hide his Head This Hole in Death shall doe what Life denai'd Yet shall it not long hold Him beeing dead For Heau'ns his Home Earth's but the Babylon Vpon whose Riuers bankes He still did moane Here Loue contends with Custome Loue would keepe His Corps without Custome within the Graue But Tyrant Custome swaying Loue doth weepe That Her deere LOVE shee may no longer haue And for a Fare-well Volleys forth her Voice In Grones and Sighes and Lachrimable Noise NOw Hee 's interr'd that all the World intombes But in the Center of his Court diuine Yet least Point of that Center now enwombes This Lord whose greatnesse nothing can containe Gods Peace be with Him sith Hee 's God of Peace Till by his pow'r He makes his Death decease Vnheau'n your selues ye holy Cherubins And giue attendance on your Lord in Earth Couer his Corps with your Celestiall wings From all that naturally annoyes beneath Descend sweet Angels Legioniz'd in Rankes And make your Heau'n on his Sepulchers Bankes There warble forth your Hymnes of highest praise In highest honour of your highest Lord And Lullabie asleep his Watchers Eies With secret Soule-enchanting sweet concords Whiles with Eie-blinding Beames of Glory dight He faire amounts â—o frolicke his Saints sight But tell me O thou fairest Faire of Men Where do'st thou lodge at Noone-day where do'st sleep O tell my Soule and Shee will find Thee then And as her Soule Thee found will safely keep For Thou more cleere than Springs of Eseboâ— Hast made Her with thy more cleere Blood 〈◊〉 Thy Wintry-* Woes are past Spights storms are ceas'd Now flowres of Comfort burgen eu'ry where Then rise my Loue thou canst not be diseas'd Out of the * Rockes Holes rise to mee appeare And in the Holes of Thee her refuge Rocke My Soule from from deadly Sinne and Shame vp-locke Out of this Rocke as out of Paradise Runne through the Mosse of my most feeble Flesh Vnto my Soule all soil'd with Sinne and Vice Gihons of golden streames her to refresh So may it runne O still so may it runne Till it hath made her blacke as bright as sunne O Gates of Heau'n orientall glorious Gates O Wounds no Wounds but Hau'ns of Heau'n secure Neasts of cleane Doues and Forts from fellest Fates Blessed Balme-Boxes that all sores recure O let me liuing die and dying liue In these most holy Wounds that Life doe giue O let these Wounds these Woundes indeprauate Be holy Sanctuaries for my whole Man That though sinnes sores It oft coninquinate Yet there It may be made as white as Swanne O holy Wounds Wounds holier than all Holies Still let your Bloods be Floods t'ingulph my Folies When Woes doe wound me wind me in thy Wounds Sweet Iesus that for me with Woe wast wounded When Foes by Wounds my Bodies life confound Then let my Soule in thy Wounds be surrounded There let Her rest securely till shee may By thy high Grace resume in Blisse her Clay When carnall Lust my Flesh fraile Flesh inflames Then quench the same in thy Wounds bleeding still When Furie with strong hand my Mind vnframes Then in thy Wounds reforme It to thy Will In few by this most bloody Immolation Let my by parted selfe haue whole Saluation And thou O iust commander of this All To please whose Iustice Iustice Death endur'd Thou that I hat death mad'st most patheticall Inspire me with Loue Hope and Faith assur'd That while I breath this ayre my voice may be No light vaine Ayre but voyce aduancing Thee And deepely die each obiect of my Sense In tincture of thy Sonnes all sauing Blood By which Aspect my Mindes reminiscence May ruminate the vertue of that good That is our Summum bonum and the rate Of Sinne Gods wrath and iust though heauy hate O holy God! then looke O looke on me Through the through wounded Sides of thy deere Sonne O let my Scarlet Sinnes pure purple be In his deere Blood my Sinnes Purgation For eu'n as through redde Glasse Things red do seeme So through that Blood my Workes thou good wilt deeme The kingdome of the Flesh is swaid by Sinne In Christ that kingdome thou hast crucifi'd Then let me dwell that faultlesse Flesh within Sith Sinne subdues all humane Flesh beside Then there O there let me both liue and die Sith Life by Death there liues immortally The Diuell and the World two Worlds of Strife With whom my Flesh conspires my Soule assaile Who to destroy her selfe giues them a knife And so with them conspires her selfe to spoile Then if thou flesh her not with Christ shee dies For shee in my Flesh liues none otherwise But shall I make long Furrowes on his Backe Or stil make Him but soape my Sinnes to scowre Shall He supply the Pow'r my soule doth lacke Yet shall shee still be idle with his pow're O no Lord no that 's not the way to winne But th' onely way to liue and die in sinne Then helpe me Lord to help his helping might And giue me of thy goods to grace his Grace Let not my sloth but clogge your actiue Sp'rit Although it doe the Same in Loue embrace For sith in Action Vertue doth consist Helpe me to worke together with my Christ. Had