their Joys improve,
For still the Infinite they See and Love.
Here shall they enter, here triumphant plac'd,
Unutterable Bliss for ever tast
In mine, and my great Fathers Arms embrac'd.
From that faint Lamp that makes this mortal Day:
A blissful Place, that knows no Clouds or Night,
But Gods high Throne scatters perpetual Light:
There Angels live, there Saints, so far refin'd,
Their Bodies scarce less glorious than their Mind:
There, true, eternal Friendship all profess;
There, in the height of Piety, possess
The Heav'n of Heav'n, the height of Happiness:
Perfect their Joys, yet still their Joys improve,
For still the Infinite they See and Love.
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Unutterable Bliss for ever tast
In mine, and my great Fathers Arms embrac'd.
—Here, Thou whom Men and Angels must adore!
Here, Saviour! When this storm of Life is o'er,
Thy worthless Servant place! One Moment there,
For many tedious Years of Want and Care,
Will more than even make—And whilst I stay,
If from my Post I must not yet away;
Accept this humble Verse, my Lifes great Task!
'Tis all I can, and more thou wilt not ask:
Bless my few Friends, or if but Names they be,
My Friend,—For I've scarce more than One and Thee.
Bless e'en my Foes! may they, till better, live,
And my vast Debts, as I do theirs, forgive!
Here, Saviour! When this storm of Life is o'er,
Thy worthless Servant place! One Moment there,
For many tedious Years of Want and Care,
Will more than even make—And whilst I stay,
If from my Post I must not yet away;
Accept this humble Verse, my Lifes great Task!
'Tis all I can, and more thou wilt not ask:
Bless my few Friends, or if but Names they be,
My Friend,—For I've scarce more than One and Thee.
Bless e'en my Foes! may they, till better, live,
And my vast Debts, as I do theirs, forgive!
Thy help in all my Tribulation, lend!
More than in Promise, (like the World) my Friend.
Down all vain tow'ring Hopes! But Saviour! grant,
I may n't my daily Bread and Cloathing want!
The very Flow'rs and Ravens these possess;
Thy Will be done, if I must still have less!
More than in Promise, (like the World) my Friend.
Down all vain tow'ring Hopes! But Saviour! grant,
I may n't my daily Bread and Cloathing want!
The very Flow'rs and Ravens these possess;
Thy Will be done, if I must still have less!
Or if to Wealth or Fame I e'er shou'd rise;
(Those Gifts I neither Covet, nor Despise,
Chuse for me, Lord! “For thou hast both my Eyes!)
If e'er thou me from this low Turf shou'dst raise,
Grant, as thou me, I may advance thy Praise!
Else, in this Dust, let me to Dust return!
—Then, then when my sad Friends around me Mourn,
O be not far away! Thy Grace supply,
And like a Man, and Christian let me Die!
And when my weary Soul forsakes my Breast,
O take it in thy Arms, and give me Rest!
—So shall I for my Consummation stay,
And hope, not fear the great decisive Day:
Refresh'd, beyond the reach of Pain or Vice,
In the Celestial Shades of Paradise.
(Those Gifts I neither Covet, nor Despise,
Chuse for me, Lord! “For thou hast both my Eyes!)
If e'er thou me from this low Turf shou'dst raise,
Grant, as thou me, I may advance thy Praise!
Else, in this Dust, let me to Dust return!
—Then, then when my sad Friends around me Mourn,
O be not far away! Thy Grace supply,
And like a Man, and Christian let me Die!
And when my weary Soul forsakes my Breast,
O take it in thy Arms, and give me Rest!
—So shall I for my Consummation stay,
And hope, not fear the great decisive Day:
Refresh'd, beyond the reach of Pain or Vice,
In the Celestial Shades of Paradise.
The End of the Seventh Book.
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BOOK VIII.
The Argument of the Eighth Book.
A Catalogue of the Nations that came to the Passover, together with the Inhabitants of the Holy Land. Herod's Entry and Train from Galilee. Our Saviour privately comes thither with his Disciples, sending St. Peter and St. John before him to prepare the Passover in Mount Sion. But could not remain undiscovered, some Greeks, from Athens, having heard of his Fame, and pressing to see him; which having obtain'd by the Assistance of some Tyrian Merchants of Philip's Acquaintance; God the Father, at his desire, attests him now the third time by a Voice from Heaven. At which the People being again ready to force a Kingdom upon him, he retires, with his Disciples. However, his Fame and Doctrine spread so far, that all things were now at a Crisis, and the whole Nation upon the point of owning him the Messiah. At which Lucifer being alarm'd, takes with him a Detachment of Devils, and flies to Earth, where sending the rest to their appointed Posts, to facilitate his Design, he himself enters the Palace of Caiaphas; and Night being now come, and the High-Priest asleep, appears before him in the Form of old Hircanus, chiding him for his Remissness, and stirring him up to destroy our Saviour. In order to which, as soon as he wakes, he sends privately to assemble the Sanhedrim; which being known to Gamaliel, Joseph, and Nicodemus, they hasten likewise thither. Caiaphas's Speech to the Sanhedrim, against our Saviour, accusing him for a Subverter of their Laws; pretending to prove, he was not, for that Reason, to be hearkned to, tho he wrought Miracles; complaining of the Meanness of his Doctrine on one side, obliging to forgive Enemies, and of the impracticable Heights on the other, not admitting Liberty of Thoughts, or the first Motions of Desire or Anger; with other Objections usually urged by the Deists against Christianity. After which he rises higher, charges him with Blasphemy; and at last, falling into a Prophetick Fury, he declares, 'twas necessary one Man should die for the whole Nation; urging, that could not be a Sin which God himself had decreed. His Speech variously received by the Sanhedrim. Nicodemus stands up, and begins cautiously to answer him. Whom Joseph of Arimathea interrupts, and boldly, before 'em all, confesses Jesus; distinctly answering all the Cavils of Caiaphas against his Person and Law, and pressing the Sanhedrim to receive him as their true Messiah. While they were divided in their Opinions, and debating the matter, our Saviour celebrates the Passover, with his twelve Disciples, and institutes the Sacrament of his Blessed Body and Blood; foreshowing and describing the Traitor Judas, who went out from the rest with a resolution to betray him; whose Offer to the Sanhedrim was agreed to by the majority, and Preparations made to apprehend him. Our Lord comforts the remaining Disciples, but prophesies of their forsaking him, and particularly St. Peter's Denial. Thence he leads them to Gethsemane; and takes St. Peter, James, and John with him into the thickest part of the Garden, leaving the rest at the Gate. His Agonies and Prayers, not for fear of the approaching Pain or Infamy, but of his Father's Anger. An Angel appears to strengthen him. A Comparison of him with the most famous ancient Heroes, shewing how far he exceeded them in Patience and Virtue. The three Disciples asleep for Sorrow. Judas, having received Guards from the High-Priest, comes to the Garden, and, with a Kiss, betrays our Lord; who being apprehended, after he had healed Malchus, whom St. Peter had wounded, all his Disciples forsake him. He's carried to the High-Priest's Palace, and there abused by the Guards and Rabble. St. John, who soon resumed Courage, followed our Saviour, and own'd himself his Disciple. St. Peter comes after, the with more Fear, and is introduced into the Palace, by the Interest of St. John; but being known to some of the Company, and charg'd as a Follower of Jesus, he thrice denies him, the last time with Curses and Imprecations; till, on our Saviour's looking back upon him, he returns to himself, and, departing from the Palace, endeavours to expiate his Guilt by a severe Repentance. Our Saviour accus'd by the High-Priest and Caiaphas, but no Proof against him, that would reach his Life; till Caiaphas adjuring him to own it if he were the Son of God, and he telling them, they should hereafter see him come to judg the World, he's accused for Blasphemy, and hurried away to the Roman Governour, being adjudged, by the Sanhedrim, worthy of Death.
263
Now o'er the Hills the Paschal Morn arose,
And from high Tow'rs the sacred Trumpet blows;
Proclaiming their great Feast, all Israel meet,
Thick crouding thro' each dusty Gate and Street;
Strangers and Proselytes, where e'er their Birth,
Whatever part o'th' many Peopled Earth;
Some from the Isles, Crete, Rhodes and Cyprus, some
From double-Sea'd Byzant, and Corinth come;
From the fair Fields with Rivers circled wide,
From Elam and Euphrates flowry side.
With all th' Arabia's, to the Feast repair
The Realms of Monobaze and Helen fair;
Strong Adiabene call'd, well known to Fame;
But most from blest Judæa's Regions came;
From Dan, to old Beersheba's fruitful Plain,
From Jazers Sea, to the great Western Main:
These from Phenician Fields their Journey take,
From Tyrus-stairs, and the Cendevian Lake:
Herod, his num'rous Galileans brings
From all his Towns, a Pomp well worthy Kings:
Strong Sephoris, and rich Tiberias send
Their choicest Youth, Sebaste's Lords attend
With Pray'rs for their great Frounder, who his Guests,
On Jordan's Banks, at proud Herodion Feasts;
Who Guarded thence and Honour'd, wait him down,
By Jericho, to Salem's sacred Town:
His rich paternal Palace they prepare,
And rang'd before the Gates, Salute him there;
Nor sooner his approach the Elders know,
But to receive him in long State they go;
The Roman-Guards the same, loud Shouts they made,
Their Eagle on Antonia's Tow'rs display'd:
Not so our Saviour met, nor he desir'd
Vain Honours, or mean wordlly Fame requir'd;
A train of Virtues did the Hero bring,
Unseen officious Angels guard their King.
In vain a private Entry made his choice,
For all Good-men at his approach rejoice:
Ent'ring the Town, he did before him send,
As Harbingers, bold Cephas and his Friend:
These all prepar'd, (nor cou'd they want success,
For where himself he sends, himself he'll bless:)
What Moses, or the Elders did enjoyn,
The Lamb, the Herbs, the Bread, the sacred Wine.
Mean while, the Croud's Hosannas to prevent,
He rounds the Walls by Sion's steep ascent:
In vain their unbespoken Pomp he'd shun,
From every part the gazing People run;
Fame bears the News thro' all the pester'd Gates,
And the vast Town almost depopulates.—
So, when some Godlike Prince by Heav'n design'd,
The common Benefactor of Mankind;
Triumphant over e'en himself and Fame,
Who wou'd by Virtue only raise his Name;
So when he, envious of himself, wou'd go
Thro' some sav'd Town, or Realm Incognito;
Thro' the vain Cloud his stronger Beams will Shine,
The mortal Form confessing the Divine:
Forth pour thick Floods of Men, the Saviour meet,
And strow thick Flow'rs and Blessings at his Feet.
And from high Tow'rs the sacred Trumpet blows;
Proclaiming their great Feast, all Israel meet,
Thick crouding thro' each dusty Gate and Street;
Strangers and Proselytes, where e'er their Birth,
Whatever part o'th' many Peopled Earth;
Some from the Isles, Crete, Rhodes and Cyprus, some
From double-Sea'd Byzant, and Corinth come;
From the fair Fields with Rivers circled wide,
From Elam and Euphrates flowry side.
262
The Realms of Monobaze and Helen fair;
Strong Adiabene call'd, well known to Fame;
But most from blest Judæa's Regions came;
From Dan, to old Beersheba's fruitful Plain,
From Jazers Sea, to the great Western Main:
These from Phenician Fields their Journey take,
From Tyrus-stairs, and the Cendevian Lake:
Herod, his num'rous Galileans brings
From all his Towns, a Pomp well worthy Kings:
Strong Sephoris, and rich Tiberias send
Their choicest Youth, Sebaste's Lords attend
With Pray'rs for their great Frounder, who his Guests,
On Jordan's Banks, at proud Herodion Feasts;
Who Guarded thence and Honour'd, wait him down,
By Jericho, to Salem's sacred Town:
His rich paternal Palace they prepare,
And rang'd before the Gates, Salute him there;
Nor sooner his approach the Elders know,
But to receive him in long State they go;
The Roman-Guards the same, loud Shouts they made,
Their Eagle on Antonia's Tow'rs display'd:
Not so our Saviour met, nor he desir'd
Vain Honours, or mean wordlly Fame requir'd;
A train of Virtues did the Hero bring,
Unseen officious Angels guard their King.
In vain a private Entry made his choice,
For all Good-men at his approach rejoice:
Ent'ring the Town, he did before him send,
As Harbingers, bold Cephas and his Friend:
These all prepar'd, (nor cou'd they want success,
For where himself he sends, himself he'll bless:)
What Moses, or the Elders did enjoyn,
The Lamb, the Herbs, the Bread, the sacred Wine.
Mean while, the Croud's Hosannas to prevent,
He rounds the Walls by Sion's steep ascent:
In vain their unbespoken Pomp he'd shun,
From every part the gazing People run;
Fame bears the News thro' all the pester'd Gates,
And the vast Town almost depopulates.—
263
The common Benefactor of Mankind;
Triumphant over e'en himself and Fame,
Who wou'd by Virtue only raise his Name;
So when he, envious of himself, wou'd go
Thro' some sav'd Town, or Realm Incognito;
Thro' the vain Cloud his stronger Beams will Shine,
The mortal Form confessing the Divine:
Forth pour thick Floods of Men, the Saviour meet,
And strow thick Flow'rs and Blessings at his Feet.
So here, all press to see his Heav'nly Face,
Nor only now the Hebrews sacred Race;
His growing Fame to Gentile-Worlds is spread,
His Light Divine had struck their Dæmons dead:
The servile Gods to their black Caves retire,
Great Ammon, than his own, now feels a hotter Fire:
Athens, which did from Egypt first convey
Vain Idol-Forms, and spread them wide away
Thro the deluded World, now learns t'adore,
A Soveraign Deity unknown before;
Nor had the Sibyls scap'd 'em; there they find
A Prince whose facile Yoke shou'd bless Mankind,
In scorn'd Judæa born: They thither came,
More by the Savior's Miracles and Fame,
Than the great Feast attracted—
Came with some Tyrian Merchants, Trading down
To new-nam'd Julias, once Bethsaida's Town:
Their Int'rest these, and frank assistance lend,
Since in his humble Court they had a Friend
To introduce 'em; meeting, they embrace;
'Twas Philip, of the Galilean Race,
Whom long they'd known, and ask'd the Liberty,
These Grecian Strangers might his Master see.
He beckons Andrew, both to Jesus went,
And favourably their Request present:
When thus our Lord—Tho' I vain Pomp disclaim,
Nor in my own, but my great Fathers Name
As yet have taught, yet since he's pleas'd t'attest
My weak Mortality, it must be best.
Now is the Hour I shall be truly known,
A glimpse of my paternal Glory's shown;
Now that false Traitor, who from Honor fell,
Yet seiz'd these Worlds, and taught 'em to Rebel,
Transfix'd with vengeful Flames, sinks back t'his destin'd Hell.
But ah! How dear an Empire must I win!
On what a Throne my promis'd Reign begin!
How sad an Exaltation! Yet e'en there,
Will I the ruines of the World repair:
Nor me my Friends, nor them I'll there disown,
But with 'em mount to a far brighter Throne:
The way o'er Rocks and Thorns my self I'll lead,
Nor must they only on Roses think to tread;
Thro' Blood, but 'tis their own, a Crown must gain,
True Hero's Race, enur'd to Sweat and Pain,
Which sweetens all their future peaceful reign.
—Yet still will this relucting Body thrive,
Base Flesh and Blood the servile VVar revive
Against the nobler Spirit, still disgrace
Mans better Form, and stain the Heav'n-born Race;
Still Pain is his aversion—Tho' tis true,
Had he not this, he'd nothing to subdue;
No Merits, no Reward—Do what I can,
My lab'ring Heart has something still of Man;
Fain wou'd avoid th' unequal shock, and fain
Wou'd shrink from this intolerable Pain;
These more then humane Terrors—Father save!
O, if 'tis fit, preserve that Life you gave!
No, 'tis not—I my self a Victim give;
Willing I Die, that rescu'd Man may Live:
Yet, lest they me as an Impostor blame,
E'er I to those blest Regions, whence I came
Return, Dear Father! Glorifie thy Name!
Nor only now the Hebrews sacred Race;
His growing Fame to Gentile-Worlds is spread,
His Light Divine had struck their Dæmons dead:
The servile Gods to their black Caves retire,
Great Ammon, than his own, now feels a hotter Fire:
Athens, which did from Egypt first convey
Vain Idol-Forms, and spread them wide away
Thro the deluded World, now learns t'adore,
A Soveraign Deity unknown before;
Nor had the Sibyls scap'd 'em; there they find
A Prince whose facile Yoke shou'd bless Mankind,
In scorn'd Judæa born: They thither came,
More by the Savior's Miracles and Fame,
Than the great Feast attracted—
Came with some Tyrian Merchants, Trading down
To new-nam'd Julias, once Bethsaida's Town:
Their Int'rest these, and frank assistance lend,
Since in his humble Court they had a Friend
To introduce 'em; meeting, they embrace;
'Twas Philip, of the Galilean Race,
Whom long they'd known, and ask'd the Liberty,
These Grecian Strangers might his Master see.
He beckons Andrew, both to Jesus went,
And favourably their Request present:
When thus our Lord—Tho' I vain Pomp disclaim,
Nor in my own, but my great Fathers Name
As yet have taught, yet since he's pleas'd t'attest
My weak Mortality, it must be best.
Now is the Hour I shall be truly known,
264
Now that false Traitor, who from Honor fell,
Yet seiz'd these Worlds, and taught 'em to Rebel,
Transfix'd with vengeful Flames, sinks back t'his destin'd Hell.
But ah! How dear an Empire must I win!
On what a Throne my promis'd Reign begin!
How sad an Exaltation! Yet e'en there,
Will I the ruines of the World repair:
Nor me my Friends, nor them I'll there disown,
But with 'em mount to a far brighter Throne:
The way o'er Rocks and Thorns my self I'll lead,
Nor must they only on Roses think to tread;
Thro' Blood, but 'tis their own, a Crown must gain,
True Hero's Race, enur'd to Sweat and Pain,
Which sweetens all their future peaceful reign.
—Yet still will this relucting Body thrive,
Base Flesh and Blood the servile VVar revive
Against the nobler Spirit, still disgrace
Mans better Form, and stain the Heav'n-born Race;
Still Pain is his aversion—Tho' tis true,
Had he not this, he'd nothing to subdue;
No Merits, no Reward—Do what I can,
My lab'ring Heart has something still of Man;
Fain wou'd avoid th' unequal shock, and fain
Wou'd shrink from this intolerable Pain;
These more then humane Terrors—Father save!
O, if 'tis fit, preserve that Life you gave!
No, 'tis not—I my self a Victim give;
Willing I Die, that rescu'd Man may Live:
Yet, lest they me as an Impostor blame,
E'er I to those blest Regions, whence I came
Return, Dear Father! Glorifie thy Name!
He said, when strait calm Lambent Lightnings flie,
And sacred Thunder murmurs round the Sky.
Then the dread Voice of God—“As I've already done,
“I thus attest thee still, my lov'd eternal Son!
They heard the awful Sound, they heard it all,
And to the Saviour lowly prostrate fall;
So little their false Homage he desires,
That from the flatt'ring Croud he strait retires;
A Miracle he works to chain their Sense,
And with the Ten, pass undiscover'd thence:
Still more amaz'd they strictly search'd around,
Each Street and Suburb search'd, and had they found,
Had him by force the King of Israel crown'd:
So their great Saul himself, they cry, withdrew,
And wish some Samuel his retirement knew:
For factious Arms, themselves and Friends prepare,
Scarce on the Towr's the Roman Ensigns bear.
Tho' this the thoughtless giddy Crowd alone,
Many o'th' Elders knew, but dar'd not own,
Knew him the Prince design'd for Israels Throne:
On worldly Fame, and Reputation stood;
How hard a thing to be both Great and Good?
Mistaken Fame! if from fair Actions done,
'Tis good; if not, far better lost than won.
Happier the common Race of humane kind,
Happier in this, since for their Eyes or Mind
They no disguises need, vain Forms they break,
And what small Sense they have, they freely speak.
These his Opposers scarce untouch'd endure,
His Foes scarce more than he himself secure;
Tho' he himself their Conduct not approv'd,
Nor Rabble-Reformation ever lov'd:
Int'rest, not Love their partial Votes did sway,
They'd call him King, but not his Laws obey;
Too pure for their gross Tast, too right and just;
Nor he such Subjects wou'd receive or trust.
How e'er his Doctrines more and more prevail,
Still more the Elders false Foundations fail,
Scripture and Reason gone, they only rail:
All things were at the height, the Crisis all,
And his Religion now, or theirs must fall.
And sacred Thunder murmurs round the Sky.
Then the dread Voice of God—“As I've already done,
“I thus attest thee still, my lov'd eternal Son!
They heard the awful Sound, they heard it all,
And to the Saviour lowly prostrate fall;
So little their false Homage he desires,
That from the flatt'ring Croud he strait retires;
265
And with the Ten, pass undiscover'd thence:
Still more amaz'd they strictly search'd around,
Each Street and Suburb search'd, and had they found,
Had him by force the King of Israel crown'd:
So their great Saul himself, they cry, withdrew,
And wish some Samuel his retirement knew:
For factious Arms, themselves and Friends prepare,
Scarce on the Towr's the Roman Ensigns bear.
Tho' this the thoughtless giddy Crowd alone,
Many o'th' Elders knew, but dar'd not own,
Knew him the Prince design'd for Israels Throne:
On worldly Fame, and Reputation stood;
How hard a thing to be both Great and Good?
Mistaken Fame! if from fair Actions done,
'Tis good; if not, far better lost than won.
Happier the common Race of humane kind,
Happier in this, since for their Eyes or Mind
They no disguises need, vain Forms they break,
And what small Sense they have, they freely speak.
These his Opposers scarce untouch'd endure,
His Foes scarce more than he himself secure;
Tho' he himself their Conduct not approv'd,
Nor Rabble-Reformation ever lov'd:
Int'rest, not Love their partial Votes did sway,
They'd call him King, but not his Laws obey;
Too pure for their gross Tast, too right and just;
Nor he such Subjects wou'd receive or trust.
How e'er his Doctrines more and more prevail,
Still more the Elders false Foundations fail,
Scripture and Reason gone, they only rail:
All things were at the height, the Crisis all,
And his Religion now, or theirs must fall.
This saw th' Arch-fiend in his own loathsom Cell;
A Spy thro' Sodom's Lake shot swift to Hell
And brought th' affrightful News, repuls'd before,
The Conclave he resolves to call no more,
Till some great Act atchiev'd, some Mischief done,
So black, as he'd himself not blush to own.
From every Squadron silently he drew,
Such Spirits as he most fit for action knew;
Some from blasphemous Belial did command,
From Moloch some, but most from Envy's band:
Such as all Parties might to his engage;
Some skill'd in raising Tumults, Storms and Rage:
The same that tempted Dathan e'er he fell,
And dragg'd him, yet alive, thro' Earth's black Gulf to Hell.
Some like himself, when cheating facil Eve,
So subtle they'd almost th' Elect deceive:
These guilty Mortals, knew t'illude or fright
With monstrous Forms, and Spectres of the Night:
With Joys impure oft fill'd, with Sloth oppress'd,
Their Guardian Friends away, their Eyes and Breast:
Some Miser Fiends, most sordid and most base,
The lowest sunk of all th' Apostate Race;
These Mines and lone Church-yards, and Treasures hold,
And howl in Tombs around their secret Gold:
Yet these, the nobler Mind do what it can,
Maintain the strongest Party still in Man:
How few are proof against their fatal Arts!
Sure Satan arms with Gold his fiery Darts:
Like those of Love they no distinction make,
Kings, Peasants, Civil, Sacred, all they take;
All but one rank of Men, they ne'er took place,
Ne'er found a Quarry in the tuneful Race:
'Tis strange that Poets are not virtuous still,
Since out of reach of Gold, that Root of ill.
A Spy thro' Sodom's Lake shot swift to Hell
And brought th' affrightful News, repuls'd before,
The Conclave he resolves to call no more,
Till some great Act atchiev'd, some Mischief done,
So black, as he'd himself not blush to own.
From every Squadron silently he drew,
266
Some from blasphemous Belial did command,
From Moloch some, but most from Envy's band:
Such as all Parties might to his engage;
Some skill'd in raising Tumults, Storms and Rage:
The same that tempted Dathan e'er he fell,
And dragg'd him, yet alive, thro' Earth's black Gulf to Hell.
Some like himself, when cheating facil Eve,
So subtle they'd almost th' Elect deceive:
These guilty Mortals, knew t'illude or fright
With monstrous Forms, and Spectres of the Night:
With Joys impure oft fill'd, with Sloth oppress'd,
Their Guardian Friends away, their Eyes and Breast:
Some Miser Fiends, most sordid and most base,
The lowest sunk of all th' Apostate Race;
These Mines and lone Church-yards, and Treasures hold,
And howl in Tombs around their secret Gold:
Yet these, the nobler Mind do what it can,
Maintain the strongest Party still in Man:
How few are proof against their fatal Arts!
Sure Satan arms with Gold his fiery Darts:
Like those of Love they no distinction make,
Kings, Peasants, Civil, Sacred, all they take;
All but one rank of Men, they ne'er took place,
Ne'er found a Quarry in the tuneful Race:
'Tis strange that Poets are not virtuous still,
Since out of reach of Gold, that Root of ill.
These Spirits their Leader, in whose Cause they fell,
Musters in Hast, the strong Gensdarms of Hell;
These Troops of his own Houshold did review;
Then swift to Earth for Mans Destruction flew;
Arriv'd, each takes his Post, which well they knew.
As the sly Tyrant order'd, each conceal,
Lest some kind Angel shou'd to Man reveal
What their design; some did themselves dispose
T'excite their Friends, and some to tempt their Foes:
I'th' foremost Rank, their Leader wings his way,
For Night had now reliev'd the weary Day,
To Salem's Towr's, and as he o'er 'em flew,
A spiteful glance and Curse amongst 'em threw;
Afraid lest the fair City shou'd Repent,
And by their Pray'rs the destin'd Wrath prevent.
To the high Priest's proud Palace did repair,
And like a falling-Star shot headlong there;
The Guards and Gates he penetrating past,
Swift and invisible, and round him cast
The Form of old Hircanus, grave and sage,
The same his Face, his Stature, Meen and Age;
His Voice the same, his Hands a Censer bore,
The sacred Mitre on his Brows he wore.
Musters in Hast, the strong Gensdarms of Hell;
These Troops of his own Houshold did review;
Then swift to Earth for Mans Destruction flew;
Arriv'd, each takes his Post, which well they knew.
As the sly Tyrant order'd, each conceal,
Lest some kind Angel shou'd to Man reveal
What their design; some did themselves dispose
T'excite their Friends, and some to tempt their Foes:
I'th' foremost Rank, their Leader wings his way,
For Night had now reliev'd the weary Day,
To Salem's Towr's, and as he o'er 'em flew,
A spiteful glance and Curse amongst 'em threw;
267
And by their Pray'rs the destin'd Wrath prevent.
To the high Priest's proud Palace did repair,
And like a falling-Star shot headlong there;
The Guards and Gates he penetrating past,
Swift and invisible, and round him cast
The Form of old Hircanus, grave and sage,
The same his Face, his Stature, Meen and Age;
His Voice the same, his Hands a Censer bore,
The sacred Mitre on his Brows he wore.
In still and deep Repose the Pontiff lay,
Tir'd with the Work and Pleasures of the Day;
Stern Caiphas—The Fiend approach'd his Bed,
And leaning on his Hand, his Palsy'd Head,
With loud and lamentable Voice he said;
“Awake my Son! Is't thus your Flocks you keep?
Or now Awake or else for ever Sleep!
But canst thou Sleep?—Yes—Canst thou stoop so low,
To yield the glorious Day without a Blow,
—T'our Laws, our Nations and our Temples Foe?
Who now, by your remissness, fierce and proud,
Heads dark Cabals among the factious Crowd.
All that is Sacred, left without defence,
You violate my Tomb, and raise me thence.
Was it for this my great Forefathers broke
A Strangers Chains, shook off the Heathen Yoke?
For this like Bulwarks round their Country stood,
And shed such Seas of honourable Blood?
O ye great Maccabees! too dear it cost,
To purchase what your Sons have tamely lost:
Say, did Hircanus thus your Line disgrace,
Or act a thing beneath your glorious Race?
He grasp'd the Censer and the Sword you bore,
Your Mitre and your Diadem he wore;
Spite of ill Fortune he preserv'd your Fame,
Nor trembled e'en at mighty Pompey's name.
Scarce half his Pow'r his weak Successors share;
Nor only you the Roman Thraldom bear:
(Since Manly 'tis to yield, if Men subdue)
But e'en a weak Enchanter conquers you;
If ought by Herbs and pow'rful Names h'has done,
To Solomon's wise Sons it can't b'unknown:
Yet still he Lives, you the blind Crowd forsakes,
And droves of Proselytes each hou'r he makes:
These will he soon to greater Things persuade,
The Sanhedrim and sacred Throne invade:
Hast then—The Crown and Royal Ensigns bring,
The Galilæan Carpenter's your King.
Tir'd with the Work and Pleasures of the Day;
Stern Caiphas—The Fiend approach'd his Bed,
And leaning on his Hand, his Palsy'd Head,
With loud and lamentable Voice he said;
“Awake my Son! Is't thus your Flocks you keep?
Or now Awake or else for ever Sleep!
But canst thou Sleep?—Yes—Canst thou stoop so low,
To yield the glorious Day without a Blow,
—T'our Laws, our Nations and our Temples Foe?
Who now, by your remissness, fierce and proud,
Heads dark Cabals among the factious Crowd.
All that is Sacred, left without defence,
You violate my Tomb, and raise me thence.
Was it for this my great Forefathers broke
A Strangers Chains, shook off the Heathen Yoke?
For this like Bulwarks round their Country stood,
And shed such Seas of honourable Blood?
O ye great Maccabees! too dear it cost,
To purchase what your Sons have tamely lost:
Say, did Hircanus thus your Line disgrace,
Or act a thing beneath your glorious Race?
He grasp'd the Censer and the Sword you bore,
Your Mitre and your Diadem he wore;
Spite of ill Fortune he preserv'd your Fame,
Nor trembled e'en at mighty Pompey's name.
Scarce half his Pow'r his weak Successors share;
Nor only you the Roman Thraldom bear:
(Since Manly 'tis to yield, if Men subdue)
But e'en a weak Enchanter conquers you;
268
To Solomon's wise Sons it can't b'unknown:
Yet still he Lives, you the blind Crowd forsakes,
And droves of Proselytes each hou'r he makes:
These will he soon to greater Things persuade,
The Sanhedrim and sacred Throne invade:
Hast then—The Crown and Royal Ensigns bring,
The Galilæan Carpenter's your King.
—But shall he be, or are my Fears in vain?
O'er none but Slaves, a Slave deserves to reign:
Tho' yet he do's not—Israel yet is free,
And will, I know, maintain their Liberty;
Quench the new-kindled Flame, and pull this Serpent down,
Before he higher leaps and gets a Crown:
—Hast then, and tho' past Ills you can't redress
Him, Meditating more, secure, oppress!
Or there dispatch, or else t'his Fate convey,
To purge the Town on this great festal Day;
Call you the Sanhedrim, I'll find the way.
O'er none but Slaves, a Slave deserves to reign:
Tho' yet he do's not—Israel yet is free,
And will, I know, maintain their Liberty;
Quench the new-kindled Flame, and pull this Serpent down,
Before he higher leaps and gets a Crown:
—Hast then, and tho' past Ills you can't redress
Him, Meditating more, secure, oppress!
Or there dispatch, or else t'his Fate convey,
To purge the Town on this great festal Day;
Call you the Sanhedrim, I'll find the way.
He said and sunk—The Pontiff rais'd his Eyes,
And looking gastly round, My Guards, he cries;
All in cold Sweats—Yes, mighty sacred Shade,
Thy kind, thy wholsom Counsel shall b'obey'd:
He Lives no longer, his sure Fate is past,
'Tis done, and this succeeding Day's his last.
And looking gastly round, My Guards, he cries;
All in cold Sweats—Yes, mighty sacred Shade,
Thy kind, thy wholsom Counsel shall b'obey'd:
He Lives no longer, his sure Fate is past,
'Tis done, and this succeeding Day's his last.
His ent'ring Guards he round the City sends,
And calls to Council his confiding Friends.
