Ah wretch that euer I was borne to see Though by his death my life must onely be To lose a Father Maister Brother such Child Seruant Sister how caâ— I weepe too much Shame bad me weepe ynough to see how sinne Besmeered had my soule with ougly spottes And weepe to feele how I was feltred in The wretched snarles of wicked natures knots And weepe to looke vpon those loathsome blots That fild me so with greefe of all disgrace I durst not see my Sauiour in the face At whose sweete feete I kneeling wept with feare I had offended to presume so neere But sinne so fled away at euerie teare That grace beganne my heauie heart to cheere When my deere Lord sayd not VVhat dost thou here Or get thee hence or like a dogge out spurne mee But from my sinne vnto his mercie turne me He felt my teaâ—es though no man heard my weeping And gaue me grace though no man for me mou'd him Which made me know he had my soule in keeping Though sinne too long too far from me remou'd him For sinne once fled how deare in soule I lou'd him His words can witnesse that my soule did tuch Much is forgiuen her for she loued much He loued much that me so much forgaue Such my forgiuer how much should I loue Forgaue my sinnes and from the Feend did saue My wounded soule that could no comfort prooue Till grace and mercie did my greefe remooue But when I felt my paine of sinne once past In mercies grace I wept with ioy as fast But oh my soule vnworthy of this sweete Could not enioy these ioyfull teares too long For sinne and sorrow did so soundly meete As made my heart to sing another songe VVhen I beheld the too apparant wronge My Lord my Loue my life my King and God For my poore soule and for my sinnes abode To see the Lambe that bleated but our blisse Brought all by Woolues vnto a bleeding end To see that cruell shamefull death of his VVho did his course but for our comfort bend And held our foe that was our deerest Freend VVho did such good and to receiue such ill VVeepe heart to death and die in weeping still Vngratefull wretches worthlesse of al grace Rebellious Subiects Traytours to your King Could yee behold his workes before your face VVhat choise of good his charitie did bring And from your hearts could so much venom springe As with the Lord of peace to stirre such strife To seeke his death who onely gaue you life Slaues Doggâ—s and Diuels worse if I could call yee That so haue showne the malice of your mindes I cannot wish more ill then shall befall yee That are the impes of such accursed kindes As ougly Sathan with illusions blindes I weepe not for your sorrow but to see That all yee did not die to set him free And better had it beene for yee to die Then haue beene borne to bringe him to his death And by your deeds to die eternally Or liue in death within the Hell beneath Where neuer ayer shal breath you wholesome breath But by your choise of torments make you know VVhat yee haue done to breede my weeping so Alas what sinne but did my soule possesse But that accursed crucifying sinne That would not let your wicked soules confesse His glorious grace whose grace did first beginne By true desert all glorie due to winne And by such grace did winne my soule so to him My death were sweete if it might seruice doe him Oh that my teares kept number with my sinnes Or that my sinnes were drowned in my teares Then should my weeping shew how ioy beginnes In faithfull heart where fearefull sorrow weares And comforts blisse so much contentment beares That hope shold shew that halfe a heauen doâ—h win Better to weepe in grace then laugh in sinne But what speake I of either sinne or grace My sinnes too greeuous and my gace is gone My life â—s dead the earth is all too base For my loues Lord to deigne to looke vpon Where liues not one good creature no not one And what should I but weepe to liue to see I cannot see where my sweete Lord may be But since mine eyes haue liued to behold The heauenly substance of my life and loue Wherein my faith doth gratiously vnfould The onely blessing of my soules behoue All in the glorie of the heauens aboue Why should I liue and looke vpon the light Now I haue lost the ioy of such a sight No I doe hope my darkenesse will not hold The night will passe and Sunne againe will shine Although my heart in comfort be a cold My soule doth tell me that these teares of mine Shall all be dri'd vp by his hand diuine Who so will cure me of my sinfull sore That I shall ioy in grace and weepe no more But he is gone my spirits