I all Faith and Mountaines could remoue And though I gaue my Body to the Fire All this were nothing if I had not Loue Then liuely Faith meere Loue doth Life-inspire Sith then without Loue Faith doth nought but die Giue me that Faith that liues by Charitie Had I of Men or Cherubins the Tongues Knew I all Secrets or all Prophesie Fed I the poore with all to me belongs All these without Loue do but liuing die And sith on Loue depends the Royall Law O let my faith Lord worke in Loue and awe Christ is a Rocke of Refuge but to those That fight thy Battailes then needs must I fight Against both Thy and My still-fighting Foes And euer flie to Him in want of might Let me rest on this Rocke but yet so rest As by my sloath He may not be opprest I long sweet God to see thy vnseene Face Then put me in this Rocks most holy Rifts That I with Moses there may see thy Grace Sith It cannot be seene but through these Clifts But if I be vnmeet thy Face to ken Shew me thy back-parts kind Lord say Amen God forbid that I should glorie sauing in the Crosse of our Lord Iesus Christ by whom the World is crucified to me and I to the World IOHN DAVIES of Hereford SONETS 1. THe ofter sinne the more griefe shewes a Saint The ofter sinne the lesse griefe notes a Fiend But oft with griefe to sinne the soule doth taint And oft to sinne with ioy the soule doth rend To sinne on Hope is sinne most full of Feare To sinue of malice is the Diuels sinne One is that Christ may greater burden beare The other that his Death might still beginne To sinne of Frailtie is a sinne but
for Griefe to descant on And each mishap our hopes doe make infirme Though It we meete not with Suspition To force our friendship on a mortall foe Makes Folly triumph in our ouerthro But Loue that hath in Feares and Hopes no measure The more It longs her Obiect to possesse The more it doubts thereof the dire displeasure And beeing disseis'd thereof doth hope the lsse But O! this Loue is humane not diuine For Faith will not let Feare true loue decline Christ to thy longing-loue is as the Riuer Vnto the chased Hart which still he seekes And as Men thirstie mind but moysture euer So loue doth thinke on nought but what it likes If That Bee not It seekes no more to Bee But Beeing It would Be That bond or free Loue cannot liue without her Obiect long Sith shee then longing liues a dying life Who weenes her Right then to her offers wrong As doth the Husband that forsakes his Wife For in our deeds which Reason might reproue We scape vnshent if they were done in loue While loue doth lacke the oyle that makes it flame It is all Eare or Eie to heare or see Who can bewraie or where abides the same That there she may in loy or Sorrow be And listens vnto Newes with longing-heed In hope thereby to find her longingsmeed If It be good shee hopes it 's without peere If bad it be shee feares it 's worse than ill But be it good or bad shee it must heare Although the ioy or sorrow her may kill Desire doth neuer rest till that be had Which like to that Desire is good or bad Clothe him with Diamonds that quakes for cold Or cramme his purse with crownes that 's hunger-pin'd That for a freeze Gowne giue his Iewels would This all his Crownes for Crusts of coursest kin'd As each supplie supplies not each defect So nought contents Desire but his Elect. They that haue most are held most rich to be And they that haue their wish held most to haue Then as in Him is all that 's wisht of thee So Hee 's the Summe of all that thou canst craue It is the greatest gaine that can be made To get eternall good for goods that fade But rest these Thoughts which Thee of rest depriue In Paradise where he thou know'st do the est For there he said the Theefe should with him liue That day that he of life was dispossest Then when the life of Loue is dead to Griefe And liues to Ioy Ioy is dead Loues reliefe Hee for vs captiu'd our captiuitie And what is that but death the due of Sinne Which now he triumphs ore in victorie That we might still reioyce not grieue therein When Griefe is slaine it is a wrong to Ioy Our Powres in Sorrowes seruice to imploy Yet greater cause of griefe Griefe cannot giue But greater cause of ioy Ioy cannot yeeld Griefe Ioy resists and Ioy with Griefe doth striue Thus twixt these two still doubtfull is the field But Ioy at last as true Griefe doth presage Shall Victor be and no more Battell wage For this is He who though thus skarrified Tormented slaughtred and thus vilipended That is indeed the first Man deified Whom Men-of-God as-God to Men commended To Him the Prophets gaue this Testimonie That He should Liue as Man to die for Many His Skinne the Whips his Flesh Thornes made vnsound The Nailes his Nerues the cruell Speare his Heart Sharp Woes his Soule Gods wrath his Mind did wound So wounded was in all and eu'ry Part Thus his Soules-Soule was sacrifiz'd for Sinne That so our Soules might their lost glory winne His hand of Pow'r at first did figulate The Belsire of