STEPS TO THE TEMPLE Sacred Poems With other Delights of the MUSES By RICHARD CRASHAW sometimes of Pembroke Hall and late Fellow of S. Peters Coll. in Cambridge Printed and Published according to Order LONDON Printed by T.W. for Humphrey Moseley and are to be sold at his shop at the Princes Armes in St. Pauls Church-yard 1646 The Preface to the Reader Learned Reader THe Authors friend will not usurpe much upon thy eye This is onely for those whom the name of our Divine Poet hath not yet seized into admiration I dare undertake that what Jamblicus in vita Pythagorae affirmeth of his Master at his Contemplations these Poems can viz. They shal lift thee Reader some yards above the ground and as in Pythagoras Schoole every temper was first tuned into a height by severall proportions of Musick and spiritualiz'd for one of his weighty Lectures Sâ— maist thou take a Poem hence and tune thy soule by it into a heavenly pitch and thus refined and borne up upon the wings of meditation In these Poems thou maist talke freely of God and of that other state Here 's Herbert's second but equall who hath retriv'd Poetry of late and return'd it up to its Primitive use Let it bound back to heaven gates whence it came Thinke yee St. Augustine would have steyned his graver Learning with a booke of Poetry had he fancied their dearest end to be the vanity of Love-Sonnets and Epithalamiums No no he thought with this our Poet that every foot in a high-borne verse might helpe to measure the soule into that better world Divine Poetry I dare hold it in position against Suarez on the subject to be the Language of the Angels it is the Quintessence of Phantasie and discourse center'd in Heaven 't is the very Out-goings of the soule 't is what alone our Author is able to tell you and that in his owne verse It were prophane but to mention here in the Preface those under-headed Poets Retainers to seven shares and a halfe Madrigall fellowes whose onely businesse in verse is to rime a poore six-penny soule a Subburd sinner into hell May such arrogant pretenders to Poetry vanish with their prodigious issue of tumorous heats and flashes of their adulterate braines and for ever after may this our Poet fill up the better roome of man Oh! when the generall arraignment of Poets shall be to give an accompt of their higher soules with what a triumphant brow shall our divine Poet sit above and looke downe upon poore Homer Virgil Horace Claudian c. who had amongst them the ill lucke to talke out a great part of their gallant Genius upon Bees Dung froggs and Gnats c. and not as himselfe here upon Scriptures divine Graces Martyrs and Angels Reader we stile his Sacred Poems Stepps to the Temple and aptly for in the Temple of God under his wing he led his life in St. Maries Church neere St. Peters Colledge There be lodged under Tertullian's roofe of Angels There he made his nest more gladly then David's Swallow neere the house of God where like a primitive Saint he offered more prayers in the night then others usually offer in the day There he penned these Poems Stepps for happy soules to â—limbe heaven by And those other of his pieces intituled The Delights of the Muses though of a more humane mixture are as sweet as they are innocent The praises that follow are but few of many that might be conferr'd on him hee was excellent in five Languages besides his Mother tongue vid. Hebrew Greek Latine Italian Spanish the two last whereof hee had little helpe in they were of his owne acquisition Amongst his other accomplishments in Accademick as well pious as harmlesse arts hee made his skill in Poetry Musicke Drawing Limming graving exercises of his curious invention and sudden fancy to bee but his subservient recreations for vacant houres not the grand businesse of his soule To the former Qualifications I might adde that which would crowne them all his rare moderation in diet almost Lessian temperance hee never created a Muse out of distâ—mpers nor with our Canary scribblers cast any strange mists of surfets before the Intelectuall beames of his mind or memory the latter of which hee was so much a master of that hee had there under locke and key in readinesse the richest treasures of the best Greeke and Latine Poets some of which Authors hee had more at his command and by heart then others that onely read their workes to retaine little and understand lesse Enough Reader I intend not a volume of praises larger then his booke nor need I longer transport thee to thinke over his vast perfections I will conclude all that I have impartially writ of this Learned young Gent. now dead to us as hee himselfe doth with the last line of his Poem upon Bishop Andrews Picture before his Sermons Verte paginas Look on his following leaves and see him breath The Authors Motto Live Jesus Live and let it bee My life to dye for love of thee REader there was a sudden mistake 't is