onely sweete And I am left a wretched sinner heere Oh that my teares could with my comfort meete And I might see my sauing health so neere As with his sight my heauie heart might cheere Then should I loue mine eyes for such a seeing Without which sight they ioy not in their being Let me then seeke where I may hope to see The onely substance of my ioying sight And neuer rest nor euer wearie be Vntill I come vnto that starre of light Which may direct my heart and spirit right Vnto that place where gracious loue will show My soule his presence that it loueth so To clime to heauen it is too high a place Sinne weighes me downe to loue to seeke him there For hell it is vnworthy of such grace And for the world my sorrow witnesse beare It is not worthy of his name to heare Then since nor heere nor there without all doubt Within the graue I must goe seeke him ouâ— Oh ground more gracious then the world besides Which do'st enclose that all the world commaundes And blessed earth that in thy Center hides His Corpse for whom my weeping soule demaunds Tell me oh heauens into what holy handes He is conuey'd and where he now may be VVhome thus my heart with teares desires to see Thus weeping still two Angels did appeare VVho as it seem'd desirous for to know The monefull cause of this her mourning cheere Wherefore she wept and what she sought for so Briefely she thus her greefe beganne to shewe Wringing her hands with many a bitter teare Her Lord was stolne and laid she knew not where O blessed Angels blessed as yee be Tell me where is my highest blisse become Your Lord and mine oh tell me where is he May cheere the heart that sorrow doth benumme Starue not my teares vouchsafe my soule one crumme Of comforts care to let me truely know VVhere is my Loâ—d that I lament for so But doe yee aske me whome I seeke for so Or why I weepe Because I cannot finde him O heauenly creature helpe my soule to knowe But where he is that I may come behinde him That he may know but how my loue doth mind him If dead I may vnto his tombe restore him And if aliue I may on knees adore him Oh happie Gardiner of this holy ground Blest art thou borne if thou hast liu'd to see That blessed bodie where it may be found That here lay buried tell me if thou be Sent from my Lord to come and comfort me VVho hence hath stolne the substance of my blisse And where bestowed that holy Corps of his But doe you aske me why I weepe so much And what I â—eeke I seeke my soules delight And weepe because I finde not any such As can direct me to so sweete a sight This is the cause of my hearts heauie plight Oh tell me then and put me out of doubt Dead or aliue where I may finde him out Thus while her eyâ—s continuall weeping kept Came Christ himselfe although a while vnknowne VVho askt her what she sought and why she wept She as before vnto the Angels showne Began in teares to make her pitious mone Her Lord waâ— stoln bornâ— she knew not whither But if he knew he would diâ—ect her thither But while the Lord of all her life and loue Beheld her teares the witnes of her truth To make her faith in heauenly fauour prooue The sweete reward of mercies sacred ruth And know what life of such a loue ensueth Spake but one word but that word was so sweete As would haue made her soule to kisse his feete Marie quoth he Oh Maister blessed voice From which my heart receiâ—es so sweet a sound As makes my soule in rauisht ioy reioyce To thinke to liue that I my Lord haue found Oh let my sinnes be in my teâ—â—es so drown'd That in my ioyes my â—oule be eueâ— weeping To haue thy presence in my Comforts keeping I will not presse one foote beyond the line Of thy loues leaue vouchsafe me but a looke Of that sweete heauenly holy eye of thine Of my deere Loue the euer-â—iuing Booke VVherein my teares haue such tâ—â—â— comfort tooke That let the world torment 〈◊〉 nere so sore Let me see thee and I desire no more Oh sight more pretious then tongue can expresse VVherein the eye doth comfort so the heart The heart the soule and all in their distresse Doe find an ease and end of euerie smart VVhen â—ie and heart and soule and euerie part Conclude in ioy that comfort did beginne Better to weepe in grace then laugh in sinne And with that word she vanisht so away As if that no such woman there had beene But yet me thought her weeping seem'd to say The Spirit was of Marie Magdalen VVhose bodie now although not to be seene Yet by her speech it seemed it was she That wisht all women might such VVeepers be FINIS