Mans most vnconstant kind And shall those Hands that Hand did figurate This Hand-almightie by their frailtie bind No no alas the Scepter 's in that Hand That doth both Heau'n and Hell of right command Hee like the glorious rare Arabian Bird Will soone result from his incinderment Which flaming Loue and Charitie had fir'd Of sole selfe-pow'r and owne arbitrement And though his Toyles be Silke-worme like his Tombe Yet shall his actiue Sp'rite his Flesh vntombe Diuinely then with Triumph Caesared He shall reblesse Thee with ten Thousand Blisses Whereby thy Soule shall aie be rauished With many millions of sweet Comforts kisses Whose Sweetes shall be so super-naturall That they perforce thy Cares shall cordial Then cheere thee sacred Virgin mourne no more The worst is past the best is now to come Thy blessed Wombe his blessed Body bore To die accurst for which He blest thy Wombe The Curse we caus'd for which He Death indures Then mourne no more but let the Griefe be Ours Fraile-Fleshes signiorizing Tyrant fell Vsurping Monarchie in her Effects Stearne Hydra-headed SINNE with Death and Hell He by his Death to free our Flesh subiects Then let Lifes Death that Lifes Death doth reliue Kill thy quicke woes and thy dead ioyes reuiue Serene thy Woe-adumbred Front sweet Saint Let Ioy transluce thy Beauties blandishment Thy Sonne feeles not for Death is Sence restraint Yet sees though dead thy liuing languishment Which well he wots though it of Loue proceed Auailes Him not nor mends His Killers Creed Thou know'st thy charge thy Master thee impos'd Sacred Euangelist His Soules deere Loue To thee her Sonne as to her Sonne dispos'd O then discharge thy charge for her behoue And like a Sonne yeeld her sad Heart reliefe With words that flow from fellow-feeling griefe Come come O Ioseph Nichodemus come Make haste post haste to take his Body downe He yet craues pitty though He yet be dumbe Yet by your ruth your loue may yet be showne Though feare of Men did make ye God forsake Yet God sith ye are Men will mercie take You did none other than his Minions did Whom of base Groomes his Grace did Minnionize Yet in his Troubles all their Heads they hid And left him for their Sinnes a Sacrifize Yet sith his Armes are spread them to embrace Ye may be sure Hee 'l take you too to grace Then sith in loue ye haue obtained leaue To take him downe that humbled so was raised Then downe retake him and withall beleeue He shall in Heau'n remounted aid be praised Vp with your Scala-Coeli to the Tree To take downe Heau'n for Heau'n of Heau'ns is Hee NOw Soule suppose thou see'st these worthy Men Laden with Linnen and with costly Gumbes Vnto the blessed-cursed Crosse to ren T'interre his Corps which DEATH now ouercomes Where beeing arriu'd the Ladders vp they reare To take Him downe with care surmounting Care See how the Infant Church whose feeble force Hath scarse the strength to lift vp Hand to Head Vnites her powers to take downe his Corse That is aliue and yet is perfect dead See with what fearefull care the Nailes they draw As if his Flesh yet felt or them He saw What prouidence they vse with Linnen large Crossing his dead Corps that to Death was Crost That so
they may the better wield that Charge And not by poize to let him fall be forc't See how the Body doubles in their Armes While Faith their loue with feruor double warmes For Martyrs Deaths giue life to Martyrs more Till DEATH be tir'd with reauing Them of Life This God did die as nere did Man before For Hee by yeelding meekely conquer'd Strife His Patience in such Passions and such Spightes Doth Life-inspire the faith of Proselites It is in vaine therefore with Sword or Fire To seeke to plant a Faith which cannot growe For Saints blood chokes It ere It can aspire And like a Deluge doth It ouerflow For when the Church is bath'd in Her owne blood Shee 's cur'd of all Diseases in that Flood Who will not runne into an Hell of Paine For His Hopes sake when he sees some therein For that same cause to seeme in blisse to raigne And by that Blisse eternall Glorie winne It 's sport to die when Life and Death conspire Feare to exclude and satiate the Desire WEll now those Women that were fled him fro When Tempests rag'd are come the Coast being cleare To pay him their last Dutie sith no mo They shall not as they doubt Him see nor heare Now eu'ry one is busied busily To grace Him Dead that for their grace did die Now downe they haue this dead Life-giuing Lord And now their zeale with diuine adoration Performes Loues complements in deed and word Now He hath suffred now they suffer Passion They spice Him sweetly with salt teares among And of sad Sighes they make their Obiit-Song O cruell hands quoth one that pierc'd these Hands But farre more cruell heart that gor'd this Heart Curst quoth another bee their feet that stand In Sinners Way who did these Feet endart O quoth a Third Paine still that Head suround That with these cruell Thornes this Head hath crown'd Infernall