his mercie to implore Thou raging Tygre and fierce Mantichore Lend me your powres combind that I with cries May rend the Marble Mountaines and the Skies Lend you me sighes you Typhons of Terâ—ear Let â—eares like a Atlas â—rozen Haile distill Oh lend me words you seuen-fold ecchoes cleare Your plaints tormented Ghosts in Heclaes Hill That so my sighs teares plaints may blast and kill All smiling flowres and trees adorn'd with greene And like my selfe make Earth a mourner seeme Oh let me let me sprinkle the free Ayre With these my boundlesse woes But I am dumbe Imprison'd soules herein seeme happier My Reason hath to me deni'd a tongue For as too vehement obiects ouercome The senses so the Vnderstanding's lame To vtter things that doe transcend the same Hence therefore let me flie with Swallowes wings To b Tessets barren Desarts where no Wight No saluage beast frequents or creeping things Or to Condorian Caues where sixe moneths night May make me hate th' unwelcome entring light And flie back to my Caue againe to find A constant darknesse suting mine owne mind There will I build mine euerlasting Cell Obliuion and my selfe will liue together If in an Age some aske who there doth dwell My selfe will through the wall or doore deliuer Some feined Names and send them thence else-whither That cruell men which for their dearest friends Thus dig the graues may not my peace offend Here Silence and my selfe will hug each other And if we walke on soft Mosse will we tread Here Contemplation shall be my sworne Brother And Sorrow where we friends this theame will reade That tho teares doe not profit those are dead Yet if for true friends teares be ere well spent T is when false friends betray friends innocent a Such was that of Cizicum and that of the Gallerie at Olympia which from thence hadâ—â— appellation Heptaphonon Plin. lib. 36. cap. 15. b Tesset is a little Towne in Africk in 〈◊〉 Desart distant from the neerest habitation threâ— hundred miles Leo. A short elegiack Verse written vpâ—on the vnfortunate Deaths of the thrice worthie Gentlemen the Sheffeilds drownd in Humber OH where am I I thought I earst had died I was so frozen vp and stupified With Artick darknesse and Condorian cold Which these late moneths lifes faculties did hold Imprisond in the center of my heart Sure slaine I was I felt so little smart At the chill newes of Humbers fatall deed My tongue to moue mine eyes forgat to bleed For water cannot expiate what water did When Vertues Children lie vnburied Shall I be then lesse sensible lesse kind Then Mecchaes Pilgrims which themselues doe blind And rather doe for custome sacrifice At marble shrines then pious loue their eies No I will weepe and weepe and weepe againe Till in my conduits humours none remaine To giue my Fountaines liquid supplement And when those pipes and hollow caues are spent Mine Aire in them condenst likewise shall be And transmigrate to moysture presently From whence I may deriue a fresh supplie Euen whilest I liue to weepe and weeping die For them whose worthes and fatall chance excell The powre of Time in both to paralell A Funerall Canzonet vpon the vntimely death of an Honourable Ladie vnder the name of Stella STreame teares and in your waterie language lee My passion speake the sorrowes of my mind Since words want weight and tongues in vaine are see To vtter woes that haue not bounds assign'd Since Stella's dead so noble faire and kind That no tongue truly can her losse expresse Then mine be mute speake eyes my heauinesse But Stella's dead and I in vaine doe striue To limit water or confine the aire My words will perish that I would repriue And griefe hath dried the springs whence teares repaire So hard to forme I find our passions are That what my Reason most incites me to I blindfold seeke but quite contrary goe For Winters Frosts or Summers Heate haue dried My teares and put this tempest in my tongue When reason rather of the two had tried Teares to haue tenderd then this Dirge to haue sung For Stella's death so Noble Faire and Young On my soules anuile such crosse passions breake That my tongue weepes whilest these mine eyeâ— should speake TIme I euer must complaine Of thy craft and cruell cunning Seeming fixt here to remaine When thy feete are euer running And thy plumes Still resumes Courses