too late to recover it thou wilt quickly find it out and I hope as soone passe it over some of the humane Poems are misplaced amongst the Divine The Weeper 1 HAile Sister Springs Parents of Silver-forded rills Ever bubling things Thawing Christall â— Snowy Hills Still spending never spent I meane Thy faire Eyes sweet Magdalene 2 Heavens thy faire Eyes bee Heavens of ever-falling stars T is seed-time still with thee And stars thou sow'st whose harvest dares Promise the earth to countershine What ever makes Heavens fore-head fine 3 But wee are deceived all Stars they are indeed too true For they but seeme to fall As Heavens other spangles doe It is not for our Earth and us To shine in things so pretious 4 Vpwards thou dost weepe Heavens bosome drinks the gentle streame Where th' milky rivers meet Thine Crawles above and is the Creame Heaven of such faire floods as this Heaven the Christall Ocean is 5 Every morne from hence A briske Cherub something sips Whose soft influence Adds sweetnesse to his sweetest lips Then to his Musicke and his song Tastes of this breakefast all day long â— When some new bright guest Takes up among the stars a roome And Heaven will make a feast Angels with their Bottles come And draw from these full Eyes of thine Their Masters water their owne Wine 7 The dew no more will weepe The Primroses pale cheeke to decke The deaw no more will sleepe Nuzzel'd in the Lillies necke Much rather would it tremble heere And leave them both to bee thy Teare 8 Not the soft Gold which Steales from the Amber-weeping Tree Makes sorrow halfe so Rich As the drops distil'd from thee Sorrowes best Iewels lye in these Caskets of which Heaven keeps the Keyes 9 When sorrow would be seene In her brightest Majesty For shee â—s a Queen Then is shee drest by none but thee Then and onely
sorrow brings All the streames of all her springs Was so rich in Grace and Nature In all the gifts that blesse a Creature The fresh hopes of his lovely Youth Flourisht in so faire a grouth So sweet the Temple was that shrin'd The Sacred sweetnesse of his mind That could the Fates know to relent Could they know what mercy meant Or had ever learnt to beare The soft tincture of a Teare Teares would now have flow'd so deepe As might have taught Griefe how to weepe Now all their steely operation Would quite have lost the cruell fashion Sicknesse would have gladly been Sick himselfe to have sav'd him And his Feaver wish'd to prove Burning onely in his Love Him when wrath it selfe had seene Wrath its selfe had lost his spleene Grim Destruction here amaz'd In stead of striking would have gaz'd Even the Iron-pointed pen That notes the Tragicke Doomes of men Wet with teares still'd from the eyes Of the flinty Destinyes Would have learn't a softer style And have been asham'd to spoyle His lives sweet stoty by the hast Of a cruell stop ill plac't In the darke volume of our fate Whence each leafe of Life hath date Where in sad particulars The totall summe of Man appeares And the short clause of mortall Breath Bound in the period of Death In all the Booke if any where Such a tearme as this spare here Could have been found 't would have been read Writ in white Letters o're his head Or close unto his name annext The faire glosse of a fairer Text. In briefe if any one were free Hee was that one and onely he But he alas even hee is dead And our hopes faire harvest spread In the dust Pitty now spend All the teares that griefe can lend Sad mortality may hide In his ashes all her pride With this inscription o're his head All hope of never dying here lyes dead His Epitaph PAssenger who e're thou art Stay a while and let thy Heart Take acquaintance of this stone Before thou passest further on This stone will tell thee that beneath Is entomb'd the Crime of Death The ripe endowments of whose mind Left his Yeares so much behind That numbring of his vertuos praise Death lost the reckoning of his Dayes And believing what they told Imagin'd him exceeding old In him perfection did set forth The strength of her united worth Him his wisdomes pregnant growth Made so reverend even in Youth That in the Center of his Brest Sweet as is the Phaenix nest Every reconciled Grace Had their Generall meeting place In him Goodnesse joy'd to see Learning learne Humility The splendor of his Birth and Blood Was but the Glosse of his owne Good The flourish of his sober Youth Was the Pride of Naked Truth In composure of his face Liv'd a faire but manly Grace His Mouth was Rhetoricks best mold His Tongue the Touchstone of her Gold What word so e're his Breath kept warme Was no word now but a charme For all persuasive Graces thence Suck't their sweetest Influence His vertue that within had root Could not chuse but shine without And th'heart-bred lustre of his worth At each corner peeping forth Pointed him out in all his wayes Circled round in his owne Rayes That to his