The Elders, and the Priests of greater sway,
Each did their numerous subject Course obey:
Pressing Affairs did their wise Councils need,
They must attend, with silence and with speed:
Yet not so close they the dark Message do,
But Joseph and the wise Gamaliel knew:
To Council they among the rest repair,
And meet their Friend, sage Nicodemus there.
All present, Caiaphas ascends the Chair,
And thus began—“You'll, Fathers! soon believe,
Not without Cause, I thus disturbance give
T'th' Honourable House, nor need I fear,
The just Occasion known, from any here
Reproof for this Assembly. But too well,
All who are Lovers of our Israel,
The growth of Nazareth's curst Sect perceive,
On their Impostor, the whole World believe;
How undeplor'd our own and Nations Fate,
Unless we help, if help's not yet too late:
—If nothing us our Countries danger move,
(Tho' no Good-man but must his Country love;)
If we these Walls can leave, and see our Place,
And Honour fill'd by a vile Earth-born Race;
So humbly, or so meanly quit our Seat,
And live without a Name, obscurely Great;
If we all this might kindly give away,
Our Laws, our sacred Laws, we can't betray.
There there the Venom lurks, at these he drives,
Their Ruine he in close Cabals contrives;
Th' abhorr'd of Nazareth—
The word promulg'd by Angels he'd repeal,
A better Law than Moses did, reveal;
Unletter'd Peasant he, assuming thus
A Pow'r unknown, must teach the World and Us.
The Crowd, 'tis true, his Miracles proclaim;
But did not Egypt's Juglers do the same?
Spite of our Sense, our Reason still is free,
Nor are we, were it not, at Liberty:
For wond'rous Signs our Law we must not leave,
Nor a false Prophet, tempted thus, receive:
Shou'd he prevail, which O avert! ye Pow'rs
That rule the World, his Laws exchang'd for ours;
What shou'd we gain? What has he more compleat,
Then our great Prophet? What Sublime or Great!
For Carpenters or Fishermen they'll do,
But Fathers, not for such as Us and You;
Rulers, and Warriors, to brave deeds inclin'd;
These clog the Soul and sink the rising Mind:
Expos'd t'Affronts, you must the Giver spare,
Nay Love, they teach you nothing but to bear:
Now sunk too low, he strait too high aspires,
And strange impracticable heights requires;
He wou'd not have us men, but spite of Fate,
Be neither pleas'd or angry, love or hate;
Not e'en our Thoughts, our Sense, our Reason free,
Clogg'd with unnat'ral Laws and Mystery:
No Rule he will, besides his own endure,
Where his obtains, no Government's secure:
Our Nations Crimes and Fate, his daily Themes,
And God and us alike, th' abhorr'd Blasphemes.
Not e'en our blest eternal Temple spares;
Nor more the Heathen or Samaria dares
Our Pow'r to censure, his proud Sect disown,
Our Curses lost in Air, or backward thrown;
Serpents and Vipers this high Court he calls,
Sly Hypocrites, gay Tombs and whited Walls:
This his Respect, thus Fathers, us he treats;
'Tis a small Crime that with th' unclean he Eats:
All our Traditions broke; in vain we grieve,
Corban and he together cannot live:
Yet more, beyond what's Mortal he presumes,
The awful Name of God himself assumes;
With the unrival'd Father equal he,
The Son, the Word, born from Eternity:
If he impunely this, if still we bear,
How can we but deserve a Fate, severe
As what th' Impostor threatens?—How can we
Our Selves, our Children and our Nation free,
From the black Guilt and Fate of Blasphemy?
This restless Troubler of our Israel dies;
This fatal Achan we must sacrifice:
—And if the sacred Ephod ought inspire,
I feel the glowing sparks of Heav'nly Fire:
Then hear what my enlighten'd Mind foresees!
Can that be bad which Heav'n it self decrees?
“Israel in vain thy Fate thou dost attempt to flie,
“Unless for all thy Sons, one Man devoted die.
And calls to Council his confiding Friends.
The Elders, and the Priests of greater sway,
Each did their numerous subject Course obey:
Pressing Affairs did their wise Councils need,
They must attend, with silence and with speed:
Yet not so close they the dark Message do,
But Joseph and the wise Gamaliel knew:
To Council they among the rest repair,
And meet their Friend, sage Nicodemus there.
All present, Caiaphas ascends the Chair,
And thus began—“You'll, Fathers! soon believe,
Not without Cause, I thus disturbance give
T'th' Honourable House, nor need I fear,
The just Occasion known, from any here
269
All who are Lovers of our Israel,
The growth of Nazareth's curst Sect perceive,
On their Impostor, the whole World believe;
How undeplor'd our own and Nations Fate,
Unless we help, if help's not yet too late:
—If nothing us our Countries danger move,
(Tho' no Good-man but must his Country love;)
If we these Walls can leave, and see our Place,
And Honour fill'd by a vile Earth-born Race;
So humbly, or so meanly quit our Seat,
And live without a Name, obscurely Great;
If we all this might kindly give away,
Our Laws, our sacred Laws, we can't betray.
There there the Venom lurks, at these he drives,
Their Ruine he in close Cabals contrives;
Th' abhorr'd of Nazareth—
The word promulg'd by Angels he'd repeal,
A better Law than Moses did, reveal;
Unletter'd Peasant he, assuming thus
A Pow'r unknown, must teach the World and Us.
The Crowd, 'tis true, his Miracles proclaim;
But did not Egypt's Juglers do the same?
Spite of our Sense, our Reason still is free,
Nor are we, were it not, at Liberty:
For wond'rous Signs our Law we must not leave,
Nor a false Prophet, tempted thus, receive:
Shou'd he prevail, which O avert! ye Pow'rs
That rule the World, his Laws exchang'd for ours;
What shou'd we gain? What has he more compleat,
Then our great Prophet? What Sublime or Great!
For Carpenters or Fishermen they'll do,
But Fathers, not for such as Us and You;
Rulers, and Warriors, to brave deeds inclin'd;
These clog the Soul and sink the rising Mind:
Expos'd t'Affronts, you must the Giver spare,
Nay Love, they teach you nothing but to bear:
Now sunk too low, he strait too high aspires,
And strange impracticable heights requires;
He wou'd not have us men, but spite of Fate,
270
Not e'en our Thoughts, our Sense, our Reason free,
Clogg'd with unnat'ral Laws and Mystery:
No Rule he will, besides his own endure,
Where his obtains, no Government's secure:
Our Nations Crimes and Fate, his daily Themes,
And God and us alike, th' abhorr'd Blasphemes.
Not e'en our blest eternal Temple spares;
Nor more the Heathen or Samaria dares
Our Pow'r to censure, his proud Sect disown,
Our Curses lost in Air, or backward thrown;
Serpents and Vipers this high Court he calls,
Sly Hypocrites, gay Tombs and whited Walls:
This his Respect, thus Fathers, us he treats;
'Tis a small Crime that with th' unclean he Eats:
All our Traditions broke; in vain we grieve,
Corban and he together cannot live:
Yet more, beyond what's Mortal he presumes,
The awful Name of God himself assumes;
With the unrival'd Father equal he,
The Son, the Word, born from Eternity:
If he impunely this, if still we bear,
How can we but deserve a Fate, severe
As what th' Impostor threatens?—How can we
Our Selves, our Children and our Nation free,
From the black Guilt and Fate of Blasphemy?
This restless Troubler of our Israel dies;
This fatal Achan we must sacrifice:
—And if the sacred Ephod ought inspire,
I feel the glowing sparks of Heav'nly Fire:
Then hear what my enlighten'd Mind foresees!
Can that be bad which Heav'n it self decrees?
“Israel in vain thy Fate thou dost attempt to flie,
“Unless for all thy Sons, one Man devoted die.
He said, then to debates the matter leaves;
The Sanhedrim with different Tasts receives
His warm Oration, some his Zeal admire;
The Soul of Phinehas sure must him inspire;
The Church can never pay too much esteem,
T'had sunk infallibly, if not for him.
While those who look'd with more impartial Eyes,
Saw thro' with ease, the thin, tho' neat Disguise;
Saw all vain Sophistry and specious Lyes:
Yet none dar'd stem the muddy Torrent, none,
Till prudent Nicodemus, bolder grown,
Thus rising spake—“With all submission due,
And just respect t'his Holiness and you;
Men! Brethren! Fathers! a few Words I'd add,
To what's with so much Zeal already said.
Well has it been observ'd, and none denies,
Our Laws are Sacred, the Blasphemer dies
Convict by these, but the same Laws take care,
We none condemn till his Defence we hear.
Who cou'd be safe, might pop'lar Fame accuse?
None here, I dare be bold, that Judg wou'd chuse:
—Not that an Advocate I'd e'er be thought,
For any who my Countries ruin sought;
But Truth and Justice this—He had gone on,
But the brave Lord of Rama's ancient Town,
Thus fervent interrupts him—Why should we
Asham'd of so Divine a Master be?
Let Naked Truth prevail, plain nat'ral Sence,
Without the gaudy Paint of Eloquence.
I own him, I confess him—Lord, I'm thine!
(Tho' sordid Interest or Pride repine:)
He came from Heav'n, and all his Laws Divine.
What e'er the Sacrifice, I'll him adore,
I love my Country much, but Justice more;
He Laws refix? with God's blest VVill dispense?
And Word?—The most improbable pretence,
On which e'er suffer'd spotless Innocence.
Can he Blaspheme the Heav'n he hope's t'enjoy?
Can he God's Temple build, and yet destroy?
How oft to Law and Prophets he appeals,
My self I've heard, nor other Truths reveals,
But what within our sacred Volumes lie,
Tho' veil'd till now in Clouds and Mystery.
How oft (agen I my own Witness give;
You us'd not Fathers, me to disbelieve!)
Declar'd one Tittle shou'd not pass away,
Till this vast Frame of Heav'n and Earth decay!
Eternal Truths must our short World survive,
Writ on our Souls as long as Souls can live.
These may be blotted, tho' they can't be raz'd,
He graves 'em new when by our Crimes defac'd:
Sure we're but Men, nor all things all discern;
Are we too wise from Heav'n it self to learn?
When the Oraculous Ephod us'd to shine,
Did any doubt the Characters Divine?
Say not 'tis ceas'd, see here decipher'd still,
More plain and legible, the Father's Will!
Th' Eternal Word does mortal Mould assume,
Our wretched Clay—Does he in this presume?
Announc'd from Heav'n t'instruct the World he came;
Cou'd e'er Impostor yet pretend the same?
Or shou'd they Honour, they, or Profit seek;
But Zions King is humble, lowly, meek:
Lowly, yet Great, all here beneath a God;
He treads on Crowns as on the Stars he trod:
If we Heav'ns attestation shou'd deny,
Twice spoke in Thunder from th' opening Sky,
In all, the Son of God distinctly shown,
In all did him th' Eternal Father own:
We Moses too must leave, in Clouds and Smoak;
But once from Heav'n the Ten dread Words were spoke.
The Sanhedrim with different Tasts receives
His warm Oration, some his Zeal admire;
The Soul of Phinehas sure must him inspire;
The Church can never pay too much esteem,
T'had sunk infallibly, if not for him.
271
Saw thro' with ease, the thin, tho' neat Disguise;
Saw all vain Sophistry and specious Lyes:
Yet none dar'd stem the muddy Torrent, none,
Till prudent Nicodemus, bolder grown,
Thus rising spake—“With all submission due,
And just respect t'his Holiness and you;
Men! Brethren! Fathers! a few Words I'd add,
To what's with so much Zeal already said.
Well has it been observ'd, and none denies,
Our Laws are Sacred, the Blasphemer dies
Convict by these, but the same Laws take care,
We none condemn till his Defence we hear.
Who cou'd be safe, might pop'lar Fame accuse?
None here, I dare be bold, that Judg wou'd chuse:
—Not that an Advocate I'd e'er be thought,
For any who my Countries ruin sought;
But Truth and Justice this—He had gone on,
But the brave Lord of Rama's ancient Town,
Thus fervent interrupts him—Why should we
Asham'd of so Divine a Master be?
Let Naked Truth prevail, plain nat'ral Sence,
Without the gaudy Paint of Eloquence.
I own him, I confess him—Lord, I'm thine!
(Tho' sordid Interest or Pride repine:)
He came from Heav'n, and all his Laws Divine.
What e'er the Sacrifice, I'll him adore,
I love my Country much, but Justice more;
He Laws refix? with God's blest VVill dispense?
And Word?—The most improbable pretence,
On which e'er suffer'd spotless Innocence.
Can he Blaspheme the Heav'n he hope's t'enjoy?
Can he God's Temple build, and yet destroy?
How oft to Law and Prophets he appeals,
My self I've heard, nor other Truths reveals,
But what within our sacred Volumes lie,
Tho' veil'd till now in Clouds and Mystery.
How oft (agen I my own Witness give;
You us'd not Fathers, me to disbelieve!)
Declar'd one Tittle shou'd not pass away,
272
Eternal Truths must our short World survive,
Writ on our Souls as long as Souls can live.
These may be blotted, tho' they can't be raz'd,
He graves 'em new when by our Crimes defac'd:
Sure we're but Men, nor all things all discern;
Are we too wise from Heav'n it self to learn?
When the Oraculous Ephod us'd to shine,
Did any doubt the Characters Divine?
Say not 'tis ceas'd, see here decipher'd still,
More plain and legible, the Father's Will!
Th' Eternal Word does mortal Mould assume,
Our wretched Clay—Does he in this presume?
Announc'd from Heav'n t'instruct the World he came;
Cou'd e'er Impostor yet pretend the same?
Or shou'd they Honour, they, or Profit seek;
But Zions King is humble, lowly, meek:
Lowly, yet Great, all here beneath a God;
He treads on Crowns as on the Stars he trod:
If we Heav'ns attestation shou'd deny,
Twice spoke in Thunder from th' opening Sky,
In all, the Son of God distinctly shown,
In all did him th' Eternal Father own:
We Moses too must leave, in Clouds and Smoak;
But once from Heav'n the Ten dread Words were spoke.
But Egypts Juglers wond'rous Signs did shew,
'Tis own'd; but did not our Great Moses too?
And yet you all confess his Mission clear;
Assign the difference and we'll find it here.
Theirs for false Gods and Idols vain were wrought,
The other in Defence of Truth were brought:
T'attest the one Supreme, their Charms o'erpowr'd,
As th' active Hebrew Serpent theirs devour'd.
Further, 'twas long foreshown, the chosen Band
Shou'd deep enslav'd remain in Mizraim's Land,
Till manumitted thence by God's own dread Right-hand.
Truth, Prophesies, and many a wond'rous Sign,
Beyond dispute, attest our Lord Divine:
What Rabby, e'er so clearly taught before,
In Spirit and Truth, the one true God t'adore?
Not all things Moses saw, we something need,
Beside, why did the Prophets else succeed?
Another Teacher why himself foreshow,
If from his Laws the World did all things know;
Jesus this Teacher, true if God be true,
For none but God such mighty Works cou'd do;
His Doctrines rather are renew'd, than new.
We'd Gold at first, but he refines our Gold,
And his New Law, fills and explains the Old:
The Piece before was masterly and fine,
But he Life-touches gives, and makes it more Divine.
Death their desert, the heavy threatning fear!
So Moses self, who him refuse to hear.
How many a Prophet sings, how full and plain,
Of the Messiah's wond'rous Birth and Reign.
His wond'rous Works? if need of proof there be,
Ev'n Caiaphas has own'd that this is He;
All Time and Place, and Ages him confess,
All wait him now—Shall Isr'el then do less?
In every part of Natures System found;
That VVorld he made, by him together bound.
So just his Laws, shou'd Heav'n no witness give,
Right Reason wou'd oblige us to believe:
Shall we Heav'ns condescension then abuse,
Since over-weight it gives us, all refuse?
So just his Laws, that were they but obey'd,
The World wou'd soon a Paradise be made:
If mean, may I that meanness ever have!
Still may my Passion be my Reasons slave,
Above all Wrongs, like all the Great and Brave:
Above my self as well as others live,
Still I'm a Conqu'ror if I still forgive:
He that dares die, die scorn'd and tortur'd too,
But dares not an unhandsom Action do;
He that dares own his Friend, tho' far disjoin'd,
And absent long, tho' Earth and Hell combin'd,
Satan and Sanhedrims against him sworn,
By two whole Worlds vast weight not overborn:
Equal, nay still superior, still secure;
Myriads of Fiends assault, unmov'd endure:
Myriads of Men almost as black defie,
Impregnable in his own Honesty;
Nought but his Soul and Honour cares to save—
—If such as he be base—The World is brave.
'Tis own'd; but did not our Great Moses too?
And yet you all confess his Mission clear;
Assign the difference and we'll find it here.
Theirs for false Gods and Idols vain were wrought,
The other in Defence of Truth were brought:
T'attest the one Supreme, their Charms o'erpowr'd,
As th' active Hebrew Serpent theirs devour'd.
Further, 'twas long foreshown, the chosen Band
Shou'd deep enslav'd remain in Mizraim's Land,
Till manumitted thence by God's own dread Right-hand.
Truth, Prophesies, and many a wond'rous Sign,
Beyond dispute, attest our Lord Divine:
What Rabby, e'er so clearly taught before,
In Spirit and Truth, the one true God t'adore?
273
Beside, why did the Prophets else succeed?
Another Teacher why himself foreshow,
If from his Laws the World did all things know;
Jesus this Teacher, true if God be true,
For none but God such mighty Works cou'd do;
His Doctrines rather are renew'd, than new.
We'd Gold at first, but he refines our Gold,
And his New Law, fills and explains the Old:
The Piece before was masterly and fine,
But he Life-touches gives, and makes it more Divine.
Death their desert, the heavy threatning fear!
So Moses self, who him refuse to hear.
How many a Prophet sings, how full and plain,
Of the Messiah's wond'rous Birth and Reign.
His wond'rous Works? if need of proof there be,
Ev'n Caiaphas has own'd that this is He;
All Time and Place, and Ages him confess,
All wait him now—Shall Isr'el then do less?
In every part of Natures System found;
That VVorld he made, by him together bound.
So just his Laws, shou'd Heav'n no witness give,
Right Reason wou'd oblige us to believe:
Shall we Heav'ns condescension then abuse,
Since over-weight it gives us, all refuse?
So just his Laws, that were they but obey'd,
The World wou'd soon a Paradise be made:
If mean, may I that meanness ever have!
Still may my Passion be my Reasons slave,
Above all Wrongs, like all the Great and Brave:
Above my self as well as others live,
Still I'm a Conqu'ror if I still forgive:
He that dares die, die scorn'd and tortur'd too,
But dares not an unhandsom Action do;
He that dares own his Friend, tho' far disjoin'd,
And absent long, tho' Earth and Hell combin'd,
Satan and Sanhedrims against him sworn,
By two whole Worlds vast weight not overborn:
Equal, nay still superior, still secure;
Myriads of Fiends assault, unmov'd endure:
274
Impregnable in his own Honesty;
Nought but his Soul and Honour cares to save—
—If such as he be base—The World is brave.
No, his worst Foes ne'er thought him base or mean;
What e'er their Words—Why change they else the Scene?
Why else that he requires such Heights complain,
As weak humanity attempts in vain?
The World too good he'd make, too pure his Law—
—In Modesty that shameful Plea withdraw!
Yet here it sticks—Who can such strictness bear?
We must not steal, nor rail, nor lye, nor swear.
A spotless Breast he loves, his Laws require
To tame the Rage of Anger and Desire:
Manly and just they ask, and give no less,
Than height of Virtue, and of Happiness;
They're possible, convenient, easie, free,
Nat'ral as undissembled Piety:
What Nature or true Reason can't receive,
He neither bids us practise, nor believe:
If sunk below our proper Selves in Vice,
Or Folly we, he comes, as great as Wise,
To raise us to the state of Paradise.
Who e'er did the three Principles deny,
Gentile or Jew, nor other Mystery
Unknown to us, the whole of his contains,
The rest the vain device of fabling Brains.
What e'er their Words—Why change they else the Scene?
Why else that he requires such Heights complain,
As weak humanity attempts in vain?
The World too good he'd make, too pure his Law—
—In Modesty that shameful Plea withdraw!
Yet here it sticks—Who can such strictness bear?
We must not steal, nor rail, nor lye, nor swear.
A spotless Breast he loves, his Laws require
To tame the Rage of Anger and Desire:
Manly and just they ask, and give no less,
Than height of Virtue, and of Happiness;
They're possible, convenient, easie, free,
Nat'ral as undissembled Piety:
What Nature or true Reason can't receive,
He neither bids us practise, nor believe:
If sunk below our proper Selves in Vice,
Or Folly we, he comes, as great as Wise,
To raise us to the state of Paradise.
Who e'er did the three Principles deny,
Gentile or Jew, nor other Mystery
Unknown to us, the whole of his contains,
The rest the vain device of fabling Brains.
But above all the Slanders which rebound,
And like their Curses, those which cast 'em wound;
None so ill-said, tho' deadly, as that he
Is to all Government an Enemy.
Can Orders self Confusion e'er approve?
(As justly may the Hawk implead the Dove,)
War suit the Prince of Peace, or Hate with Heav'n-born Love.
If he one Lord proclaims, one Faith requires,
The same our Church believes, the same desires;
Yet rational and free he leaves us still,
No Force upon the Intellect or Will:
The still small Voice of Reason warns from Sin
Lost Man without, his gentle Spirit within.
His Follow'rs bids with tenderness reprove;
No Argument so strong, so soft as Love.
Ev'n the poor Publican he'll not disdain;
None that repents refuse to entertain:
Yet hates a Hypocrite, all Hearts he knows,
The secret Villain seldom fails t'expose:
With these he can almost be angry; These
He oft declares Heav'ns righteous Plagues shall seize:
Our guilty Land, if in their Crimes resolv'd,
Avert it Heav'n! in the same Fate involv'd.
Why will you not the Surgeons Hand endure,
To launce the VVound which yet admits a Cure?
Will the All-high from Dust a Check receive,
Nor thunder, till the Creature gives him leave?
Can he blaspheme himself, or is h'affraid
Of Laws which his poor crawling Worms have made?
Hear my Confession then, 'tis plain and free,
Once more the Word is God, and Jesus He:
In mortal Form, Flesh clouds th' Eternal Sun,
Like humane Soul and Body, two in one.
Hence, tho' the Pontiff urges, 'tis Decreed,
That for our Sins, this spotless Lamb shou'd bleed;
This can, to ill nor force us, nor excuse;
Fig-leaves like these ev'n Adam wou'd not use:
To us unknown the secret Laws of Fate,
Move us they may, but not necessitate.
Reason with Truth reveal'd our steps must guide,
Else you defend the blackest Paricide;
Else Heav'ns the Principal, more deep by far,
But Accessaries we in Murders are.
And like their Curses, those which cast 'em wound;
None so ill-said, tho' deadly, as that he
Is to all Government an Enemy.
Can Orders self Confusion e'er approve?
(As justly may the Hawk implead the Dove,)
War suit the Prince of Peace, or Hate with Heav'n-born Love.
If he one Lord proclaims, one Faith requires,
The same our Church believes, the same desires;
Yet rational and free he leaves us still,
No Force upon the Intellect or Will:
The still small Voice of Reason warns from Sin
Lost Man without, his gentle Spirit within.
275
No Argument so strong, so soft as Love.
Ev'n the poor Publican he'll not disdain;
None that repents refuse to entertain:
Yet hates a Hypocrite, all Hearts he knows,
The secret Villain seldom fails t'expose:
With these he can almost be angry; These
He oft declares Heav'ns righteous Plagues shall seize:
Our guilty Land, if in their Crimes resolv'd,
Avert it Heav'n! in the same Fate involv'd.
Why will you not the Surgeons Hand endure,
To launce the VVound which yet admits a Cure?
Will the All-high from Dust a Check receive,
Nor thunder, till the Creature gives him leave?
Can he blaspheme himself, or is h'affraid
Of Laws which his poor crawling Worms have made?
Hear my Confession then, 'tis plain and free,
Once more the Word is God, and Jesus He:
In mortal Form, Flesh clouds th' Eternal Sun,
Like humane Soul and Body, two in one.
Hence, tho' the Pontiff urges, 'tis Decreed,
That for our Sins, this spotless Lamb shou'd bleed;
This can, to ill nor force us, nor excuse;
Fig-leaves like these ev'n Adam wou'd not use:
To us unknown the secret Laws of Fate,
Move us they may, but not necessitate.
Reason with Truth reveal'd our steps must guide,
Else you defend the blackest Paricide;
Else Heav'ns the Principal, more deep by far,
But Accessaries we in Murders are.
Since then 'tis plain, that this just Man is free
From all those Ills that Spite or Calumny
Conjoin'd wou'd blast him with, nay since far more
He's the Messiah promis'd long before;
The Lord, the God whom Israel ought t'adore:
O rather kiss the Son, just Presents send,
Avert the threaten'd Wrath, what's past amend,
And he'll forgive, engag'd your mighty Friend.
From all those Ills that Spite or Calumny
Conjoin'd wou'd blast him with, nay since far more
He's the Messiah promis'd long before;
The Lord, the God whom Israel ought t'adore:
O rather kiss the Son, just Presents send,
Avert the threaten'd Wrath, what's past amend,
And he'll forgive, engag'd your mighty Friend.
Undaunted, Joseph thus—The Senate gaz'd,
All, mute, most pleas'd; some angry, all amaz'd:
All, mute, most pleas'd; some angry, all amaz'd:
276
So, when rough Boreas! thy black Squadrons sweep,
The aged Bosom of th' Atlantick Deep;
Convolv'd, the foaming angry Surges rise,
The loud Gigantick Waves invade the Skies:
But when blest Zephyr from his spicy Vales,
Rides gently out with soft Etesion Gales;
The Billows husht, lie panting on the shore,
Appeas'd, the factious Floods forget to roar,
And smiling, wonder why they rag'd before.
The aged Bosom of th' Atlantick Deep;
Convolv'd, the foaming angry Surges rise,
The loud Gigantick Waves invade the Skies:
But when blest Zephyr from his spicy Vales,
Rides gently out with soft Etesion Gales;
The Billows husht, lie panting on the shore,
Appeas'd, the factious Floods forget to roar,
And smiling, wonder why they rag'd before.
Dazled with Truth, so here their Passions yield,
And Reason had almost regain'd the Field;
All but fierce Caiaphas, who frowning by,
Wou'd nothing grant, yet nothing cou'd deny:
Asham'd, not griev'd, he in the Cause engag'd;
Silenc'd, confounded, baffled, more enrag'd:
Yet soon his stedfast Brow and Voice regains,
Argues, reproves, denounces and complains;
Unknowing to repent, all limits he
Transgresses, both of Truth and Decency.
Now Right, now Wrong, th' unsteddy Senate sway'd,
Their Conscience now, their Int'rest now obey'd:
Still who speaks lasts speaks best, or the Debate,
At least by Numbers manag'd, not by Weight;
Equally furious in their Love or Hate.
And Reason had almost regain'd the Field;
All but fierce Caiaphas, who frowning by,
Wou'd nothing grant, yet nothing cou'd deny:
Asham'd, not griev'd, he in the Cause engag'd;
Silenc'd, confounded, baffled, more enrag'd:
Yet soon his stedfast Brow and Voice regains,
Argues, reproves, denounces and complains;
Unknowing to repent, all limits he
Transgresses, both of Truth and Decency.
Now Right, now Wrong, th' unsteddy Senate sway'd,
Their Conscience now, their Int'rest now obey'd:
Still who speaks lasts speaks best, or the Debate,
At least by Numbers manag'd, not by Weight;
Equally furious in their Love or Hate.
While here contending Minds and Int'rests fright,
Under the shelter of the silent Night,
Our Lord, who knew the Pow'r and Rage of Hell,
Takes his last Supper and his last Farewel;
Did his weak Friends, and the false Traitor know,
Yet, mild, submits, since Heav'n wou'd have it so.
Under the shelter of the silent Night,
Our Lord, who knew the Pow'r and Rage of Hell,
Takes his last Supper and his last Farewel;
Did his weak Friends, and the false Traitor know,
Yet, mild, submits, since Heav'n wou'd have it so.
First on the Lamb, as Use requires, they fed,
As their Forefathers, when from Egypt led,
The Cup of Blessing then, and hallow'd Bread,
In his bless'd Hands our Saviour deigns to take,
To his Disciples Gives, and thus he spake.
As their Forefathers, when from Egypt led,
The Cup of Blessing then, and hallow'd Bread,
In his bless'd Hands our Saviour deigns to take,
To his Disciples Gives, and thus he spake.
“Take, Eat! this is my Body, soon design'd,
A painful Sacrifice for lost Mankind!
This my Memorial when from Earth I'm gone.
The hallow'd Goblet next, and thus goes on;
This is my Blood, for Man's Redemption shed,
Drink all of this, as all receiv'd the Bread!
I go, the Traitor and my Fate I know,
But woe to that lost Wretch by whom I go!
He's lurking here, his Hand is on the Board,
He eats my Bread, and yet betrays his Lord!
A painful Sacrifice for lost Mankind!
This my Memorial when from Earth I'm gone.
The hallow'd Goblet next, and thus goes on;
This is my Blood, for Man's Redemption shed,
277
I go, the Traitor and my Fate I know,
But woe to that lost Wretch by whom I go!
He's lurking here, his Hand is on the Board,
He eats my Bread, and yet betrays his Lord!
Each, jealous for himself with honest care,
Trembling enquires if he the Traitor were?
Iscariot with the rest, guilt in his Eyes
And double-faultring Tongue—Our Lord replies,
Thy self thou know'st, and canst too well divine;
To these my Friends the Sop shall be the Sign.
He, that receiv'd, departs, and leaves the rest:
Whole Satan in his avaritious Breast:
Himself to th' wav'ring Sanhedrim addrest.
This fair occasion soon decides the strife,
The Traitor bargains for his Masters Life.
The few good Men, who fearless did remain,
Against the Stream a while, stood firm in vain,
And when no more they cou'd their ground maintain,
Protesting, left the House; the Wretch demands
A Band of Men, and safely to their Hands
He'd him deliver, he his Haunts did know,
And cou'd to th' very place directly go:
He thirty Pieces only asks, Content
To serve 'em for the small Acknowledgment.
Ravish'd with wicked Joy they all provide,
Eager to follow their accursed Guide:
Mean while our Lord, well knowing Grief and Fear
Opprest his Friends, his fatal Hour so near;
Thus, Sad himself, to them did Comfort give:
Trembling enquires if he the Traitor were?
Iscariot with the rest, guilt in his Eyes
And double-faultring Tongue—Our Lord replies,
Thy self thou know'st, and canst too well divine;
To these my Friends the Sop shall be the Sign.
He, that receiv'd, departs, and leaves the rest:
Whole Satan in his avaritious Breast:
Himself to th' wav'ring Sanhedrim addrest.
This fair occasion soon decides the strife,
The Traitor bargains for his Masters Life.
The few good Men, who fearless did remain,
Against the Stream a while, stood firm in vain,
And when no more they cou'd their ground maintain,
Protesting, left the House; the Wretch demands
A Band of Men, and safely to their Hands
He'd him deliver, he his Haunts did know,
And cou'd to th' very place directly go:
He thirty Pieces only asks, Content
To serve 'em for the small Acknowledgment.
Ravish'd with wicked Joy they all provide,
Eager to follow their accursed Guide:
Mean while our Lord, well knowing Grief and Fear
Opprest his Friends, his fatal Hour so near;
Thus, Sad himself, to them did Comfort give:
“Let not your Hearts be troubled, but believe!
I go, so wills high Heav'n, but do not fear,
I'll Love and Guard you there as well as here!
I go before, nor can I, if I stay,
To those bright mansions, mark the shining Way;
Tho' absent, still I'll love you, still as dear,
If faithful still, as when I taught you here.
I the bless'd Paraclete will shortly send,
The wisest Advocate, the gentlest Friend;
Him nought but Sin can from the Breast remove,
O never, never grieve the spotless Dove!
If he your Friend, you may with smiles despise
The weak Efforts of your worst Enemies:
The World will hate you, (me it did, wou'd you
Escape?) the kindest thing the World can do!
Lifes ruffling Storms the greatest Friends will be,
If home they drive you to your Selves and Me.
Firm to my Cause, and each to other stand!
A Band of Friends, a glorious deathless Band!