new repose most shunning Like calme winds thou passest by vs Lin'd with feathers are thy feete Thy dowrie wings with silence flie vs Like the shadowes of the night Or the streame That no beame Of sharpest eye discernes to fleet Therefore Mortalls all deluded By thy graue and wrinckled face In their iudgements haue concluded That thy slow and snaile-like pace Still doth bend To no end But to an eternall race Budding Youths vaine blooming wit Thinks the Spring shall euer last And the gaudie flowres that sit On Flora's brow shall neuer tastâ— Winters scorne Nor forlorne Bend their heads with chilling blast Riper age expects to haue Haruests of his proper toyle Times to giue and to receiue Seedes and Fruits from fertile soyle But at length Doth his strength Youth and Beautie all recoyle Cold December hope reteâ—nes That the Spring each thing reuiuing Shall through-out his aged Veynes Powre fresh Youth past ioyes repriuing But thy Sithe Ends his strise And to Lethe sends him driuing To Earth EArth thou art a barren Field Of delight and true contenting All the pleasures thou do'st yeeld Giue but cause of sad lamenting Where Desires Are the fires Still our soules tormenting Riches Honour Dignitie Are the high way to misfortune Greatnesse is a lethargie That to death can soone transport one To be faire Causeth care Gifts chaâ—te thoughts importunâ— To be wittie quick of tongue Sorrow to themselues returneth To be Healthfull Young and Strong Feeds the flames where passion burneth Yet doe Men Couet them More then what adorneth To haue Friends and Louers kind That vs round enuiron Wife and Children tho we find These be robes that best attire one Yet their losse Is a crosse Melting hearts of Iron To be perfect here and wise Is to know our indiscretions And our goodnes chiefely lies In obseruing our transgressions For we dwell As in Hell Thrall to bad impressions Then alas why long we so With lou'd Sorrow still to languish Iâ— there ought on earth but woe Aye renewing cares and anguish Where new feares Still appeares Darts at vs to brandish To Death THen Dâ—ath why shouldst thou dreaded be And shund as some great miserie That cur'st ouâ— woes and strife Onely because we 're ill resolued And in darke errours clouds enuolued Thinke Death the end of life Which most vntrue Each place we view Giues testimonies rife The Flowers that we behold each yeare In checquered Meades their heads to reare New rising from their Tombe The Eglantines and Honie-Daisies And all those pritty smiling faces That still in age grow young Euen these doe crie That tho men die Yet life from death may come The towring Cedars tall and strong On Taurus and mount Libanon In time they all decay Yet from their old and wasted rooâ—es At length againe grow vp young Shootes That are as fresh and gay Then why should we Thus feare to die Whose death brings life for aye The seed that in the Earth we throw Doth putrifie before it grow Corrupting in his Vrne But at the Spring it flourisheth Whom Phâ—ebus â—nly cherisheth With life at his returne Doth Times Sunne this Then sure it is Times Lord can more perfâ—rme To Time STay wrinckled Time and slack thy winged haste Which from our Zenith doth so fast decline In Westerne waues Lethe thy selfe to â—aste Stay and at length regard this plaint of mine Thy one daies course is many thousand yeares And I in vaine pursue thee all my time Whilest thy declining haste more swift appeareâ— And thine owne weight precipitates thee to My feeble leggs their burthen hardly beares Whilest I pursue to catch thy harrie brow But thou like frâ—ward Age still writhest away And to my good endeauours wilt not bow Yet know I come not now to beg delay For any debt of mine or borrowed summe Nor to repriue my life for some short day Old Time it is for none of these I come But euen to vent my griefes that thou to me To pinching art so prodigall to some The Vsurer a hundred yeares can see To cram his chests with theft and poore mens spoile The Baude stored with all sorts of villanie And sinnes that Hell and blacknesse selfe would soile Liues till her bodie be an Hospitall Of strange Diseases mischiefes perfect foile The P. and the P. that are most Fed by the peoples sinnes and also feede Those mischiefes whereby many a man is lost Which be old Time thy worst disease