sweetnesse all mens eyes Were vow'd Loves flaming Sacrifice Him while fresh and fragrant Time Cherisht in his Golden Prime E're Hebe's hand had overlaid His smooth cheekes with a downy shade The rush of Death's unruly wave Swept him off into his Grave Enough now if thou canst passe on For now alas not in this stone Passenger who e're thou art Is he entomb'd but in thy Heart An Epitaph Vpon Husband and Wife which died and were buried together TO these Whom Death again did wed This Grave 's the second Marriage-Bed For though the hand of Fate could force 'Twixt Soule and body a Divorce It could not sever Man and Wife Because they both liv'd but one Life Peace good Reader doe not weepe Peace the Lovers are asleepe They sweet Turtles folded lye In the last knot that love could tye Let them sleepe let them sleepe on Till this stormy night be gone And th' eternall morrow dawne Then the Curtaines will bee drawne And they waken with that Light Whose day shall never sleepe in Night An Epitaph Vpon Doctor Brooke A Brooke whose streame so great so good Was lov'd was honour'd as a flood Whose Bankes the Muses dwelt upon More then their owne Helicon Here at length hath gladly found A quiet passage under ground Meane while his loved bankes now dry The Muses with their teares supply Vpon Mr. Staninough's Death DEare reliques of a dislodg'd soule whose lacke Makes many a mourning Paper put on blacke O stay a while e're thou draw in thy Head And wind thy selfe up close in thy cold Bed Stay but a little while untill I call A summons worthy of thy Funerall Come then youth Beauty and Blood all ye soft powers Whose silken flatteryes swell a few fond houâ—es Into a false Eternity come man Hyperbolized nothing know thy span Take thine owne measure here downe downe and bow Before thy selfe in thy Idaea thou Huge emptinesse contract thy bulke and shrinke All thy wild Circle to a point ô sinke Lower and lower yet till thy small size Call Heaven to looke on thee with narrow eyes Lesser and lesser yet till thou begin To show a face fit to confesse thy kin Thy neighbour-hood to nothing here put on Thy selfe in this unfeign'd reflection Here gallant Ladyes this unpartiall glasse Through all your painting showes you your own face These Death-scal'd Lipps are they dare give the lye To the proud hopes of poor Mortality These curtain'd windowes this selfe-prison'd eye Out-stares the Liddes of large-look't Tyranny This posture is the brave one this that lyes Thus low stands up me thinkes thus and defyes The world All daring Dust and Ashes onely you Of all interpreters read nature true Vpon the Duke of Yorke his Birth A Panegyricke BRittaine the mighty Oceans lovely Bride Now strech thy self faire Ile and grow spread wide Thy bosome and make roome Thou art opprest With thine owne Gloryes and art strangely blest Beyond thy selfe for lo the Gods the Gods Come fast upon thee and those glorious ods Swell thy full gloryes to a pitch so high As sits above thy best capacitye Are they not ods and glorious that to thee Those mighty Genii throng which well might bee Each one an Ages labour that thy dayes Are guilded with the Vnion of those Rayes Whose each divided Beame would be a Sun To glad the Spheare of any Nation O if for these thou mean'st to find a seat Th' ast need ô Brittaine to be truly Great And so thou art their presence makes thee so They are thy Greatnesse Gods where e're they go Bring their Heaven with them their great footsteps place An everlasting smile upon the face Of the glad Earth they tread on while with thee Those Beames that ampliate
home with an holy strength Snathc't her self hence to Heaven fill'd a bright place Mongst those immortall fires and on the face Of her great maker fixt her flaming eye There still to read true pure divinity And now that grave aspect hath deign'd to shrinke Into this lesse appearance If you thinke T is but a dead face art doth here bequeath Looke on the following leaves and see him breath Ad Reginam ET verò jam tempus erat tibi maxima Mater Dulcibus his oculis accelerare diem Tempus erat ne qua tibi basia blanda vacarent Sarcina ne collo sit minùs apta tuo Scilicet ille tuus timor spes ille suorum Quo primumes felix pignore facta parens Ille ferox iras jam nunc meditatur enses Iam patris magis est jam magis ille suus Indolis O stimulos Vix dum illi transiit infans Iamque sibi impatiens arripit ille virum Improbus ille suis adeò negat ire sub annis Iam nondum puer est major est puero Si quis in aulaeis pictas animatus in iras Stat leo quem docta cuspide lusit acus Hostis io est neque enim ille alium dignabitur hostem Nempe decet tantus non minor ira manus Tunc hasta gravis adversum furit hasta bacillum est Mox falsum vero vulnere pectus hiat Stat leo ceu stupeat tali bene fixus ab hoste Ceu quid in his oculis vel timeat vel amet Tam torvum tam dulce micane nescire â—atetur Márs ne sub his oculis esset