I know not what you think him worthy sure I think him guilty shamefull death t' indure To this they all applaud with acclamation O let him die and perish from this Nation Yet once more proudly doth the Priest enquire Him of his Doctrine and Disciples Ire And rapid rage doth to his soule possesse That Truth and Conscience with him have no place Christ answers In your Synagogues have I Still taught and by me nothing secretly Is done or said enquire of them therefore Who heard me let them witnesse lesse or more By this one of those slaves who stood neer by Doth smite him on the face most vil'nously And ads this motto to his cruell blow What Villaine dost thou answer th' High-Priest so Christ meekly replyes If I have spoke wrong Beare witnesse of it but if thus my tongue Hath spoke the truth why smit'st thou me 't may be Some higher hand repay thy villanie Ah me my God how hath this High Priest still Spoke prophecy although against his will Of late he said it was expedient that One for the nation should be immolat And now he sayes he 's guilty to the death And so both truth and lye pronounced hath O what a vaticiny what a word Is this that Caiaphas doth now afford Guilty he was to die the death he come And yet not guilty to the death as some Man born in sinne to die the death is born Because by sinne he 's guilty and forelorne But he did neither sinne nor know trespasse For Gods 〈◊〉 ' â—â— Lambe and Sonne he was And therefore since he knew not sinne no death Ov'r him or power or jurisdiction hath Yet guilty was he for 〈◊〉 guilt he tooke And by the way for 〈…〉 of the brooke And so was guilty made to death for loe His bodies death must our soules death ov'rthrow Thus was he guilty to the death and yet Nor guilt nor death his innocence did fit His was the death the guilt was ours and so Both from the guilt and death w' are free to goe Next to this censure all those catyss still With excrements his glorious face doe spill And though the glorious hoast of heav'n are bold In him to gaze Gods wisdome manifold Yet muffling up his face they hood-wink's eyes Then crave in scorn to heare his Prophecies This not enough they be not yet content T' afflict his body and his soule torment But what is more to Pilat's civill power They lead him there to have his death made sure From out the High Priests house and hall he 's led And unto Pilat's hall is carried Tumultuous crowds of people run along To make their malice and their griefe more strong And in Iudibrious manner thus doe cry Here 's Naz'reths Propher pray you make him way Pilat affrighted with the Convocation Comes forth and cals the head o' th' Combination And asks the cause of this their concourse for Such stirre Jerus'lem had not seen before Yet ere the Roman Depute will approve Their combination he doth gravely move This question to them What hath this man done Or gainst the State or gainst Religion If he had nor a malefactour been Say they to Pilate sure thou hadst not seen Us stand as supplicants before thy doore Nor had we ever judg'd him by thy pow'r O cruell catiffes irreligious you Who act such murther under pieties show To Pilat's house you come but will not enter As if his house were hells condemning center Woe woe to you Scribes Pharisees and Priests You rav'ning Wolves dissembling Hypocrites Why doe you think by ' xternall rites and showes To purge that poyson in your hearts ov'rflowes Why doe you make your platter clean without While as the fountain's poyson'd round about Why doe you guild your graves with pretious stones Whose richest linings are but rotten bones Why doe you wash your hands so oft with water While as your hearts be lust and prides Theater It is not Pilat's roof nor Pilat's wall Nor the corruption of his Judgements hall Can make you so unclean or so impure As doth your sinfull soules distemp'rature For what is from without cannot so much Defile the Man as doth the hearts hid touch But thus th' Almighty hath decreed and thus You have determin'd by a secret push To catch the innocent unto your snare While as your words be soft and smoothly faire But he who in the highest heav'ns doth dwell Can both your fraud detect and pride repell And will in his own time your plots repay Upon your pates with woe and weal-away Jesus now stands before the Pagan Judge And from his fury findeth no refuge Pilat enquires him Art thou Juries King I am saith he without dissembling But in this world my Kingdome hath no place Nor hath this world a portion of my