indeed These doe not want to doe amisse wants none But Time to him that would doe well's denide Thou giu'st the greedie Worldling time to runne In quest of profit to the frozen Climes Then to the burning Line and thirsting Sunne To Ganges the Mollucaes Phillippines Tho more then men he Nature cozen will That heate and cold for bounds to him assignes Thou lend'st the Drunkard time his Cups to spill Th' art to the Sluggard too indulgent kind Thou giu'st the Murtherer time to kill The Thiefe and Lustfull man their prey to find But those that to imploy thee well are bent Too little or iust none haue they assign'd Ten yeares the guiltie Lawes haue from me puld My Wants and Cares as much Sicknes the rest My best houres but from Wants and Cares are culd Oh Time must he haue least that spends thee best Oh Time giue me a Time my selfe t'applie To Vertue and to Knowledge or to die FINIS Errata Page 30. line 13. reade d Hyena's l. 14. r. e Screech Owles l. 15. r. f Torpedoes l. 17. r. g Th' other l. 20 r. h Hels l. 21. i Scyros p. 40. l. 20. r. Candie p. 43. l. 20. â— Vacâ—um sex rationibus in parte moâ—us l. 24. r. 〈◊〉 daretur p. 46. l. 4. r. sees noâ— God p. 87. l. 6. r. i Nam sulphur l. 9. r. k This is l. 13. put out k
great varietie that the vnderstanding of Man cannot vtter it 40 XXI No place emptie and vnfurnisht of Creatures for Mans behoofe but all full without scarcetie or scant that man for this fulnes and bountie of externall things might returne a proportionate fulnesse in his affections towards God 42 XXII But Man returnes his Maker nothing but Ingratitude 44 XXIII Mans Ingratitude that peruerts the verie benefits themselues to bee instruments of displeasing him that gaue them still presuming that because he sees not God therefore God sees not him 46 XXIIII Gods Omniscience from whose all-piercing eye nothing lies hidden 47 XXV Gods Patience of which Man hath euer a peruerse consideration abusing this as hee doth all therest to his owne vndoing 49 XXVI The great goodnesse and clemency of Almightie God that stayes and expects our repentance so long since the Scripture testifies of him that he is a consuming fire 51 XXVII That the Pagans for tempor all benefits of Heate and Light worshipt the Sunne and Fire 53 XXVIII Yet the darknesse of meere naturall mens minds is such that they cannot see the true light indeed God which giues all things their light and is himself the light of Wisdome and the warmth of Charitie 54 XXIX Gods Wisdome 56 XXX His Powre 60 XXXI Man by his sinfull condition the Wretchedst and the worst of all creatures 64 XXXII Faire without foule within 66 XXXIII We praise substances but pursue shaddowes 69 XXXIIII We follow gaine not goodnesse 71 XXXV We dote on earthly pleasures and seeke happines in them which notwithstanding are but shadowes of those true ioyes that are aboue 74 XXXVI And all earthly torments and miseries no more but shadowes of those that remaine for the damned in Hell 78 XXXVII A comparison betwixt the great and little world 82 XXXVIII Aâ— Elegie vpon the death of the incomparable Prince Henrie 88 XXXIX An Elegie vpon Mast. Candish 90 XL. Teares for Sir Tho. O. DIVINE MEDITATIONS CHAP. I. The shortnesse of mans life in respect of other creatures yet how prodigall man is of time esteeming it farre more basely then any other thing notwithstanding the necessitie of bestowing it well since our eternall miserie or happinesse depends thereon Viue memor quam sis aeui breuis Horat. lib. 2. Sat. 6. Singula de nobis anni predantur euntes Idem Labimur saeuo rapienti fato Ducitur semper noua pompa morti Seneca in Oedip. HOw short's mans life compar'd with other liues The Elephant two hundred yeares suruiues His time so doth the long liu'd Hart And nature to the Rauen doth impart Three liues of Harts and Elephants altho The Hamadryad Nymphes thrice hers outgo The longest date that most men here attayne Is eighty yeares stretcht out with griefe and payne And yet of this how â—â—all a 〈◊〉 we liue Sleepe châ—llenges 〈◊〉 to him to giue And youthfull dayes of 〈…〉 A thirâ— of what 〈…〉 gayne No little sâ—are and doâ—age all the rest So of our dayes our â—oâ—s possâ—â—â—e the best And we our selues â— enâ—oy a share most small Nothing yet of that nothing prodigall There are not many that doe freely lend Their