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153
DECEASE, RELEASE. DUM MORIOR, ORIOR.
The pounded spice both taste and scent doth please,
In fading smoke the force doth incense show;
The perish'd kernel springeth with increase,
The loppèd tree doth best and soonest grow.
In fading smoke the force doth incense show;
The perish'd kernel springeth with increase,
The loppèd tree doth best and soonest grow.
God's spice I was, and pounding was my due,
In fading breath my incense favour'd best;
Death was my mean my kernel to renew,
By lopping shot I up to heavenly rest.
In fading breath my incense favour'd best;
Death was my mean my kernel to renew,
By lopping shot I up to heavenly rest.
Some things more perfect are in their decay,
Like spark that going out gives clearest light;
Such was my hap whose doleful dying day
Began my joy, and termèd Fortune's spite.
Like spark that going out gives clearest light;
Such was my hap whose doleful dying day
Began my joy, and termèd Fortune's spite.
Alive a Queen, now dead I am a Saint;
Once Mary call'd, my name now Martyr is;
From earthly reign debarrèd by restraint,
In lieu whereof I reign in heavenly bliss.
Once Mary call'd, my name now Martyr is;
154
In lieu whereof I reign in heavenly bliss.
My life my grief, my death hath wrought my joy,
My friends my foil, my foes my weal procured;
My speedy death hath scornèd long annoy,
And loss of life and endless life assured.
My friends my foil, my foes my weal procured;
My speedy death hath scornèd long annoy,
And loss of life and endless life assured.
My scaffold was the bed where ease I found,
The block a pillow of eternal rest;
My headman cast me in a blissful swound,
His axe cut off my cares from cumber'd breast.
The block a pillow of eternal rest;
My headman cast me in a blissful swound,
His axe cut off my cares from cumber'd breast.
Rue not my death, rejoice at my repose;
It was no death to me, but to my woe;
The bud was open'd to let out the rose,
The chains unloosed to let the captive go.
It was no death to me, but to my woe;
The bud was open'd to let out the rose,
The chains unloosed to let the captive go.
A prince by birth, a prisoner by mishap,
From crown to cross, from throne to thrall I fell;
My right my ruth, my titles wrought my trap,
My weal my woe, my worldly heaven my hell.
From crown to cross, from throne to thrall I fell;
My right my ruth, my titles wrought my trap,
My weal my woe, my worldly heaven my hell.
By death from prisoner to a prince enhanced,
From cross to crown, from thrall to throne again;
My ruth my right, my trap my style advanced
From woe to weal, from hell to heavenly reign.
From cross to crown, from thrall to throne again;
My ruth my right, my trap my style advanced
From woe to weal, from hell to heavenly reign.
157
OF THE BLESSED SACRAMENT OF THE ALTAR.
In paschal feast, the end of ancient rite,
An entrance to never-ending grace,
Types to the truth, dim gleams to the light,
Performing deed presaging signs did chase:
Christ's final meal was fountain of our good,
For mortal meat He gave immortal food.
An entrance to never-ending grace,
Types to the truth, dim gleams to the light,
Performing deed presaging signs did chase:
Christ's final meal was fountain of our good,
For mortal meat He gave immortal food.
That which He gave He was, oh, peerless gift!
Both God and man He was, and both He gave.
He in His hands Himself did truly lift,
Far off they see whom in themselves they have;
Twelve did He feed, twelve did their feeder eat,
He made, He dress'd, He gave, He was their meat.
Both God and man He was, and both He gave.
He in His hands Himself did truly lift,
Far off they see whom in themselves they have;
Twelve did He feed, twelve did their feeder eat,
He made, He dress'd, He gave, He was their meat.
They saw, they heard, they felt Him sitting near,
Unseen, unfelt, unheard, they Him received;
No diverse thing, though diverse it appear,
Though senses fail, yet faith is not deceived;
And if the wonder of their work be new,
Believe the worker 'cause His word is true.
Unseen, unfelt, unheard, they Him received;
No diverse thing, though diverse it appear,
Though senses fail, yet faith is not deceived;
And if the wonder of their work be new,
Believe the worker 'cause His word is true.