—Yet soon, unguarded left, you'd Men be shown,
To me far better than your selves you're known:
Too weak your boasted Faith and Courage all,
You'd by th' unequal Tempter baffled fall:
Forsake my Cause, unguarded leave my Side,
Your Master and your Faith at once deny'd.
—When Cephas thus abrupt—Lord, I can die
For thy dear Name, but not thy Name deny:
As much the rest, with virtuous Grief and Pain,
They, so abject a baseness, all disdain.
When Jesus thus—Agen, your hearts I know,
And whether are deceiv'd, th' Event will show:
For You who such a Champion now appear,
And more than all the rest remov'd from fear;
Thrice, e'er this mournful Morn its beams display,
E'er thrice the watchful Fowl has warn'd the Day;
So weak when left to your own strength you are,
My Name, my very Knowledge you'll forswear.
But tho' th' infernal Foe so fierce assail,
And hopes on all my House he shall prevail,
I've pray'd—Your Faith may shake, but shall not fail.
O righteous Father hear! thy Will I've shown
To those thou gav'st me—O preserve thy own!
The World I leave to thy wise Will resign'd,
But these, a part of me, still leave behind.
O Guard 'em there, all intimately one,
Like thee, O righteous Father, and the Son!
Let thy bright Image ever on them shine,
Full fill'd with Grace, and Love, and Joy divine!
'Till the vain dazled VVorld confounded see,
That these from me came forth, as I from thee!
The genuine Glories of fair Virtue own,
Ay-Beaming-bright from thy illustrious Throne:
When Life's dull Scene is past, and wretched Days,
Thither, O thither thy true Servants raise!
A double Heav'n to them, to see and share,
Their happy Friends immortal Glories there!
Thro' me to them shall all thy Goodness shine,
Theirs all the Glory, all the Love that's mine;
What I with thee enjoy'd Eternal Ages past,
The same which shall to long Eternal Ages last.
I go, so wills high Heav'n, but do not fear,
I'll Love and Guard you there as well as here!
I go before, nor can I, if I stay,
To those bright mansions, mark the shining Way;
Tho' absent, still I'll love you, still as dear,
If faithful still, as when I taught you here.
I the bless'd Paraclete will shortly send,
The wisest Advocate, the gentlest Friend;
Him nought but Sin can from the Breast remove,
278
If he your Friend, you may with smiles despise
The weak Efforts of your worst Enemies:
The World will hate you, (me it did, wou'd you
Escape?) the kindest thing the World can do!
Lifes ruffling Storms the greatest Friends will be,
If home they drive you to your Selves and Me.
Firm to my Cause, and each to other stand!
A Band of Friends, a glorious deathless Band!
—Yet soon, unguarded left, you'd Men be shown,
To me far better than your selves you're known:
Too weak your boasted Faith and Courage all,
You'd by th' unequal Tempter baffled fall:
Forsake my Cause, unguarded leave my Side,
Your Master and your Faith at once deny'd.
—When Cephas thus abrupt—Lord, I can die
For thy dear Name, but not thy Name deny:
As much the rest, with virtuous Grief and Pain,
They, so abject a baseness, all disdain.
When Jesus thus—Agen, your hearts I know,
And whether are deceiv'd, th' Event will show:
For You who such a Champion now appear,
And more than all the rest remov'd from fear;
Thrice, e'er this mournful Morn its beams display,
E'er thrice the watchful Fowl has warn'd the Day;
So weak when left to your own strength you are,
My Name, my very Knowledge you'll forswear.
But tho' th' infernal Foe so fierce assail,
And hopes on all my House he shall prevail,
I've pray'd—Your Faith may shake, but shall not fail.
O righteous Father hear! thy Will I've shown
To those thou gav'st me—O preserve thy own!
The World I leave to thy wise Will resign'd,
But these, a part of me, still leave behind.
O Guard 'em there, all intimately one,
Like thee, O righteous Father, and the Son!
Let thy bright Image ever on them shine,
Full fill'd with Grace, and Love, and Joy divine!
'Till the vain dazled VVorld confounded see,
That these from me came forth, as I from thee!
279
Ay-Beaming-bright from thy illustrious Throne:
When Life's dull Scene is past, and wretched Days,
Thither, O thither thy true Servants raise!
A double Heav'n to them, to see and share,
Their happy Friends immortal Glories there!
Thro' me to them shall all thy Goodness shine,
Theirs all the Glory, all the Love that's mine;
What I with thee enjoy'd Eternal Ages past,
The same which shall to long Eternal Ages last.
He said, then o'er deep Kidron's Brook and Plain,
To sweet Gethsemane he leads again,
With Cephas and the Zebedean Pair—
He seeks 'ith' Shades a close retirement there.
The rest without, nor e'en to these he talks,
But silent all, deep-meditating walks;
As gentle Philomel sits musing long,
Before she ease her Sorrows with a Song:
At length, thus with a Sigh that rends his Breast,
—O my distracted Heart with Grief opprest;
Heavy as Deaths Dead-weight, with loads of Care,
Too heavy for Humanity to bear.
Why shou'd you any further with me go?
Why shou'd my Friends share my contagious Woe?
Wait here a while, altho' in vain you wait,
For who can be too vigilant for Fate?
To sweet Gethsemane he leads again,
With Cephas and the Zebedean Pair—
He seeks 'ith' Shades a close retirement there.
The rest without, nor e'en to these he talks,
But silent all, deep-meditating walks;
As gentle Philomel sits musing long,
Before she ease her Sorrows with a Song:
At length, thus with a Sigh that rends his Breast,
—O my distracted Heart with Grief opprest;
Heavy as Deaths Dead-weight, with loads of Care,
Too heavy for Humanity to bear.
Why shou'd you any further with me go?
Why shou'd my Friends share my contagious Woe?
Wait here a while, altho' in vain you wait,
For who can be too vigilant for Fate?
He says, and thrusts into the deepest Shade,
Where on the Ground he fell and prostrate pray'd:
Never such Griefs, as thou for Us didst prove!
Never such Woes, O agonizing Love!
Amazing Sorrows, which we can't conceive,
But think the God eclips'd, the Man did leave:
O Father, O, if possible it be,
Unbounded Might! what is not so to thee?
The Saviour crys, as on his Face he lay;
O take this Cup, this bitter Cup away!
The Wrath divine unmixt this Cup contains,
And with infernal Poison burns my Veins.
'Tis not, alas, a single Death I dread;
How calmly cou'd I lean my weary Head
On the cold Earth, and common Mothers breast?
How gladly sleep away to endless Rest?
'Tis not a publick Death—Ev'n that I'd scorn,
Tho' that of Slaves, on the curst Gibbet born;
Shameful and infamous, I'd ne'r complain,
Nor fear the Pomp of Death, beyond the Pain.
My frowning Fathers Wrath—There, there's the Curse;
Than Pain, than Shame, than Death, that Hell, 'tis worse.
Where on the Ground he fell and prostrate pray'd:
Never such Griefs, as thou for Us didst prove!
Never such Woes, O agonizing Love!
Amazing Sorrows, which we can't conceive,
But think the God eclips'd, the Man did leave:
O Father, O, if possible it be,
Unbounded Might! what is not so to thee?
The Saviour crys, as on his Face he lay;
O take this Cup, this bitter Cup away!
The Wrath divine unmixt this Cup contains,
And with infernal Poison burns my Veins.
'Tis not, alas, a single Death I dread;
How calmly cou'd I lean my weary Head
280
How gladly sleep away to endless Rest?
'Tis not a publick Death—Ev'n that I'd scorn,
Tho' that of Slaves, on the curst Gibbet born;
Shameful and infamous, I'd ne'r complain,
Nor fear the Pomp of Death, beyond the Pain.
My frowning Fathers Wrath—There, there's the Curse;
Than Pain, than Shame, than Death, that Hell, 'tis worse.
O can I, must I be from him remov'd,
Whom I've from long eternal Ages lov'd?
Never offended, never saw his Brow
With Frowns disguis'd, nor Clouds obscur'd till now.
What has thy fond prevarication cost,
Weak Man, to gain the Eden thou hast lost?
Yet if no other Way Heav'ns VVrath t'atone,
The Victim I the Sacrifice alone,
T'appease my injur'd Father, Lord I yield!
Nor longer shall refuse the dreadful Field:
For this, by thee to the lost VVorld I'm sent,
I can't my Love t'unhappy Man repent:
Ah, Lov'd he thee as well, Ungrate! to cure
His VVounds, more Deaths, more Passions I'd endure.
Whom I've from long eternal Ages lov'd?
Never offended, never saw his Brow
With Frowns disguis'd, nor Clouds obscur'd till now.
What has thy fond prevarication cost,
Weak Man, to gain the Eden thou hast lost?
Yet if no other Way Heav'ns VVrath t'atone,
The Victim I the Sacrifice alone,
T'appease my injur'd Father, Lord I yield!
Nor longer shall refuse the dreadful Field:
For this, by thee to the lost VVorld I'm sent,
I can't my Love t'unhappy Man repent:
Ah, Lov'd he thee as well, Ungrate! to cure
His VVounds, more Deaths, more Passions I'd endure.
What mortal Pains did then the Saviour feel?
As Hearts when trembling on the pointed Steel:
What deep convulsive Agonies he found,
Which every part of Soul and Body Wound?
The comely Order, they of both displace;
Large Clods of Sweat and Blood roll mingled down his Face.
As much as Man cou'd do, as much and more,
Already he, without a murmur bore;
Had but all Earth and Hell their Forces join'd,
Not Heav'n too in th' Triple League combin'd,
Ev'n in this mortal elemented State,
His Virtues had been equal to their weight:
But 'twas Heav'n crush'd him; Heav'n, severe, yet just,
Which bruis'd his Adamantine Soul to Dust.
It long'd to sally from its dark abode,
Press'd with our Sins, a vast, an odious Load.
He can no more, but in th' unequal Strife,
Had, with his very Being, lost his Life;
If longer h'had maintain'd the Field alone:
Th' Eternal Father heard, he heard him groan
And shake whole Natures Frame—
To his Relief a mighty Angel sent,
On the great Embassie he wond'ring went;
Did Flow'rs of Eden to our Lord convey,
And kneel'd to him, as he to Heav'n did pray,
And wip'd the big-round Drops of sanguine Sweat away.
—Enough, the Saviour Cries, thy Service spare,
I'm not all lost, my Father yet takes care
Of his weak mortal Son—All, all agen,
And more, if possible, I'd bear for Men;
For Men, he struggling prays, nor prays in vain,
Tho' strength renew'd, but more renews his Pain.
As Hearts when trembling on the pointed Steel:
What deep convulsive Agonies he found,
Which every part of Soul and Body Wound?
The comely Order, they of both displace;
Large Clods of Sweat and Blood roll mingled down his Face.
As much as Man cou'd do, as much and more,
Already he, without a murmur bore;
Had but all Earth and Hell their Forces join'd,
Not Heav'n too in th' Triple League combin'd,
Ev'n in this mortal elemented State,
His Virtues had been equal to their weight:
But 'twas Heav'n crush'd him; Heav'n, severe, yet just,
Which bruis'd his Adamantine Soul to Dust.
It long'd to sally from its dark abode,
Press'd with our Sins, a vast, an odious Load.
He can no more, but in th' unequal Strife,
Had, with his very Being, lost his Life;
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Th' Eternal Father heard, he heard him groan
And shake whole Natures Frame—
To his Relief a mighty Angel sent,
On the great Embassie he wond'ring went;
Did Flow'rs of Eden to our Lord convey,
And kneel'd to him, as he to Heav'n did pray,
And wip'd the big-round Drops of sanguine Sweat away.
—Enough, the Saviour Cries, thy Service spare,
I'm not all lost, my Father yet takes care
Of his weak mortal Son—All, all agen,
And more, if possible, I'd bear for Men;
For Men, he struggling prays, nor prays in vain,
Tho' strength renew'd, but more renews his Pain.
Here, here let boasting Greece her Heroes bring,
How far excell'd by Salem's peaceful King?
Ev'n him who over Oeta-Hill did rove,
His Veins all fir'd, the fabled Son of Jove;
Alcides self unequal Match for Pain:
He rav'd at Fate, and strugled with his Chain.
—Saviour forgive! 'Tis almost Blasphemy,
To name at once their spurious Gods and Thee.
Thou only like thy self—What Demon dare,
What wretched Man with thee, true Son of God compare?
O, of Celestial Stem! O hear our Pray'r!
Thro' all the World let Vice and Discord cease,
And bless with lasting Virtue, lasting Peace!
How far excell'd by Salem's peaceful King?
Ev'n him who over Oeta-Hill did rove,
His Veins all fir'd, the fabled Son of Jove;
Alcides self unequal Match for Pain:
He rav'd at Fate, and strugled with his Chain.
—Saviour forgive! 'Tis almost Blasphemy,
To name at once their spurious Gods and Thee.
Thou only like thy self—What Demon dare,
What wretched Man with thee, true Son of God compare?
O, of Celestial Stem! O hear our Pray'r!
Thro' all the World let Vice and Discord cease,
And bless with lasting Virtue, lasting Peace!
Mean while the three sad Friends with sleep opprest,
Which seiz'd their Eyes, as Sorrow seiz'd their Breast;
On the soft natural grassie Couch reclin'd,
Stole Ease at once for Body and for Mind:
To whom our Lord, return'd—Is't thus you prove
Your boasted Courage, and your boasted Love?
Is't thus for all my Care you me reward?
And can't you, one short Hour your Master guard?
But if already you my Name disown,
Yet watch, if not for my sake, for your own!
O watch and pray! never such cause for fear,
The Hour's at Hand, th' invading Tempter's near:
Thence back our Lord did to the Shades repair;
The self-same fervor and the self-same Pray'r,
The Posture too the same, repeating there.
Twice did repeat, as oft his Friends he found,
In Sleep alike, and stubborn Sorrows drown'd;
At last returning—Now sleep on, he cries,
And if you can, indulge your drowsie Eyes!
I sleep no more, till the great Ransom's paid;
The Hour is come—The Son of Man's betray'd:
—Yet I'll not leave you thus—My Care you'll see
Employ'd for you, altho' not yours for me.
Once more arise, and wisely learn to fear,
Fate hastens on amain, the Traytor's here.
Which seiz'd their Eyes, as Sorrow seiz'd their Breast;
On the soft natural grassie Couch reclin'd,
Stole Ease at once for Body and for Mind:
To whom our Lord, return'd—Is't thus you prove
Your boasted Courage, and your boasted Love?
Is't thus for all my Care you me reward?
And can't you, one short Hour your Master guard?
But if already you my Name disown,
Yet watch, if not for my sake, for your own!
O watch and pray! never such cause for fear,
The Hour's at Hand, th' invading Tempter's near:
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The self-same fervor and the self-same Pray'r,
The Posture too the same, repeating there.
Twice did repeat, as oft his Friends he found,
In Sleep alike, and stubborn Sorrows drown'd;
At last returning—Now sleep on, he cries,
And if you can, indulge your drowsie Eyes!
I sleep no more, till the great Ransom's paid;
The Hour is come—The Son of Man's betray'd:
—Yet I'll not leave you thus—My Care you'll see
Employ'd for you, altho' not yours for me.
Once more arise, and wisely learn to fear,
Fate hastens on amain, the Traytor's here.
This scarcely said, the rest, who'd frighted seen
Th' approaching Lights and Guards, came trembling in;
Yet not so swift, but the mad Crowd appear,
As soon as they, or mingled in their Rear:
Fearless our Lord, himself doth interpose,
Between his tim'rous Friends and spiteful Foes,
Now only Man t'encounter, well he knew:
He knew and scorn'd the worst that Man cou'd do.
Undaunted asks, they more than he affraid,
Whom there it was they sought—What there they made;
Jesus, they cry'd—If that your bus'ness be,
No farther seek, he answers, I am He.
O what a Guard is Virtue! by the sound
Of those Majestic Words, struck back, they fell to th' Ground.
Yet stubborn rose, agen they forward go,
Obdurate, stun'd, not soften'd by the Blow.
Agen our Saviour asks, and they the same
Bold Words repeat, agen he owns his Name.
If me you only seek, let these depart,
Mildly he adds; his Friends still near his Heart.
Th' approaching Lights and Guards, came trembling in;
Yet not so swift, but the mad Crowd appear,
As soon as they, or mingled in their Rear:
Fearless our Lord, himself doth interpose,
Between his tim'rous Friends and spiteful Foes,
Now only Man t'encounter, well he knew:
He knew and scorn'd the worst that Man cou'd do.
Undaunted asks, they more than he affraid,
Whom there it was they sought—What there they made;
Jesus, they cry'd—If that your bus'ness be,
No farther seek, he answers, I am He.
O what a Guard is Virtue! by the sound
Of those Majestic Words, struck back, they fell to th' Ground.
Yet stubborn rose, agen they forward go,
Obdurate, stun'd, not soften'd by the Blow.
Agen our Saviour asks, and they the same
Bold Words repeat, agen he owns his Name.
If me you only seek, let these depart,
Mildly he adds; his Friends still near his Heart.
This fervent Cephas, more impatient saw,
And his broad Sword did from his Scabbard draw;
Amongst the foremost flew, who e'er he found,
Not spares, but deals swift doubled strokes around:
The scatt'ring Crowd avoids, nor cares t'engage
His forward Zeal, thus arm'd with desp'rate Rage.
Malchus alone stood firm; a Servant he
Of some Remark, 'ith' Pontiff's Family,
Against his warmth oppos'd his single Might.
—Nor Cephas this, who dar'd whole Armies fight;
But when before almost h'had look'd him dead,
One furious Blow he makes full at his Head,
Nor scap'd his Ear; tho' bending he gave way,
But bleeding on the Ground, dismember'd lay.
—Thus far, our Saviour cries, Endure! to show,
What if I pleas'd my faithful Friends cou'd do!
Cephas! return thy Sword! stay thy fierce Hand,
Cou'd I not Legions of bright Spirits command
To my Relief? They Know, they Love me still—
—But 'tis not my Almighty Father's Will:
He said, and did the wounded Ear restore,
A golden Circle, where the Scar before.
And his broad Sword did from his Scabbard draw;
Amongst the foremost flew, who e'er he found,
Not spares, but deals swift doubled strokes around:
The scatt'ring Crowd avoids, nor cares t'engage
His forward Zeal, thus arm'd with desp'rate Rage.
Malchus alone stood firm; a Servant he
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Against his warmth oppos'd his single Might.
—Nor Cephas this, who dar'd whole Armies fight;
But when before almost h'had look'd him dead,
One furious Blow he makes full at his Head,
Nor scap'd his Ear; tho' bending he gave way,
But bleeding on the Ground, dismember'd lay.
—Thus far, our Saviour cries, Endure! to show,
What if I pleas'd my faithful Friends cou'd do!
Cephas! return thy Sword! stay thy fierce Hand,
Cou'd I not Legions of bright Spirits command
To my Relief? They Know, they Love me still—
—But 'tis not my Almighty Father's Will:
He said, and did the wounded Ear restore,
A golden Circle, where the Scar before.
Till now, not dar'd the Trait'rous Wretch appear,
But shelter'd in the Crowd his Guilt and Fear;
Thus mild our Saviour seen, as Villains use,
His Goodness he takes courage thence t'abuse.
But shelter'd in the Crowd his Guilt and Fear;
Thus mild our Saviour seen, as Villains use,
His Goodness he takes courage thence t'abuse.
In Friendship's Vizard hides his odious Guile,
And base, accosts him with a Kiss and Smile:
This only did the patient Jesus say,
—Ah! miscall'd Friend! Is't thus you me betray?
That mark once giv'n, by the false Wretch assign'd,
That they in Night's dark Shades our Lord might find,
From all the rest the Crowd him seize and bind;
And hurry thence, his scatt'ring Houshold fly
As heartless Sheep, the Wolf or Robbers nigh,
Their faithful Guide, or absent thence, or slain;
Ev'n Cephas flies, now all his Boast's in vain:
In vain at his own Fear and Baseness grieves,
He flies, but scarce himself his Flight believes.
And base, accosts him with a Kiss and Smile:
This only did the patient Jesus say,
—Ah! miscall'd Friend! Is't thus you me betray?
That mark once giv'n, by the false Wretch assign'd,
That they in Night's dark Shades our Lord might find,
From all the rest the Crowd him seize and bind;
And hurry thence, his scatt'ring Houshold fly
As heartless Sheep, the Wolf or Robbers nigh,
Their faithful Guide, or absent thence, or slain;
Ev'n Cephas flies, now all his Boast's in vain:
In vain at his own Fear and Baseness grieves,
He flies, but scarce himself his Flight believes.
So when two Kings for Empire or for Right,
In glitt'ring Arms meet on the Mounds to fight?
If one by his chief Minister betray'd,
And seiz'd by th' adverse part, his Host affraid,
Fly scatt'ring o'er the Plains themselves to hide,
The Base and Brave alike born by th' impetuous Tide:
If with the rest some Kinsman to the Throne,
In Battles and in Triumphs hoary grown,
Is hurry'd thence, he from the Rabble free,
Stands firm, near some strong Pass, or Defilè:
Looks on his Sword and Blushes—Musing stands,
Looks on his Ensigns, and victorious Hands;
Rallies and Fights, till all his Guards are gone,
“He Raves as he goes back, and shakes as he goes on.
In glitt'ring Arms meet on the Mounds to fight?
If one by his chief Minister betray'd,
And seiz'd by th' adverse part, his Host affraid,
Fly scatt'ring o'er the Plains themselves to hide,
The Base and Brave alike born by th' impetuous Tide:
If with the rest some Kinsman to the Throne,
In Battles and in Triumphs hoary grown,
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Stands firm, near some strong Pass, or Defilè:
Looks on his Sword and Blushes—Musing stands,
Looks on his Ensigns, and victorious Hands;
Rallies and Fights, till all his Guards are gone,
“He Raves as he goes back, and shakes as he goes on.
The while our Saviour to the Hall they bear,
With Scoffs abuse, with Blows torment him there:
Of the dull Rabbles Wit the patient Theme,
They spit with Mouths impure, and then Blaspheme;
Such Guards the King of Earth and Heav'n attend,
None of his Follo'ers there besides his Friend;
He, tho' at first he fled among the rest,
Yet, soon return'd, his Master, bold confest,
And pleads him innocent.—With much of Fear,
Comes Cephas after, slowly' approaching near
The Palace-Gate; and when he there was seen
By the Great Friend, his Int'rest gets him in:
Trembling, he follows his couragious Guide,
With care from every Eye his face to hide;
To all reveal'd by that suspicious Care;
The Porter asks, if he too was not there?
Unless he strangely is mistaken, he
A glimpse of him did in the Garden see.
—The tim'rous Saint replies, and strait withdrew,
Him till this Hour I never saw nor knew;
—But still where e'er he goes his Fears pursue:
Charg'd with the same agen, the same replies,
And all as firmly as before denies:
Nor long before a Third did him accuse,
His Idiom diff'rent from the other Jews:
Rustic and gross, betray'd his Country, He
Was doubtless bred in factious Galilee:
When press'd thus home and full, he Curs'd, he Swore,
Sure then, he thought they'd ne'er suspect him more.
So God to me, he cries, as this is true,
As him before I never saw or knew.
Scarce from his perjur'd Lips the Words were born,
E'er thrice the watchful Fowl proclaim'd the Morn:
The Saviour turn'd, the tim'rous Saint stood by,
And on him fix'd his mild, but piercing Eye.
He did no more, nor Cephas more did need;
Soon did his honest Heart begin to bleed:
Within their Banks his Sorrows cou'd not keep,
But sought a close Retirement where to weep;
There did, with Seas of Tears, his Fall deplore,
And wash'd his Breast e'en whiter than before.
With Scoffs abuse, with Blows torment him there:
Of the dull Rabbles Wit the patient Theme,
They spit with Mouths impure, and then Blaspheme;
Such Guards the King of Earth and Heav'n attend,
None of his Follo'ers there besides his Friend;
He, tho' at first he fled among the rest,
Yet, soon return'd, his Master, bold confest,
And pleads him innocent.—With much of Fear,
Comes Cephas after, slowly' approaching near
The Palace-Gate; and when he there was seen
By the Great Friend, his Int'rest gets him in:
Trembling, he follows his couragious Guide,
With care from every Eye his face to hide;
To all reveal'd by that suspicious Care;
The Porter asks, if he too was not there?
Unless he strangely is mistaken, he
A glimpse of him did in the Garden see.
—The tim'rous Saint replies, and strait withdrew,
Him till this Hour I never saw nor knew;
—But still where e'er he goes his Fears pursue:
Charg'd with the same agen, the same replies,
And all as firmly as before denies:
Nor long before a Third did him accuse,
His Idiom diff'rent from the other Jews:
Rustic and gross, betray'd his Country, He
Was doubtless bred in factious Galilee:
When press'd thus home and full, he Curs'd, he Swore,
Sure then, he thought they'd ne'er suspect him more.
So God to me, he cries, as this is true,
As him before I never saw or knew.
Scarce from his perjur'd Lips the Words were born,
E'er thrice the watchful Fowl proclaim'd the Morn:
The Saviour turn'd, the tim'rous Saint stood by,
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He did no more, nor Cephas more did need;
Soon did his honest Heart begin to bleed:
Within their Banks his Sorrows cou'd not keep,
But sought a close Retirement where to weep;
There did, with Seas of Tears, his Fall deplore,
And wash'd his Breast e'en whiter than before.
And now the guiltless Criminal is brought,
Bound, to th' unjust Tribunal; long they sought
To murder him upon some fair pretence,
But cou'd not find one Thorough-Evidence:
All Arts they use; now this, now that they try,
Now Charge with Treason, then with Blasphemy:
Yet nothing prove; too little, or too much
Still Sworn, nothing that yet his Life cou'd touch:
Enrag'd, the wicked Caiaphas arose,
His Thirst of Blood, each Word each Action shows;
Blood in each Line of his distorted Face,
Murd'rous his Looks, revengeful, mean and base:
How long must we on this Impostor wait,
Foaming, he cries?—Confess, and meet thy Fate!
What Blasphemies? what Treasons? quickly show,
In vain thou woud'st deny what all Men know,
What we can prove—Then better own it all,
—There may be Mercy—Where your last Cabal?
When you're to pull the Roman Ensigns down,
And when the Temple seize, and fire the Town?
Bound, to th' unjust Tribunal; long they sought
To murder him upon some fair pretence,
But cou'd not find one Thorough-Evidence:
All Arts they use; now this, now that they try,
Now Charge with Treason, then with Blasphemy:
Yet nothing prove; too little, or too much
Still Sworn, nothing that yet his Life cou'd touch:
Enrag'd, the wicked Caiaphas arose,
His Thirst of Blood, each Word each Action shows;
Blood in each Line of his distorted Face,
Murd'rous his Looks, revengeful, mean and base:
How long must we on this Impostor wait,
Foaming, he cries?—Confess, and meet thy Fate!
What Blasphemies? what Treasons? quickly show,
In vain thou woud'st deny what all Men know,
What we can prove—Then better own it all,
—There may be Mercy—Where your last Cabal?
When you're to pull the Roman Ensigns down,
And when the Temple seize, and fire the Town?
Mildly our Saviour, no resentments shown
At such loud Falshoods—Well may I disown
Such Calumnies as not your selves believe—
But since unlikely 'tis you shou'd receive
Ev'n Truth it self from me; I but desire
From those that heard me, fairly you'd enquire:
Secret Cabals I never lov'd nor sought,
No dang'rous private Doctrines ever taught:
My Words the Synagogues and Temple know,
From thence my Blasphemy and Treason show!
At such loud Falshoods—Well may I disown
Such Calumnies as not your selves believe—
But since unlikely 'tis you shou'd receive
Ev'n Truth it self from me; I but desire
From those that heard me, fairly you'd enquire:
Secret Cabals I never lov'd nor sought,
No dang'rous private Doctrines ever taught:
My Words the Synagogues and Temple know,
From thence my Blasphemy and Treason show!
He said, when one o'th' Zealots factious Race,
With a rude Halbert strikes his heav'nly Face:
Is that an Answer? adds, for you to give
His Holiness? Why shou'd such Wretches live?
Our Lord—Still Patient, and unconquer'd still,
Declare 't, if ought I've said that's false or ill!
If well, why have I such hard measure found
In open Court? Why am I struck when bound?
With a rude Halbert strikes his heav'nly Face:
Is that an Answer? adds, for you to give
286
Our Lord—Still Patient, and unconquer'd still,
Declare 't, if ought I've said that's false or ill!
If well, why have I such hard measure found
In open Court? Why am I struck when bound?
Agen, the Pontiff rose—One way did rest,
To force the fatal Secret from his Breast:
If thou the Sacred promis'd Seed, he said,
From Ages, doom'd to crush the Serpent's Head;
The destin'd Prince for Israel's mighty Throne,
Why dost thou longer thy high-Birth disown?
By our conceal'd unutterable Name,
With whom thou dost ambitious Kinred claim,
I adjure thee speak—Then the Dispute is done:
We'll own thee all—Art thou th' Almighty Son,
The Christ of God? Our Saviour—Tho' I take
Your whole Design; and know what use you'll make
Of my Confession: yet I'll not deny
My self, nor my great Kinred in the Sky:
—Whom now you see, and a weak Mortal scorn,
The Son of Man, to your Tribunal born;
When High-enthron'd in boundless Light and Bliss.
As he at yours you shall appear at His.
To force the fatal Secret from his Breast:
If thou the Sacred promis'd Seed, he said,
From Ages, doom'd to crush the Serpent's Head;
The destin'd Prince for Israel's mighty Throne,
Why dost thou longer thy high-Birth disown?
By our conceal'd unutterable Name,
With whom thou dost ambitious Kinred claim,
I adjure thee speak—Then the Dispute is done:
We'll own thee all—Art thou th' Almighty Son,
The Christ of God? Our Saviour—Tho' I take
Your whole Design; and know what use you'll make
Of my Confession: yet I'll not deny
My self, nor my great Kinred in the Sky:
—Whom now you see, and a weak Mortal scorn,
The Son of Man, to your Tribunal born;
When High-enthron'd in boundless Light and Bliss.
As he at yours you shall appear at His.
With a curs'd Joy—'Tis past, the Pontiff cry'd;
He's ours—Now Fathers! are you satisfy'd?
—That all his doating Followers were but near,
His own'd, his publick Blasphemies to hear!
The Fact is plain, if Sence it self be true:
Speak Fathers! and I'm sure you'll Justice do.
—Their black united Suffrage rends the Skies;
Yes—The Blasphemer dies: he dies, he dies!
The Court adjourn'd, to Pilate's Palace went,
Mix'd with the Crowd, t'accuse the Innocent:
Dust on their Heads they fling, and Dust i'th' Air,
And thence with many a Curse our patient Saviour bear.
He's ours—Now Fathers! are you satisfy'd?
—That all his doating Followers were but near,
His own'd, his publick Blasphemies to hear!
The Fact is plain, if Sence it self be true:
Speak Fathers! and I'm sure you'll Justice do.
—Their black united Suffrage rends the Skies;
Yes—The Blasphemer dies: he dies, he dies!
The Court adjourn'd, to Pilate's Palace went,
Mix'd with the Crowd, t'accuse the Innocent:
Dust on their Heads they fling, and Dust i'th' Air,
And thence with many a Curse our patient Saviour bear.
The End of the Eighth Book.
290
BOOK IX. The PASSION.
THE ARGUMENT OF THE Ninth BOOK.