vtensâ—les and rayments to their friend Because they know â—ime all things wasts and weares Yet doe we â—end our seluâ—s for many years With small â—â—â—eatie One perswades to day To hawke and huâ—â— Tomorrow he toth ' play This friend to 's maâ—â—iage earnestly enuites That to solemnize his dead parents â—tes Another crew they tempt vs to pertake In quarrels where our whole times at the stake A thousand pull vs into game and wine Thus doe we lend and giue our pretious time Time in whose vse eternall ioyes doe dwell Or woes for things most base we giue and â—ell How much doe we bestow in fruitlesse vice In seasts in fashions curiosities In beastly lusts nocturnall â—oule desires How much to feed our passions flaming fires How much in trimâ—ning vp the head and face In singing dancing gaming and things base In fruitlesse studies fraught with toyes and lies Fabulous storiâ—s impertinencies Which times so spent we cannot say that we Do liue but that we sleepe or dreaming be How many childlesse men each where appeares Who hauing spent their youth and best of yeares In quest of gayne and gold so much accurst That also loose their latest times and worst In griefe of heart in anguish and in payne In broken sleepes in sweat and trauels vaine Onely to settle their ill gotten pelfes Where it might noâ— be lost yet loose themselues This body takes vp â—ll our time and care How many spend whole yeares heere to prepare Euen for themselues their marble monuments Which in their whole age shewde no prouidence Nor forecast for the soule Alas we see Nothing but what is obuious to the eye Our vnderstanding partes in sence are drownd How many be that for gaine circle rownde The whole worlds frame and come home fraught with yeres As well as wealth to whom no time appeares Fruitfull themseâ—ues to compaâ—le and to gayne Who can account th' innumerable traine Of those that giue their time to others vse That goe or sit or sleepe when others chuse And eaâ—e still at anothers appetite That by commaund doe either lo the or lyke How many that giue vp their times and lifes Still to be conversan in endlesse strifes In following or directing the affayres And suites of other men Which neuer cares For that expense of time that brings them coyne They sweare accuse defend bribe and puâ—loyne Like Salamanders liuing in the fire Of other mens contentions Yet desire Nothing so much as time which still they leese And fondlie sell to others businesses We lauish time as if it had no end No man will share his money with his friend But time with euery one we throw away We loose each present time and fay rest day For good occaâ—ioâ—s and dispose of houres Both dayes and â—eeres which often proue not ours What darke cloudes ouershade the minds of men How crosse affections are assign'd to them When olde age comes and death to claime his due How young they be to learne to dyâ— how new And time that was still vendible beâ—ore They then cry out us to be bought no more We neuer know tiâ—e spends till tiâ—e be gone Then we would giue plate goldâ— possession To the Phiâ—â—tion but for some few houres We wring his 〈◊〉 Such is this wit of ours The time that Nature giues vs is not small We make it little Spending vainely all We liue not to our selues Those onely liue That doe themselues to contemplation giue To vertuous actions Practise and endeuour To liue well so to die wel and liue euer * Nymphae Hamadriades quoruÌ„ longissima vitae est Ausonius CHAP. II. That mans hart the seat of the affections is as a tenant for tearme of life demised and set ouer to the gouernement of Reason by which it ought to be tilled and cultiuate so that in stead
of hurtfull weeds it may bring forth profitable he arbs MAn hath a garden that 's not very large nor very narrow and it is his charge To dresse the same to prune and looke vnto it Least weeds instead of wholesome hearbs â—â—regrow it T is not his owne he hath it but for life And hence God knowes proceeds his care as strife For tide he is â—ach day some fruits to bring For this to him that did demise the thing But he alas can no way pay his rent Tho for the same he knowes he shall be sâ—ent For tho he â—oyle and labours to his powre To kill â—he weedâ— that soring there euâ—â—y howre Yet still they multiply and still grow more Out of old rootes