158
Here truth belief, belief inviteth love,
So sweet a truth love never yet enjoy'd;
What thought can think, what will doth best approve,
Is here obtain'd where no desire is void:
The grace, the joy, the treasure here is such,
No wit can wish, nor will embrace so much.
So sweet a truth love never yet enjoy'd;
What thought can think, what will doth best approve,
Is here obtain'd where no desire is void:
The grace, the joy, the treasure here is such,
No wit can wish, nor will embrace so much.
Self-love here cannot crave more than it finds;
Ambition to no higher worth aspire;
The eagerest famine of most hungry minds
May fill, yea far exceed, their own desire:
In sum here is all in a sum express'd,
Of which the most of every good the best.
Ambition to no higher worth aspire;
The eagerest famine of most hungry minds
May fill, yea far exceed, their own desire:
In sum here is all in a sum express'd,
Of which the most of every good the best.
To ravish eyes here heavenly beauties are;
To win the ear sweet music's sweetest sound;
To lure the taste the angels' heavenly fare;
To soothe the scent divine perfumes abound;
To please the touch He in our hearts doth bed,
Whose touch doth cure the deaf, the dumb, the dead.
To win the ear sweet music's sweetest sound;
To lure the taste the angels' heavenly fare;
To soothe the scent divine perfumes abound;
To please the touch He in our hearts doth bed,
Whose touch doth cure the deaf, the dumb, the dead.
Here to delight the will true wisdom is;
To woo the will of every good the choice;
For memory a mirror showing bliss,
Here all that can both sense and soul rejoice;
And if to all, all this it doth not bring,
The fault is in the men, not in the thing.
To woo the will of every good the choice;
For memory a mirror showing bliss,
Here all that can both sense and soul rejoice;
And if to all, all this it doth not bring,
The fault is in the men, not in the thing.
159
Though blind men see no light, the sun doth shine;
Sweet cates are sweet, though fever'd tastes deny it;
Pearls precious are, though trodden on by swine;
Each truth is true, though all men do not try it;
The best still to the bad doth work the worst;
Things bred to bliss do make the more accursed.
Sweet cates are sweet, though fever'd tastes deny it;
Pearls precious are, though trodden on by swine;
Each truth is true, though all men do not try it;
The best still to the bad doth work the worst;
Things bred to bliss do make the more accursed.
The angels' eyes, whom veils cannot deceive,
Might best disclose that best they did discern;
Men must with sound and silent faith receive
More than they can by sense or reason learn;
God's power our proofs, His works our wit exceed,
The doer's might is reason of His deed.
Might best disclose that best they did discern;
Men must with sound and silent faith receive
More than they can by sense or reason learn;
God's power our proofs, His works our wit exceed,
The doer's might is reason of His deed.
A body is endow'd with ghostly rights;
A nature's work from nature's law is free;
In heavenly sun lie hid eternal lights,
Lights clear and near, yet them no eye can see:
Dead forms a never-dying life do shroud;
A boundless sea lies in a little cloud.
A nature's work from nature's law is free;
In heavenly sun lie hid eternal lights,
Lights clear and near, yet them no eye can see:
Dead forms a never-dying life do shroud;
A boundless sea lies in a little cloud.
The God of hosts in slender host doth dwell,
Yea, God and man with all to either due;
That God that rules the heavens and rifled hell,
That man whose death did us to life renew;
That God and man that is the angels' bliss,
In form of bread and wine our nature is.
Yea, God and man with all to either due;
That God that rules the heavens and rifled hell,
That man whose death did us to life renew;
That God and man that is the angels' bliss,
In form of bread and wine our nature is.
160
Whole may His body be in smallest bread,
Whole in the whole, yea whole in every crumb;
With which be one or [even] ten thousand fed,
All to each one, to all but one doth come;
And though each one as much as all receive,
Not one too much, nor all too little have.
Whole in the whole, yea whole in every crumb;
With which be one or [even] ten thousand fed,
All to each one, to all but one doth come;
And though each one as much as all receive,
Not one too much, nor all too little have.