an esset Amor. Quippe illîc Mars est sed qui bene possit amari Est Amor certe sed metuendus Amor Talis Amor talis Mars est ibi cernere qualis Seu puer hic esset sive vir ille deus Hic tibi jam scitus succedit in oscula fratris Res ecce in lusus non operosa tuos Basia jam veniant tua quatacunque caterva Iam quocunque tuus murmure ludat amor En Tibi materies tenera tractabilis hic est Hic ad blanditias est tibi cera satis Salve infans tot basiolis molle argumentum Maternis labiis dulce negotiolum O salve Nam te nato puer aurâ—e natus Et Carolo Mariae Tertius est oculus Out of Martiall FOure Teeth thou had'st that ranck'd in goodly state Kept thy Mouthes Gate The first blast of thy cough left two alone The second none This last cough Aelia cought out all thy feare Th' hast left the third cough now no businesse here Out of the Italian A Song To thy Lover Deere discover That sweet blush of thine that shameth When those Roses It discloses All the flowers that Nature nameth In free Ayre Flow thy Haire That no more Summers best dresses Bee beholden For their Golden Lockes to Phoebus flaming Tresses O deliver Love his Quiver From thy Eyes he shoots his Arrowes Where Apollo Cannot follow Featherd with his Mothers Sparrowes O envy not That we dye not Those deere lips whose doore encloses All the Graces In their places Brother Pearles and sister Roses From these treasures Of ripe pleasures One bright smile to cleâ—re the weather Earth and Heaven Thus made even Both will he good friends together The aire does wooe thee Winds cling to thee Might a word once flye from out thee Storme and Thunder Would sit under And keepe silence round about Thee But if Natures Common Creatures So deare Glories dare not borrow Yet thy Beauty Owes a Duty To my loving lingring sorrow When to end mee Death shall send mee All his Terrors to affright mee Thine eyes Graces Guild their faces And those Terrors shall delight mee When my dying Life is flying Those sweet Aires that often slew mee Shall revive mee Or reprive mee And to many Deaths renew mee Out of the Italian LOve now no fire hath left him We two betwixt us have divided it Your Eyes the Light hath râ—st him The heat commanding in my Heart doth sit O! that poore Love be not for ever spoyled Let my Heat to your Light be reconciled So shall these flames whose worth Now all obscured lyes Drest in those Beames start forth And dance before your eyes Or else partake my flames I care not whither And so in mutuall Names Of Love burne both together Out of the Italian WOuld any one the true cause find How Love came nak't a Boy and blind 'T is this listning one day too long To th' Syrens in my Mistresse Song The extasie of a delight So much o're-mastring all his might To that one Sense made all else thrall And so he lost his Clothes eyes heart and all In faciem Augustiff Regis à morbillis integram MVsaredt vocat alma parens Academia Noster Enredit ore suo noster Apollo redit Vultus adhuc suus vultu sua purpura tantum Vivit admixtas pergit amare nives Tune illas violare genas tune illa profanis Morbe ferox tantas ire per or a notis Tu Phoebi faciem tentas vanissime Nostra Nee Phoebe maculas novit habere suas Ipsa sui vindex facies morbum indignatur Ipsa sedet radiis ô bene tuta suis Quippe illic deus est coelûmque sanctius astrum Quippe sub his totus ridet Apollo genis Quòd facie Rex tutus erat quòd caetera tactus Hinc hominem Rex est fassus inde deum On the Frontispiece of Isaacsons Chronologie explained IF with dictinctive Eye and Mind you looke Vpon the Front you see more then one Booke Creation is Gods Booke wherein he writ Each Creature as a Letter filling it History is Creations Booke which showes To what effects the Series of it goes Chronologie's the Booke of Historie and beares The just account of Dayes Moneths and Yeares But Resurrection in a Later Presse And New Edition is the summe of these The Language of these Bookes had all been one Had not th' Aspiring Tower of Babylon Confus'd the Tongues and in a distance hurl'd As farre the speech as men o th' new fill'd world Set then your eyes in method and behold Times embleme Saturne who when store of Gold Coyn'd the first age Devour'd that Birth he fear'd Till History Times eldest Child appear'd And Phoenix-like in spight of Saturnes rage Forc'd from her Ashes Heyres in every age From th' rising Sunne obtaining by just Suit A Springs Ingender and an Autumnes Fruit. Who in those Volumes at her motion pen'd Vnto Creations Alpha doth extend Againe ascend and view Chronology By Optick Skill pulling farre History Neerer whose Hand the piercing Eagles Eye Strengthens to bring remotest Objects nigh Vnder whose Feet you see the Setting Sunne From the darke Gnomon o're her Volumes runne Drown'd in eternall Night never to rise Till Resurrection show it to the eyes Of Earth-worne men and her shrill Trumpets sound Affright the Bones of Mortals