Furies whip them that haue torne This blessed Flesh thus whipt accursedly And be their Flesh with Wants to nothing worne That thus haue worne the Flesh of Deitie O worme of Conscience gnaw their Soules to nought That still did plague his Soule and vexe his Thought Let neuer Sunne recheere them with his Raies That Iustice Sonne haue thus in purple clowded Let nere Mouth ope but spit in their dispraise That haue these Lips in Death's pale Liu'ry shrouded Thus all like Honny-Bees sweet murmure make Against those Waspes that spoil'd their honny Cake Now draw they forth their Aromaticke Gumbes His Flesh most sweet to make most oderous See see how now His Traine late scatt'red comes Trooping with drooping Hearts most dolorous To helpe t'embalme Him and condole His death And to consort His Carcasse to the Earth See how in Peace they striue in Loue contend To kisse and rekisse his gore-crusted Face And with each kisse Teares Floods their force extend Which shall anticipate the others pace Loe how they hug Him with lowd-shaking cries Some hugge his Armes and others Legges and Thies But blest is He that hath his Head in hold Hee holds his hold till crowd enforce him thence Yet ere he parts his kisses millifold Bewray his loue and louing diligence And as the Babe is loath to leaue the Dugge Forepin'd with thirst so at his Lips they tugge Sweet Iesus giue me leaue in strong conceit Among these holy Ones to kisse thee once I as vnworthy will their leisure waite With vigilant attendance for the nonce Though they in loue are not my selfe aboue For who hath most forgiuen most doth loue If not thy Lips for I confesse deere Sweete I am vn worthy such preheminence Yet giue me leaue to kisse thy sacred Feet And wash them with my sad Teares confluence Let me with Marie who had much forgiu'n Yet I much more make Them my highest Heau'n For I aye me I am that Lumpe of Sinne That made thy Soule so heauie to the death I eu'ry day afresh thy woes begin Breathing out Death to thee with my Lifes breath Farre worse than he that blind thy Heart did gore For I doe see and yet doe wound it more O Christ with thy Rod strike my Rockie Heart That it may flow for Thee as Thine for me O let it bleed in pittie of thy smart And leaue to thinke on ought that grieueth Thee Bleed Heart weepe Eies that Blood and Water may Wash Blood and Water which I spilt away Sweet Honnied Sweet looke looke into my Heart See what Desires thy Loue doth pow'r therein Touching thy Loue I know thou hast the Arte To make the same in Deed thy Loue to winne Sith thy grace makes the Will and Deed intire O giue me grace to Doe as I Desire And as it 's written of the Elephant That he is fierce to see Grapes blood diffus'd So let me Wretch become most valiant Gainst Death and Hell to see thy Blood effus'd Who art the Grape which pressed on the Crosse Yeelds wine of Life and makes vs liue by losse When I behold thy still-fresh-bleeding Wounds I see the Deed to worke with the Desire Of my Redemption which my Soule confounds With shame though It the same doth life-inspire Whose good Deeds by Desire are onely done Though good Deeds end what good Desires begun When when deere Lord O when shall I fraile I Resist to Blood thy bloody foes resist When for thy sake shall I desire to die And in that deere Desire in Deed insist Till when I hold my deer'st Desires to be Vnworthy of thy Crosse much lesse of Thee Can I behold thy Gore rough-casted Corse Thine Head Heart Hands Backe Side Feet wounded all And all to free me from thy Fathers Curse And all I doe is but therein to fall I le trust Thy Secrecie Hearke in thine Eare I am the worst redeem'd with Blood so deere Then good Desires can nere repay the Debt Which thee I owe by Deeds seal'd with thy Blood My selfe thy Due I should too much forget To seeke to paie Thee with none other good For I am Thine Thou deerely paid'st for me Then both my Life and Death should honour Thee This World this Hellish World doth dimme mine Eies My Iudgements Eies that they but darkly see The way to worke by loue as worke the wise The godly wise whose workes tend all to Thee Then helpe me Loue to worke for Thee alone Meane while let me thy Passion thinke vpon Now doth this louing sacred Synaxie With diuine Orizons and deuout Teares Ensindon Him with choisest Draperie And to the Sepulcher his Body beares And as they beare him step by step they poure Downe showres of Teares which winds of Sighes procure But ah alasse his Mother all this while Like Niobe as Poets faine still sits All as shee did her Senses reconcile To senslesse Death and were in Tranced fits Without or Spâ—ite or Life or Heart or Soule Her violent woes her Senses so controule Now Loue to his last Home hath Him conuai'd That had no Hole in Life to