This Book begins with a Complaint that Vertue is generally miserable in this World. Which is silenc'd by the Instance of our Saviour's Sufferings, tho perfect Purity and Innocence. Who is accused before Pilate by the High-Priest and Elders; but nothing being proved against him, the Governour would have acquitted him. The Rabble, excited by the Priests, are eager for his Death. Pilate, hoping to divert 'em, hearing he was a Galilean, sends him to Herod; who, on his Silence, despises, derides, and returns him to the Governour. Whose Wife, having had a terrible Vision relating to him, sends to her Husband, by no means to concern himself in his Death. On which he laboured to deliver him, offering the Jews to give them his Life, as was usual at the Passover; but they refused it, and ask Barabbas, a Robber and Murtherer; Till, by their repeated Tumults and Insinuations, that unless Pilate would grant their Desire, he must be disloyal to Cæsar. They at last prevail, and our Lord is scourged and condemned. He's mock'd by the Souldiers, crowned with Thorns, and, bearing his Cross, dragg'd to Execution. His Advice to the Matrons of Jerusalem, in his Passage through the dolorous Way: Where he faints under his Cross, and Simon coming by is compelled to assist him. Arrived at Calvary, he's crucified between two Malefactors. The Blessed Virgin, hearing the Rumour of her Son's being taken by the Rabble, follows him to Calvary; and finding him there, falls dead at the Sight. Is recovered by the Souldiers. Her Lamentation for the Death of her Son. Who being moved with her Sorrow, speaks to her from the Cross; and commends her to the Care of his Friend, St. John, who stood by him, and would never forsake him. The Discourse of the two Thieves with our Saviour. The Prodigies at Jerusalem. Our Saviour's Exclamation on the Cross, under the Sense of God's Anger for the Sins of the World. The Angels in Heaven enraged to see their Master thus used, one of them gives the Signal of War, Michael appears at their Head, and they are all ready to descend to his Rescue and destroy the World. The Father represses their Anger; letting 'em see the Book of the Eternal Decrees; and that 'twas necessary our Lord should die for the Sins of Man. At which being appeas'd, they return to their usual Posts and Employments. Our Saviour's last Agonies, his Thirst, receiving the Vinegar, and yielding up the Ghost.
291
O why was Virtue made to be distrest,
Like Noah's Dove no place of Ease and Rest
In this tumultuous World she ever found;
By Fortunes giddy Wheel still dragg'd around:
If not too, Crush'd on the relentless Ground.
Her best-lov'd Children mean and humble go,
Friendless and Poor, contemptible and low;
Expos'd to pinching Want, and sharper Shame;
“O what is Virtue but an empty Name?
Like Noah's Dove no place of Ease and Rest
In this tumultuous World she ever found;
By Fortunes giddy Wheel still dragg'd around:
If not too, Crush'd on the relentless Ground.
Her best-lov'd Children mean and humble go,
Friendless and Poor, contemptible and low;
Expos'd to pinching Want, and sharper Shame;
“O what is Virtue but an empty Name?
Presumptuous Thoughts no more! no more pretend!
Blaspheme not what you cannot comprehend!
What please high Heav'n till this dull Life be past:
Be this enough, 'twill not for ever last:
Short Joys, who wou'd not gladly lose to find
A long long Train of happy Years behind?
292
What please high Heav'n till this dull Life be past:
Be this enough, 'twill not for ever last:
Short Joys, who wou'd not gladly lose to find
A long long Train of happy Years behind?
Yet murmurs Flesh and Blood, still discontented,
And asks, if only made to be tormented?
If all this beauteous earthly Paradise,
Was only form'd as the reward of Vice:
If Honour on the virtuous wou'd not wear
As decently and well, and sit as fair;
As on the vitious Brow—Be this confest!
Nor is fair Virtue always here opprest:
Eclipses only make her shine more bright,
She lovelier looks in mingled Shades and Light.
Shou'd all this fail, there needs but one reply,
Ah! murm'ring Soul! and did not Jesus die?
Jesus, in whom were admirably joyn'd,
The purest Virtues, and the noblest Mind;
The greatest Merits, and the greatest Pain,
The tend'rest Love treated with worst Disdain:
Tho' all his Life one act of Mercy were,
Tho' all Mankind did so profusely share
The Makers's Bounty, and the Saviour's Care.
Unequall'd Merit, Virtue too sublime
And spotless Innocence, was all his Crime;
That Fame, which wheresoe'er he went pursu'd,
To every Desart Plain or lonely Wood;
Nor suffer'd him to be obscurely Good:
How oft the ravish'd Crowd with Wonders fed,
And feasted high on more than Angels bread;
Had him degraded to an earthly Crown,
Whom all the bright Etherial Kingdoms own;
Had he not us'd as oft one Wonder more,
To scape their Kindness, as their Rage before;
And veil'd in Clouds too thick for piercing Day,
Glided unseen in secret Shades away:
Not so when the sad fatal Hour was come,
And Heav'n resolv'd to call its Lieger home:
See where th' Almighty Judg of Angels stands
Like a vile Criminal! dishonest Bands,
At once restrain and load his guiltless Hands.
Born with the giddy Crowds tumultuous Tide,
The very same who late Hosanna's cry'd;
Hark how their thick hoarse Voices rend the Sky,
No Word, no Sound is heard, but Crucifie!
Sickness it self forgets 'tis weak and slow,
Ev'n Children which but newly learn'd to go;
Nay the soft Sex i'th' common Cause engage,
Wild Youth, and manly Strength, and hoary Age:
The same their Malice, and the same their Cries,
The same wild Fury in their Voice and Eyes:
Mild Pity's banish'd, Mischief fills its place,
And murd'rous Forms in each distorted Face:
Wide foaming Rage, black Malice, Hatred fell,
And grinning Envy, best-lov'd Child of Hell;
Like furious Beasts, themselves and Earth they tear,
And scatter Dust, loud bell'wing round the Air.
The real Fiends, in mortal Figures drest,
Which in amidst the crowding Rabble prest;
So like, you cou'd not know 'em from the rest;
Found no Employment there, the Work was done,
No need of Vipers now to urge 'em on;
The Priests their place supply'd, the foremost they
The great immaculate Paschal-Lamb to slay:
Scarce had the Sun glanc'd on our upper Skies,
E'er the wild Rout, so early Spite can rise,
Were ready to behold the Sacrifice:
To Pilate's Gate, the guiltless Victim led,
That wrested Law might strike him doubly dead:
There with new Shouts the vast Pretorium shake,
Which soon the frighted Governor awake,
He calls his Guards, and a Centurion sent,
Who scarce cou'd learn what the rude Tumult meant:
Amidst a num'rous Crowd with Staves, and Swords,
And Fury arm'd, he heard no other words
But Justice, Justice! Let th' Impostor die!
Justice! Rebellion! Treason! Blasphemy!
The Judge descends, the loud-mouth'd Serjeants call
Th' as loud Accusers to the Judgment Hall;
They dare not move a Step, religious Fear
Had chain'd 'em there—The Passover was near.
Wretches, who strain at Gnats, at Murders smile:
And will not guiltless Blood far more defile!
Proud Hypocrites! thus fix'd at Pilate's Gate,
You still preserve your ancient Pomp and State;
Not you on him, but he on you must Wait.
He did, he saw with Wonder and Surprize,
The guiltless Hero doom'd a Sacrifice;
Grief, that cou'd never look with better Grace,
Mild Majesty enthron'd in his sad Face.
—The Roman trembled, tho' unus'd to Fear,
His Heart presag'd something Divine was near.
Unmov'd, his awful Pris'ner cou'd not see,
But look'd far more a Criminal than He:
Nor did of his Accusers Pride complain,
Since him he now alone might entertain.
But while without the furious Rabble stays,
With their loud Curses; him to th' Hall conveys,
And asks, more like Petition than Command,
If he the King of Jury's fertile Land?
The promis'd Prince, by each Prophetic Sage
Doom'd to restore the blissful Golden Age?
For we, he adds, have heard, tho' far remov'd,
His future Fame, have heard, admir'd and lov'd;
Of whose high Deeds Cumæan Grotto's ring,
And our great Maro's Muse divinely Sing.
And asks, if only made to be tormented?
If all this beauteous earthly Paradise,
Was only form'd as the reward of Vice:
If Honour on the virtuous wou'd not wear
As decently and well, and sit as fair;
As on the vitious Brow—Be this confest!
Nor is fair Virtue always here opprest:
Eclipses only make her shine more bright,
She lovelier looks in mingled Shades and Light.
Shou'd all this fail, there needs but one reply,
Ah! murm'ring Soul! and did not Jesus die?
Jesus, in whom were admirably joyn'd,
The purest Virtues, and the noblest Mind;
The greatest Merits, and the greatest Pain,
The tend'rest Love treated with worst Disdain:
Tho' all his Life one act of Mercy were,
Tho' all Mankind did so profusely share
The Makers's Bounty, and the Saviour's Care.
Unequall'd Merit, Virtue too sublime
And spotless Innocence, was all his Crime;
That Fame, which wheresoe'er he went pursu'd,
To every Desart Plain or lonely Wood;
Nor suffer'd him to be obscurely Good:
How oft the ravish'd Crowd with Wonders fed,
And feasted high on more than Angels bread;
Had him degraded to an earthly Crown,
Whom all the bright Etherial Kingdoms own;
Had he not us'd as oft one Wonder more,
To scape their Kindness, as their Rage before;
And veil'd in Clouds too thick for piercing Day,
Glided unseen in secret Shades away:
Not so when the sad fatal Hour was come,
And Heav'n resolv'd to call its Lieger home:
293
Like a vile Criminal! dishonest Bands,
At once restrain and load his guiltless Hands.
Born with the giddy Crowds tumultuous Tide,
The very same who late Hosanna's cry'd;
Hark how their thick hoarse Voices rend the Sky,
No Word, no Sound is heard, but Crucifie!
Sickness it self forgets 'tis weak and slow,
Ev'n Children which but newly learn'd to go;
Nay the soft Sex i'th' common Cause engage,
Wild Youth, and manly Strength, and hoary Age:
The same their Malice, and the same their Cries,
The same wild Fury in their Voice and Eyes:
Mild Pity's banish'd, Mischief fills its place,
And murd'rous Forms in each distorted Face:
Wide foaming Rage, black Malice, Hatred fell,
And grinning Envy, best-lov'd Child of Hell;
Like furious Beasts, themselves and Earth they tear,
And scatter Dust, loud bell'wing round the Air.
The real Fiends, in mortal Figures drest,
Which in amidst the crowding Rabble prest;
So like, you cou'd not know 'em from the rest;
Found no Employment there, the Work was done,
No need of Vipers now to urge 'em on;
The Priests their place supply'd, the foremost they
The great immaculate Paschal-Lamb to slay:
Scarce had the Sun glanc'd on our upper Skies,
E'er the wild Rout, so early Spite can rise,
Were ready to behold the Sacrifice:
To Pilate's Gate, the guiltless Victim led,
That wrested Law might strike him doubly dead:
There with new Shouts the vast Pretorium shake,
Which soon the frighted Governor awake,
He calls his Guards, and a Centurion sent,
Who scarce cou'd learn what the rude Tumult meant:
Amidst a num'rous Crowd with Staves, and Swords,
And Fury arm'd, he heard no other words
But Justice, Justice! Let th' Impostor die!
Justice! Rebellion! Treason! Blasphemy!
The Judge descends, the loud-mouth'd Serjeants call
294
They dare not move a Step, religious Fear
Had chain'd 'em there—The Passover was near.
Wretches, who strain at Gnats, at Murders smile:
And will not guiltless Blood far more defile!
Proud Hypocrites! thus fix'd at Pilate's Gate,
You still preserve your ancient Pomp and State;
Not you on him, but he on you must Wait.
He did, he saw with Wonder and Surprize,
The guiltless Hero doom'd a Sacrifice;
Grief, that cou'd never look with better Grace,
Mild Majesty enthron'd in his sad Face.
—The Roman trembled, tho' unus'd to Fear,
His Heart presag'd something Divine was near.
Unmov'd, his awful Pris'ner cou'd not see,
But look'd far more a Criminal than He:
Nor did of his Accusers Pride complain,
Since him he now alone might entertain.
But while without the furious Rabble stays,
With their loud Curses; him to th' Hall conveys,
And asks, more like Petition than Command,
If he the King of Jury's fertile Land?
The promis'd Prince, by each Prophetic Sage
Doom'd to restore the blissful Golden Age?
For we, he adds, have heard, tho' far remov'd,
His future Fame, have heard, admir'd and lov'd;
Of whose high Deeds Cumæan Grotto's ring,
And our great Maro's Muse divinely Sing.
To whom he thus—Nor need the Romans fear,
Nor Jews suspect, my Kingdom is not here:
All earthly, worldly Glories I disdain,
And only over Hearts desire to Reign;
Truth there to plant, and Error to remove;
For this I leave my Father's Throne above
For an ungrateful VVorld—This only I
Propos'd when born, for this content to die.
Nor Jews suspect, my Kingdom is not here:
All earthly, worldly Glories I disdain,
And only over Hearts desire to Reign;
Truth there to plant, and Error to remove;
For this I leave my Father's Throne above
For an ungrateful VVorld—This only I
Propos'd when born, for this content to die.
Still more surpriz'd, the Roman to the Gate
Returns, where still the numerous Rabble wait;
Thirsty of Blood, for Blood they raving call,
And press both the great Vulgar, and the Small.
Unmov'd and firm, the Governor remain'd,
And asks for what so loudly they complain'd?
What Crime so high, the Pris'ner cou'd alone,
By such a Death his mighty Guilt atone;
Since all his Answers yet, discover'd none!
Nor must the guiltless be by Noise opprest,
Let one accuse, Be silent all the rest!
Returns, where still the numerous Rabble wait;
Thirsty of Blood, for Blood they raving call,
And press both the great Vulgar, and the Small.
295
And asks for what so loudly they complain'd?
What Crime so high, the Pris'ner cou'd alone,
By such a Death his mighty Guilt atone;
Since all his Answers yet, discover'd none!
Nor must the guiltless be by Noise opprest,
Let one accuse, Be silent all the rest!
He said, when strait appears from forth the Croud,
Vain Caiaphas still Cruel, Haughty, Proud;
Supplying want of Reason, Truth and Sence,
With a firm Brow and pompous Eloquence;
And thus began—We highly are content
To plead our Cause, illustrious President,
At your Tribunal; since we cannot fear,
To find that Justice which is always here!
Nor cou'd small Crimes so great a Concourse draw
Against this Wretch, who wou'd our sacred Law
Subvert, our glorious Temple overturn,
And in unhallow'd Fire, our Altars burn.
Since then the gen'rous Romans ne'er refuse
To let their Friends, or happy Conquests use
Their own Religious Rites; and since the Jews
Unanimous and loud for Justice cry,
And all demand that this Blasphemer die,
As by our Law he ought, we can't suspect,
Great Pontius shou'd our joint-desires neglect:
Let then th' Impostor die, whose curs'd Design
Is by the World to be esteem'd Divine:
Let the Impostor die, we ask it all,
Nor can our Altars stand, unless he fall.
Vain Caiaphas still Cruel, Haughty, Proud;
Supplying want of Reason, Truth and Sence,
With a firm Brow and pompous Eloquence;
And thus began—We highly are content
To plead our Cause, illustrious President,
At your Tribunal; since we cannot fear,
To find that Justice which is always here!
Nor cou'd small Crimes so great a Concourse draw
Against this Wretch, who wou'd our sacred Law
Subvert, our glorious Temple overturn,
And in unhallow'd Fire, our Altars burn.
Since then the gen'rous Romans ne'er refuse
To let their Friends, or happy Conquests use
Their own Religious Rites; and since the Jews
Unanimous and loud for Justice cry,
And all demand that this Blasphemer die,
As by our Law he ought, we can't suspect,
Great Pontius shou'd our joint-desires neglect:
Let then th' Impostor die, whose curs'd Design
Is by the World to be esteem'd Divine:
Let the Impostor die, we ask it all,
Nor can our Altars stand, unless he fall.
He said, th' applauding People gave consent,
And with loud Shouts the wide Pretorium rent:
Still Pilat's firm: he knew 'twas envious Rage
Did them, against the innocent engage;
For now not first had he remark'd his Law
And spotless Life, nor ought offensive saw;
Ought that the Roman Jealousie cou'd move,
His Life was Goodness, and his Law was Love.
Patient and Meek, th' expecting Victim lies,
As th' inn'cent Lamb prepar'd for Sacrifice;
His Voice not heard, no loud Complaints or Cries,
No murm'ring Words, or sounds of Discontent;
As guiltless Isaac to the Altar went:
Nor was the more by this their Fire allay'd,
His silent Meekness did their Rage upbraid;
With their hoarse Voices still they rend the Sky,
Let the curs'd Galilean Rebel die:
Thro' all the Land he wild Sedition sows,
Whose fatal Crop so plentifully grows
In his own native distant Fields. Is he,
Then, Pilate strait replies, of Galilee—
Gladly the Hint he takes—Your Paschal Feast,
He adds, has hither brought a Royal Guest.
Herod himself, we must not interfere,
To him my Guards the Criminal shall bear;
You Fathers, follow and accuse him there!
And with loud Shouts the wide Pretorium rent:
Still Pilat's firm: he knew 'twas envious Rage
Did them, against the innocent engage;
For now not first had he remark'd his Law
And spotless Life, nor ought offensive saw;
Ought that the Roman Jealousie cou'd move,
His Life was Goodness, and his Law was Love.
Patient and Meek, th' expecting Victim lies,
As th' inn'cent Lamb prepar'd for Sacrifice;
His Voice not heard, no loud Complaints or Cries,
296
As guiltless Isaac to the Altar went:
Nor was the more by this their Fire allay'd,
His silent Meekness did their Rage upbraid;
With their hoarse Voices still they rend the Sky,
Let the curs'd Galilean Rebel die:
Thro' all the Land he wild Sedition sows,
Whose fatal Crop so plentifully grows
In his own native distant Fields. Is he,
Then, Pilate strait replies, of Galilee—
Gladly the Hint he takes—Your Paschal Feast,
He adds, has hither brought a Royal Guest.
Herod himself, we must not interfere,
To him my Guards the Criminal shall bear;
You Fathers, follow and accuse him there!
Away they murm'ring melt, can hardly stay
For Forms of Law, but curse this dull delay:
For Forms of Law, but curse this dull delay:
Him bound, proud Herod glad receives, for he
Well hop'd to feast his Curiosity;
Some mighty Work, or glorious Sign to see,
By the great Prophet wrought; and asks in vain
His Birth, his Life, his Mission and his Reign;
How his Authority from Heav'n he prov'd?
What Crimes the Citizens against him mov'd?
He silent stood: Not so the follo'ing Crowd,
Who still pursue with Clamours fierce and loud;
Rebellion and Apostacy his Charge,
His Guilt confess'd, too open and too large
For Proof or Plea—Still calm his Looks and Mind,
To his Almighty Father's Will resign'd:
His Eyes still fix'd on a far brighter Throne,
And in Heav'ns Court he pleads his Cause alone:
Is this the Man, the Tyrant cries with Scorn,
This He, our Families proud Rival born?
How likely he to overturn a State?
Below our Vengeance, and below our Hate!
Send Heav'n no greater Foe! Guards! quickly bring
Our Royal Robes t'adorn this mighty King:
His wish'd Commands they readily obey'd,
And him with speed in Royal Robes array'd;
Salute with mock Devoir and bended Knee,
And back to Pilate guard his Majesty:
The Roman found his Stratagem in vain;
Th' unwieldy rolling Stone recurs again:
The People throng the Gates, and threatning ask,
That he'd once more resume th' ungrateful Task:
All Arts he tries, persuasion, flatt'ry, fear;
Now this, now that, now kind, and then severe:
One Method more remain'd—
'Twas usual with the Roman Clemency,
At this Great Day one Criminal to free,
And grace their Festal Joys—It chanc'd that then,
A Wretch, alike by God abhorr'd and Men;
A sturdy Rebel he, of noted Fame,
With Murther mark'd, Barabbas was his name;
By Justice seiz'd, did in close durance wait,
Trembling his well-deserv'd approaching Fate:
Him Pilate offers to the angry Jews,
Jesus and him, and asks 'em which they'd chuse?
Since one whose Crimes admitted no Defence,
Was the best Foil for spotless Innocence:
One peaceable and just, and mild and good,
T'other with Faction branded, dipp'd in Blood.
Well hop'd to feast his Curiosity;
Some mighty Work, or glorious Sign to see,
By the great Prophet wrought; and asks in vain
His Birth, his Life, his Mission and his Reign;
How his Authority from Heav'n he prov'd?
What Crimes the Citizens against him mov'd?
He silent stood: Not so the follo'ing Crowd,
Who still pursue with Clamours fierce and loud;
Rebellion and Apostacy his Charge,
His Guilt confess'd, too open and too large
For Proof or Plea—Still calm his Looks and Mind,
To his Almighty Father's Will resign'd:
His Eyes still fix'd on a far brighter Throne,
And in Heav'ns Court he pleads his Cause alone:
Is this the Man, the Tyrant cries with Scorn,
This He, our Families proud Rival born?
How likely he to overturn a State?
Below our Vengeance, and below our Hate!
Send Heav'n no greater Foe! Guards! quickly bring
Our Royal Robes t'adorn this mighty King:
His wish'd Commands they readily obey'd,
And him with speed in Royal Robes array'd;
297
And back to Pilate guard his Majesty:
The Roman found his Stratagem in vain;
Th' unwieldy rolling Stone recurs again:
The People throng the Gates, and threatning ask,
That he'd once more resume th' ungrateful Task:
All Arts he tries, persuasion, flatt'ry, fear;
Now this, now that, now kind, and then severe:
One Method more remain'd—
'Twas usual with the Roman Clemency,
At this Great Day one Criminal to free,
And grace their Festal Joys—It chanc'd that then,
A Wretch, alike by God abhorr'd and Men;
A sturdy Rebel he, of noted Fame,
With Murther mark'd, Barabbas was his name;
By Justice seiz'd, did in close durance wait,
Trembling his well-deserv'd approaching Fate:
Him Pilate offers to the angry Jews,
Jesus and him, and asks 'em which they'd chuse?
Since one whose Crimes admitted no Defence,
Was the best Foil for spotless Innocence:
One peaceable and just, and mild and good,
T'other with Faction branded, dipp'd in Blood.
Pity and Justice here almost prevail,
The Elders found their Arts began to fail;
New Crimes, new Fears among the Vulgar threw,
And ever subtly mingle False with True.
Ask 'em if those who wickedly contrive
Their Temple to destroy, they'd save alive?
If 'twere not height of madness to prefer,
A black Blasphemer to a Murtherer?
By these inspir'd and Hell, they louder cry,
No—Let Barabbas live, and Jesus die!
The Governor agen, his Anger mov'd
At their wild Rage—What Crimes had yet been prov'd,
What Cause of Death demands? While thus they strive,
They to destroy, he to preserve alive,
His Lady of an ancient House and Name,
Unblemish'd Vertue, and unspotted Fame,
To him, with hast on the Tribunal, sent
If not too late, the Murther to prevent:
Of one he knew so just and innocent:
For in a dreadful Visions mystick Scene,
(Avert th' Ill-omens, Heav'n! what e'er they mean)
She saw the Angry Skies begin to lowr;
She saw the Clouds break in a fatal Show'r
Of Fire and Blood, which in whole Rivers pour
Upon a proud devoted City nigh;
And heard a Voice, a dreadful Voice on high!
“Remove from this curst Place, which to the Sword is given,
“They Blood for Blood shall pay, their Fate's enroll'd in Heav'n:
This trembling Pontius heard, and labours more,
Tho' still in vain, t'acquit him, than before
The Tide rolls high, and beats th' opposing shore.
Proud Annas leads 'em on, who Moses's Chair
Late fill'd, and did the sacred Ephod wear;
Who furious thus began—
—Shall a weak Womans dreaming Fears prevail;
Her Sentence stand, and Law and Justice fail?
Is't thus the Romans rule, or can he be
Their Friend, who saves their greatest Enemy?
Who spares the Wretch whom we to Justice bring,
Whom factious Crowds so oft have Hail'd, their King?
For this was Cesars Prefect hither sent;
Did he for this obtain the Government?
His Rebels thus to rescue, yet pretend,
T'adorn his Province, and be Cesars Friend?
Well, let false Traytors whom they please enthrone,
All other Kings, but Cesar, we disown!
The Elders found their Arts began to fail;
New Crimes, new Fears among the Vulgar threw,
And ever subtly mingle False with True.
Ask 'em if those who wickedly contrive
Their Temple to destroy, they'd save alive?
If 'twere not height of madness to prefer,
A black Blasphemer to a Murtherer?
By these inspir'd and Hell, they louder cry,
No—Let Barabbas live, and Jesus die!
The Governor agen, his Anger mov'd
At their wild Rage—What Crimes had yet been prov'd,
What Cause of Death demands? While thus they strive,
They to destroy, he to preserve alive,
His Lady of an ancient House and Name,
Unblemish'd Vertue, and unspotted Fame,
298
If not too late, the Murther to prevent:
Of one he knew so just and innocent:
For in a dreadful Visions mystick Scene,
(Avert th' Ill-omens, Heav'n! what e'er they mean)
She saw the Angry Skies begin to lowr;
She saw the Clouds break in a fatal Show'r
Of Fire and Blood, which in whole Rivers pour
Upon a proud devoted City nigh;
And heard a Voice, a dreadful Voice on high!
“Remove from this curst Place, which to the Sword is given,
“They Blood for Blood shall pay, their Fate's enroll'd in Heav'n:
This trembling Pontius heard, and labours more,
Tho' still in vain, t'acquit him, than before
The Tide rolls high, and beats th' opposing shore.
Proud Annas leads 'em on, who Moses's Chair
Late fill'd, and did the sacred Ephod wear;
Who furious thus began—
—Shall a weak Womans dreaming Fears prevail;
Her Sentence stand, and Law and Justice fail?
Is't thus the Romans rule, or can he be
Their Friend, who saves their greatest Enemy?
Who spares the Wretch whom we to Justice bring,
Whom factious Crowds so oft have Hail'd, their King?
For this was Cesars Prefect hither sent;
Did he for this obtain the Government?
His Rebels thus to rescue, yet pretend,
T'adorn his Province, and be Cesars Friend?
Well, let false Traytors whom they please enthrone,
All other Kings, but Cesar, we disown!
Shock'd by this last Attack, tho' firm before,
The wav'ring Roman now cou'd bear no more:
He, prest, gave way to the impetuous Flood,
A Traytors name wash'd off with guiltless Blood.
The wav'ring Roman now cou'd bear no more:
He, prest, gave way to the impetuous Flood,
A Traytors name wash'd off with guiltless Blood.
Thus when fair Jordan do's his Bank's o'er flow,
Whether his double Spring o'ercharg'd with Snow,
From Neighb'ring Lebanon, or Lakes below,
In Subterranean Vaults; thus strives a while
The painful Husbandman with fruitless Toil:
Do's, to his Fury Banks and Dams oppose;
The angry Stream, thus check'd still wilder grows,
And over all at last resistless flows:
Whilst he, for Life, to some near Hillock flies,
And back to th' River sadly turns his Eyes;
Sees all his Stock destroy'd in one short Day,
Sees all his envy'd Riches wash'd away;
And Beasts and Men and floating stacks of Corn,
And House and Homested, down the Current headlong born.
Whether his double Spring o'ercharg'd with Snow,
From Neighb'ring Lebanon, or Lakes below,
In Subterranean Vaults; thus strives a while
The painful Husbandman with fruitless Toil:
299
The angry Stream, thus check'd still wilder grows,
And over all at last resistless flows:
Whilst he, for Life, to some near Hillock flies,
And back to th' River sadly turns his Eyes;
Sees all his Stock destroy'd in one short Day,
Sees all his envy'd Riches wash'd away;
And Beasts and Men and floating stacks of Corn,
And House and Homested, down the Current headlong born.
Thus Pilate yields, nor longer cou'd engage
The stubborn Crowd, yet thus his fruitless Rage
He vents—You've Conquer'd—I no more deny
Your wicked Wish—The Innocent must die—
But know a speedy Vengeance will pursue,
And may it light, light heavy all on you!
For thus I wash my Hands of the foul Guilt;
Bear you his Blood, by you unjustly spilt:
Agreed, they answer all, we're all content
To bear the Blood, the Guilt, the Punishment;
We and our Children both.—Wretches, you shall,
When your proud Tow'rs and boasted Temple fall
Beneath its Weight, when Nemesis divine,
Still sure tho' slow, shall perfect Heav'ns design
On you, and all your curs'd devoted Line:
Blood thro' your Gates, Blood thro' your Streets shall flow,
Faster then Kidron in the Vale below;
Destruction cross the Stream, triumphant stride,
And Death sit crown'd upon the Crimson Tide.
The stubborn Crowd, yet thus his fruitless Rage
He vents—You've Conquer'd—I no more deny
Your wicked Wish—The Innocent must die—
But know a speedy Vengeance will pursue,
And may it light, light heavy all on you!
For thus I wash my Hands of the foul Guilt;
Bear you his Blood, by you unjustly spilt:
Agreed, they answer all, we're all content
To bear the Blood, the Guilt, the Punishment;
We and our Children both.—Wretches, you shall,
When your proud Tow'rs and boasted Temple fall
Beneath its Weight, when Nemesis divine,
Still sure tho' slow, shall perfect Heav'ns design
On you, and all your curs'd devoted Line:
Blood thro' your Gates, Blood thro' your Streets shall flow,
Faster then Kidron in the Vale below;
Destruction cross the Stream, triumphant stride,
And Death sit crown'd upon the Crimson Tide.
Nor Wretches! can your deepest Suff'rings pay,
For half the horrid Crimes of this black Day:
Whither, O whither, Traitors will you bring
Your own Liege Lord, your Saviour and your King?
How many Wounds, how many Deaths provide?
See where his innocent Hands are rudely ty'd
By the rough Soldiers! Where, at what they do,
The very Marble weeps far more than you?
What Furrows on his Shoulders deeply plough'd?
What drops, what rivulets, what streams of Blood?
How thro' the Hall repeated strokes resound,
Kind Stripes, for us they Cure, tho' him they Wound;
His Blood a strange Balsamic Pow'r has shown,
It heals our fest'ring Wounds, but not his own;
Whilst with profoundest Patience all he bears,
And melts, or tires his Executioners.
O injur'd Heir of Heav'n! O Master spare
Thy self, for 'tis too much for God to bear!
Had we not better suffer endless Pain,
Than thou all this? O break th' inglorious Chain!
Like Samson snap those Cords thy Arms disgrace,
And scatter Vengeance thro' the faithless Race;
Keen Rays of Light'ning-Glories round thy Head,
And arm'd with Thunder, strike, or frown 'em dead!
—Ah no! Too well he knew the Price he gave;
Not thee their Death, but thine the World must save!
And cou'd our Grief so far thy Pity move?
How great thy Pity, and how large thy Love!
Thy stronger Mercy, strugling Justice chains,
Pity thy Pow'r, and Love thy Vengeance reins:
All this thou'st done to gain thy Rebels Grace,
Yet much much more's behind of thy sad Race:
Scourg'd, mock'd, and crown'd with Thorns, which pierc'd and tore
His sacred Head, his Body all o'er Gore;
In Purple Robes, tho' drest in that before,
Adorn'd, a Reed they for a Scepter bring,
Then publickly expose and Hail him King.
Longer the furious Rabble wou'd not stay,
But their mock-Soveraign drag to Death away:
Soon they the fatal Instrument prepare,
Which on his Wounded Back compell'd to bear,
He sinks and faints beneath th' unequal Load;
Tho' he Gods only Son, himself a God.
Th' accursed Cross for us he not refus'd,
A Death, for Slaves and Villains only us'd:
He sinks and faints, as him they thus convey,
To greater Pains, thro' the long dol'rous way:
Wash'd with his Tears and Blood—
For half the horrid Crimes of this black Day:
Whither, O whither, Traitors will you bring
Your own Liege Lord, your Saviour and your King?
How many Wounds, how many Deaths provide?
See where his innocent Hands are rudely ty'd
By the rough Soldiers! Where, at what they do,
The very Marble weeps far more than you?
What Furrows on his Shoulders deeply plough'd?
What drops, what rivulets, what streams of Blood?
How thro' the Hall repeated strokes resound,
Kind Stripes, for us they Cure, tho' him they Wound;
300
It heals our fest'ring Wounds, but not his own;
Whilst with profoundest Patience all he bears,
And melts, or tires his Executioners.
O injur'd Heir of Heav'n! O Master spare
Thy self, for 'tis too much for God to bear!
Had we not better suffer endless Pain,
Than thou all this? O break th' inglorious Chain!
Like Samson snap those Cords thy Arms disgrace,
And scatter Vengeance thro' the faithless Race;
Keen Rays of Light'ning-Glories round thy Head,
And arm'd with Thunder, strike, or frown 'em dead!
—Ah no! Too well he knew the Price he gave;
Not thee their Death, but thine the World must save!
And cou'd our Grief so far thy Pity move?
How great thy Pity, and how large thy Love!