One soul in man is all in every part;
One face at once in many mirrors shines;
One fearful noise doth make a thousand start;
One eye at once of countless things defines;
If proofs of one in many Nature frame,
God may in stronger sort perform the same.
One face at once in many mirrors shines;
One fearful noise doth make a thousand start;
One eye at once of countless things defines;
If proofs of one in many Nature frame,
God may in stronger sort perform the same.
God present is at once in every place,
Yet God in every place is ever one;
So may there be by gifts of ghostly grace,
One man in many rooms, yet filling none;
Sith angels may effects of bodies show,
God angels' gifts on bodies may bestow.
Yet God in every place is ever one;
So may there be by gifts of ghostly grace,
One man in many rooms, yet filling none;
Sith angels may effects of bodies show,
God angels' gifts on bodies may bestow.
What God as author made He alter may;
No change so hard as making all of nought;
If Adam framèd were of slimy clay,
Bread may to Christ's most sacred flesh be wrought:
He may do this that made with mighty hand
Of water wine, a snake of Moses's wand.
No change so hard as making all of nought;
If Adam framèd were of slimy clay,
Bread may to Christ's most sacred flesh be wrought:
He may do this that made with mighty hand
Of water wine, a snake of Moses's wand.
161
THE DEATH OF OUR LADY.
Weep, living things, of life the mother dies;
The world doth lose the sum of all her bliss,
The queen of earth, the empress of the skies;
By Mary's death mankind an orphan is:
Let nature weep, yea, let all graces moan,
Their glory, grace, and gifts die all in one.
The world doth lose the sum of all her bliss,
The queen of earth, the empress of the skies;
By Mary's death mankind an orphan is:
Let nature weep, yea, let all graces moan,
Their glory, grace, and gifts die all in one.
It was no death to her, but to her woe,
By which her joys began, her griefs did end;
Death was to her a friend, to us a foe,
Life of whose lives did on her life depend:
Not prey of death, but praise to death she was,
Whose ugly shape seem'd glorious in her face.
By which her joys began, her griefs did end;
Death was to her a friend, to us a foe,
Life of whose lives did on her life depend:
Not prey of death, but praise to death she was,
Whose ugly shape seem'd glorious in her face.
Her face a heaven, two planets were her eyes,
Whose gracious light did make our clearest day;
But one such heaven there was and lo! it dies,
Death's dark eclipse hath dimmèd every ray:
Such eyed the light thy beams untimely shine,
True light sith we have lost, we crave not thine.
Whose gracious light did make our clearest day;
But one such heaven there was and lo! it dies,
Death's dark eclipse hath dimmèd every ray:
Such eyed the light thy beams untimely shine,
True light sith we have lost, we crave not thine.
162
THE ASSUMPTION OF OUR LADY.
If sin be captive, grace must find release;
From curse of sin the innocent is free;
Tomb prison is for sinners that decease,
No tomb but throne to guiltless doth agree:
Though thralls of sin lie lingering in the grave,
Yet faultless corse with soul reward must have.
From curse of sin the innocent is free;
Tomb prison is for sinners that decease,
No tomb but throne to guiltless doth agree:
Though thralls of sin lie lingering in the grave,
Yet faultless corse with soul reward must have.
The dazzled eye doth dimmèd light require,
And dying sights repose in shrouding shades;
But eagles' eyes to brightest light aspire,
And living looks delight in lofty glades:
Faint-wingèd fowl by ground do faintly fly,
Our princely eagle mounts unto the sky.
And dying sights repose in shrouding shades;
But eagles' eyes to brightest light aspire,
And living looks delight in lofty glades:
Faint-wingèd fowl by ground do faintly fly,
Our princely eagle mounts unto the sky.
Gem to her worth, spouse to her love ascends,
Prince to her throne, queen to her heavenly King,
Whose court with solemn pomp on her attends,
And quires of saints with greeting notes do sing;
Earth rendereth up her undeservèd prey,
Heaven claims the right, and bears the prize away.
Prince to her throne, queen to her heavenly King,
Whose court with solemn pomp on her attends,
And quires of saints with greeting notes do sing;
Earth rendereth up her undeservèd prey,
Heaven claims the right, and bears the prize away.
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