one silly Teare O Aire and Earth why doe ye not conspire To burne this Turfe that Water wants with Fire Aswell the Crosse the Hammer Nailes and Speare Did crucifie thy Iesus as the Iewes No no thy sinnes his Crucifiers were That by his death they might their life excuse O Synne how sinnefull art Thou sith thou must Excuse thy Crymes by crimes much more vniust I st not enough the Soule quite to subuert Wherein Thou liu'st but must thou spoile Him too Through whome the Soule doth liue by whom Thou Art And so do That that doth thy selfe vndoo Then blame not Faith thy foe to spoile thy State When thou thy selfe thy selfe dost dissipate Thinke Man whose Feete are swifter faâ—re then Thought To doe what ere is opposite to Good Thinke that thou seest him on his face longe straught In Praier and in Passion sweating Bloud Sith from al parts for Thee his bloud out flies Giue Him one Drop of Water from thine Eyes A Birde there is as Pliny doth report That in the time of treading sweateth bloud That Birde Ciconia height sweates so in sport But this kinde Pellican in maestiue moode So That in pleasure sweats begetting young But This in Paine with sanguine sweate among This kinde most kinde Soule-sauing Emperick His owne blood broacheth so our Soules to saue And for our Healths He maks his owne Heart sick Yea dyes that by his Death wee life might haue Then sith this blest by-parted Man-god dies For Mans loue Mans loue should be like likewise Thinke now thou seest O ioy-griefe-breeding sight Ioy for his merit griefe for his annoy Perditions child with Men Swords Staues and Light The Lord of Light to catch and so destroy Now thinke thou seest that Reprobate by birth With kisse betray the Lord of Heau'n and Earth Then see ah see how They Limbes of that Lord That Lords it in Deaths gloomie Continent His tender hands bind with a boist'rous cord So strait that straight with rigour violent It seemes to cut in two those tender hands For soft flesh yeelds when such rough force commands And canst Thou see O Thou thou carelesse Man Thou worme thou insect slaue to base Contempt Freedome thus bound for thee if so thou can And yet liue loosly th' art from grace exempt O that the God of grace as Man should die For man whose grace in loosenesse most doth lie Now thinke O thinke thou seest those hounds of hell That yelp out blasphemies about their pray With vngraue gate to runne doe him compell And with tumultuous noyse him lead away Ah see how He that staid the Sunnes swift course Through thicke and thin doth staâ—lesse run perforce Ierusalem O faire Ierusalem Figure of Heau'n built on celestiall soyle Yet wast beheau'nd through blessed Bethelem Shall yet her heau'ns blisse in thee suffer foyle O be thou not ingrate but dash to dust With thine owne downfall thine owne folke vniust Thinke now thou seest the sonnes of Babylon Infernall furies furiously present Meekenesse it selfe this harmelesse holy One To Annas high Priest low hels President Where he with armes and hands meeke lambe stands bound To heare what sense of hearing might confound Here Truth it selfe with Falshood fowle is charged To which for making mild and iust replies A cursed Fist on his blest face discharged A furious buffer that enflam'd his eies Ah see thy God how he doth reeling stand With blood-shot eine by force of hellish hand O damned hand fell engine of reproach How dar'st thou strike that awfull sacred face Before whose dread aspect the Heauens crouch Before whose Maiesties most glorious grace The Seraphins with reuerend feare doe quake And all th' infernal Legions trembling shake What franticke fit what rage did thee incense What fiend what desperat furie made thee dare To offer him that barb'rous violence That is of God the liuely Character Why didst not dread lest his high hand of powre Vpon thy pate would suddaine vengeance powre Saw'st thou not Iustice sitting in his Front As well as Mercie in his eies to sit Did both at once thy cruell eies afront And yet thy heart and hand not staid by it Did Deitie in his face make a stand Yet That not make thee Diuell hold thy hand Then is it cleere thy Hand is none of thine Much lesse thy Heart that did thy Hand direct But it is Hels and wrought Hels damn'd designe Or els that Grace that Face might well protect Nere durst the Diuell tempt him with such force Then though the Fiend be selfe ill thou art worse Canst thou O tell me tell me canst thou Man With th'eie of Thought behold this drierie sight With dried eies Those eies that whilome ran With blood for thee wilt not one drop require Why should the Sunne and Moone the Heau'ns bright eies Then looke on thee but as thine enemies Now thinke O thinke thou see'st O sauage sight His foes inhumane hale him thence in haste Along the streetes with clamour rage and spight To Caiphas house where he was so disgrac't As neuer Man much lesse a God could be Yet neuer God more good to man than he Bound as before he stands in whom we rest Afront the face of that pernitious Priest Who with the Scribes and Elders there are prest In their reproachfull slaunders to persist Meane while meeke Soule though he from guilt be cleare Yet stands he mute as though he guiltie were See the