Thy stronger Mercy, strugling Justice chains,
Pity thy Pow'r, and Love thy Vengeance reins:
All this thou'st done to gain thy Rebels Grace,
Yet much much more's behind of thy sad Race:
Scourg'd, mock'd, and crown'd with Thorns, which pierc'd and tore
His sacred Head, his Body all o'er Gore;
In Purple Robes, tho' drest in that before,
Adorn'd, a Reed they for a Scepter bring,
Then publickly expose and Hail him King.
Longer the furious Rabble wou'd not stay,
But their mock-Soveraign drag to Death away:
Soon they the fatal Instrument prepare,
Which on his Wounded Back compell'd to bear,
He sinks and faints beneath th' unequal Load;
Tho' he Gods only Son, himself a God.
Th' accursed Cross for us he not refus'd,
A Death, for Slaves and Villains only us'd:
He sinks and faints, as him they thus convey,
To greater Pains, thro' the long dol'rous way:
Wash'd with his Tears and Blood—
Thither by chance the Perjur'd Judas stray'd,
The Wretch who basely had his Lord betray'd;
By Chance, or rather by those Furies sent,
Which first Mankind delude, and then torment:
He saw the Peoples Madness, heard their Cry,
He saw his Master bound, and doom'd to Die:
How wild the Thoughts his guilty Soul pursue?
How gladly wou'd he, what was done, undoe?
Now all too late—What pain Reflection brings?
What Wounds, what Deaths, what Vultures, Racks and Stings?
Hurry'd by these he to the Elders goes,
And at their Feet the fatal Price he throws;
The Price of Blood—Here, take he wildly said,
Take that, for which my Saviour I betray'd;
(Ah! mine no more) The Innocent and Good!
For which my guilty Soul, his guiltless Blood,
His Blood, worth infinitely more than Gold,
The Merchants you; was basely bought and sold.
With Smiles this Answer only him th' afford,
—A worthy Servant, fit for such a Lord!
Whom, if he thinks he wrongfully betray'd,
Look he to that, his Price was justly paid.
—Away the Wretched blindly rushes, where,
He's goaded on by Conscience and Despair:
To Heav'n he cannot look, his Guilt and Sin
Had clouded that, and he's all Hell within:
His furious Eyes, he gastly rolls around,
And when by chance the chearful Sun he found,
Guilding the neighb'ring Hills, the cheerful Sun,
Which blushing on him rose, he thus begun:
The Wretch who basely had his Lord betray'd;
By Chance, or rather by those Furies sent,
Which first Mankind delude, and then torment:
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He saw his Master bound, and doom'd to Die:
How wild the Thoughts his guilty Soul pursue?
How gladly wou'd he, what was done, undoe?
Now all too late—What pain Reflection brings?
What Wounds, what Deaths, what Vultures, Racks and Stings?
Hurry'd by these he to the Elders goes,
And at their Feet the fatal Price he throws;
The Price of Blood—Here, take he wildly said,
Take that, for which my Saviour I betray'd;
(Ah! mine no more) The Innocent and Good!
For which my guilty Soul, his guiltless Blood,
His Blood, worth infinitely more than Gold,
The Merchants you; was basely bought and sold.
With Smiles this Answer only him th' afford,
—A worthy Servant, fit for such a Lord!
Whom, if he thinks he wrongfully betray'd,
Look he to that, his Price was justly paid.
—Away the Wretched blindly rushes, where,
He's goaded on by Conscience and Despair:
To Heav'n he cannot look, his Guilt and Sin
Had clouded that, and he's all Hell within:
His furious Eyes, he gastly rolls around,
And when by chance the chearful Sun he found,
Guilding the neighb'ring Hills, the cheerful Sun,
Which blushing on him rose, he thus begun:
“Perish for ever, O thou hated Light,
“And sink, like me, in long eternal Night!
“Why dost thou yet thy beauteous Beams afford
“To that curst Place? There, there my injur'd Lord
“I lately Sold, and now lament in vain;
“My God, my Conscience sold for sordid Gain:
“That Conscience, Fame, and God I did esteem;
“'Twas there my self I Damn'd, and Murther'd him:
“O whither shall a Miserable run?
“In Hell I'd gladly plunge, new Hells to shun;
“To shun my self, my Plague, my Hell, shall I,
“To my betray'd, my injur'd Master fly,
“Fall at his Feet, and for, and with him die?
“Perhaps I him to Pity may encline;
“He must be touch'd with Miseries like mine;
“O he's all Goodness; go without delay,
“He never yet a Suppliant turn'd away;
“Nor will he Thee—No faithless Traitor, no!
“'Tis now too late, thou canst not, must not go:
“No, I his cruel Mercy cannot bear,
“His hottest Vengeance wou'd be less severe:
“I feel, I feel I cannot, must not live,
“Nor cou'd forgiven be, tho' he'd forgive.
“And sink, like me, in long eternal Night!
“Why dost thou yet thy beauteous Beams afford
“To that curst Place? There, there my injur'd Lord
“I lately Sold, and now lament in vain;
“My God, my Conscience sold for sordid Gain:
“That Conscience, Fame, and God I did esteem;
“'Twas there my self I Damn'd, and Murther'd him:
“O whither shall a Miserable run?
“In Hell I'd gladly plunge, new Hells to shun;
“To shun my self, my Plague, my Hell, shall I,
“To my betray'd, my injur'd Master fly,
“Fall at his Feet, and for, and with him die?
“Perhaps I him to Pity may encline;
302
“O he's all Goodness; go without delay,
“He never yet a Suppliant turn'd away;
“Nor will he Thee—No faithless Traitor, no!
“'Tis now too late, thou canst not, must not go:
“No, I his cruel Mercy cannot bear,
“His hottest Vengeance wou'd be less severe:
“I feel, I feel I cannot, must not live,
“Nor cou'd forgiven be, tho' he'd forgive.
“Shall I then to far distant Regions go,
“Endeav'ring to divert or cure my Woe,
“Thro' burning Seas of Sand, or Hills of Snow?
“Visit the Southern, or the frozen Pole,
“Where Winds can carry, or where Waves can roll;
“Where the Ten Tribes, vast Seas and Desarts crost,
“In Climes unknown, and Heathen Lands are lost?
“Bear me with speed, some courteous Whirl-wind bear,
“If far away, I know nor care not where;
“Ah! all in vain! my Guilt will haunt me there;
“The Image of my Crimes will still pursue;
“My Whips, my Racks, my Plague, my Hell renew;
“Like Cain, a mark for every Murd'rer made;
“And more than all my injur'd Master's Shade:
“That only, that beyond my self I fear;
“Guard me ye Fiends? For 'tis already here,
“Bloody, yet pale, his loud-tongu'd Wounds gape wide;
“O Earth! within thy hollow Caverns hide,
“Within thy deepest Cell, thy darkest Room,
“A Wretch, that envy's happier Dathan's doom.
“Endeav'ring to divert or cure my Woe,
“Thro' burning Seas of Sand, or Hills of Snow?
“Visit the Southern, or the frozen Pole,
“Where Winds can carry, or where Waves can roll;
“Where the Ten Tribes, vast Seas and Desarts crost,
“In Climes unknown, and Heathen Lands are lost?
“Bear me with speed, some courteous Whirl-wind bear,
“If far away, I know nor care not where;
“Ah! all in vain! my Guilt will haunt me there;
“The Image of my Crimes will still pursue;
“My Whips, my Racks, my Plague, my Hell renew;
“Like Cain, a mark for every Murd'rer made;
“And more than all my injur'd Master's Shade:
“That only, that beyond my self I fear;
“Guard me ye Fiends? For 'tis already here,
“Bloody, yet pale, his loud-tongu'd Wounds gape wide;
“O Earth! within thy hollow Caverns hide,
“Within thy deepest Cell, thy darkest Room,
“A Wretch, that envy's happier Dathan's doom.
“Wider, ye gentle Furies! wider tear
“This burning Breast! Let not your Vipers spare
“A tortur'd Heart; tho' Thousands gnawing there,
“I yet want more—(In vain the Wretched call
“On Heav'n or Hell!) they full and glutted crawl;
“Yet still I live—Here take! O take me all!
“Take me at once! But why this dull delay?
“What Hope or Fear yet makes me lingring stay?
“Die Traitor! Die! Be that resolv'd—But how?
—No sooner said, when an unlucky Bough,
Thrust from a blasted Elder's Trunk he spy'd,
On which with speed the fatal Knot he ty'd;
Then clambring to the Top, despairing cry'd
“Die Traytor, Die! the worst we then shall know;
“Thus, thus let's leap into the Shades below—
—Then springs away, In Death his Ey-balls roll,
And laughing Fiends wait round to snatch his Soul.
“This burning Breast! Let not your Vipers spare
“A tortur'd Heart; tho' Thousands gnawing there,
“I yet want more—(In vain the Wretched call
“On Heav'n or Hell!) they full and glutted crawl;
“Yet still I live—Here take! O take me all!
“Take me at once! But why this dull delay?
“What Hope or Fear yet makes me lingring stay?
“Die Traitor! Die! Be that resolv'd—But how?
—No sooner said, when an unlucky Bough,
303
On which with speed the fatal Knot he ty'd;
Then clambring to the Top, despairing cry'd
“Die Traytor, Die! the worst we then shall know;
“Thus, thus let's leap into the Shades below—
—Then springs away, In Death his Ey-balls roll,
And laughing Fiends wait round to snatch his Soul.
The while, the wicked Rout his steps pursue,
And what his Treason left undon, they doe.
The Lord of Life to cruel Death convey,
Sunk with his weight, and fainting in the way.
As chanc'd a Traveller from Cyrene came,
Friendless, obscure and mean, Simon his name;
Him they with cruel Mercy, force to bear,
Of the inglorious Load an equal share;
“Each faithful Christians Lot, as well as his,
“Thro' Grief to Joy, thro' Pain to endless Bliss:
Bearing his Cross they their lov'd Lord attend;
Whom now arriv'd near his sad Journy's end;
Cover'd with Blood, fair Salem's Matrons see,
As climbing to the top of Calvary:
His Soul with Grief, with stripes his Body rent;
They see and sigh, and his hard Fate lament:
To him not unregarded, nor unknown,
Who carries all our Sorrows as his own:
Keep, Matrons, your mistaken Tears he cries,
For your own Sorrows keep those flowing Eyes:
Weep for your selves, and Children yet more dear!
For see the Day, the dreadful Day is near;
By Heav'ns just Wrath on your sad Nation brought,
When barren Wombs a Blessing shall be thought:
When tender Nature shall aside be thrown;
Your Infants Lives destroy'd to save your own:
When thro' your Gates fierce hostile Troops shall pour,
And what you leave, the hungry Sword devour.
And what his Treason left undon, they doe.
The Lord of Life to cruel Death convey,
Sunk with his weight, and fainting in the way.
As chanc'd a Traveller from Cyrene came,
Friendless, obscure and mean, Simon his name;
Him they with cruel Mercy, force to bear,
Of the inglorious Load an equal share;
“Each faithful Christians Lot, as well as his,
“Thro' Grief to Joy, thro' Pain to endless Bliss:
Bearing his Cross they their lov'd Lord attend;
Whom now arriv'd near his sad Journy's end;
Cover'd with Blood, fair Salem's Matrons see,
As climbing to the top of Calvary:
His Soul with Grief, with stripes his Body rent;
They see and sigh, and his hard Fate lament:
To him not unregarded, nor unknown,
Who carries all our Sorrows as his own:
Keep, Matrons, your mistaken Tears he cries,
For your own Sorrows keep those flowing Eyes:
Weep for your selves, and Children yet more dear!
For see the Day, the dreadful Day is near;
By Heav'ns just Wrath on your sad Nation brought,
When barren Wombs a Blessing shall be thought:
When tender Nature shall aside be thrown;
Your Infants Lives destroy'd to save your own:
When thro' your Gates fierce hostile Troops shall pour,
And what you leave, the hungry Sword devour.
He said, and now with Sweat, and Blood, and Pain,
The top of fatal Golgotha they gain:
A lothsom Scene of Murther and Despair,
Fit for the Tragedies were acting there:
With Sculls, and Bones, and putrid Limbs o'erspred,
And all the gastly Ruins of the Dead:
Here disembowel'd Bodies all around,
With nauseous Gore had drench'd the thirsty Ground;
There half-torn Carcasses unbury'd lay,
To each ill-omen'd Bird a Feast by Day,
By Night, to greedy howling Wolves, a Prey.
Of his sad Load our Lord disburthen'd there,
As late, he That, Him now the Cross must bear;
His humble Robes from his fresh Wounds they tear,
And broach 'em all anew—His greatest Pride,
His careful Mothers Gift they can't divide,
But did by Lot, whose it shou'd be, decide:
Which past, their Fury wou'd no longer stay,
But the pure Victim on the Altar lay:
His spotless Hands they on the Wood distend,
And with huge Spikes unmercifully rend;
His Hands and Feet, with many a sounding stroke,
Nail'd to th' accursed Tree, deform'd and broke:
So wide the Wounds their tend'rest Muscles tore,
All over one, there was no room for more.
By these alone aloft i'th' Air he's staid,
On these the weight of all his Body laid;
Thro' these he must be Dying half a Day,
And bleed, by slow degrees, his spotless Soul away.
The top of fatal Golgotha they gain:
A lothsom Scene of Murther and Despair,
Fit for the Tragedies were acting there:
With Sculls, and Bones, and putrid Limbs o'erspred,
And all the gastly Ruins of the Dead:
304
With nauseous Gore had drench'd the thirsty Ground;
There half-torn Carcasses unbury'd lay,
To each ill-omen'd Bird a Feast by Day,
By Night, to greedy howling Wolves, a Prey.
Of his sad Load our Lord disburthen'd there,
As late, he That, Him now the Cross must bear;
His humble Robes from his fresh Wounds they tear,
And broach 'em all anew—His greatest Pride,
His careful Mothers Gift they can't divide,
But did by Lot, whose it shou'd be, decide:
Which past, their Fury wou'd no longer stay,
But the pure Victim on the Altar lay:
His spotless Hands they on the Wood distend,
And with huge Spikes unmercifully rend;
His Hands and Feet, with many a sounding stroke,
Nail'd to th' accursed Tree, deform'd and broke:
So wide the Wounds their tend'rest Muscles tore,
All over one, there was no room for more.
By these alone aloft i'th' Air he's staid,
On these the weight of all his Body laid;
Thro' these he must be Dying half a Day,
And bleed, by slow degrees, his spotless Soul away.
Him thus transfix'd at length they raise on high,
And with insulting Voices rend the Sky:
Him Priests and People with lewd Scoffs assail,
And loud Salute—Great King of Jury Hail!
(For on the Cross, this Title o'er his Head,
So Pilate pleas'd, in various Tongues was read:)
“Hail, wond'rous King! Will't thou not leave thy Throne?
“Descend from thence, thou shalt not reign alone;
“To all that's past, add but this Wonder more!
“Now save your self, who others sav'd before!
“So thee our King we gladly will receive
“So thee the promis'd Prophet yet believe.
All this, and more our Saviour mildly bears,
And prays for Mercy on his Murtherers.
More must thou feel, O boundless suff'ring Love!
From the rude Crowd below, and those above;
Those Thieves, each mounted on his cursed Tree,
And groaning there—O how unlike to Thee?
Yet one some Tracks of Modesty retains,
Some Sign of Goodness in his Face remains,
His Crimes repents, and grieves amidst his Pains.
By th' other drawn to Vice, and newly made,
A short-liv'd Partner in the cursed Trade;
A Thief of noted Fame, a Villain he
Of ancient House, of Standing and Degree:
For many a Year did Robb'ry profess,
Deep read in all the Arts of Wickedness:
Stood on his Honour, and his well-born Race,
Nor by Repentance wou'd his Name disgrace,
Stern gloomy Guilt hung lowring on his Face:
Amidst his Torments curs'd both God and Man;
And grinning, to our Saviour thus began!
And with insulting Voices rend the Sky:
Him Priests and People with lewd Scoffs assail,
And loud Salute—Great King of Jury Hail!
(For on the Cross, this Title o'er his Head,
So Pilate pleas'd, in various Tongues was read:)
“Hail, wond'rous King! Will't thou not leave thy Throne?
“Descend from thence, thou shalt not reign alone;
“To all that's past, add but this Wonder more!
“Now save your self, who others sav'd before!
“So thee our King we gladly will receive
“So thee the promis'd Prophet yet believe.
All this, and more our Saviour mildly bears,
And prays for Mercy on his Murtherers.
More must thou feel, O boundless suff'ring Love!
From the rude Crowd below, and those above;
Those Thieves, each mounted on his cursed Tree,
305
Yet one some Tracks of Modesty retains,
Some Sign of Goodness in his Face remains,
His Crimes repents, and grieves amidst his Pains.
By th' other drawn to Vice, and newly made,
A short-liv'd Partner in the cursed Trade;
A Thief of noted Fame, a Villain he
Of ancient House, of Standing and Degree:
For many a Year did Robb'ry profess,
Deep read in all the Arts of Wickedness:
Stood on his Honour, and his well-born Race,
Nor by Repentance wou'd his Name disgrace,
Stern gloomy Guilt hung lowring on his Face:
Amidst his Torments curs'd both God and Man;
And grinning, to our Saviour thus began!
“Hear'st thou their Taunts, and canst thou all endure?
“We tortur'd here, and they beneath secure?
“Thy boasted Pow'r now, if thou canst display,
“And from these Pains thy self and us convey!
“Or that thou'rt Christ thy Flatt'rers vainly say;
“Some Slave like us, or vile Impostor rather,
“Nor the Messiah thou, nor God thy Father.
“We tortur'd here, and they beneath secure?
“Thy boasted Pow'r now, if thou canst display,
“And from these Pains thy self and us convey!
“Or that thou'rt Christ thy Flatt'rers vainly say;
“Some Slave like us, or vile Impostor rather,
“Nor the Messiah thou, nor God thy Father.
To whom the other, from the distant side,
With Shame and decent Blushes thus reply'd:
“Why nam'st thou God, whom yet thou dost not fear,
“Whose slow-pac'd Vengeance overtakes thee here!
Here for our Crimes we justly bleed, but He
Guiltless and pure, as foul and guilty We.
Then turning to our Lord his fainting Head,
With pen'tent Tears accosting, thus he said:
With Shame and decent Blushes thus reply'd:
“Why nam'st thou God, whom yet thou dost not fear,
“Whose slow-pac'd Vengeance overtakes thee here!
Here for our Crimes we justly bleed, but He
Guiltless and pure, as foul and guilty We.
Then turning to our Lord his fainting Head,
With pen'tent Tears accosting, thus he said:
“O thou who even on the Cross dost Reign!
“I ask not rescue from my Shame and Pain,
“Justly endur'd—All my Petition is,
“When thou enthron'd above in boundless Bliss,
“Remember me, and my unworthy Pray'r!
“My guilty Soul wide wand'ring in the Air,
“To Abraham's Bosom let the Angels bear.
“I ask not rescue from my Shame and Pain,
“Justly endur'd—All my Petition is,
“When thou enthron'd above in boundless Bliss,
“Remember me, and my unworthy Pray'r!
“My guilty Soul wide wand'ring in the Air,
“To Abraham's Bosom let the Angels bear.
To whom with Love and Pity in his Eyes,
Amidst his Pains, our Lord thus mild replies.—
Amidst his Pains, our Lord thus mild replies.—
“Yes, my true Confessor! thou needst not fear!
“I'll own thee there, since thou hast own'd me here;
“This happy Day thy Soul shall mount the Skies,
“And with me ever reign in Paradise.
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“This happy Day thy Soul shall mount the Skies,
“And with me ever reign in Paradise.
The while, as chanc'd, malicious Fame convey'd,
The cruel Tidings to the sacred Maid;
That by false Judas, to the Priests betray'd,
Her lov'd mirac'lous Son was doom'd to die,
And by the Soldiers dragg'd to Calvary:
You tender Mothers who her Story read,
Guess you, guess what she thought, and what she did!
Tho' she to the Almighty Will resign'd,
Scarce more than her, the most obedient Mind
That waits above, yet Nature wou'd complain;
How strong the Struggle, how intense the Pain?
By this, from Street to Street, she's hurry'd on,
Once more t'embrace her lost lamented Son:
Thus Philomel repeats her mournful Song,
When robb'd, at once, of all her tender Young;
Does near the Place, where first she lost 'em, wait,
And flutt'ring round the Tree lament their Fate,
Or tho' of their Recovery she despair,
With loud Complaints pursues the Ravisher.
Thus the bless'd Maid on Love's swift Wings did fly,
On Loves and Fears, to fatal Calvary;
Ah! but too soon arriv'd, the Guards in vain
Wou'd thrust her off, she presses in again:
Thro' Glaives and Swords, and glitt'ring Halberts prest,
And Groves of Deaths all pointed at her Breast;
So deep the Wounds imprinted there before,
Arm'd with Despair, she now cou'd fear no more:
Past the arm'd Crowd, and near the fatal Tree
Arriv'd, with a loud Shriek she cry'd,—'Tis He;
Then dropt to Earth, nor cou'd she longer bear,
Ah! happy had she still continu'd there:
With cruel Pity her the Guards revive,
She Wakes and Sighs to find her self alive:
Strait to th' accursed VVood does wildly run,
On whose tall Top she saw her bleeding Son;
Then groveling on the Ground its Root embrace,
And press it close to her disorder'd Face;
His precious Blood mix with her precious Tears;
His Blood, which rather you'd believe were hers,
So mortal pale her lovely Face appears:
Warm-trickling from her Heart as well as his,
Which more than he himself she seem'd to miss:
Ev'n on the Cross her Grief her Son did move,
Nor cou'd he there unlearn his filial Love;
His heavy Eyes, with Pain, and dying Head,
Once more he slowly rais'd, and thus he said.
—No more! let each tumult'ous Thought be still,
Resign me all to my great Father's Will;
As I my self! He'll still of you take care;
Behold your Son—His faithful Friend was there,
Lamenting near his Cross; of all the rest,
Who late so much of Zeal and Love profest
He only came—To whom he thus addrest.
The cruel Tidings to the sacred Maid;
That by false Judas, to the Priests betray'd,
Her lov'd mirac'lous Son was doom'd to die,
And by the Soldiers dragg'd to Calvary:
You tender Mothers who her Story read,
Guess you, guess what she thought, and what she did!
Tho' she to the Almighty Will resign'd,
Scarce more than her, the most obedient Mind
That waits above, yet Nature wou'd complain;
How strong the Struggle, how intense the Pain?
By this, from Street to Street, she's hurry'd on,
Once more t'embrace her lost lamented Son:
Thus Philomel repeats her mournful Song,
When robb'd, at once, of all her tender Young;
Does near the Place, where first she lost 'em, wait,
And flutt'ring round the Tree lament their Fate,
Or tho' of their Recovery she despair,
With loud Complaints pursues the Ravisher.
Thus the bless'd Maid on Love's swift Wings did fly,
On Loves and Fears, to fatal Calvary;
Ah! but too soon arriv'd, the Guards in vain
Wou'd thrust her off, she presses in again:
Thro' Glaives and Swords, and glitt'ring Halberts prest,
And Groves of Deaths all pointed at her Breast;
So deep the Wounds imprinted there before,
Arm'd with Despair, she now cou'd fear no more:
Past the arm'd Crowd, and near the fatal Tree
Arriv'd, with a loud Shriek she cry'd,—'Tis He;
Then dropt to Earth, nor cou'd she longer bear,
Ah! happy had she still continu'd there:
With cruel Pity her the Guards revive,
She Wakes and Sighs to find her self alive:
Strait to th' accursed VVood does wildly run,
On whose tall Top she saw her bleeding Son;
Then groveling on the Ground its Root embrace,
And press it close to her disorder'd Face;
307
His Blood, which rather you'd believe were hers,
So mortal pale her lovely Face appears:
Warm-trickling from her Heart as well as his,
Which more than he himself she seem'd to miss:
Ev'n on the Cross her Grief her Son did move,
Nor cou'd he there unlearn his filial Love;
His heavy Eyes, with Pain, and dying Head,
Once more he slowly rais'd, and thus he said.
—No more! let each tumult'ous Thought be still,
Resign me all to my great Father's Will;
As I my self! He'll still of you take care;
Behold your Son—His faithful Friend was there,
Lamenting near his Cross; of all the rest,
Who late so much of Zeal and Love profest
He only came—To whom he thus addrest.
“As e'er thou of my Bosom didst partake,
“Nor ev'n in this sad Hour thy Friend forsake;
“E'er I to Heav'n my parting Breath resign,
“Behold thy Mother! think her always thine!
“Of our true Friendship this dear Pledge receive;
“The last that thou canst take or I can give.
“Nor ev'n in this sad Hour thy Friend forsake;
“E'er I to Heav'n my parting Breath resign,
“Behold thy Mother! think her always thine!
“Of our true Friendship this dear Pledge receive;
“The last that thou canst take or I can give.
She heard, and still the more resents her Loss;
Agen she kneels, agen embrac'd the Cross:
Stunn'd with her Grief awhile she can't lament,
Till Heav'n at last in Pity gave it vent;
When thus she mourns—“Is this the Kingdom given?
Is this the Throne for the great Heir of Heav'n?
Thus, Prince! do thee thy Subjects entertain?
And thus is the Messiah doom'd to Reign?
For this did God's bright Messenger descend,
For this the hymning heav'nly Host attend,
And hail thy Birth with Miracles? O why
Was this vain Pomp for one who thus must die?
Die like the worst of Men, of Deaths the worst,
For Slaves alone design'd, abhorr'd, accurst?
With Joy, my Son! I cou'd thy Herse attend,
Hadst thou in Battle made a glorious End;
At least the Honour had the Grief allay'd,
And o'er thy Tomb glad Israel's Praises pay'd
Had made thee live agen; hadst thou but broke,
Like Sampson, with thy Death, the Heathen Yoke.
Too well, alas! too late the Truth I see
Of aged Simeon's mystic Prophesie;
Now thro' my wounded Soul the Sword does glide,
And pierce the Mother thro' the Sons dear Side.
Why is my Grief so weak, or why so strong?
Why must I still a hated Life prolong?
The Strokes of Sorrow are like Lightning found,
To blast the Soul, but not the Body wound.
O take a Life your cruel Pity gave,
Barbarians take, unless my Son's you'd save!
Or e'er his last swift Sand of Life is run,
O join m' at least in Death to my lov'd Son!
Might I once more embrace him, I'd not care,
Tho' on another Cross you rais'd me there.
Agen she kneels, agen embrac'd the Cross:
Stunn'd with her Grief awhile she can't lament,
Till Heav'n at last in Pity gave it vent;
When thus she mourns—“Is this the Kingdom given?
Is this the Throne for the great Heir of Heav'n?
Thus, Prince! do thee thy Subjects entertain?
And thus is the Messiah doom'd to Reign?
For this did God's bright Messenger descend,
For this the hymning heav'nly Host attend,
And hail thy Birth with Miracles? O why
Was this vain Pomp for one who thus must die?
Die like the worst of Men, of Deaths the worst,
For Slaves alone design'd, abhorr'd, accurst?
With Joy, my Son! I cou'd thy Herse attend,
Hadst thou in Battle made a glorious End;
At least the Honour had the Grief allay'd,
And o'er thy Tomb glad Israel's Praises pay'd
308
Like Sampson, with thy Death, the Heathen Yoke.
Too well, alas! too late the Truth I see
Of aged Simeon's mystic Prophesie;
Now thro' my wounded Soul the Sword does glide,
And pierce the Mother thro' the Sons dear Side.
Why is my Grief so weak, or why so strong?
Why must I still a hated Life prolong?
The Strokes of Sorrow are like Lightning found,
To blast the Soul, but not the Body wound.
O take a Life your cruel Pity gave,
Barbarians take, unless my Son's you'd save!
Or e'er his last swift Sand of Life is run,
O join m' at least in Death to my lov'd Son!
Might I once more embrace him, I'd not care,
Tho' on another Cross you rais'd me there.
Thus the Great Mother mourn'd, the Hills around,
And hollow Vales and distant Plains resound
Her loud Complaints, the neighb'ring Brooks combin'd,
And in the melancholy Chorus join'd;
Nay the mad Crowd themselves, tho' now too late,
Help her to mourn her lamentable Fate:
Eccho'd the Rocks, the senceless Marbles moan'd,
And more, the very Guards around her groan'd;
They groan'd and wept, but rav'd and blush'd withal,
And rather thought they Blood than Tears let fall.
And hollow Vales and distant Plains resound
Her loud Complaints, the neighb'ring Brooks combin'd,
And in the melancholy Chorus join'd;
Nay the mad Crowd themselves, tho' now too late,
Help her to mourn her lamentable Fate:
Eccho'd the Rocks, the senceless Marbles moan'd,
And more, the very Guards around her groan'd;
They groan'd and wept, but rav'd and blush'd withal,
And rather thought they Blood than Tears let fall.
Mean while prodigious Darkness clouds the Day,
And frighted Nature mourns as much as they:
The conscious Sun no longer now cou'd bear,
Shuts his bright Eye, and leaves the widow'd Air;
Unnat'ral Clouds obscure his radiant Face,
When near the midst of his diurnal Race:
Th' amaz'd Astrologer looks on in vain,
Nor can the Sight by all his Art explain:
He saw the sickly Moon, where wide away,
Sh' attempted to supply the Place of Day!
He saw th' Eternal Chain of Causes broke,
And thus to the amaz'd Spectators spoke.
And frighted Nature mourns as much as they:
The conscious Sun no longer now cou'd bear,
Shuts his bright Eye, and leaves the widow'd Air;
Unnat'ral Clouds obscure his radiant Face,
When near the midst of his diurnal Race:
Th' amaz'd Astrologer looks on in vain,
Nor can the Sight by all his Art explain:
He saw the sickly Moon, where wide away,
Sh' attempted to supply the Place of Day!
He saw th' Eternal Chain of Causes broke,
And thus to the amaz'd Spectators spoke.
—No more this Knot I'll struggle to untie;
“Nature it self, or Nature's God must die.
From baleful Caves remov'd from Joy to Light,
Out-sallies Primitive-Substantial Night;
As black as that which once on Egypt fell,
As full of all th' Inhabitants of Hell:
Thin glaring Ghosts glide by, loose Forms appear,
Shrill Shrieks, deep Groans, and mournful Sounds they hear.
Bellows the troubled Earth, in whose dark Womb
Pent Whirlwinds fight, and from each silent Tomb
Disturb'd in hast the dusty Tenants rise,
Still all is dark, in vain they seek the Skies,
Unless when they with twisted Lightnings glow,
Ecchoing in Thunder to the Groans below:
The World no more expects its wonted Light,
“And guilty Nations fear Eternal Night.
“Nature it self, or Nature's God must die.
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Out-sallies Primitive-Substantial Night;
As black as that which once on Egypt fell,
As full of all th' Inhabitants of Hell:
Thin glaring Ghosts glide by, loose Forms appear,
Shrill Shrieks, deep Groans, and mournful Sounds they hear.
Bellows the troubled Earth, in whose dark Womb
Pent Whirlwinds fight, and from each silent Tomb
Disturb'd in hast the dusty Tenants rise,
Still all is dark, in vain they seek the Skies,
Unless when they with twisted Lightnings glow,
Ecchoing in Thunder to the Groans below:
The World no more expects its wonted Light,
“And guilty Nations fear Eternal Night.
But most, Judea's curs'd devoted Land,
Who now too late their Error understand:
They knew to them these Prodigies were sent,
They knew what all these dire Convulsions meant:
And now as loud to Heav'n for Mercy cry,
As late they did to Pilate, Crucifie.
Matrons and Maids in solemn Order go,
And trembling Youth, themselves they prostrate throw
Before the Temple-Gates, high Heav'n t'atone,
T'avert their Countries ruin and their own;
In vain, for Heav'n it self was angry grown:
The Altar shakes, the Ashes scatter'd lay,
The Victim from the Temple breaks away,
Or drops before the Stroke and bell'wing dies;
In lowring Curls the Incense from the Skies,
Rejected there, beats back to Earth again,
As Clouds of Smoak beneath descending Rain.
Deep hollow Groans from the Foundations came,
From the high Roof shot streaks of angry Flame:
The solid Pillars trembled, and inclin'd
Their lofty Heads as Cedars in the VVind:
Twice shook the rumbling Earth, and Thunders broke
From the vast Gulf, and the third dismal Shock,
With trebled Rage rent e'en the solid Rock,
Down to the trembling Center rent the Veil,
Discovering wide the sacred Oracle;
The Holy of Holie's, naked all it lies,
Expos'd profane and bare to vulgar Eyes;
The Golden Lamps around extinguish'd quite,
Or only yield a faint: unnat'ral Light;
More dreadful by successive Lightnings made;
The Priests run frighted thro' the ghastly Shade.