grace Pilat then on his Judgements feat fits down And once more asks him of Judaeas Crown And tels him that if he that Crown should claim Then should he wrong Augustus Diadem Not I saith he let Caesar have what 's his And God what 's God's no other thing I wish But while this Roman on his bench doth sit His wife did by her letter him intreat Yea she adjures him that he should not touch That just man for saith she I 've suffer'd much Concerning him this last night in my sleep The gods preserve thee and thy conscience keep That unto him thou doe no wrong nor harm For feare hath giv'n my soule a sad alarme This Pilat reads but 's deafe to such a tale Where will doth govern words will not prevaile He therefore calls the multitude aloud Heare mut'nous you and hark you envious croud Whom will you that at this your solemne feast I should let loose to you what think you best Here have we Barrabas a murth'ring thiefe Will you that he goe loose and have reliefe Or shall we let this Jesus goe pray tell For your desire shall be my Centinell O Barrabas say they let him goe free But for this Jesus him let 's Crucifie VVell then saith Pilat since it must be so Him shall you have and Barrabas shall goe Yet bring me here some water water 's brought And for dissimulation lacketh nought His hands he washeth his dissembling heart Stands still corrupt and foul in every part Yet doth he call Come malecontented you To this just man take heed what you shall doe For in him I doe finde no fault at all Why one haire of his head to ground should fall I therefore to your conscience doe appeale To Church to Councell and to Common-weale That from his blood I stand this day as free As be my hands from their impurity Alas vain Pilot hadst thou cleans'd thy heart As thou hast wash'd thy hands then sure no part Of this mans blood should have against thee cry'd Then should both heart and hand been purifi'd But since one thing thou sayst and dost another Thy words shall not thy foule transgression smother In short time thou
To see from whence and for what wondrous cause This radiant Torch so rich a splendor showes But all 's in vain nor Art nor Nature may I'ts scite light motion to the world display For all of those are in this subject rare Divine miraculous extraordinare But he from whom Nature first beg'd her light And hidden Science by his artlesse might Inspires those Sages and doth make them see This Star's the Prodrome of that Majestie By whom the Sonnes of Japhet now are led Within the Tents of Shem to hide their head Fie on thee Juda Salem fie on thee Why didst not thou as well as they foresee The glorious sun-shine of thy Visitation And greet the worker of this great Salvation But ah thy snorting dreams did thee deceive For thou didst still imagine thou shouldst have A Prince of such a temporall arm and power As to a honny-sweet should change thy sowre But loe whilst thou in darknesse lov'st to sleep A Nation com'th from farre and stately keep Their festivals of Joy thy Tents about Whilst thou and eke thy children are thrust out O God whence com'th't that those above the rest Have known thy Starre and so themselves addrest In paths of toyl and tedious pilgrimage To searrh thy birth as they did see thy badge Could Nature or her handmaid Art discover Thy Star or it distinguish from another No surrely no Combine them both in one And both shall teach us but confusion For without grace the naturall Man 's a foole And Arts chief Doctor when he sits at Schoole And doth investigate Heav'ns Earth and Aire And all those hoasts which Capriolls here or there In Natures precincts still the more he sees Arts hidden secrets Natures mysteries And sees not God the more his wit shall serve To glut his fancy but his soule to starve Thus they being led by the Celestiall light Through rocky Deserts and the toyls of night Doe come at last to Bethlehems walls and there This Torch stands fluttering o're them in the aire Till by thy guiding grace they doe espie The place wherein this Monarch-Prince doth lie No sooner doe they this sweet Babe behold Then by heav'ns inspiration they are bold T' unload their asses and their Camels backs T'untrusse their fardles and ungird their sacks And lay these sumptuous presents richly sweet Gold Mirhe and Incense at the Sucklings feet Whether they by Prophetick spirit did see His Kingdome Priesthood and his Prophecie Or if that by affections naturall Vain They thus doe greet him as their Soveraign I struggle not too much