A Diuine Poeme diuided into two Partes The Rauisht Soule and the Blessed VVeeper Compiled by Nicholas Breton Gentle-man ImprÃnted at London for Iohn Browne and Iohn Dâ—â—ne 1601. ⧠TO THE RIâ—HT Honourable discreete and vertuous Lady the Nourisher of the Learned and fauourer of the Godly my singuler good Lady the Lady Mary Countesse of Penbrooke Nich Breton wisheth all the good that the heauens will the world can giue to the pleasure of the Highest and her worthy heartes desire RIght Honorable matter of most worth to most worthy mindes is most worthily presented What matter in worth may compare with diuine meditation What minde more worthy honour then the heauenly enclined and whose minde more truly worthy of that blessed Title then your Ladiships I would there were many but I know too fewe Being thâ—n in that excellent sense truly your selfe whom for more worth then I will speake of the wise admire the learned followe the vertuous loue and the honest serue vouchsafe me leaue among those poore people that being throwen from the world looke only towards heauen heauenly graces to lay before your eyes a diuine humour of a rauisht soule which being aboue it selfe caried into the heauenly meditations of the mercies of the Almightie by the blessing of his Holy Spirit hath brought forth such fruits of his praise as I hope wil be pleasing to your good fauour To the honour of whose commaundement auowing the duty of my hearts seruice in al humble thaÌ„kâ—â—lnesse for your bountifull vndeserued goodnesse praying for your eternall happinesse I take my leaue Your Ladiships in all humblenesse Nicholas Breton To the Reader YOV that with a zealous loue of Religion with an indifferent regard of Learning and without disdaine of Poetry will vouchsafe to bestow a little time in the perusing of this little volume of verses it may be you wil not repent you of your Labour nor thinke much of your cost but when you haue once read it ouer perhaps beginne it againe and ende it without wearinesse If you note it well you may finde matter of comforte and nothing to the contrarie God truely glorified in his manifould blessinges and man greatly blessed that being endued with his Graces by faithe taketh hould of his mercies the Athists confounded in their follies and the vertuous blessed in their election This if you finde not blame either your selfe or me but if you note what I write much good doe you in the Reading and God encrease you in his blessing And so in the best nature of loue leauing you to the ioy of the best life I end Your frend Nicholas Breton In Auctorem TWo hopefull Twinnes â—oynt issues of one braine A â—auisht Soule and longing Spirit sends Into your bosomes high and heauenly traine That are wits kâ—nsemen and the Muses friends Embrace them loue them and with iudgements view Eye them Beleeue me Reâ—der thou shalt finde Their limmes well measur'd and proportions tâ—uâ— No part dissenting from their perfect kinde Onely the fashion sits not on their clothes To make them sightly to fantasticke eyes Pallas not Venus did the worke dispose Cutting their garments from Angellickè skies Plaine is their habite yet Diuine and sweete Fit for the wise but for the wisest meete H. T. Gent. The rauisht Soule Gloria in excelsis Deo SIng my soule to God thy Lord All in glories highest keye Laie the Aungells quier aboorde In their highest holy daie Craue their helps to tune thy heart Vnto praises highest parte Tell the world no woâ—ld can tell What the hand of heauen deserueth In whose onely Mercies dwell All that heauen and earth preserueth Deaths confounding Sinnes forgiuing Faiths relieuing Comforts liuing Grace and glory life and loue Be the suâ—me of all thy dittie Where a sinners teareâ— may proue Comforts â—oy in merciâ—s pitty Euery note in louâ— alluding Endlesse glory in concluding Prayse of prayses where thou dwellesâ— Tell me if the world may know thee In what sense thou most â—xcellest When thy wonder worth doeth shew thee In that state of honours story Where thou gain'st thy highest glorie â—â—s not earth nor earthly wonder Can discerne thy dearest honour All her praises are put vnder When thy glory lookes vpon her Noâ— in heauen thy glorie dwelleth Where thy wonder most excelleth Yet in heauen was neuer liuing Virgin Saint nor Angels spirit VVhere thy Grace may haue the giuing Of thine honours highest Merite T is their glories admiration That deserues thy commendation Since then by all