Who now too late their Error understand:
They knew to them these Prodigies were sent,
They knew what all these dire Convulsions meant:
And now as loud to Heav'n for Mercy cry,
As late they did to Pilate, Crucifie.
Matrons and Maids in solemn Order go,
And trembling Youth, themselves they prostrate throw
Before the Temple-Gates, high Heav'n t'atone,
T'avert their Countries ruin and their own;
In vain, for Heav'n it self was angry grown:
The Altar shakes, the Ashes scatter'd lay,
The Victim from the Temple breaks away,
Or drops before the Stroke and bell'wing dies;
In lowring Curls the Incense from the Skies,
Rejected there, beats back to Earth again,
As Clouds of Smoak beneath descending Rain.
Deep hollow Groans from the Foundations came,
From the high Roof shot streaks of angry Flame:
The solid Pillars trembled, and inclin'd
Their lofty Heads as Cedars in the VVind:
Twice shook the rumbling Earth, and Thunders broke
From the vast Gulf, and the third dismal Shock,
With trebled Rage rent e'en the solid Rock,
Down to the trembling Center rent the Veil,
Discovering wide the sacred Oracle;
310
Expos'd profane and bare to vulgar Eyes;
The Golden Lamps around extinguish'd quite,
Or only yield a faint: unnat'ral Light;
More dreadful by successive Lightnings made;
The Priests run frighted thro' the ghastly Shade.
The while, the Lamb of God expiring see,
Upon the Top of trembling Calvary:
A heavier weight than Death his Soul opprest,
And worse than mortal Pangs his tortur'd Breast;
No more the beauteous Rays of Love Divine,
No more his Fathers Glories on him shine:
All dark and horrid like the Earth below,
Where Day forsook its Task and back did go;
Then rais'd his Eyes, swimming in Death and Night,
As dying Tapers e'er they lose their Light;
He look'd for his accustom'd winged Train;
He look'd, alas! for them and Heav'n in vain;
No wonder Heav'n cou'd now no more be seen,
The Crimes of Earth were plac'd too thick between:
But finding there no Passage with his Eyes,
To reach it with his fainting Voice he tries,
And asks, as if himself he had mistaken,
My God, my God! why hast thou me forsaken?
Upon the Top of trembling Calvary:
A heavier weight than Death his Soul opprest,
And worse than mortal Pangs his tortur'd Breast;
No more the beauteous Rays of Love Divine,
No more his Fathers Glories on him shine:
All dark and horrid like the Earth below,
Where Day forsook its Task and back did go;
Then rais'd his Eyes, swimming in Death and Night,
As dying Tapers e'er they lose their Light;
He look'd for his accustom'd winged Train;
He look'd, alas! for them and Heav'n in vain;
No wonder Heav'n cou'd now no more be seen,
The Crimes of Earth were plac'd too thick between:
But finding there no Passage with his Eyes,
To reach it with his fainting Voice he tries,
And asks, as if himself he had mistaken,
My God, my God! why hast thou me forsaken?
High Heav'n, this heard, it heard the God complain,
Th' Eternal Father heard, and all his Train;
The Father heard, unmov'd, his suff'ring Son,
By whose Eternal Councils all was done.
Th' Eternal Father heard, and all his Train;
The Father heard, unmov'd, his suff'ring Son,
By whose Eternal Councils all was done.
So did not all the glitt'ring Host above,
Ay happy there! for there they sing and Love;
They stop their Songs, their heav'nly Harps thrown by,
Or tun'd to some new louder Harmony:
At length each from his radiant Throne arose,
Their heav'nly Warmth to ruddy Vengeance glows;
Like those fair Strangers Lot conducted in,
Who punish'd guilty Sodom's brutish Sin:
Amidst the rest a Fire-wing'd Seraph saw,
Of those at trembling Sinai gave the Law—
He blew the Trumpet there—
Each stubborn Rebel did his Guilt confess;
It shook the Mount, and shook the Wilderness;
Nor had he yet forgot the Sound, but flies
Thro' Worlds unknown and undiscover'd Skies;
Where er'st the Signal was to Battle given,
The highest Tow'r on all the Crystal VValls of Heav'n:
There with his utmost might he blew a Blast,
Which thro' interminable Spaces past;
Which Chaos mov'd, its frighted Surges fell,
Trembled the gastly Sanhedrim of Hell;
Whilst Heav'ns wing'd Watchers at the Signal run,
And almost leave their dread Commands undone:
(Uriel before had left the sickly Sun.)
Each wand'ring Orb stands still, or wildly rolls,
Forgetting both their axles and their Poles:
So vast the Wreck of Heav'n, the Storm so high,
As Chaos had broke in upon the Sky;
The Spheres untun'd forgot their Harmony.
Arm! Arm! thro' every bright Battalion went;
The Adamantine Gates o'th' Firmament
Wide open thrown, with a stupendous Crack
More loud than Thunder, more the Poles they shake,
The Pomp of War discov'ring deep and wide,
Each Angel close t'his Brother Angel's side;
Turms, Cohorts, Legions, glitt'ring dreadful bright,
Arm'd Cap-a-pe in more than Lambent-Light.
Great Michael then himself was on the Guard,
The Mount of God his own peculiar Ward;
Where no Disturbance, Noise, Complaint or Cry;
But Peace and Joy roll on Eternally:
None since the Angels fell; but when from far,
He heard the harsh, unwonted Noise of VVar,
His Sword h'unsheaths, by some wise Angel made,
Of a portentous Comet's flaming Blade;
Condens'd his noble Form to Bulk and Sight;
Is all himself, and gathers in his Might;
Indues his dreadful Arms and Helmet bright:
Th' Old Dragon's spoils the Crest, in Battle bold
Conquer'd and strip'd, how dreadful to behold!
The Claws all-horrid with Ethereal Gold.
Thus deck'd, among the foremost Ranks he flew,
Who easily their glorious Leader knew;
As on a Cloud, with Thunder charg'd, he rode
Above 'em all, and only not a God.
Ay happy there! for there they sing and Love;
They stop their Songs, their heav'nly Harps thrown by,
Or tun'd to some new louder Harmony:
At length each from his radiant Throne arose,
Their heav'nly Warmth to ruddy Vengeance glows;
Like those fair Strangers Lot conducted in,
Who punish'd guilty Sodom's brutish Sin:
Amidst the rest a Fire-wing'd Seraph saw,
Of those at trembling Sinai gave the Law—
He blew the Trumpet there—
Each stubborn Rebel did his Guilt confess;
311
Nor had he yet forgot the Sound, but flies
Thro' Worlds unknown and undiscover'd Skies;
Where er'st the Signal was to Battle given,
The highest Tow'r on all the Crystal VValls of Heav'n:
There with his utmost might he blew a Blast,
Which thro' interminable Spaces past;
Which Chaos mov'd, its frighted Surges fell,
Trembled the gastly Sanhedrim of Hell;
Whilst Heav'ns wing'd Watchers at the Signal run,
And almost leave their dread Commands undone:
(Uriel before had left the sickly Sun.)
Each wand'ring Orb stands still, or wildly rolls,
Forgetting both their axles and their Poles:
So vast the Wreck of Heav'n, the Storm so high,
As Chaos had broke in upon the Sky;
The Spheres untun'd forgot their Harmony.
Arm! Arm! thro' every bright Battalion went;
The Adamantine Gates o'th' Firmament
Wide open thrown, with a stupendous Crack
More loud than Thunder, more the Poles they shake,
The Pomp of War discov'ring deep and wide,
Each Angel close t'his Brother Angel's side;
Turms, Cohorts, Legions, glitt'ring dreadful bright,
Arm'd Cap-a-pe in more than Lambent-Light.
Great Michael then himself was on the Guard,
The Mount of God his own peculiar Ward;
Where no Disturbance, Noise, Complaint or Cry;
But Peace and Joy roll on Eternally:
None since the Angels fell; but when from far,
He heard the harsh, unwonted Noise of VVar,
His Sword h'unsheaths, by some wise Angel made,
Of a portentous Comet's flaming Blade;
Condens'd his noble Form to Bulk and Sight;
Is all himself, and gathers in his Might;
Indues his dreadful Arms and Helmet bright:
Th' Old Dragon's spoils the Crest, in Battle bold
Conquer'd and strip'd, how dreadful to behold!
The Claws all-horrid with Ethereal Gold.
Thus deck'd, among the foremost Ranks he flew,
312
As on a Cloud, with Thunder charg'd, he rode
Above 'em all, and only not a God.
Thus, might we Mortal match with things Divine;
Thus look'd our Godlike Heroe at the Boyne:
The same fair Ardor for the glorious Prize,
The same just Anger lightning in his Eyes:
Thus he appear'd, thus those who round him rode,
They all like Heroes fought, he like a God.
Thus look'd our Godlike Heroe at the Boyne:
The same fair Ardor for the glorious Prize,
The same just Anger lightning in his Eyes:
Thus he appear'd, thus those who round him rode,
They all like Heroes fought, he like a God.
When thus prepar'd, they only wait the Word
To sally forth, and aid their injur'd Lord:
Th' accursed City into Atoms tear,
Nay scatter Globe and all in boundless Fields of Air.
To sally forth, and aid their injur'd Lord:
Th' accursed City into Atoms tear,
Nay scatter Globe and all in boundless Fields of Air.
This saw th' All-seeing, did their Hast resent,
And with an awful Nod shook the wide Firmament;
One motion of his Will their Rage represt:
He look'd calm Peace into each warlike Breast:
Unveil'd the Rolls of Fate, and let 'em see,
The great, unknown, tremendous Mystery:
Unknown, (or Anger them so much did blind,
'Twas now forgot by every warlike Mind)
That 'twas before all Worlds resolv'd, on high,
The mighty Maker of the World must die:
I'th Council of the Great Three-One decreed,
A sinless God for sinful Man must bleed;
His injur'd Fathers Wrath Atone and bear,
To keep injurious Rebels from despair;
Compleat the Numbers of the heav'nly Host,
And fill those Seats th' Apostate Angels lost.
And with an awful Nod shook the wide Firmament;
One motion of his Will their Rage represt:
He look'd calm Peace into each warlike Breast:
Unveil'd the Rolls of Fate, and let 'em see,
The great, unknown, tremendous Mystery:
Unknown, (or Anger them so much did blind,
'Twas now forgot by every warlike Mind)
That 'twas before all Worlds resolv'd, on high,
The mighty Maker of the World must die:
I'th Council of the Great Three-One decreed,
A sinless God for sinful Man must bleed;
His injur'd Fathers Wrath Atone and bear,
To keep injurious Rebels from despair;
Compleat the Numbers of the heav'nly Host,
And fill those Seats th' Apostate Angels lost.
Silence profound awhile all Heav'n possest,
Their Wonder was too big to be exprest:
Their Arms all dropt, their Harps agen they try,
New Songs are heard, and wonted Harmony.
Their Wonder was too big to be exprest:
Their Arms all dropt, their Harps agen they try,
New Songs are heard, and wonted Harmony.
Sweet Muse return, and hover on the Wing
Around thy bleeding Love, thy wounded King!
Go weep, as Magdalen before he dy'd,
Never such Cause, thy Love is crucify'd;
Bath his wide Wounds, as that repenting Fair
His Sacred Feet, and dry them with thy Hair:
For all the Follies of thy youthful Days,
Mispent in mortal Beauties idle Praise,
Robbing thy Saviour of his just esteem;
For all thy broken Vows to Heav'n and Him;
For all thy Sloth, thy Vanity and Pride:
See what they cost, thy Love is crucify'd:
On the curs'd Tree he bends his Sacred Head,
From his pale Cheeks each lovely Rose is fled,
His Lips, his heav'nly Eyes already dead:
His swimming Eyes approaching Night did cloud,
And all his Face deform'd with Tears and Blood!
In num'rous little Streams which trickled down
From those curs'd Thorns which his blest Temples crown;
Thence to his mangled Hands profusely flow,
And join those mightier Streams that rise below;
Which swelling wide make drunk the thirsty ground,
Till all the guilty Earth is ting'd around.
Thus oft the wand'ring Swains by chance have spy'd,
By Natures Art in some tall Mountains side,
A ragged Rock, bedew'd with Water o'er,
And sweating Crystal Drops at every Pore!
Each steals into the next, and faster flow,
To meet large subterranean Streams below;
Whose Channel Pleasure both and Profit yields,
Scattering Eternal Verdure round the Fields.
Around thy bleeding Love, thy wounded King!
Go weep, as Magdalen before he dy'd,
Never such Cause, thy Love is crucify'd;
Bath his wide Wounds, as that repenting Fair
His Sacred Feet, and dry them with thy Hair:
For all the Follies of thy youthful Days,
313
Robbing thy Saviour of his just esteem;
For all thy broken Vows to Heav'n and Him;
For all thy Sloth, thy Vanity and Pride:
See what they cost, thy Love is crucify'd:
On the curs'd Tree he bends his Sacred Head,
From his pale Cheeks each lovely Rose is fled,
His Lips, his heav'nly Eyes already dead:
His swimming Eyes approaching Night did cloud,
And all his Face deform'd with Tears and Blood!
In num'rous little Streams which trickled down
From those curs'd Thorns which his blest Temples crown;
Thence to his mangled Hands profusely flow,
And join those mightier Streams that rise below;
Which swelling wide make drunk the thirsty ground,
Till all the guilty Earth is ting'd around.
Thus oft the wand'ring Swains by chance have spy'd,
By Natures Art in some tall Mountains side,
A ragged Rock, bedew'd with Water o'er,
And sweating Crystal Drops at every Pore!
Each steals into the next, and faster flow,
To meet large subterranean Streams below;
Whose Channel Pleasure both and Profit yields,
Scattering Eternal Verdure round the Fields.
Hail, all you mystic Drops of precious Gore,
Each of you singly worth a World and more!
Cou'd your immortal Fountain want supplies,
I'd quickly make a Deluge with my Eyes.
Each of you singly worth a World and more!
Cou'd your immortal Fountain want supplies,
I'd quickly make a Deluge with my Eyes.
And now with Sweat and Blood exhaust and dry'd,
And scorch'd with Pain, I thirst, he faintly cry'd:
For eager Wine the scoffing Soldiers run,
And offer that; he tasts, and crys—'Tis done.
'Tis done—His spotless Soul no longer strives;
The God is dead, and Sinful Man revives:
He bow'd his Head, receive my Soul, he cry'd,
Dear Father! in thy Arms; He bow'd his Head and Dy'd.
And scorch'd with Pain, I thirst, he faintly cry'd:
For eager Wine the scoffing Soldiers run,
And offer that; he tasts, and crys—'Tis done.
'Tis done—His spotless Soul no longer strives;
The God is dead, and Sinful Man revives:
He bow'd his Head, receive my Soul, he cry'd,
Dear Father! in thy Arms; He bow'd his Head and Dy'd.
The End of the Ninth Book.
318
BOOK X. The RESURRECTION.
THE ARGUMENT OF THE Tenth BOOK.
After
a Discourse of the pleasure of seeing Virtue triumphant,
notwithstanding all Misfortunes, and an Invocation of the
Blessed SPIRITS Assistance, for the happy Conclusion
of the Work. Joseph of Arimathæa is introduced going to Pilate
and boldly begging the Body of our Saviour, which being granted,
he repairs to the Cross and takes it thence, after a Souldier had pierced
the Side with a Spear, Blood and Water flowing out of the Wound; then
bears it to his Garden, and lays it in his own Sepulchre, accompanied by
the Blessed Virgin and other Friends. The Triumphs among the Devils
at the Death of our Saviour: Lucifer's Speech on that occasion, ordering
all the Devils to repair to Earth agen, and repossess their Oracles. While he's in
the heighth of his Exultation, our Saviour enters Hell with a Guard of Angels,
and all the Devils flying at his sight, and sinking into the Lake, carries
with him to Paradise some of those Persons who were lost in the Universal
Deluge. The Third Day, his Soul and Body being now agen united, and
he rising from the Grave, Mary Magdalen, and other Women, go to the Sepulchre
to Embalm him, but find him to be gone; and receive an account of his
Resurrection, from a Vision of Angels, directing 'em to go and acquaint
his Disciples with the News. Mary Magdalen stays and sees our Saviour
himself, who orders her on the same Message; on which S. Peter and S. John
run to the Sepulchre, and find the Body to be gone; but returning, can not gain
lief of the rest, till our Saviour himself appears amongst them; S. Thomas
being then absent, and still incredulous. Soon after, two others, to whom our
Lord discovered himself at Emmaus come in, and relate the whole Story;
which S. Thomas not yet believing, Jesus himself appears, and shewing him
his Wounds, fully convinces him—Ordering all the Disciples to meet him
at Tabor in Galilee, who going thither for that end, he first appears to 'em
as they were Fishing on the Sea of Tiberias, where he tries S. Peter's Faith,
and foretells his Martyrdom. Thence meeting many of his Followers on
Mount Tabor, he orders 'em all to Jerusalem, there to take his last Farewel:
Where being arriv'd, he takes them out to Bethany; and after his
last Discourse and Promise to be with them to the End of the World, the
Heavenly Host appear, and Sing an Anthem, being part of the 24th Psalm,
while our Saviour is Ascending; who, just as he disappears from the Disciples,
orders two Angels back to Mount Oliver, to comfort them with the Promise
of his Return; who thereupon depart again with Joy to Jerusalem.
319
321
O how
refreshing is't, how dear a Sight,
When Virtue emerges out of Clouds and Night!
To see her all her groveling Foes despise,
To see the Tyrant fall and Hero rise!
True Worth survives the Grave, rude Winds the Fruit
May blast, but 'tis immortal in the Root.
Beat on Affliction's Billows! 'Tis in vain,
The Rock will still impregnable remain;
The Storm tho' fierce, will soon or late blow o'er,
And we with Shouts shall reach the happy Shore,
Where our great Captain is arriv'd before.
When Virtue emerges out of Clouds and Night!
To see her all her groveling Foes despise,
To see the Tyrant fall and Hero rise!
True Worth survives the Grave, rude Winds the Fruit
May blast, but 'tis immortal in the Root.
Beat on Affliction's Billows! 'Tis in vain,
The Rock will still impregnable remain;
The Storm tho' fierce, will soon or late blow o'er,
And we with Shouts shall reach the happy Shore,
Where our great Captain is arriv'd before.
322
Kind Spirit, who from the dark tumult'ous Wave
Didst raise a beauteous VVorld, O hear and save!
Save and direct, direct our feeble Bark,
As once thou didst the weary wand'ring Ark!
Remove the Clouds, be all serene and fair
Like thee, O gentle Blast of Heav'nly Air!
Let this last Voyage no rough storms molest,
Then, of our dear, long-wish'd-for Port possest,
We'd gladly Anchor in eternal Rest.
Didst raise a beauteous VVorld, O hear and save!
Save and direct, direct our feeble Bark,
As once thou didst the weary wand'ring Ark!
Remove the Clouds, be all serene and fair
Like thee, O gentle Blast of Heav'nly Air!
Let this last Voyage no rough storms molest,
Then, of our dear, long-wish'd-for Port possest,
We'd gladly Anchor in eternal Rest.
And now true Night in the disorder'd Skies,
Prepares, at her appointed Hours, to rise;
But wonders that her Task's perform'd before,
Nay blacker Veils spread all the Æther o'er:
Still high in gloomy Air the Bodies stood
Expos'd, and Tortur'd on th' unlucky VVood;
Tortur'd the Two, but from his spotless Breast,
The Thirds bright Soul was fled to endless Rest:
Nor longer cou'd the generous Joseph bear,
To see his Friends sad mangled Reliques there;
But while far off his scatter'd Household fled,
Their Faith and Courage with their Master Dead:
With Nicodemus, his old prudent Friend,
Affraid no more, do's from the Hill descend,
Where sad Spectators near the Cross they were,
Boldly to beg the Body, and Inter,
With silence, in his own new Sepulcher:
There, if his just Request successful prove,
To pay the last due Debt of Tears and Love:
Thus who boast highest, first the Cause forsake,
Thus Converts oft the best of Christians make.
With Pious hast they both to Pilate ran,
To whom, undaunted, Joseph thus began.
Prepares, at her appointed Hours, to rise;
But wonders that her Task's perform'd before,
Nay blacker Veils spread all the Æther o'er:
Still high in gloomy Air the Bodies stood
Expos'd, and Tortur'd on th' unlucky VVood;
Tortur'd the Two, but from his spotless Breast,
The Thirds bright Soul was fled to endless Rest:
Nor longer cou'd the generous Joseph bear,
To see his Friends sad mangled Reliques there;
But while far off his scatter'd Household fled,
Their Faith and Courage with their Master Dead:
With Nicodemus, his old prudent Friend,
Affraid no more, do's from the Hill descend,
Where sad Spectators near the Cross they were,
Boldly to beg the Body, and Inter,
With silence, in his own new Sepulcher:
There, if his just Request successful prove,
To pay the last due Debt of Tears and Love:
Thus who boast highest, first the Cause forsake,
Thus Converts oft the best of Christians make.
With Pious hast they both to Pilate ran,
To whom, undaunted, Joseph thus began.
Brave Roman, whom our Nations Spite and Rage,
Now first did in an unjust Act engage:
As noble Pontius wou'd be still thought free,
And only Passive in their Cruelty;
And bear to distant Ages, distant Lands
His Fame, as clean and spotless as his Hands;
T'his humble Suppliants let be restor'd,
The breathless dear Remains of our lov'd Lord:
Nor will the Priests themselves, howe'er they rave,
Urge on their Hatred, e'en beyond the Grave;
He's cold and lifeless now, their Fear is o'er,
Nor can he them or Cesar injure more:
Grant then we for his Body may return,
Due Honours pay, at his sad Fun'ral mourn,
And sprinkle Tears and Flow'rs around his Urn.
Now first did in an unjust Act engage:
As noble Pontius wou'd be still thought free,
And only Passive in their Cruelty;
And bear to distant Ages, distant Lands
His Fame, as clean and spotless as his Hands;
T'his humble Suppliants let be restor'd,
The breathless dear Remains of our lov'd Lord:
323
Urge on their Hatred, e'en beyond the Grave;
He's cold and lifeless now, their Fear is o'er,
Nor can he them or Cesar injure more:
Grant then we for his Body may return,
Due Honours pay, at his sad Fun'ral mourn,
And sprinkle Tears and Flow'rs around his Urn.
The Roman thus—Witness each sacred Pow'r,
Witness the common Jove we all adore,
Father of Men and Gods; with how much Joy
I'd him restore, how griev'd did him destroy;
Restore you your whole Friend, whom publick Spite
And Rage, have robb'd of our etherial Light:
Take what remains, I gladly that restore,
And take my Grief that I can give no more.
Witness the common Jove we all adore,
Father of Men and Gods; with how much Joy
I'd him restore, how griev'd did him destroy;
Restore you your whole Friend, whom publick Spite
And Rage, have robb'd of our etherial Light:
Take what remains, I gladly that restore,
And take my Grief that I can give no more.
Their wish'd Request obtain'd, they hast away,
And but to give the Donor thanks cou'd stay:
The Hill surmounted soon, abrupt appear'd
No more, nor more the Guards around they fear'd:
Arm'd Troops and glitt'ring Helmets, dreadful bright,
Projecting far away their dazling Light:
“Of Murder'd Men the low lamenting Voice,
“Mixt with the Murderers confused Noise
They heard, yet onward went with pious hast,
Thro' Crouds unarm'd or arm'd alike they past:
Till to the fatal Scene of Death arriv'd,
Where new Barbarities were still contriv'd;
Still new Effects of pop'lar Rage they found;
The mangled bleeding Body's on the Ground:
A single Death's too little, they'd invent,
Beyond the Cross it self, a Punishment:
The Bodies must expos'd no longer stay,
T'unhallow their approaching Paschal Day,
And damp their festal Joys; new Arts they try,
And with new Torments make 'em more than Dye:
With pond'rous Staves and Sledges crush'd their Bones,
Ecchoes the Mountain with their Strokes and Groans.
The half-dead Wretches supplicate in vain
For some kind Stab to ease their ling'ring Pain:
Jesus alone had his meek Soul resign'd,
And spar'd their Cruelty; his Head reclin'd,
On his torn Shoulders lay, enrag'd they cry'd,
He had deceiv'd 'em, and too mildly Dy'd:
Enrag'd, they such a disappointment found;
They e'en the senseless Carcass gore and wound:
A Soldier, blind with Fury, snatch'd a Spear,
Which Death on its sharp Point in vain did wear,
And darts it at his Side, out springs a flood
Of purest Limpid Water, joyn'd with Blood;
Joyn'd, not confus'd, as thro' thin Crystal shine,
The sparkling Drops of Gaza's noble Vine:
True Types of those blest Streams which ever flow
From Gods high Throne, t'enrich the World below;
Th' inestimable Sanctions of our Bliss,
Those Streams which glad the Churches Paradise;
That sacred Laver, and that Banquet high,
Where those who Bath and Feast shall never Die.
And but to give the Donor thanks cou'd stay:
The Hill surmounted soon, abrupt appear'd
No more, nor more the Guards around they fear'd:
Arm'd Troops and glitt'ring Helmets, dreadful bright,
Projecting far away their dazling Light:
“Of Murder'd Men the low lamenting Voice,
“Mixt with the Murderers confused Noise
They heard, yet onward went with pious hast,
Thro' Crouds unarm'd or arm'd alike they past:
Till to the fatal Scene of Death arriv'd,
Where new Barbarities were still contriv'd;
Still new Effects of pop'lar Rage they found;
The mangled bleeding Body's on the Ground:
A single Death's too little, they'd invent,
Beyond the Cross it self, a Punishment:
The Bodies must expos'd no longer stay,
T'unhallow their approaching Paschal Day,
And damp their festal Joys; new Arts they try,
And with new Torments make 'em more than Dye:
With pond'rous Staves and Sledges crush'd their Bones,
Ecchoes the Mountain with their Strokes and Groans.
The half-dead Wretches supplicate in vain
For some kind Stab to ease their ling'ring Pain:
Jesus alone had his meek Soul resign'd,
324
On his torn Shoulders lay, enrag'd they cry'd,
He had deceiv'd 'em, and too mildly Dy'd:
Enrag'd, they such a disappointment found;
They e'en the senseless Carcass gore and wound:
A Soldier, blind with Fury, snatch'd a Spear,
Which Death on its sharp Point in vain did wear,
And darts it at his Side, out springs a flood
Of purest Limpid Water, joyn'd with Blood;
Joyn'd, not confus'd, as thro' thin Crystal shine,
The sparkling Drops of Gaza's noble Vine:
True Types of those blest Streams which ever flow
From Gods high Throne, t'enrich the World below;
Th' inestimable Sanctions of our Bliss,
Those Streams which glad the Churches Paradise;
That sacred Laver, and that Banquet high,
Where those who Bath and Feast shall never Die.
While this transacting, Joseph thither came,
And strait ascends the Tree—(Love knows no Shame;)
Himself ascends, and from th' accursed Wood
Takes his dead Friend, cover'd with Wounds and Blood,
And to his own fair Garden sadly bore,
Where oft his lov'd Disciples met before;
Then, near the Tomb lay down their precious Load,
The wond'rous Reliques of a suff'ring God.
And strait ascends the Tree—(Love knows no Shame;)
Himself ascends, and from th' accursed Wood
Takes his dead Friend, cover'd with Wounds and Blood,
And to his own fair Garden sadly bore,
Where oft his lov'd Disciples met before;
Then, near the Tomb lay down their precious Load,
The wond'rous Reliques of a suff'ring God.
Hither, bright Heav'nly Youths, O hither bring,
The Glories of your own eternal Spring!
Of ev'ry Flow'r that in fair Eden grows,
The dying Hero's funeral Pomp compose,
Mix'd with Engeddi's Spice, and Sharon's Rose;
And when you all your Sweets have round him spread,
Tho' ne'er till this sad Hour, a Tear you shed,
Weep, O Immortals! Weep! your Lord is Dead.
The Glories of your own eternal Spring!
Of ev'ry Flow'r that in fair Eden grows,
The dying Hero's funeral Pomp compose,
Mix'd with Engeddi's Spice, and Sharon's Rose;
And when you all your Sweets have round him spread,
Tho' ne'er till this sad Hour, a Tear you shed,
Weep, O Immortals! Weep! your Lord is Dead.
Or if you still refuse your courteous Aid,
We'll ask no more, for see the Heav'nly Maid;
The Virgin-Mother can that Office do,
With as much Grace and Purity as you.
On the hard Rock behold her seated there!
Whilst all her sad Companions rend the Air
With loud Laments, the Hills repeat their Cries,
She only silent, her exhausted Eyes,
Have not one precious Drop, one single Tear;
Her Grief so decent, shou'd she but appear
In Publick, all the World wou'd Mourning wear.
Silent, and still, as deepest Waters flow,
What Breast but hers cou'd hold the mighty Woe?
She saw his Soul from his pale Body fled,
She saw her Hope, her Life, her Saviour dead;
Her wond'rous Son, no Pangs at his first Breath,
But ah! they're more than doubl'd at his Death:
In her sad Arms, he all-a-Carcass lies,
Deaths heavy Iron Slumber seals his Eyes;
His Eyes fast clos'd, altho' his Wounds gape wide,
Those Wounds which rend his Feet, his Hands, his Side;
She Kisses both, while her Companions tear,
With loud Complaints, their Garments and their Hair;
Scarce are they by the Men at length restrain'd,
Who not their own unruly Tears command:
To his pale Corps the last due Honours pay,
And in the Marble Vault lamenting lay;
And dewy Night descending, leave the Tomb,
Conducting safely the great Mourner home.
We'll ask no more, for see the Heav'nly Maid;
The Virgin-Mother can that Office do,
With as much Grace and Purity as you.
On the hard Rock behold her seated there!
Whilst all her sad Companions rend the Air
With loud Laments, the Hills repeat their Cries,
325
Have not one precious Drop, one single Tear;
Her Grief so decent, shou'd she but appear
In Publick, all the World wou'd Mourning wear.
Silent, and still, as deepest Waters flow,
What Breast but hers cou'd hold the mighty Woe?
She saw his Soul from his pale Body fled,
She saw her Hope, her Life, her Saviour dead;
Her wond'rous Son, no Pangs at his first Breath,
But ah! they're more than doubl'd at his Death:
In her sad Arms, he all-a-Carcass lies,
Deaths heavy Iron Slumber seals his Eyes;
His Eyes fast clos'd, altho' his Wounds gape wide,
Those Wounds which rend his Feet, his Hands, his Side;
She Kisses both, while her Companions tear,
With loud Complaints, their Garments and their Hair;
Scarce are they by the Men at length restrain'd,
Who not their own unruly Tears command:
To his pale Corps the last due Honours pay,
And in the Marble Vault lamenting lay;
And dewy Night descending, leave the Tomb,
Conducting safely the great Mourner home.
Mean while the World a gen'ral Grief exprest,
All Natures Family in Mourning drest:
Silent and sad, or in soft Sighs complain'd,
Nay Heav'n it self scarce undisturb'd remain'd:
In Hell alone was Joy and curst Delight,
Our Happiness their Woe, our Day their Night:
Scarce such wild general Revels there were known,
When their black Prince did the first Man dethrone,
And almost made a second World their own:
The Pandæmonium fills, the Iron Gate
Is throng'd with many a Sooty Potentate:
Blasphemous Moloch, Satan, Belial, Baal,
And lustful Asmodai, part go, part crawl
On long Serpentine Folds, as erst they fell;
Now drest in all the ugly Forms of Hell:
High in the midst, dire Lucifer ascends
His glowing Throne, a frightful Guard of Fiends
Flock round, the boldest Spirits who with him fell,
And make a Pomp worthy the Prince of Hell:
Some Signs of what he was he still retain'd,
A few weak Rays of gloomy Light remain'd;
Which a faint glimm'ring sort of Twylight made,
I'th' ugly Horror of th' infernal Shade:
His Pow'r not less, tho' by high Heav'n confin'd,
And strong eternal Chains the Rebel bind;
Were he let loose, and no new Thunder hurl'd,
He'd quickly into Atoms crush the World;
As now he is, his haughty Eyes express
The highest Ill, Majestick Wickedness;
Great without Good, as Earthly Tyrants are,
Who Hells black Brand, not Heav'ns bright Image wear;
Most Servile, yet Imperious, Proud, yet Base,
A wicked Joy glares thro' his dusky Face;
Transports he do's amidst his Torments feel,
And shows some mighty mischiefs on the Wheel:
“Thus the French Lucifer, his dear Allie,
“Who still maintains his War against the Sky,
“Thus great appears, in Blood and Murders crown'd;
“As many black Destroyers wait around
“His Pestilential Throne, for Orders wait,
“To scatter Mischief and unerring Fate.