coniuring proud remorcelesse Priest Rend in fell rage too like a furious fiend The pompous vestures of this Pithonist When Christ doth vrg'd aright his cause defend Whereat the rest in depth of scorne and hate His diuine Truth with taunts doe deprauate And to expresse the rancor of their spight They blindfold him and make his face as t' were A Drumme to call his Foes against him to fight For still a tab'ring on his face they are So fast their fists doe fall as Drum-sticks while The Drumme doth sound Alarum to the broyle But that which doth all credit farre exceed But that all credit to this Truth is due They in his louely Face O loathsome deed Doe spitting spall or rather spalling spue O Heau'ns can ye endure to see your King More vilely vs'd than Toad or vilest thing O wonder farre surmounting wonderments O more than most profound humilitie Doe they fiends varnish with fowle excrements That Face whose grace the Heau'ns doth glorifie And he endure it what should we endure When he most pure for vs was made s'impure Men if they spit doe choose the fowlest place VVhere to bestow their eie-offending fleame Is no place fowler than his heau'nly face To cast that filth that reaketh hellish steame O dongue O dust O heire of rottennesse VVilt ere be proud seeing such humblenesse God silent is whiles Diu'ls doe spit on him The heau'ns are whist whiles hell reuiles their Lord The measure of abuse vp to the brimme These hellish furies fill in deed and word VVhat could Gods
loe he faints with trauell sore His corp'rall powres annihilated quite With Paines incursions loe yeeld now out-right Now at a Stand He staies yet hardly stands For bloodlesse breathlesse powrelesse is his Body Now faints that Pow'r that Heau'n and Earth commands His Body bloodlesse all and yet all bloody Drawne out by boyst'rous Blowes sanguinolent Which make him stand with Body double bent O see my Soule ah cast thy carefull Eie Vpon this Miracle-surmounting Wonder The Body of thy God is wrencht awry And double bow'd this massie Burden vnder Is He made crooked that was euer streight He is so made but made so most vnright Ah see how his most holy Hand relies Vpon his knees to vnder-prop his Charge Now Simon-Cyrene help or els he dies The Crosse hath broke his Backe it is too large Then take It off lest Malice be preuented And He die yer fell Furie be contented Weepe Daughters of Ierusalem amaine Here wash his wearie Body with your Teares Though He in Loue doth will you them refraine Yet sith He for your Loue this Burden beares Help with your sorrow to condole his griefe For Mates in Meane yeeld Miserie reliefe Weep Ioy and Mirth although it crosse your kind To see your kind Lord thus vnkindly Crost Crost all in all in Life Death Body Mind But crost least in his Crosse that crost him most For that though eruell most did him relieue Sith it did end the Deaths that Life did giue It 's mercie the condemned straight to rid Out of the paines to which condemn'd they be Christs cursed Crosse then shew this mercie did For which ere since it 's call'd a blessed Tree Where Paine it selfe doth pittie more than Men Who will not pittie there the Pained then It 's sed the longer that the world doth weare The worse It is the last Daies are the worst But these last Times though bad doe nothing beare That can so martyr ought that Nature nurst And did not Truth it selfe the same avow Who would beleeue this Tragedie were true Then who 's a Particle of highest Pow're That will not weepe to see It brought so low What Eies so Gorgoniz'd that can endure To see the All-vpholder forc'd to bow Then sith Hee 's bow'd that canopi'd the skie Let Earth in center of her Center lie Dismount your tow'ring Thoughts aspiring Minds Vnplume their wings in flight pennipotent Sith Hee that flees on wings of swiftest Winds And with Heau'ns Monarch is equipolent Deignes to detrude His Super-excellence So low to checke base Earths magnificence O thou that back'st the Sun-bright Cherubins And gallop'st ore the glitt'ring Lampes of Heau'n Behold thy Sonne sole Lord of Seraphins Humbled to Earth nay with the Earth made eu'n O let his deiect highest Lowlinesse Our pride and thy fell plagues for pride suppresse Remount vs by His fall from whence we fell He 's fall'n in 't hands of Synne of Griefes the Ground Those selfe same Hands threw vs from Heau'n to Hell Yet by 's hard fall O let vs backe rebound And for we are the Mammothrepts of Sinne Crosse vs with Christ to weane our ioyes therein Vpon this Stand of Christ still could I stand To view with Pitties Eies His Wondrous plight My Muse is gâ—auell'd here in Silos Sand And all profunditie orewhelmes Her Spright That Weakenesse so should crosse th' Almighties Will As prest to goe yet opprest standeth still NOw let a sacred Trance transport thy Spirit O Man â—o that vnholy-holy Mount Christ-crosse supporting Mount where He did merit By bitter death from death thy Lifes remount Mount-Tabor All will mount to see his