consequences In the notes of Glories nature And the Graces influences T is no earth nor heauenly creature In my God alone on high Is this onely mysterie And since in his Maiestie All and onely euer dwelleth That most glorious Deity That all prayses praise excelleth Say although thy soule attend him It can neuer comprehend him If thou speak'st of power all powers To his power are in subiection If thou speak'st of time all houres Run their course by his direction If of wisedome all is vanitie But in his Diuine humanitie If of trueth it is his triall If of loue it is his treasure If of life it is his diall If of grace it is his pleasure If of goodnesse t is his storie If of mercy t is his glorie If of iustice Iudgement sheweth His proceeding is impartiall If of valour all hell knoweth Who is heauens high Marshall If of bountie t is his blessing If of place t is his possessing If of patâ—ence his perfection If of comfort t is his fauour If of vertue his affection If of sweete it is his â—auour If of triumph t is his merite If perfection t is his spirit If aboue all these thou singest Rauisht in thy reasons glory Tell the world what ere thou bringest Admirations wonders story To such height my Sauiour raiseth As aboue all praises prayseth Let all kings and princes then In submission fall before him Virgins Angels holy men Both in heauen and earth adore him In his onely mercie seeing All and onely all your being Babes and children shew his Glory In your silly soules preseruing Men and Women note this storie Of the life of loues deseruing Heauen and earth be euer reading Of this essence of exceeding Sunne and Moone and euery creature In that shining starrie skie All confesse your brightnesse feature In the hand of mercies eye And for all your blessed powers Shew it Gods and none of yours And when all the world together Ioyne with Angels harmonie Let my soule come singing thither With that blessed company God in mercies power victorious Be aboue all Glory glorious Amen Sacred Muse that onely sittest In the Spirits of the Blessed And the faithfull onely fittest With their thoughts to heauen addressed Helpe my humble soule to sing To my Glorious heau'nly King All abandon earths coniecture Thinke not on so meane an instance Make thine honours Architecture But on Graces glorious substance There in comforts confirmation Build thy heauenly habitation
desir'd For heauenly grounds of graces confirmation And God himselfe so neere himselfe will set you In graces seate where mercy so will loue you That faiths regard will neuer more forget you Nor â—inne nor death nor deuill shall remoue yoâ— But where the Saints and Angels are reciting The heau'nly trueth of high Iâ—houahs story Your rauisht soule in such diuine â—â—diting Shall euermore be singing of his â—lory To the assured hope of which high grace In humble prayer let my poore humble penne In your good fauour begge that blessed place Where my poore heart may happ'ly say Amen Gloria in excelsis Deo The blessed Weeper MY thoughts amaz'd I knowe not how of late Halfe in a slumber and more halfe a sleepe My troubled senses at a strange debate VVhat kind of care should most my spirit keepe Me thought I sawe a silly woman weepe And with her weeping as it seem'd so pleas'd As if her heart had with her teares beene eas'd The place neere which she sate was like a graue But all vncouer'd and the bodie gone VVhere in her care she nothinge seem'd to craue But that stolne bodie how to looke vpon VVhen weeping so appear'd to her anon Two blessed Angels and one Lord of blisse VVho came to comfort this poore wretch of his But ere they came how she in bitter teares Bewail'd the losse or lacke of her deâ—re loue As to her words my vision witnesse beares And my remembrance may for truth approoue The whole discourse her passions seem'd to moue In hearts deepe griefe soules high â—oy conceiued Was as I write were not my thoughts deceiued If euer sorrow in a sinâ—ers hart Liud ' to distill those droppes of bitter teares That to the world in passions can impart Part of that paine the troubled spirit beares Smoothring the woes wherein all pleasure weares Oh let her shewe the deepest of her skill In drawing out the essence of mine ill The losse of health the heart may somewhat craze The losse of wealth distemper may the minde The losse of honouâ— is a fearefull Maze The losse of freends a care of greeuous kinde But all these woes vpon one heart to winde Were much to thinke but