Thus he, thus Hells proud King in Flames array'd,
Who having all his own sad World survey'd,
He thus began.—
Dominions, Thrones, and Pow'rs!
Possessors once of half Heav'ns Crystal Tow'rs,
Which had Fate smil'd, long since had all been ours:
And Fate, not Valour crush'd us, for we're still
Unconquer'd in our own Almighty Will;
What since against its Tyranny we've done,
You know it, and we need not Blush to own;
How we that sordid Piece of dirty Clay,
Whom our more high-born Minds disdain'd t'obey;
For whom the beauteous World above was made,
A Heav'n to our uncomfortable Shade,
Have, by an easie Stratagem, betray'd:
Did our hard Foe's wise VVorkmanship disgrace,
And in one Moment Murder'd all their Race:
'Tis true they Mercy found, tho' we had none,
Who scorn like Man, to kneel and lick his Throne;
No—Since so bravely once we took the Field,
Now, for another Heav'n we wou'd not yield;
Who, more than half his World e'er since possest,
He the poor Jews, and we had all the rest;
More Priests, more Oracles; nay even there,
In his lov'd Land, ours was the largest share;
To us his own proud Kings for Counsel come,
And Endor speaks when sacred Shilo's dumb.
'Tis true, his dreaming Prophets did foretel,
In many a mystick Type and Oracle,
The ruines of the World agen shou'd rise,
Th' eternal Word descending from the Sky's
In mortal Form—Ours was too mean and base;
A Curse on him and all that sordid Race!
To drive us from our Conquer'd Kingdoms, where
We sally out, and tast the lightsom Air,
From these sad Realms; nay tho' we cannot fear
A further Blow, pursue and chain us here:
Revolving deep, I guest that Age was near;
And when the late great Hebrew Prophet came,
Whose Birth, whose Life, whose Miracles and Fame
Have fill'd the World, from whom our Legions fled
At his dread Word, his Word which rais'd the Dead;
Chas'd every stubborn Pain, and strong Disease,
Rebuk'd the Winds, and still'd the raging Seas;
When he did thus to th' wond'ring World appear,
I for our State almost began to fear;
To fear our Empire now was doom'd to fall;
Him Saviour, him the Jews Messiah call,
And wou'd have Crown'd their King—Him first I try'd,
You know th' Event, with all the Baits of Pride;
All that the Earth, of Wealth or Pleasure, yields,
Rich Afric's Sands, or Europe's fertile Fields;
Luxurious Asia's tempting Charms were shown,
And all the hidden Sweets of Worlds unknown:
Whatever Nature made of Fair and Good;
But all in vain, Impregnable he stood:
Not so his Friend, whom Fear or Gold o'erpow'rs
At first Assault—(Th' High Priest before was ours)
The Wretch who late came here, like those above;
We Traytors hate, tho' we the Treason love—
How e'er at length we're safe, our Fear is o'er;
The mighty Prince will drive us now no more!
I saw the Heir of Heav'n expos'd on high,
The Cross his Throne, I saw th' Immortal Die;
For such his Flatt'rers call'd him—Now they run
To shelt'ring Shades, and flie, like us, the Sun;
Tho' little need—He fled himself from them
And angry Heav'n on our Jerusalem
Look'd Frowning down; e'en let it now Frown on,
What's past is Fate, the mighty Work is done;
Our Conqu'rer now may mourn his Conquer'd Son:
On all the tott'ring World may Vengeance take,
At which we'll smile, but can't what's past unmake;
That only is beyond his boasted Pow'r,
Too feeble to recall one fleeting Hour:
Losers may speak—Let the Creation low'r;
Let Thunder rend the Poles, the Center shake,
And sink us deeper in our dreadful Lake;
Yet still we'll Revel here; let Envy stay
Her eating Cares, and know no Grief to day!
E'en She shall smile, her greatest Foe is Dead;
Let bashful Error raise her Hydra-head,
She and my own dear Discord, lately fled
From the great Prophet's Words and Heav'nly Air!
Let 'em with all their snakey Train prepare
For Earth agen, and our new Conquests tell
To every holy Fane and Oracle;
To all the Dæmons that in Æther rove,
From Delphos sacred Rock to wise Dodona's Grove.
Tell 'em—But there his Speech abruptly ends;
Confus'd, he from his Iron Throne descends:
For wide away thro' his own darksom Cell,
He saw strange Light, he saw an Heav'n in Hell;
The Walls, the Gates are down, and Death and Sin,
Thro' the new horrid Breach, came tumbling in;
Their Conqu'ror after who the Blow had given;
'Twas he himself, th' Illustrious Heir of Heav'n,
Iesus the God—
'Twas he—A Guard of warlike Angels stands
Around with kindled Thunders in their Hands:
Tho' more his Sight the Rebels did surprize,
He wears far fiercer Thunders in his Eyes:
Too well his Eyes, too well his Arm they knew,
They oft before had seen and felt 'em too:
First did their trembling King the Firm forsake,
And headlong he plunges in the broad Lake;
Innumerable Legions after run,
New Hells they seek, the Lamb's fierce Wrath to shun;
At once they fall, and from the Rivage steep,
Strike thro' the Bosom of th' unbounded Deep;
I'th' rolling liquid Flame wide Circles make,
Soft murmurs the black boyling Brimstone Lake.
So when from the fair Banks of Silver Poe,
Far off, a Flight of trembling Mallards know,
The Royal Eagle their unequal Foe;
Darting like his own Thunder thro' the Air,
They, carri'd on the swifter Wings of Fear,
Strike headlong thro' the Stream, and disappear.
All Natures Family in Mourning drest:
Silent and sad, or in soft Sighs complain'd,
Nay Heav'n it self scarce undisturb'd remain'd:
In Hell alone was Joy and curst Delight,
Our Happiness their Woe, our Day their Night:
Scarce such wild general Revels there were known,
When their black Prince did the first Man dethrone,
And almost made a second World their own:
The Pandæmonium fills, the Iron Gate
Is throng'd with many a Sooty Potentate:
Blasphemous Moloch, Satan, Belial, Baal,
And lustful Asmodai, part go, part crawl
On long Serpentine Folds, as erst they fell;
Now drest in all the ugly Forms of Hell:
High in the midst, dire Lucifer ascends
His glowing Throne, a frightful Guard of Fiends
Flock round, the boldest Spirits who with him fell,
326
Some Signs of what he was he still retain'd,
A few weak Rays of gloomy Light remain'd;
Which a faint glimm'ring sort of Twylight made,
I'th' ugly Horror of th' infernal Shade:
His Pow'r not less, tho' by high Heav'n confin'd,
And strong eternal Chains the Rebel bind;
Were he let loose, and no new Thunder hurl'd,
He'd quickly into Atoms crush the World;
As now he is, his haughty Eyes express
The highest Ill, Majestick Wickedness;
Great without Good, as Earthly Tyrants are,
Who Hells black Brand, not Heav'ns bright Image wear;
Most Servile, yet Imperious, Proud, yet Base,
A wicked Joy glares thro' his dusky Face;
Transports he do's amidst his Torments feel,
And shows some mighty mischiefs on the Wheel:
“Thus the French Lucifer, his dear Allie,
“Who still maintains his War against the Sky,
“Thus great appears, in Blood and Murders crown'd;
“As many black Destroyers wait around
“His Pestilential Throne, for Orders wait,
“To scatter Mischief and unerring Fate.
Thus he, thus Hells proud King in Flames array'd,
Who having all his own sad World survey'd,
He thus began.—
Dominions, Thrones, and Pow'rs!
Possessors once of half Heav'ns Crystal Tow'rs,
Which had Fate smil'd, long since had all been ours:
And Fate, not Valour crush'd us, for we're still
Unconquer'd in our own Almighty Will;
What since against its Tyranny we've done,
You know it, and we need not Blush to own;
How we that sordid Piece of dirty Clay,
Whom our more high-born Minds disdain'd t'obey;
For whom the beauteous World above was made,
A Heav'n to our uncomfortable Shade,
Have, by an easie Stratagem, betray'd:
Did our hard Foe's wise VVorkmanship disgrace,
And in one Moment Murder'd all their Race:
327
Who scorn like Man, to kneel and lick his Throne;
No—Since so bravely once we took the Field,
Now, for another Heav'n we wou'd not yield;
Who, more than half his World e'er since possest,
He the poor Jews, and we had all the rest;
More Priests, more Oracles; nay even there,
In his lov'd Land, ours was the largest share;
To us his own proud Kings for Counsel come,
And Endor speaks when sacred Shilo's dumb.
'Tis true, his dreaming Prophets did foretel,
In many a mystick Type and Oracle,
The ruines of the World agen shou'd rise,
Th' eternal Word descending from the Sky's
In mortal Form—Ours was too mean and base;
A Curse on him and all that sordid Race!
To drive us from our Conquer'd Kingdoms, where
We sally out, and tast the lightsom Air,
From these sad Realms; nay tho' we cannot fear
A further Blow, pursue and chain us here:
Revolving deep, I guest that Age was near;
And when the late great Hebrew Prophet came,
Whose Birth, whose Life, whose Miracles and Fame
Have fill'd the World, from whom our Legions fled
At his dread Word, his Word which rais'd the Dead;
Chas'd every stubborn Pain, and strong Disease,
Rebuk'd the Winds, and still'd the raging Seas;
When he did thus to th' wond'ring World appear,
I for our State almost began to fear;
To fear our Empire now was doom'd to fall;
Him Saviour, him the Jews Messiah call,
And wou'd have Crown'd their King—Him first I try'd,
You know th' Event, with all the Baits of Pride;
All that the Earth, of Wealth or Pleasure, yields,
Rich Afric's Sands, or Europe's fertile Fields;
Luxurious Asia's tempting Charms were shown,
And all the hidden Sweets of Worlds unknown:
Whatever Nature made of Fair and Good;
But all in vain, Impregnable he stood:
Not so his Friend, whom Fear or Gold o'erpow'rs
328
The Wretch who late came here, like those above;
We Traytors hate, tho' we the Treason love—
How e'er at length we're safe, our Fear is o'er;
The mighty Prince will drive us now no more!
I saw the Heir of Heav'n expos'd on high,
The Cross his Throne, I saw th' Immortal Die;
For such his Flatt'rers call'd him—Now they run
To shelt'ring Shades, and flie, like us, the Sun;
Tho' little need—He fled himself from them
And angry Heav'n on our Jerusalem
Look'd Frowning down; e'en let it now Frown on,
What's past is Fate, the mighty Work is done;
Our Conqu'rer now may mourn his Conquer'd Son:
On all the tott'ring World may Vengeance take,
At which we'll smile, but can't what's past unmake;
That only is beyond his boasted Pow'r,
Too feeble to recall one fleeting Hour:
Losers may speak—Let the Creation low'r;
Let Thunder rend the Poles, the Center shake,
And sink us deeper in our dreadful Lake;
Yet still we'll Revel here; let Envy stay
Her eating Cares, and know no Grief to day!
E'en She shall smile, her greatest Foe is Dead;
Let bashful Error raise her Hydra-head,
She and my own dear Discord, lately fled
From the great Prophet's Words and Heav'nly Air!
Let 'em with all their snakey Train prepare
For Earth agen, and our new Conquests tell
To every holy Fane and Oracle;
To all the Dæmons that in Æther rove,
From Delphos sacred Rock to wise Dodona's Grove.
Tell 'em—But there his Speech abruptly ends;
Confus'd, he from his Iron Throne descends:
For wide away thro' his own darksom Cell,
He saw strange Light, he saw an Heav'n in Hell;
The Walls, the Gates are down, and Death and Sin,
Thro' the new horrid Breach, came tumbling in;
Their Conqu'ror after who the Blow had given;
'Twas he himself, th' Illustrious Heir of Heav'n,
329
'Twas he—A Guard of warlike Angels stands
Around with kindled Thunders in their Hands:
Tho' more his Sight the Rebels did surprize,
He wears far fiercer Thunders in his Eyes:
Too well his Eyes, too well his Arm they knew,
They oft before had seen and felt 'em too:
First did their trembling King the Firm forsake,
And headlong he plunges in the broad Lake;
Innumerable Legions after run,
New Hells they seek, the Lamb's fierce Wrath to shun;
At once they fall, and from the Rivage steep,
Strike thro' the Bosom of th' unbounded Deep;
I'th' rolling liquid Flame wide Circles make,
Soft murmurs the black boyling Brimstone Lake.
So when from the fair Banks of Silver Poe,
Far off, a Flight of trembling Mallards know,
The Royal Eagle their unequal Foe;
Darting like his own Thunder thro' the Air,
They, carri'd on the swifter Wings of Fear,
Strike headlong thro' the Stream, and disappear.
The Fiends on Earth too felt the fatal Blow,
And quickly sympathize with those below;
And, as of old from Heav'ns high Wall they fall,
Now drop from each forsaken Oracle;
Thick as Autumnal Leaves the Valleys spread,
E'er shiv'ring Winter shows its palsy'd Head:
Lamenting Sounds are heard, they take their flight,
Wide-wandring in their own Eternal Night:
Thus does at last the Woman's Off-spring tread,
Triumphant, o'er the hissing Serpent's Head:
And thus Captivity he Captive led.
The guilty trembling Jaylors puts to flight,
Exposing their dark Cells to hated Light;
From the old greedy Lion wrests his Prey,
Which long condemn'd in those sad Mansions lay;
And with him back reduc'd to cheerful Day.
How welcom their Deliverer appears,
To the old Pris'ners of Two thousand Years,
Who in the Universal Deluge fell,
Thro' gaping Earth's wide Ruins swept to Hell:
The Graves first Fruits, a joyful Troop they rise,
Regain the now almost forgotten Skies,
And wait their Saviour into Paradise.
And quickly sympathize with those below;
And, as of old from Heav'ns high Wall they fall,
Now drop from each forsaken Oracle;
Thick as Autumnal Leaves the Valleys spread,
E'er shiv'ring Winter shows its palsy'd Head:
Lamenting Sounds are heard, they take their flight,
Wide-wandring in their own Eternal Night:
Thus does at last the Woman's Off-spring tread,
Triumphant, o'er the hissing Serpent's Head:
And thus Captivity he Captive led.
The guilty trembling Jaylors puts to flight,
Exposing their dark Cells to hated Light;
From the old greedy Lion wrests his Prey,
Which long condemn'd in those sad Mansions lay;
And with him back reduc'd to cheerful Day.
How welcom their Deliverer appears,
To the old Pris'ners of Two thousand Years,
Who in the Universal Deluge fell,
330
The Graves first Fruits, a joyful Troop they rise,
Regain the now almost forgotten Skies,
And wait their Saviour into Paradise.
With him agen, Sweet Muse, to Earth return,
Where his sad Death his Friends, mistaken, mourn;
His Death who cannot die, or if before,
He his Clay-house forsook, can die no more:
His Body now Spiritual and refin'd,
A fit Companion for so pure a Mind;
Active and agile, prest and ready 't stands,
As swift as Thought t'obey the Soul's commands;
Like that it moves, and in a moment flies,
From East to West, from Earth to Paradise.
This knew not they, who yet lamenting were,
And lost in stupid Sorrow and Despair;
Forgot the Promise of his sure return,
And, without either Faith or Hope they mourn;
Sad was the Feast to them, no cheerful Ray
It wore, as sad the Night that clos'd the Day:
With kinder Omens the third Morn appears,
The happy Morning doom'd to dry their Tears.
“Kind Phosphor bring the Day, why this Delay,
“Jesus is rising—Phosphor bring the Day!
Hast his dull Steeds, for if he longer stay,
Another Sun will rise, a Sun so bright,
The World no more will need his weaker Light.
Earlier than he fair Magdalena rose,
And to the Tomb with Spice and Ungeuents goes,
Him to embalm who no Corruption knew;
The same officious kindness thither drew
Her weeping Friends, who tho' their Fear was strong,
Their Love was more; sad Tales the Way prolong,
As cheerful shorten, tho' at last they come
To th' steep Ascent, the Garden and the Tomb,
Not far remov'd before, but a new Fear,
And crowding anxious Thoughts surpriz'd 'em here:
Not yet secure the doubtful Jews they heard,
As Guilt is still suspicious, plac'd a Guard
Around the Sepulchre, a Seal secur'd
The pond'rous Stone their mighty Foe immur'd;
Nor think yet safe or deep enough he lies,
For they too heard, he the third Day wou'd rise,
Whose pow'rful Word had others rais'd; nor yet,
Can they the wond'rous Lazarus forget,
Or Naim's twice-born Youth.—Their Fear not vain.
Nor longer Hades cou'd his Soul retain:
A Conqu'ror thence he rose, where late he fell,
And drags in Triumph after Death and Hell:
He did, he came—All Nature must obey
Its Sovereign Lord; he will'd the Stone away:
Tho' all around officious Angels stay'd,
For Pomp, not Service there, nor needs their Aid.
Jesus is risen, Triumphal Anthems sing:
Thus from dead Winter mounts the sprightly Spring;
Thus does the Sun from Night's black Shades return,
And thus the single Bird wings from th' Arabian Urn:
Jesus is risen; he'll the World restore,
Awake ye Dead! dull Sinners sleep no more!
In Pleasures soft Enchantments slumb'ring deep,
Or Sleep no more, or else for ever sleep!
But tho' himself he's gone, his tender care
Still left two bright Attendant Angels there;
Those early pious Pilgrims to console,
Who with mistaken Tears his Loss condole:
Their trembling Feet no sooner had they set
I'th' Garden Walks, but they new Wonders met;
The Earth too trembled where so late he lay,
And Nature's self-seem'd more affraid than they:
And lo! the beauteous bashful Clouds divide,
And rev'rently stand off on either side;
As at th' approach of Earthly Majesty,
A living Lane is made till all the Pomp go by:
And lo! a heavenly Youth does downward move,
The loveliest Form in all the Realms of Love;
From the Caves mouth he rolls the mighty Stone,
From whence before our conq'ring Lord was gone,
He rolls it, and triumphant sits thereon:
The Roman Guards, nor were they us'd to fear,
Their Stations held, till the bright Form was near;
Fain, impious! wou'd resistance make, and fain
They would have drawn their Swords, but strove in vain
Against th' unequal Foe, in vain they rear
Their useless Piles, suspended in the Air;
Their Hands, their Souls disarm'd they quickly found,
They fall, their Armour clanks against the Ground:
To the soft Sex more calmly did appear,
Dress'd in a milder and less warlike Air,
The heav'nly Youth—You have no need to fear:
We in your Cause engage with all our Pow'rs;
I know you seek your suffring Lord and ours;
Too late; alas! You seek him here, he said,
Him who for ever lives, among the Dead.
Dry your vain Tears, nor longer him deplore,
Your mighty Saviour lives to die no more!
'Tis the third Day, he promis'd then to rise,
Nor cou'd deceive—Look in and trust your Eyes!
See where he by your selves was laid, see there
The Linnen, and the empty Sepulchre:
Be you the first Apostles, quickly go,
And to th' Eleven the happy Tidings show.
Where his sad Death his Friends, mistaken, mourn;
His Death who cannot die, or if before,
He his Clay-house forsook, can die no more:
His Body now Spiritual and refin'd,
A fit Companion for so pure a Mind;
Active and agile, prest and ready 't stands,
As swift as Thought t'obey the Soul's commands;
Like that it moves, and in a moment flies,
From East to West, from Earth to Paradise.
This knew not they, who yet lamenting were,
And lost in stupid Sorrow and Despair;
Forgot the Promise of his sure return,
And, without either Faith or Hope they mourn;
Sad was the Feast to them, no cheerful Ray
It wore, as sad the Night that clos'd the Day:
With kinder Omens the third Morn appears,
The happy Morning doom'd to dry their Tears.
“Kind Phosphor bring the Day, why this Delay,
“Jesus is rising—Phosphor bring the Day!
Hast his dull Steeds, for if he longer stay,
Another Sun will rise, a Sun so bright,
The World no more will need his weaker Light.
Earlier than he fair Magdalena rose,
And to the Tomb with Spice and Ungeuents goes,
Him to embalm who no Corruption knew;
The same officious kindness thither drew
Her weeping Friends, who tho' their Fear was strong,
Their Love was more; sad Tales the Way prolong,
As cheerful shorten, tho' at last they come
To th' steep Ascent, the Garden and the Tomb,
Not far remov'd before, but a new Fear,
And crowding anxious Thoughts surpriz'd 'em here:
Not yet secure the doubtful Jews they heard,
As Guilt is still suspicious, plac'd a Guard
Around the Sepulchre, a Seal secur'd
331
Nor think yet safe or deep enough he lies,
For they too heard, he the third Day wou'd rise,
Whose pow'rful Word had others rais'd; nor yet,
Can they the wond'rous Lazarus forget,
Or Naim's twice-born Youth.—Their Fear not vain.
Nor longer Hades cou'd his Soul retain:
A Conqu'ror thence he rose, where late he fell,
And drags in Triumph after Death and Hell:
He did, he came—All Nature must obey
Its Sovereign Lord; he will'd the Stone away:
Tho' all around officious Angels stay'd,
For Pomp, not Service there, nor needs their Aid.
Jesus is risen, Triumphal Anthems sing:
Thus from dead Winter mounts the sprightly Spring;
Thus does the Sun from Night's black Shades return,
And thus the single Bird wings from th' Arabian Urn:
Jesus is risen; he'll the World restore,
Awake ye Dead! dull Sinners sleep no more!
In Pleasures soft Enchantments slumb'ring deep,
Or Sleep no more, or else for ever sleep!
But tho' himself he's gone, his tender care
Still left two bright Attendant Angels there;
Those early pious Pilgrims to console,
Who with mistaken Tears his Loss condole:
Their trembling Feet no sooner had they set
I'th' Garden Walks, but they new Wonders met;
The Earth too trembled where so late he lay,
And Nature's self-seem'd more affraid than they:
And lo! the beauteous bashful Clouds divide,
And rev'rently stand off on either side;
As at th' approach of Earthly Majesty,
A living Lane is made till all the Pomp go by:
And lo! a heavenly Youth does downward move,
The loveliest Form in all the Realms of Love;
From the Caves mouth he rolls the mighty Stone,
From whence before our conq'ring Lord was gone,
He rolls it, and triumphant sits thereon:
The Roman Guards, nor were they us'd to fear,
Their Stations held, till the bright Form was near;
332
They would have drawn their Swords, but strove in vain
Against th' unequal Foe, in vain they rear
Their useless Piles, suspended in the Air;
Their Hands, their Souls disarm'd they quickly found,
They fall, their Armour clanks against the Ground:
To the soft Sex more calmly did appear,
Dress'd in a milder and less warlike Air,
The heav'nly Youth—You have no need to fear:
We in your Cause engage with all our Pow'rs;
I know you seek your suffring Lord and ours;
Too late; alas! You seek him here, he said,
Him who for ever lives, among the Dead.
Dry your vain Tears, nor longer him deplore,
Your mighty Saviour lives to die no more!
'Tis the third Day, he promis'd then to rise,
Nor cou'd deceive—Look in and trust your Eyes!
See where he by your selves was laid, see there
The Linnen, and the empty Sepulchre:
Be you the first Apostles, quickly go,
And to th' Eleven the happy Tidings show.
With Joy and mingled Fear they hast away,
All but fair Magdalen, resolv'd to stay,
If possible her much lov'd Lord to find,
And with his presence ease her anxious Mind;
Her Mind, which struggling Thoughts like Earthquakes move,
Tortur'd at once with Hope, and Doubt, and Love;
An Angel's witness she cou'd scarce receive,
'Twas too good News she thought, nor dar'd believe:
Musing she fix'd her Eyes upon the Ground,
Till wak'd by' sudden Noise, and turning round,
She saw, or thought she saw, the Gard'ner near,
And thus abrupt with many a Sigh and Tear
Accosts him—Sir, if you've born him hence,
The poor Remains of murder'd Innocence;
My last just Tears and Sighs are yet unpaid,
O tell, of Pity tell me where he's laid;
Where I—The God himself no more cou'd bear,
'Twas He himself; bright shone th' enlighten'd Air
Around his Sacred Head, the God she knew,
And at his Feet her self in Transports threw;
The crowding Joy's too vast to be exprest:
Master—She crys, and spoke in Looks the rest:
He mild repels her with his radiant Eyes,
And adds—There's yet no time for Extasies.
To his dear Brethren, still he held 'em dear,
Tho' poorly sunk in Unbelief and Fear;
He bids her strait the happy Tidings bear,
Then glides unseen away in trackless Air.
She came and told, th' Apostles ne'er the more
Believe, incredulous as she before;
Day-dreams, by sickly female Fancies made
They thought it all, or some delusive Shade;
And yet alarm'd with the repeated News,
Their Wonder pay where they their Faith refuse.
The lov'd Disciple did attention lend,
The most concern'd as he was most his Friend.
Cephas with him, who rais'd from his late fall,
In Faith and Courage now outstrips them all:
Thus broken Bones, by skilful Artists drest
And set agen, grow stronger than the rest:
This his warm Zeal, and that his Friendship bear
In a few Moments to the Sepulchre;
Entring surpriz'd, they nothing there cou'd find,
Nothing, besides the Linnen left behind;
The Spice with which the Jews embalm their dead,
And blood-stain'd Napkin from his Sacred Head
In decent Folds laid by, asunder plac'd,
A work confessing, neither Fear nor Hast:
They saw believing, now no longer mourn
His Death, but joyful to the rest return;
Return with speed, but gain no credit there,
For all was fill'd with Terror and Despair;
Black sullen Grief hung o'er 'em, all was Night,
Without one smiling Gleam of Hope or Light:
Their Sun was set, can they too much deplore?
Was set in Death's dark Shades to rise no more.
The Doors were shut, lest the malicious Jews,
Shou'd them, as late they did their Lord, accuse
Of Crimes unknown, all still and silent were,
No Sounds but Sighs, which gently mov'd the Air;
No Light, but one weak Tapers glimm'ring Ray,
And that too hid, lest that shou'd them betray.
All but fair Magdalen, resolv'd to stay,
If possible her much lov'd Lord to find,
And with his presence ease her anxious Mind;
Her Mind, which struggling Thoughts like Earthquakes move,
Tortur'd at once with Hope, and Doubt, and Love;
An Angel's witness she cou'd scarce receive,
'Twas too good News she thought, nor dar'd believe:
Musing she fix'd her Eyes upon the Ground,
Till wak'd by' sudden Noise, and turning round,
She saw, or thought she saw, the Gard'ner near,
And thus abrupt with many a Sigh and Tear
Accosts him—Sir, if you've born him hence,
The poor Remains of murder'd Innocence;
My last just Tears and Sighs are yet unpaid,
O tell, of Pity tell me where he's laid;
Where I—The God himself no more cou'd bear,
'Twas He himself; bright shone th' enlighten'd Air
Around his Sacred Head, the God she knew,
333
The crowding Joy's too vast to be exprest:
Master—She crys, and spoke in Looks the rest:
He mild repels her with his radiant Eyes,
And adds—There's yet no time for Extasies.
To his dear Brethren, still he held 'em dear,
Tho' poorly sunk in Unbelief and Fear;
He bids her strait the happy Tidings bear,
Then glides unseen away in trackless Air.
She came and told, th' Apostles ne'er the more
Believe, incredulous as she before;
Day-dreams, by sickly female Fancies made
They thought it all, or some delusive Shade;
And yet alarm'd with the repeated News,
Their Wonder pay where they their Faith refuse.
The lov'd Disciple did attention lend,
The most concern'd as he was most his Friend.
Cephas with him, who rais'd from his late fall,
In Faith and Courage now outstrips them all:
Thus broken Bones, by skilful Artists drest
And set agen, grow stronger than the rest:
This his warm Zeal, and that his Friendship bear
In a few Moments to the Sepulchre;
Entring surpriz'd, they nothing there cou'd find,
Nothing, besides the Linnen left behind;
The Spice with which the Jews embalm their dead,
And blood-stain'd Napkin from his Sacred Head
In decent Folds laid by, asunder plac'd,
A work confessing, neither Fear nor Hast:
They saw believing, now no longer mourn
His Death, but joyful to the rest return;
Return with speed, but gain no credit there,
For all was fill'd with Terror and Despair;
Black sullen Grief hung o'er 'em, all was Night,
Without one smiling Gleam of Hope or Light:
Their Sun was set, can they too much deplore?
Was set in Death's dark Shades to rise no more.
The Doors were shut, lest the malicious Jews,
Shou'd them, as late they did their Lord, accuse
Of Crimes unknown, all still and silent were,
334
No Light, but one weak Tapers glimm'ring Ray,
And that too hid, lest that shou'd them betray.
When Loe! the God himself, (mirac'lous Sight!)
The God himself, in his own Lambent light
Adorn'd, 'ith' midst appears, his Shape, his Dress,
His more than mortal Meen, the God confess;
Divinely did he look, divinely move,
His Voice divine, 'twas only Peace and Love;
His wond'rous Voice, which Light and Life convey'd,
Like that first Word by which the World he made:
Thorough their secret Soul 'twas swiftly sent,
And struck new Beams of Joy where e'er it went;
Then mildly chides their Unbelief and Fear,
Such kind Reproofs who would not gladly hear?
Shows 'em those glorious Wounds, the Nails and Spear
Had lately made, and further to compleat
Their Faith, of their poor Fare he deigns to eat:
Thus banish'd all their Sorrows, all their Tears;
Once more salutes with Peace, and disappears.
Thomas as chanc'd was absent, whether Fear,
Or only Bus'ness, 'twas detain'd him there;
How great his Loss the while, (“scarce less they lose
“Who kindly bid, ungratefully refuse
“To meet their Saviour at the Churches Feast)
In vain he is assur'd by all the rest
Of the glad Tidings; him they entertain,
With the late Visions wond'rous Scenes in vain,
Him doubting Cephas chides, and does declare,
With Warmth and Zeal, what all cou'd witness there:
No more, he cries, he did, he did appear,
I saw him, with these Eyes I saw him here,
Here in this Place, where if my Sense is true,
He as distinctly spake, as I to you:
We saw, we heard him all—You must forgive,
If what's incredible I can't believe,
Says the weak Saint; but whilst he thus replies,
In rushes Cleophas, a glad surprize
Which seal'd his Lips, spoke loudly in his Eyes:
His Feet awhile his Breath and Voice outran,
When both recover'd were, he thus began.
The God himself, in his own Lambent light
Adorn'd, 'ith' midst appears, his Shape, his Dress,
His more than mortal Meen, the God confess;
Divinely did he look, divinely move,
His Voice divine, 'twas only Peace and Love;
His wond'rous Voice, which Light and Life convey'd,
Like that first Word by which the World he made:
Thorough their secret Soul 'twas swiftly sent,
And struck new Beams of Joy where e'er it went;
Then mildly chides their Unbelief and Fear,
Such kind Reproofs who would not gladly hear?
Shows 'em those glorious Wounds, the Nails and Spear
Had lately made, and further to compleat
Their Faith, of their poor Fare he deigns to eat:
Thus banish'd all their Sorrows, all their Tears;
Once more salutes with Peace, and disappears.
Thomas as chanc'd was absent, whether Fear,
Or only Bus'ness, 'twas detain'd him there;
How great his Loss the while, (“scarce less they lose
“Who kindly bid, ungratefully refuse
“To meet their Saviour at the Churches Feast)
In vain he is assur'd by all the rest
Of the glad Tidings; him they entertain,
With the late Visions wond'rous Scenes in vain,
Him doubting Cephas chides, and does declare,
With Warmth and Zeal, what all cou'd witness there:
No more, he cries, he did, he did appear,
I saw him, with these Eyes I saw him here,
Here in this Place, where if my Sense is true,
He as distinctly spake, as I to you:
We saw, we heard him all—You must forgive,
If what's incredible I can't believe,
Says the weak Saint; but whilst he thus replies,
In rushes Cleophas, a glad surprize
Which seal'd his Lips, spoke loudly in his Eyes:
His Feet awhile his Breath and Voice outran,
335
He lives, he lives—Grief vanish! Cares away!