comes new not knowne before So thicke that one of seuerall kinds may take Handfuls at once but must enquirie make A long long 〈◊〉 for â—ny wholesome plant For in this Garden those be wondrous seant No Palmes or Vynes grow here for â—ouers true No Râ—semarie an hearbâ— to Hymen dew No hâ—auenly thrift this Garden doth bâ—gâ—t Nor honestie by Nature neere a whit Their growes not in t a dram of any Sage Some Time but much neglected till old age Roses once grew therein and Lillies toe But in their roomes Hemlocks and Deaths hearbs now Hysop that 's giuen by heauen to wash vs cleare Oft withers through dispairing Willowes neare And bitter Rew that brings our â—hiefest gaines This hardly growes with industrie and paines For all this ground 's with such fowle weeds growne ouer That each iudicious eye may plaine discouer The Gardiners most manifest neglect Or in the ground some naturall defect Both must we grant defectiue all herein That we by shew not substance measure them Things faire tho hurtfull so the sense beguile That we them nourish tho they kill the while Vnto our Landlord lets therefore resigne Our interest Dispose it Heauen t is thine And He auens bright eie that once wept teares of blood Showre grace downe on our hearts and make theÌ„ good CHAP. III. The difference betweene a rude neglected mind and a mind directed by grace and gouernd by reasons discipline instant by example of difference in grounds THe dunghill base neglected ground that breeds Nothing but stinking Hemlocks and vile Weeds Butdocks Briers Brakes and contemptible things Differs not more from Gardens of great Kings Where Art and Nature friendly seeme to vie Which should each others worke most beau â— ifie Where cunning Artists hand ingrasts and stockâ— The Pistachene the Peach or Aprikocks Where shadie Groues rare Fruits and fragrant Ayre Soft downie Carpets burbbling Fountaines cleare Conspire to make a sensuall happiness The rude vnpollisht earth differs from these Not halfe so much I say as doth that mind Which senâ—uall lusts and appetites doe bind Captiuing reason that should be their King Differ from those where artfull pollishing All vagrant lusts and â—oule desire haue tide Subdued by Grace to Reason sanctified But as earth doth not of it selfe produce Those things that are most needfull for mans vse Which by much toyle and tillage are acquired So those things that by Heauen are most desired And sought for in our selues they doe not grow From our corrupt affections but doe flow From the reflection of that light Diuine Without which darknes doth our soules confine Without which these our hearts most vile fruit brings Euen Lusts Rebellions Treasons and worst things For earth and man for sinne together curst Nor earth nor man seeme what they were at first Poore man seemes now like Ierusalems a Phane The place where God was thought once to remainâ— And to inhabit that 's become a den Of theeues a propugnacle for vile men Gods enemies that lies for truth belieue From whence both God and all his Saints they grieue So mans heart that created was to be A Phane or Temple for the Deitie A Castle and a Fortresse is become To harbor treasons and rebellion Gainst God and goodnesse This a Fort is made From whence vncleanâ— desires and lusts inuade The Vnderstanding and depraue the Will So that that knowes not good this followes ill a The Temple of Ierusalem now a 〈◊〉 Moschet CHAP. IIII. The best things abâ—sed most dangerous for vnderstanding which in Mans first estate made him little lesse then Angels being now depraeued makes him many times more miferable then beasts THe fairest and best things thus misapplied Seeme foâ—le and all their natiue beautie hide Gold that seemes faire for health or ornament Seemes foule when it betrayes the innocent Beautie that 's good with chastitie and grace Seemes vile bestowed vpon th'immodest face And vnderstanding which by faâ—â—e transcends All else wherewith Dame Nature vs befriends The Sunne that should irradiate the soule How faire t' was pure But now depraued how foule The beasts that doe enâ—oy no more then sence Doe seeme to this to offer lesse offence Then we to reason for their appetiâ—e Doth in it's proper obiects most delight The Silk worme that for ornament is gâ—uâ—a Her appetite is still the same to spin The Bees