much more to beleeue How it could liue whom farre more Crosses greeue But from the bagge of naked pouertie To haue more wealth then all the world can giue And from the care of all calamitie In all the comfort of content to liue Where settled ioy all greefe away doth driue And sodenly growe sicke and poore againe Who câ—n conceiue the plague of such a paine I wretched I the out-cast of all grace And banisht for my sinne from heauenly blisse I that to Hell did headlong runne my race Not caring how my soule was led amisse While I was cosoned by the Serpents hisse I Caitiffe wretch of all the world the worst By sinnes iust doome â—o endlesse sorrow curst I wretched soule whome sinne had bared so As left me naked of all Natures grace I sinke of sinne and also full of woe As knew not how in heauen to haue a place And in the depth of all this desperate case To be relieu'd and cloth'd grac't and belou'd And on the sodaine from all these remou'd To lose the Vesture of that vertues grace That cloth'd my naked soule asham'd of sinne To lose the beautie of that blessed face Where mercies loue did comforts life beginne To lose the ioyes that heauens were glad to winne To lose the life of such a louely Freend Oh let me weepe and neuer make an end The child that hath his Father deerely louing Who sees his faults and greatly doth abhorre them Yet so from wrath will haue his thoughts remoouing As he will neither checke nor chide him for them But puts them backe while pitie standes before them And doth not onely all his faults forgiue But makes him kindely in his grace to liue That happie Child that in his heart hath felt The blessed life of such a Fathers loue Thinke how his heart must needes in sorrow melt That must the losse of such a Father prooue And curse the death doth such a life remooue And as a Creature in all comforts freendlesse Bleede out his time in teares of sorâ—ow endlesse That wicked Child of too much ill am I That had a Father held me all too deere Who from my sinnes did turne his angrie eye And on my sorrow shew'd a smyling cheere And to his grace did take my soule so neere As when asham'd to come his face before He sayd but this Take heede thou sinne no more My sinnes forgiuen what ioy my soule receiu'd None can expresse but the repentant heart Nor can that sorrow euer be conceiu'd To see that Father from that Child depart But in that soule that in the bitter smart Of the true feeling of that Fathers loue Had rather death then his departure prooue The carelesse Seruant that the goods misspends Which his kinde Maister to his trust committâ—â—â— And his neat house to Theeues and Varlets lends And cares for nought but what his humour fitteth That gracious Lord that all such faults remittteth And in his goodnesse doth so deerely loue him That from his fauour nothing shall remooue him So â—ll a Seruant that doth finde the loue Of such a Lord as neuer like was found And in the midst of all his ioy must prooue The death to see his comfort all a ground His blessed Lord by Theeues and Varlets bound Scoft scourg'd beaten sorrowing sighing dying How can that Seruant cease continuall crying That wicked Seruant wâ—etched wretch am I That louing Maister was my liuing Lord Whose gratious giftes abus'd vngratiously VVhose house my soule fowle spirits laide aboard Fild full of sinnes of graces all abhord Yet for all this and all that I â—ould doe My Lord forgaue me and did loue me too He cleans'd my soule from all my filthy sinne And with my teares did wash it cleane againe Draue out the Feends and kindly entred in With grace to heale that sorrow would haue slaine And in his loue did so my teares retaine That euerie droppe that fell vpon his feete Vnto my soule did giue a heauenly â—weet Now such a Maister as was neuer such So good vnto a Seruant none so ill So much abus'd abuses oh too much A cursed crue to worke their hellish will Like rauening VVoolues a silly Lambe to kill Foule darkenesse so to gouerne ouer light VVho would not weepe to death at such a sight A sorrie Sister that hath such a brother As for her loue would venter losse of life And her vnkindnesse so in kindnesse smother As twixt their loâ—es should kill all cause of strife Though her ill course were his hearts cutting knife To see that brother lose his liuing breath How can that Sister choose but weepe to death That Sister I that brother was my Lord VVho in his loue laide downe his life for me VVhose death oh Câ—osse of crosses to record