glorie But few his griefe will mount Mount Caluarie There see ah see though torture-tyred quight How He weake Worme creeps vp the Hill in Haste Yet lo the ruthlesse Iewes with maine and might Beyond His might do lugge him to His last As doubting feeble Flesh would faint and die To crosse their Crosse-intended crueltie Fell Enuie dies with Death but Malice liues In Life and Death of those shee seekes to bite The death of whom her halfe dead oft reuiues Yet grieues that Death hath freed them from her spight Then Malice doth gainst Mercie most rebell For shee her foes pursues past Death and Hell When Ionathan all fearelesse scal'd the Rockes Where charg'd he was with troupes of Philistines His Man him equall'd in sustaining knocks Then loe our Ionathan charg'd with our sinnes Now climes vp Caluerie to foyle our fone And shall we cowards leaue him there alone When Sauls bold Squire had seene his Lord to fall Vpon his sword he forth with did the same And rather chose death with his Generall Than spare his life to die with liuing shame Then sith our Saule falles on his Iustice Sword For vs wee die should like wise for our Lord. Now haue they scal'd this mestiue Mountaine top Ore-topt with dead mens Tops and fleshlesse Shins A grim aspect but here with ioy they hop Sith here their Plaies Catastrophe begins Among Deaths Tropheies th'Engine of his Death Is laid along the Dead-Skull-paued Earth See see my Soule ah harke how It doth cracke The Hand of Out-rage that deglutinates His Vesture glu'd with gore-blood to his Backe Which his enfestered Sores exulcerates Ah â—â—e a God! or rather Graue God knowes For now more like a Graue than God he showes There stands He shaking in a Feauer-fit While the cold Aire his Wounds confrigerates Where on some cold Stone faint Hee 's saine to sit Which to it selfe his Sores conglutinates The while his Tort'rers make the Morteffe ready To hold the Crosse that must sustaine him steedie Which beeing done see how their Teeth they grinde And rudely rend not raise him from that Stone There sticke the Cataplasmaes still behinde As proofs how they doe part this Holy-One They beare him to the Crosse but so they beare him As in their portage they doe rather teare him See now thereon how they long-straught him stretch And first one Hand fast to the same they naile Meane while hard by doth stand a ruthlesse Wretch That gainst this Lambe with open mouth doth raile Alas the while what dolor is He in Ah now eu'n now sweet Christ thy woes begin There with one Hand nail'd to the Tree he lies Hand-fasted so to Dolors heaui'st Hand The while his foes protract their Tyrranies That so his Crosse might still lie at a Stand Who fretat Time that fled they thought too fast And past in pittie from the pittie past Yet that no Time might scape without offence They fill his Eares with Blasphemies the while The while Spight studies so to plague his sense That ceaslesse plagues Times pittie might beguile While Heminds nothing but their onely good And freely bleeds to saue them with his blood His holy Heart doth ake more for their sinne Than for the Torments which they make it prooue Who opes his Heart to take his Plaguers in Till he Gods plagues by Plagues from them remooue
THE HOLY ROODE OR CHRISTS CROSSE Containing CHRIST Crucified described in Speaking picture By IOHN DAVIES And who in Passion sweetely sing the same Doe glorifie their owne in Jesus NAME Crux Christi clauis Coeli LONDON Printed for N Butter To the Right Honourable well accomplished Lady ALICE Countesse of Derby my good Lady and Mistresse And to her three right Noble Daughters by Birth Nature and Education the Lady Elizabeth Countesse of Huntington the Lady Francis Egerton and the Lady Anne Wife to the truely Noble Lord Gray Lord Chandois that now is be all Comfort when so euer CROST THough long yet loe at length What was design'd To you and yours great Lady now is come To your faire Hands to mooue your fairer Minde To minde His paine that is true pleasures Summe For Siren-pleasures that but Sense allure Must with the pleasures flowing from this paine Be clens'd else those will runne to Helles impure While these to Eden faire reflow againe The Crosse true Tree of life doth fairely grow In midd'st thereof of whose fruite if you taste The Nectar'd Iuyce will so your Soule oreflow That She will be ioy-drunke with that repast To Flesh and Blood this Tree but Wormewood seemes How ere the same may be of Suger-chest But* That which quickens Flesh the Crosse esteemes To be of Comforts better then the best Vpon the Crosse as on a Touch we may Trie our Soules value whether great or small If there it washt with Water-Strong doth stay We may be sure it's most Angelicall But with a touch if from this Touch the Crosse It fleetes as if the Crosse did Crosse i'ts kinde Then doth it shew that it is full of Drosse Till in Afflictions flames it be refinde But you with Salomon haue erst suruaid Nay prou'd the value of Earthes deerest Ioyes