Our much lov'd Master lives—This happy Day,
We saw him both—He can confirm the same!
And his Companion shows who with him came;
Who did with Vows the Sacred Truths attest:
And thus, by all desir'd, relates the rest.
Our much lov'd Master lives—This happy Day,
We saw him both—He can confirm the same!
And his Companion shows who with him came;
Who did with Vows the Sacred Truths attest:
And thus, by all desir'd, relates the rest.
As tost 'twixt less'ning Hope and faithless Fear,
And weary grown with those sad Objects here,
Which but reviv'd our loss; we did forsake
This guilty Town, and a short Journey make
To neighb'ring Emmaus—You know it all,
Seated beneath an easie Mountains fall;
When we almost had reach'd the Goal design'd,
Scarce half our little Journey now behind;
To Ba'al-Perazim come we thence descry,
To th' left the House of aged Zachary,
The Baptists happy Sire; no sooner seen,
But new tormenting Thoughts came stealing in:
What attestation this great Prophet gave
Our greater Lord by Jordans Sacred Wave;
How neither cou'd their shining Virtues save:
Both just and good, and Innocent in vain,
By Herod this, and that by Pilate slain.
With various Talk we thus beguil'd th' Ascent,
Meas'ring each step with Tears—As on we went
An unknown Trav'ller join'd us, whom we guest,
Some Proselyte returning from the Feast;
At whose approach in vain we dry'd our Eyes,
Since faster still new stubborn Streams arise;
And weary grown with those sad Objects here,
Which but reviv'd our loss; we did forsake
This guilty Town, and a short Journey make
To neighb'ring Emmaus—You know it all,
Seated beneath an easie Mountains fall;
When we almost had reach'd the Goal design'd,
Scarce half our little Journey now behind;
To Ba'al-Perazim come we thence descry,
To th' left the House of aged Zachary,
The Baptists happy Sire; no sooner seen,
But new tormenting Thoughts came stealing in:
What attestation this great Prophet gave
Our greater Lord by Jordans Sacred Wave;
How neither cou'd their shining Virtues save:
Both just and good, and Innocent in vain,
By Herod this, and that by Pilate slain.
With various Talk we thus beguil'd th' Ascent,
Meas'ring each step with Tears—As on we went
An unknown Trav'ller join'd us, whom we guest,
Some Proselyte returning from the Feast;
At whose approach in vain we dry'd our Eyes,
Since faster still new stubborn Streams arise;
He saw, and thus began—If 'twere not rude,
A Stranger, in your private Thoughts t'intrude;
I'd ask from whence this Tide of Passion flows,
Which does, against your Will it self disclose,
Since Sorrow when divided, weaker grows?
A Stranger, in your private Thoughts t'intrude;
I'd ask from whence this Tide of Passion flows,
Which does, against your Will it self disclose,
Since Sorrow when divided, weaker grows?
Stranger indeed! my Sighing Friend replies,
Who have not heard the Cause, from all our Eyes
Has this just Tribute drawn—And can it be?
Know you not yet our Elders Cruelty,
And our great Master's Fate? such Wonders shown,
To what dark Corner is his Name unknown,
In our Jerusalem? such none before
No Man cou'd e'er perform—We thought him more;
Thought him the wondrous promis'd Prince foretold,
So oft in holy Oracles of old:
The great Messiah he, the Christ of God,
To bruise the Nations with his Iron Rod;
And if not He, sure Israel ne'r will find,
A Prince more just, to nobler Deeds inclin'd;
More mild and good, and merciful and kind.
But Ah! by our false flatt'ring hopes misled,
Too late we're undeceiv'd, and mourn him dead.
Judge if we've Reason!—He'd no longer bear
Our Blasphemies, but thus reprov'd, severe:
Who have not heard the Cause, from all our Eyes
Has this just Tribute drawn—And can it be?
Know you not yet our Elders Cruelty,
And our great Master's Fate? such Wonders shown,
336
In our Jerusalem? such none before
No Man cou'd e'er perform—We thought him more;
Thought him the wondrous promis'd Prince foretold,
So oft in holy Oracles of old:
The great Messiah he, the Christ of God,
To bruise the Nations with his Iron Rod;
And if not He, sure Israel ne'r will find,
A Prince more just, to nobler Deeds inclin'd;
More mild and good, and merciful and kind.
But Ah! by our false flatt'ring hopes misled,
Too late we're undeceiv'd, and mourn him dead.
Judge if we've Reason!—He'd no longer bear
Our Blasphemies, but thus reprov'd, severe:
Mistaken Men! your Minds immerst in Night,
Without one cheerful Beam of heavenly Light!
And was not this by the Divine foresight
Known, and dispos'd for many Ages since;
Was not Messiah still a suff'ring Prince
Describ'd? Did not this Truth the Prophets tell,
In many a mystic Type and Oracle?
That the Eternal Father did ordain,
His Son to suffer first, and then to Reign;
Why else from faithful Abraham's Bosom, why
Was his lov'd only Isaac drawn to die?
Why was he offer'd too on Calvary?
What meant the Paschal Lamb, and wherefore dies
Th' innocent Herd, a daily Sacrifice?
The Brazen Serpent Moses did prepare,
Nail'd to the Pole, and lifted high 'ith' Air;
Which ease to every wounded Wretch did give,
They turn their half-clos'd Eyes, and look and live.
What that? What many a mighty Shadow more,
What all the Wounds the Royal Prophet bore;
What Truths dark folded in the Psalms and Law;
What wond'rous Visions lofty Esay saw,
Th' Evangelizing Prophet, full and clear;
Scarce Prophesies, but Histories you hear,
When he is read; now Jesse's noble Stem,
And then the Prince of Peace's Diadem;
And Purple Royal Robes deciph'ring plain,
Not bought from Tyre, but dy'd in nobler Grain,
His own pure Blood, abus'd, contemn'd, betray'd,
For all Mankind a sinless Victim made;
Thus see him there triumphing! see him come
From Bozra's lofty Rock a bleeding Conqueror home!
Without one cheerful Beam of heavenly Light!
And was not this by the Divine foresight
Known, and dispos'd for many Ages since;
Was not Messiah still a suff'ring Prince
Describ'd? Did not this Truth the Prophets tell,
In many a mystic Type and Oracle?
That the Eternal Father did ordain,
His Son to suffer first, and then to Reign;
Why else from faithful Abraham's Bosom, why
Was his lov'd only Isaac drawn to die?
Why was he offer'd too on Calvary?
What meant the Paschal Lamb, and wherefore dies
Th' innocent Herd, a daily Sacrifice?
The Brazen Serpent Moses did prepare,
Nail'd to the Pole, and lifted high 'ith' Air;
Which ease to every wounded Wretch did give,
They turn their half-clos'd Eyes, and look and live.
What that? What many a mighty Shadow more,
What all the Wounds the Royal Prophet bore;
What Truths dark folded in the Psalms and Law;
What wond'rous Visions lofty Esay saw,
Th' Evangelizing Prophet, full and clear;
Scarce Prophesies, but Histories you hear,
When he is read; now Jesse's noble Stem,
And then the Prince of Peace's Diadem;
337
Not bought from Tyre, but dy'd in nobler Grain,
His own pure Blood, abus'd, contemn'd, betray'd,
For all Mankind a sinless Victim made;
Thus see him there triumphing! see him come
From Bozra's lofty Rock a bleeding Conqueror home!
While thus he spake, Truth's warm and chearful Ray
Glides thro' our ravish'd Souls, our Grief or Way
We now no longer mind, nor stooping Day,
Which e'er it does to th' under-World descend,
Conducts us to our little Journy's end:
He wou'd have further gone, we both intreat,
He'd not disdain our humble Country Seat
That Night to grace, and our poor Fare to eat:
He mildly grants, we enter'd and refresh'd
Our weary Limbs with grateful Food and Rest:
Such Cates as our small Village did afford,
Were spread upon the Hospitable Board;
We seated too, he blest and brake the Bread,
When lo, the envious Cloud o'th' sudden fled,
Discov'ring well-known Glories round his Head:
Jesus! 'twas He—Our lost lamented Lord:
Thrown at his Feet, we trembled and ador'd:
For our officious Kindness he'd not stay,
But glides unseen in secret Shades away.
Glides thro' our ravish'd Souls, our Grief or Way
We now no longer mind, nor stooping Day,
Which e'er it does to th' under-World descend,
Conducts us to our little Journy's end:
He wou'd have further gone, we both intreat,
He'd not disdain our humble Country Seat
That Night to grace, and our poor Fare to eat:
He mildly grants, we enter'd and refresh'd
Our weary Limbs with grateful Food and Rest:
Such Cates as our small Village did afford,
Were spread upon the Hospitable Board;
We seated too, he blest and brake the Bread,
When lo, the envious Cloud o'th' sudden fled,
Discov'ring well-known Glories round his Head:
Jesus! 'twas He—Our lost lamented Lord:
Thrown at his Feet, we trembled and ador'd:
For our officious Kindness he'd not stay,
But glides unseen in secret Shades away.
You happy Souls! who feed on Angels Fare,
No wonder if you meet your Master there:
Let Prodigals and Swine on Husks be fed,
Jesus will still be known in breaking Bread.
No wonder if you meet your Master there:
Let Prodigals and Swine on Husks be fed,
Jesus will still be known in breaking Bread.
But all in vain they these new Wonders tell,
The Didymæan still's an Infidel:
Argues and asks—Why yet he never stay'd,
But always vanish'd like a fleeting Shade?
No, he's resolv'd—Nothing shall him persuade,
But Demonstration evident and clear:
Unless, says he, my self I saw him here;
Saw with these Eyes those Wounds of which he dy'd,
And with these Hands touch'd e'en his Hand and Side;
I still shall think you but your selves deceive
Or me, and neither can nor will believe:
He said,—They wondring, once agen behold
The Room all delug'd with Etherial Gold:
Clear Waves of Glory gild th' illumin'd Air,
A Flood of Lambent Light, and Jesus there:
His Sacred Wounds the Source from whence it flow'd,
Prodigal now of Light, as once of Blood.
All kneel'd, adoring,—Thomas only stands,
Till forth he gently reach'd his wounded Hands,
And shows the Nails rude Prints, which yet abide
In glorious Scars; shows him his mangled Side:
Lets him e'en all his own bold wish receive,
And mildly asks him, if he'll yet believe?
Low at his Feet himself he throws t'adore—
My Lord! My God! nor had he room for more,
He ravish'd, crys,—him gently Jesus rais'd,
And blest, tho' more their nobler Faith he prais'd.
Who to the Churches witness credit give,
Without their Sences grosser Aid believe,
Nor shall that want: he bids 'em all repair
With speed to Galilee, and meet him there.
On Tabor's holy Mount, where once before,
The blest above did their blest Lord adore:
Gives him his Sacred Word agen t'appear,
Strengthen their Faith, and show new Wonders here.
The Didymæan still's an Infidel:
Argues and asks—Why yet he never stay'd,
But always vanish'd like a fleeting Shade?
No, he's resolv'd—Nothing shall him persuade,
But Demonstration evident and clear:
Unless, says he, my self I saw him here;
Saw with these Eyes those Wounds of which he dy'd,
And with these Hands touch'd e'en his Hand and Side;
I still shall think you but your selves deceive
Or me, and neither can nor will believe:
338
The Room all delug'd with Etherial Gold:
Clear Waves of Glory gild th' illumin'd Air,
A Flood of Lambent Light, and Jesus there:
His Sacred Wounds the Source from whence it flow'd,
Prodigal now of Light, as once of Blood.
All kneel'd, adoring,—Thomas only stands,
Till forth he gently reach'd his wounded Hands,
And shows the Nails rude Prints, which yet abide
In glorious Scars; shows him his mangled Side:
Lets him e'en all his own bold wish receive,
And mildly asks him, if he'll yet believe?
Low at his Feet himself he throws t'adore—
My Lord! My God! nor had he room for more,
He ravish'd, crys,—him gently Jesus rais'd,
And blest, tho' more their nobler Faith he prais'd.
Who to the Churches witness credit give,
Without their Sences grosser Aid believe,
Nor shall that want: he bids 'em all repair
With speed to Galilee, and meet him there.
On Tabor's holy Mount, where once before,
The blest above did their blest Lord adore:
Gives him his Sacred Word agen t'appear,
Strengthen their Faith, and show new Wonders here.
In Peace and Joy they from the Feast return
To meet their Lord, whom now no more they mourn,
Nor idly wait, no more by Wonders fed;
With honest Pain they earn their welcom Bread.
As chanc'd upon a dark and silent Night,
Good Peter his Companions did invite
The heedless Fish in Flaxen-Toils to take,
Royal Tiberias! on thy neighb'ring Lake:
They go, to fruitless Pain themselves expose,
Till the next melancholy Morn arose;
Whose Light did on the sounding Shore disclose
A Person of a Stature, Face and Dress
Unknown—He hales, and asks 'em what success
The Night had brought? They Sighing, None reply'd;
Be ruled by me then, Mates, for once, he cry'd,
And try the Right, for that's the luckier Side!
Where, if I not mistake, a Shoal remain,
Which soon will richly recompence your Pain:
His kind Advice they follow strait, and caught,
As once before, a vast, a wond'rous Draught;
Not their united Strength cou'd lift it o'er,
Compell'd to drag their num'rous Prey ashore;
When now their Net with much ado, they'd tow'd,
Their little Bark half sunk beneath the Load,
Nearer the Land; the lov'd Disciple cries
'Tis He, 'tis He—So sharp are Friendships Eyes:
'Tis our lov'd Lord—Th' Alarm good Peter takes,
And cross the Waves a wond'rous Voyage makes;
The liquid Marble solid Footsteps gave,
He runs, nor dips his Feet beneath the Wave.
He first arrives upon the Oozy shore,
And humbly does his well-known Lord adore:
He first, the other Ten not far behind,
Who ready on the Sand a Banquet find;
By some officious Angel there 'twas laid,
To show their Master did not need their Aid;
Stretch'd on the Beach they here themselves refresh,
With Joy they eat, and the kind Giver bless.
To meet their Lord, whom now no more they mourn,
Nor idly wait, no more by Wonders fed;
With honest Pain they earn their welcom Bread.
As chanc'd upon a dark and silent Night,
Good Peter his Companions did invite
The heedless Fish in Flaxen-Toils to take,
Royal Tiberias! on thy neighb'ring Lake:
They go, to fruitless Pain themselves expose,
Till the next melancholy Morn arose;
Whose Light did on the sounding Shore disclose
A Person of a Stature, Face and Dress
Unknown—He hales, and asks 'em what success
The Night had brought? They Sighing, None reply'd;
Be ruled by me then, Mates, for once, he cry'd,
And try the Right, for that's the luckier Side!
339
Which soon will richly recompence your Pain:
His kind Advice they follow strait, and caught,
As once before, a vast, a wond'rous Draught;
Not their united Strength cou'd lift it o'er,
Compell'd to drag their num'rous Prey ashore;
When now their Net with much ado, they'd tow'd,
Their little Bark half sunk beneath the Load,
Nearer the Land; the lov'd Disciple cries
'Tis He, 'tis He—So sharp are Friendships Eyes:
'Tis our lov'd Lord—Th' Alarm good Peter takes,
And cross the Waves a wond'rous Voyage makes;
The liquid Marble solid Footsteps gave,
He runs, nor dips his Feet beneath the Wave.
He first arrives upon the Oozy shore,
And humbly does his well-known Lord adore:
He first, the other Ten not far behind,
Who ready on the Sand a Banquet find;
By some officious Angel there 'twas laid,
To show their Master did not need their Aid;
Stretch'd on the Beach they here themselves refresh,
With Joy they eat, and the kind Giver bless.
And now when their mirac'lous Feast was o'er,
Refresh'd by that, but by their Master more,
They gaz'd, for Fear their Eyes shou'd them deceive,
And Joy wou'd hardly let 'em yet believe.
Chiefly good Cephas, who so oft deny'd
That Lord, for whom we wou'd have oftner dy'd:
Whose honest Zeal so far his Faith outran;
To whom, severely mild, the God began;
The God yet veil'd 'ith' humble Form of Man:
Refresh'd by that, but by their Master more,
They gaz'd, for Fear their Eyes shou'd them deceive,
And Joy wou'd hardly let 'em yet believe.
Chiefly good Cephas, who so oft deny'd
That Lord, for whom we wou'd have oftner dy'd:
Whose honest Zeal so far his Faith outran;
To whom, severely mild, the God began;
The God yet veil'd 'ith' humble Form of Man:
Thou whose warm Zeal cou'd Death's worst shape out-brave,
And without sinking tread the slipp'ry Wave;
Say as thou woud'st thy Heart to Heav'n approve,
If more than these thou dost thy Master love?
To whom he thus—
Nor dare I, who so little Love have shown,
Or question theirs, or once commend my own;
But how I love, let me no Witness be,
For Lord! thou know'st, and I appeal to Thee!
Then Feed my Lambs! our Saviour strait reply'd,
In Pastures green by some still Water's side:
The self-same Question was repeated o'er,
And had the self-same Answer as before;
Nor must these two without a Third suffice,
For thrice he must be try'd, who thrice denies:
Who tortur'd with ingenuous Grief and Pain
Thus to be question'd, thus returns again.
And without sinking tread the slipp'ry Wave;
Say as thou woud'st thy Heart to Heav'n approve,
If more than these thou dost thy Master love?
To whom he thus—
Nor dare I, who so little Love have shown,
Or question theirs, or once commend my own;
But how I love, let me no Witness be,
For Lord! thou know'st, and I appeal to Thee!
340
In Pastures green by some still Water's side:
The self-same Question was repeated o'er,
And had the self-same Answer as before;
Nor must these two without a Third suffice,
For thrice he must be try'd, who thrice denies:
Who tortur'd with ingenuous Grief and Pain
Thus to be question'd, thus returns again.
O why, thou who so well dost all things know,
Must I a Task so cruel undergo?
How much I love, let me no Witness be,
For, Lord, thou know'st, and I appeal to Thee!
Then feed my Lambs! our Saviour strait reply'd,
In Pastures green, by some still Water's side:
Now, while thou may'st, defend the sacred Fold,
For Time apace rolls on, and thou grow'st old:
Some Lustres since thy Youth was firm and strong,
And thou thy self all Vigorous and Young;
Then free as Air, thy self alone coud'st bind,
And Men as soon might track the wand'ring Wind:
But when old Age with palsy'd steps draws near,
And warns thee thou must stay no longer here;
Then the rude Soldier shall with churlish Bands,
Secure thy wither'd Arms and trembling Hands,
And thee unto that fatal Place convey,
Whence struggling Nature fain wou'd shrink away:
I warn thee well, nor unprovided be,
But when I call, prepare to follow me!
He said, nor longer on the Shore wou'd stay,
But to fair Tabor's Mountain leads the way:
There to a num'rous Troop of Friends appears,
Confirms their Faith, and dissipates their Fears:
Instructs in his bless'd Law each wav'ring Mind,
And warns of all the Dangers yet behind;
Assures of constant Aid against their Foes,
Assures once more, e'er he t'his Father goes,
He'll visit them; e'er him high Heav'n receive,
Till the last Day, then take his final Leave.
With Peace dismist, their steps they backward bend,
And at fair Solyma their Lord attend;
For his approach their pious Minds prepare,
With ardent Wishes, holy Hymns and Pray'r:
While this bless'd Work the Infant Church employs,
He comes, and with him all his Train of Joys;
Then, with his little Troop of happy Friends,
Forsakes the Town, the neighb'ring Hill ascends,
The lovely Bethany! for ever leaves
Thee, sweet Gethsemane! from both receives
Still new supplies to fill his humble Train;
Till from the Top they saw the distant Plain,
O'er whose smooth Bosom murm'ring Kidron ran;
When thus the Saviour of the World began.
Must I a Task so cruel undergo?
How much I love, let me no Witness be,
For, Lord, thou know'st, and I appeal to Thee!
Then feed my Lambs! our Saviour strait reply'd,
In Pastures green, by some still Water's side:
Now, while thou may'st, defend the sacred Fold,
For Time apace rolls on, and thou grow'st old:
Some Lustres since thy Youth was firm and strong,
And thou thy self all Vigorous and Young;
Then free as Air, thy self alone coud'st bind,
And Men as soon might track the wand'ring Wind:
But when old Age with palsy'd steps draws near,
And warns thee thou must stay no longer here;
Then the rude Soldier shall with churlish Bands,
Secure thy wither'd Arms and trembling Hands,
And thee unto that fatal Place convey,
Whence struggling Nature fain wou'd shrink away:
I warn thee well, nor unprovided be,
But when I call, prepare to follow me!
He said, nor longer on the Shore wou'd stay,
But to fair Tabor's Mountain leads the way:
There to a num'rous Troop of Friends appears,
Confirms their Faith, and dissipates their Fears:
Instructs in his bless'd Law each wav'ring Mind,
And warns of all the Dangers yet behind;
Assures of constant Aid against their Foes,
Assures once more, e'er he t'his Father goes,
He'll visit them; e'er him high Heav'n receive,
Till the last Day, then take his final Leave.
With Peace dismist, their steps they backward bend,
And at fair Solyma their Lord attend;
341
With ardent Wishes, holy Hymns and Pray'r:
While this bless'd Work the Infant Church employs,
He comes, and with him all his Train of Joys;
Then, with his little Troop of happy Friends,
Forsakes the Town, the neighb'ring Hill ascends,
The lovely Bethany! for ever leaves
Thee, sweet Gethsemane! from both receives
Still new supplies to fill his humble Train;
Till from the Top they saw the distant Plain,
O'er whose smooth Bosom murm'ring Kidron ran;
When thus the Saviour of the World began.
My Father calls, and I must shortly go,—
Farewel, you dear Companions of my Woe!
Me Heav'n must till the last Great Day receive,
Peace is the Legacy I with you leave:
—Be that the Mark of mine! by that alone
My little Flock shall from the World be known:
Galless as Doves, but wise as Serpents too;
As my great Father me, so send I you:
All Pow'r in Heav'n and Earth his Word secures
To his lov'd suff'ring Son—The same be yours:
To Censure those who my soft Yoke refuse,
And both in Earth and Heav'n to bind and loose!
Go then to what e'er distant Corners hurl'd,
Go in my Name and Proselyte the VVorld!
Mine and my Father's Name, for we are One,
And that bless'd Spirit's from him and from the Son
Eternally proceeding; boldly go,
As far as Land is fix'd, or Waters flow;
Till utmost East your Lord their Saviour style,
Till utmost West, “e'en Albion's stubborn Isle;
Where still new VVorlds shall wait you yet conceal'd,
In Times revolving Race to be reveal'd:
Those who your Words believe, and mine obey,
Let Sacred Water wash their Sins away;
Those happy Souls who thus for Heav'n prepare,
Shall, when I come Triumphing, enter there;
While those who Mercy scorn, ah hapless Race!
For whom I dy'd in vain, and purchas'd Grace
From my forgiving Father; those must go,
The choice their own, to endless VVorlds of VVoe:
Nor will I you without Credentials send,
Angels shall guard, and Miracles attend;
Which shall the stubborn VVorld so far surprize,
They must believe, if they'll believe their Eyes:
For when the blessed Paraclete shall fall,
And with high Pow'r from Heav'n inspire you all;
(Nor, if at fam'd Jerusalem you stay
And wait his Pleasure, will he long delay:)
What Signs, what mighty VVonders shall you do?
How much shall you your selves be chang'd from you?
All Tongues, and more than all, at Babel known,
Shall then be yours, familiar as your own:
You shall the Thoughts of many Hearts reveal?
Your Touch, your Word, your very Shade shall heal?
Those Fiends late driv'n from some false Oracle,
Yet here, shall envy those who lower fell,
And from your Words seek shelter e'en in Hell.
Nor only They themselves shall conquer'd find,
But every Ill with which they plague Mankind:
Th' auxiliary Mischiefs they employ,
To make e'en Nature Nature's self destroy:
Blue Poisons harmless thro' your Veins shall flow,
Vipers and Asps innoxious VVorms shall grow;
In Teeth or Sting, no dreadful Venom found,
E'en he whose Eyes shoot Death so proudly crown'd;
Tam'd by your Touch, disarm'd, shall brush the Ground,
Nor of your Safety when I'm gone, despair,
I'll still be with you, for I'm every where:
Be with you to protect, sustain, defend,
Till this frail VVorld, but not my kindness end;
Till each reviving Dust forsakes its Urn,
And in the Clouds you see your Lord return.
Farewel, you dear Companions of my Woe!
Me Heav'n must till the last Great Day receive,
Peace is the Legacy I with you leave:
—Be that the Mark of mine! by that alone
My little Flock shall from the World be known:
Galless as Doves, but wise as Serpents too;
As my great Father me, so send I you:
All Pow'r in Heav'n and Earth his Word secures
To his lov'd suff'ring Son—The same be yours:
To Censure those who my soft Yoke refuse,
And both in Earth and Heav'n to bind and loose!
Go then to what e'er distant Corners hurl'd,
Go in my Name and Proselyte the VVorld!
Mine and my Father's Name, for we are One,
And that bless'd Spirit's from him and from the Son
Eternally proceeding; boldly go,
As far as Land is fix'd, or Waters flow;
Till utmost East your Lord their Saviour style,
Till utmost West, “e'en Albion's stubborn Isle;
Where still new VVorlds shall wait you yet conceal'd,
In Times revolving Race to be reveal'd:
Those who your Words believe, and mine obey,
Let Sacred Water wash their Sins away;
Those happy Souls who thus for Heav'n prepare,
Shall, when I come Triumphing, enter there;
While those who Mercy scorn, ah hapless Race!
For whom I dy'd in vain, and purchas'd Grace
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The choice their own, to endless VVorlds of VVoe:
Nor will I you without Credentials send,
Angels shall guard, and Miracles attend;
Which shall the stubborn VVorld so far surprize,
They must believe, if they'll believe their Eyes:
For when the blessed Paraclete shall fall,
And with high Pow'r from Heav'n inspire you all;
(Nor, if at fam'd Jerusalem you stay
And wait his Pleasure, will he long delay:)
What Signs, what mighty VVonders shall you do?
How much shall you your selves be chang'd from you?
All Tongues, and more than all, at Babel known,
Shall then be yours, familiar as your own:
You shall the Thoughts of many Hearts reveal?
Your Touch, your Word, your very Shade shall heal?
Those Fiends late driv'n from some false Oracle,
Yet here, shall envy those who lower fell,
And from your Words seek shelter e'en in Hell.
Nor only They themselves shall conquer'd find,
But every Ill with which they plague Mankind:
Th' auxiliary Mischiefs they employ,
To make e'en Nature Nature's self destroy:
Blue Poisons harmless thro' your Veins shall flow,
Vipers and Asps innoxious VVorms shall grow;
In Teeth or Sting, no dreadful Venom found,
E'en he whose Eyes shoot Death so proudly crown'd;
Tam'd by your Touch, disarm'd, shall brush the Ground,
Nor of your Safety when I'm gone, despair,
I'll still be with you, for I'm every where:
Be with you to protect, sustain, defend,
Till this frail VVorld, but not my kindness end;
Till each reviving Dust forsakes its Urn,
And in the Clouds you see your Lord return.
He said, when lo! a trembling Purple Light,
The Olive-bearing Mountains proudest height
Began to gild, and as it farther spread,
Each lofty Cedar bends his leafy Head;
Each humble Palm below too seem'd to fear,
And all confess'd something Divine was near:
Soft Music's heard from a far distant Cloud
Descending slow, still more distinct and loud,
As by Degrees it still approach'd more nigh;
Then warlike Trumpets eccho round the Sky,
Triumphal Notes and Sounds of Victory;
Mixt with the melting Harp, and these among
Was plainly heard some Noble Festal Song:
Alternatively thus they sung and play'd,
The Words a King, the Tune an Angel made.
The Olive-bearing Mountains proudest height
Began to gild, and as it farther spread,
Each lofty Cedar bends his leafy Head;
Each humble Palm below too seem'd to fear,
And all confess'd something Divine was near:
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Descending slow, still more distinct and loud,
As by Degrees it still approach'd more nigh;
Then warlike Trumpets eccho round the Sky,
Triumphal Notes and Sounds of Victory;
Mixt with the melting Harp, and these among
Was plainly heard some Noble Festal Song:
Alternatively thus they sung and play'd,
The Words a King, the Tune an Angel made.
The Angels below.
Prepare! Prepare you glitt'ring Orbs above!At decent distance roll away!
Let onely purest Ether stay!
Let envious Clouds remove!
All ye bright Guards his Way prepare!
Sweep with your Purple Wings the Air!
The King of Glory's entring there!
The Angels above.
Say you! for surely you must know,Say you who keep perpetual Guard below,
What God, what Hero is't you bring;
What wond'rous King?
The Angels below.
'Tis He who lately Triumph'd o'er the Grave;Who drags the King of Pride along,
With ease the stronger binds the Strong,
And Death and Hell his Slave!
Whom all the heav'nly Warriors sing,
Their Trophies to his Footstool bring;
The Conq'ring God, the wond'rous King!
While thus they Hymning wait, he mounts alone,
Nor needs their Pow'r, he's greater of his own;
All impious Doubts for ever to prevent,
Ascending slow, and stopping as he went;
Till, when he our dull Earth's attraction leaves,
Him there, for State, a radiant Cloud receives:
Swifter than Thought did his bright Chariot move,
And bore him to th' expecting Crowd above:
Innumerable Hosts their Leader wait,
Drawn out before Heav'ns Adamantine Gate;
From East to West their glitt'ring Squadrons shine,
And cross the Gulph compos'd a glorious Line:
He comes—At his approach a Shout is giv'n,
A Shout which shook th' Eternal Walls of Heav'n:
Not all the Pomp of this Triumphal Show,
How much, much more than we poor Mortals know,
Made him forget those Friends he left below;
With Joy and Wonder, rapt he left 'em there,
They kneel, and after gaze in trackless Air:
But e'er the Everlasting Gates divide,
And Him from them, not them from Him deny'd;
In Glory plac'd by his great Father's Side,
One Look he gave, which wonted Love exprest,
And sends two Angels down to tell the rest:
Tell 'em their Lord who did to Heav'n ascend,
Commands they should their fruitless gazing end;
Nor gaze in vain, nor Him as vainly mourn,
Whom in the Clouds they'd see agen return
To judge the trembling World, nor judge alone,
They all th' Assessors on his mighty Throne:
When the last Fire to Atoms shou'd disperse,
This beauteous Poem of the Universe;
Which heav'nly Art far lovelier will restore,
When Death and Time it self shall be no more.
Nor needs their Pow'r, he's greater of his own;
All impious Doubts for ever to prevent,
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Till, when he our dull Earth's attraction leaves,
Him there, for State, a radiant Cloud receives:
Swifter than Thought did his bright Chariot move,
And bore him to th' expecting Crowd above:
Innumerable Hosts their Leader wait,
Drawn out before Heav'ns Adamantine Gate;
From East to West their glitt'ring Squadrons shine,
And cross the Gulph compos'd a glorious Line:
He comes—At his approach a Shout is giv'n,
A Shout which shook th' Eternal Walls of Heav'n:
Not all the Pomp of this Triumphal Show,
How much, much more than we poor Mortals know,
Made him forget those Friends he left below;
With Joy and Wonder, rapt he left 'em there,
They kneel, and after gaze in trackless Air:
But e'er the Everlasting Gates divide,
And Him from them, not them from Him deny'd;
In Glory plac'd by his great Father's Side,
One Look he gave, which wonted Love exprest,
And sends two Angels down to tell the rest:
Tell 'em their Lord who did to Heav'n ascend,
Commands they should their fruitless gazing end;
Nor gaze in vain, nor Him as vainly mourn,
Whom in the Clouds they'd see agen return
To judge the trembling World, nor judge alone,
They all th' Assessors on his mighty Throne:
When the last Fire to Atoms shou'd disperse,
This beauteous Poem of the Universe;
Which heav'nly Art far lovelier will restore,
When Death and Time it self shall be no more.
THE END.
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Make hast my Beloved! and be thou like to a Roe or a young Hart upon the Mountains of Spices!
Veni cito, Domine Jesu. Amen.
FINIS.
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