alone her hony-house to frame Both Hawke and Hound haue each their proper Game Th'Apodes doe not seeke to goe or swim Ayre serues alone to keepe and nourish them The Dolphin nerâ— attempts the earth to know For if he touch the earth he dieth so Nor seekes the silly Mole to swim or flie But in the earth alone to delue and die And those same Flies in Cyprian furnacâ— found Bred in the fiâ—e hate water ayre and ground All things but Man are streight in their desires He onely wrong where rightnes Heauen requires God made him vpright with erected brow To looke at Hâ—auen and not with beasts to bow To earth God gaue him Angels mind and face But he alone seekes things terrean and base The obiect of our intellect is a Trewth And therefore chiefly God Put Man pursewth Nothing so much as falshood follie lies Instead of substance shadowes nullities The obiect of our will is also b Good And goodnesse selfe the chiefest good that 's God Tâ—o still our minds and thus depraued will Nothing so much affect as what is ill God is the obiect of each perfect mind But Hell and blacknes in the most we find Ouâ— mâ—ndâ—s like Clocks composde of many wheeles Each day new change and alteration feeles Either they goe too fast or else too slow â—dâ—e they rust in action fairely shew â—ach day we must with teares of penitence Wâ—sh them from foule dust of concupiscence And â— ligenâ—ly wind them vp with care And meditation else they fruitles are a Cum veritas sit obiectum intellectus idcirâ—o id erit maximè obiectum intellectus quod est maximè veritas essentialiter originaliter nemâ—e Deus Cur â—rgo intellectus hominis tam difficulter apprehendâ—t Deum ipso Arist. teste nam 2. Metaphis cap. 1. inquit intellectus hominis habet se adea quae sua natura sunt
coldnesse of her melancholie disposition seemes to put out the fires of loue and â—erriment c Shuns the light as the Bat and as it were clothes her selfe in darknesse d Making those shee lookes on with her eyes heauy and lumpish e Her discourse and conference being iust as seasonable and pleasing as the Screech-howles to any but those that haue with her communitie of occasions f Those that are but afflicted with the losse â—f temporarie things as health friends fortunes â—r all these with holy Iob they seeme but to be a litâ—le benumbd only with the chastisment of her whip g But those which loose Gods grace fauour and mercie with Iudas those shee seemes to kill and vtterly to destroy with her Mace of Iron h Plaste at Hel-mouth because she leads either to despaire who kâ—â—pes at 〈◊〉 entrance of hell or â—lse to Repentance by whom we passe 〈◊〉 by the Gates of hell to heauen i Fâ—igned to liue in a Tombstone or Sarchâ—phage because the house where sorrow dâ—th inhâ—â—bit is to this flesh no better then a perpetuall consumption and a graue The stones calld Sarchophagiare found in a Countrie of Asia in a place called Sciros Plinie CHAP. XV. The member of our sorrows which seeme infinite till they be compared with the number of our sinâ—es whose numberlesse number nothing exceeds but the infinite mercies of Aâ—mightie God I Wish I could mans sorrows summe and â—enne Bandied like balls twixt faults and punishments Whose punishments so close succeed his sinne As shadows doe the substance that fore-went Beautie strength wealth and wit the gifts of heauen To be lost at these hazards oft are giuen The miseries and sorrowes cares and feares That here assault him euery day and howre In number like the Russian swarmes appeare In nature like the â—ygers that deuoure Or Nubian Lions feeding on his heart Disfiguring the face and euâ—ry part The poysons wherewith they infest our minds Tormenting more then all the banefull weeds That doe enrage or stupifie The kinds Of Serpents Dipsas Drynas lesse paine breds Man 's owne hart to himselfe so much doth yeeld Of sinnes and sorrowes the most fertill field The number of which sorrowes doth surmount Excepting sinnes all other terren things The grasse the leaues the sand in sinnes account The sâ—alie traine and creatures that haue wings Fall short compared with this Of numbers none Exceeds the number of our sinnes but one Gods mercies which as Heauens bright tapers are Or siluer dewes of Hermons fertill hill More faire then Ormuâ— Pearle or Diamonds farre More sweet then all the