Then hardly can your Iudgement be betray'd Vnlesse sense will not see their felt annoyes Now as you are the Roote from whence doe spring True royall Branches beautifying their Stocke To this Tree beare them and faire Branches clinge To It as Iuy to th' immortall Oke For roiall Branches to the royalst Tree Doe cleaue by kind sith there they kindly thriue Then Ladies of this Tree embracers bee Which when ye die will make you more than liue When sensuall pleasure filled hath a Cuppe Of her sweete Liquor for you sith too blame Stirre it about before yee drinke it vp With some parte of this Tree to purge the same Els like sweete Poison it will bane the Soule But highly-lowly Ladies good as great Your great Minds Powers borne great can soone controule Vaine Pleasures siege and so their Spoiles defeate For Pleasures most ore'come the weakest Minds Vnfenc'd with Vertue lying ope to Vice Whose Iudgements eury flash of Pleasure blinds Borne but to Honours shame and Preiudice Then O firme Quadruple in Vnitie Of highly borne so kindly noble Hearts I wish all Pleasures flow from Caluery Most holy Mount into your inward'st parts And stil I 'le pray without Times smallest losse The Crosse may blesse you from your Comforts Crosse. Your Honors humble Seruant and deuoted Beadsman Iohn Dauies ⧠To the Authour THine Art and Subiect both such Worth containe That thou art best requited in thy paine EDVV. HERBRET Knight ¶ TO M. IOHN DAVIES my good friend SVch men as hold intelligence with Letters And in that nice and Narrow way of Verse As oft they lend so oft they must be Debters If with the Muses they will haue commerce Seldome at Stawles me this way men rehearse To mike Inferiours nor vnto my Betters He stales his Lines that so doeth them disperee I am so free I loue not Golden-fetters And many Lines fore Writers be but Setters To them which Cheate with Papers which doth pierse Our Credits when we shew our selues Abetters To those that wrong our knowledge we rehearse Often my good Iohn and I loue thy Letters Which lend me Credit as I lend my Verse Michael Drayton Ad Libri Lectorem WRite on and haue the Palme continue still In sacred style to treate of Powres diuine Inuoke no mortall Grace for Angels will From Heauen descend to grace this Tract of Thine Changing each blacke into a golden line Write on O blessed Subiect God and Men In Heauen and Earth approoues applaud thy paines Zeale seekes not Art yet see no barren Pen To common Trifles hath enlarg'd the reines Nor suckt the borrowed blood from stranger veines Hence All distrest may to their Soules apply True sauing Comfort for the Loue that could Enforce a God for wretched Man to die Curst crost and scornd tormented bought and sold And all for such to whom such Grace he would Cannot in Iustice but extend reliefe To such as mourne their sinnes and rue his griefe Thrice happy then be Thou stird vp to spend The Guifts he giues thee to so blest an end N. Deeble To all passionate Poets YE Poets that in Passion melt to Inke VVherewith Melpomen drawes her saddest Lines So melt that so my thirstie Pen may drinke Of you made Liquid for the sadd'st Designes For were all Spirits of Poets made intire And I therewith inspir'd and had I Pens Made of Times saddest Plumes yet full of Fire All were too cold for Passion for these Threns Here is a Ground for Art and Sorrowes Soules Diuinely holpe to prooue their Descant on This VVorld of Griefe so whoorles on Passions Poles That still it Varies though it still be One Then Braines if ere yee did your Owner steed My Heart hereon through my Pen make to bleed IOHN DAVIES of Hereford THE HOLY ROODE OR CHRISTES CROSSE SONET SInce all that All is altogether vaine Vncertaine mortall momentanie vile VVhich this Sin-Biac'd Bowle the Earth containes My Penn an Heau'nly Ditty shall compile Uouchsafe sweet Christ my Paper be thy Crosse My Pen that Naile that Nail'd thine holy Hand Mine Ynke thy Blood wherewith thou didst ingrosse Th' acquittance of my Uowes infringed Band The Subiect of my Songe let be thy Glory The Burden of the same thy Glories praise The Summe whereof thy Passions sacred Story Let these be all and some of all my Laies For heau'nly Quires by nature do reioyce VVhen Art in Graces Quire reares Natures Uoice WHile that blest Body Sauiour of each Soule Whose Bodies are the Temples of his Spright Hung on the Crosse by Death DEATH to controule The Temples Vaile Stones Graues Earth Skies and Light Rent claue op't quakt and thundring waxt obscure To see LIFE dye and Griefe theire God deuoure These lifelesse Bodies wanting Soules and Sence With sense of his Soules Soule-tormenting smart Condole prouok't by Pitties violence His paine though they of paine can feele no part They sencelesse are yet paines that sence exceed Make their obdurate sencelesse Hearts to bleede And wilt thou Man Gods Image Angells Lord Emperor of Earth and all hir Brest doth beare Made so in loue by him not him affoorde Seeing Him dye for thy Loue