Balsams that distill Out of the Plants the Memphyan Gardens hold Richer then Chyna's Mines or Congian Gold Gods mercies are as many as our words And thoughts for euery word and thought is sin Thence since each sinne eternall death affords And by his mercies these so oft forgiu'n Who can Gods mercies infinite expresse For boundlesse woes who giues eternall blesse CHAP. XVI The great comfort in Gods excellent mercies in which we may find rest after all our miseries GOds mercies are the deluge of his loue For as his Iustice once did ouerfloe And sad destruction to the world did proue So doth the deluge of his mercie now Flow freely ouer all men and to all That for the same with constant faith do call Not mightie Volga with her seuentie mouthes Not Greekish Danow on whose sides there stands Those regall Townes not Nyger that by droughts Is twice deuoured of Affricks thirsting sands Zayr Nile and Magnâ—ce all vniâ—ed are Not with this Riuers vastnes to compare Not cleare Maragnon with her siluer waues Not Râ—wleane nor Plate which from the Mine Within Peruuian Mountaines intrals laues Rich Grauel fearing sore the Ocean Queene As emptie handed vassals to appeare These be not halfe so rich nor halfe so cleare The Brammeâ—es and the Heathen Indians who In a Ganges seeke their sinnes to wash and elense The vertues of this Riuer doe not know Nor they that doe themselues in Indus rense But we in this alone perfection find Health Beautie Wealth Bounty all combind The Prophets and the holy Patriarchs Washt in this â—â—urdane and therein found health So did the Saints and Churches great Nauerches And â—o doe we who meâ—â—â— with no lesse wealth All drinke or may for this is neuer drie Because the Fountaine is Eâ—erâ—iâ—ie Some of two Phrygian Fountaines â—eâ—l strange things b Cleon and Gelon th' one exciting teares The other gladnesse But two stranger Springs More opposite in humain flesh appeares Sinne that both teares and death it selfe procures And Merâ—y in Christs blood which life assures a The Indians haue a superstitious conceit of Ganges and thinke themselues much sanctified by washing therein and giue great gifts to the poore when they come on pilgrimage thereto Hier. Xab. and they doe the like to the Riuer Indus b Plin. lib. 30. cap. 2. CHAP. XVII The greatnesse of his Bountie BVt hence appeares another Riuer now Great as the former which doth also spring From the same Fount and doth as largely flow Through all this All bedewing euery thing Gods louing bounty which doth all things cherish Which all things made and all things stil doth nourish Which to expresse an hundred tongues need I Archimides his engines all are vaine a Strabo the hundred part could neuer see Of this great Riuer which seemes such a Mayne That Latitudes and Altitudes preuaile Nothing to measur't all dimensions faile The Macedonian Prince I call to mind That thought not what he gaue but what was meet And diuers Caesars that vnto their friends To part with Kingdomes haue reputed light But humaine bounties all too short they be They giue their friends Heauen giues his enemy For God tho he fore-see and well fore-know That man his vassall will turne enemie And a rebellious refractorie foe Ingratefull fraught with deepe impietie Yet for him frames this fabrick great and high Full stored with blessings crownd with roialtie Oh boundlesse praise of true magnificence That doth not seeke his foes to ouercome By force but to reclaime them and conuince By bounties and by benefits alone And to that end doth euery day vs proue With streames of gifts to win vs to his loue With many a present doth he hourely woe vs From euery danger charie to defend Much like a wounded louer seemes he to vs Tho wretched we neglect our dearest friend Which doth at no peculiar profit aime What 's lost we loose if ought be gaind we gaine a Plinie and Solinus report that one Strabâ— from a promontorie of Sicily could see and count the ships setting forth of Carthage distant eightie miles So Linus lib. 7. cap. 5. Plin. lib. 7. cap. 20. CHAP. XVIII The same bountie further enlarged OH that my Muse could on her nimblest wings Mount you aloâ—t beyond the foggy aire Past the reflection of all terrene things And sublimate your soules to things more faire That touching these terrestriall beauties we Might