Let this suffice That in Religious awe they bow their knees And with a sacred sweet consorting voyce Thus doe they greet him and thus they rejoyce Thrice great thrice blessed and thrice holy Lord By whose Majestick uncontrolled Word What e're was fram'd within the point of Time Or hath a being in the aâ—â—r'd Clime Whose right hand doth from all Etern'ty bear Our clasped Issues unshun'd Kalendar Whose wisdome pow'r and deep providence guides The Delian Princesse in her sev'rall tides How boldly may we now rejoice and sing And call the carroling beav'ns thy praise to ring Who mak'st thy wondrous light to shine even there Where death made darknesse his Cubiculare Of old whilst Jacob was desir'd to blesse Josephs two sonnes with a Prophetick kisse He wisely cross'd his armes and his right hand He puts on Ephraims head where he did stand And on Manasseh made his left hand stay And so by practice he did prophecy That Japhets seed should dwell i' th' tents of Shem. And eke Manasseh bow to Ephraim This day we see that Vaticiny true Whilst we wilde prodigals our necks subdue To thee our God making Manasses share Rich as the vintage of Abiezer Since Israel therefore will not heare heare then You Heav'ns and Earth and shame the sonnes of Shem For we will praise th' Eternall and record The never failing goodnesse of the Lord. O blessed Babe how great art thou what store Of blessings girds thy Loyns for evermore For thou art he who dost exalt the horn Of Judah and his Pallaces adorn With bowls of Nectar and Ambrosian dyet And mak'st her graze in pastures of true quiet The Scepter of true Government 's on thy shoulder And thou shalt crush thy foes to dust and powder On Davids throne thou as his Sonne shalt sit In Judgment and in Truth t' establish it Yea Peace and Plenty shall thy steps attend And of thy Kingdom there shall be no end O loving Childe how lovely-faire art thou How sparkling are thy eyes how sweet thy brow How fragrant are the odours that distill On thee from Gilead and Hermonims hill Amongst the flowr's thou' rt chief the Rose the Lilly The Pink the Turn-sol and the Daffadilly Have no such odorif'rous smell or taste As thou reverb'rat'st from the West to th' East Live ' then sweet Babe the miracle of Time Earths mighty Champion Balm of humane crime Let thy great voyce in Peace resound throughout Earths flowry kirtle and Seas glassie spout That so thy favour in each part may be Immortall Nectar to Posteritie O what are we great God what 's our deserving That to confirme our faith so prone to swerving Thou dost thus shake heav'ns solid Orb and make Thy selfe a Vassall for a Vassals sake O that we could discern aright and know What duty service feare and love we owe Thee for that endlesse love wherewith thou hast Reclaim'd us from our wandrings to thy rest Teach us ô teach us so to run our race In patience and in patience to possesse Our Soules that thou at thy great day may'st clear Our Aegypt to a Goshen's hemisphear And change the tenour of our tragick story To the Catastroph ' of an endlesse glory The Massacre CANTO 7o. DIstraction tumult teares oppression jarre VVrath causlesse envy cruell murther warre Yea all those woes which Fury can forth bring Are now the Discant which my Muse must sing For whilst of late th' Eternall did invite By secret motions of his sacred Sp'rit Three Eastern Sages wisely to imbrace Th' occasion of their long long-look'd-for peace Like to Apollo's Priests intranc'd they rove From Herod's Palace to the Courts of Jove And with a thundring voyce they roare and cry Where 's Juryes King where where 's that Royall boy In whom the heav'ns have daign'd t' exalt the Throne Of Sions hopelesse Desolation His Star hath brought us from our home-bred joyes From ease from rest and from our quirks and toyes And made us tread those paths of sad exile T' imbrace the comforts of our widow-while Scarce had they breath'd those accents of unrest When vulture-feare layes hold on Herod's brest In such a sort that curs'd Erynnis crew Doe both his senses and his soule subdue What 's this I heare quoth he what threats be those Those wandring Pilgrims to the heav'ns up-throwes What brainsick tidings of a new-born King Are those which now through Jewryes Coasts do ring
What shall my eyes be thus reserv'd to gaze Ev'n in my glorious prime the darkned rayes Of black disgrace ecclipse my glory so That I from Honor it from me must goe No no great Caesar hath in due regard Of my deservings for my sake ensnar'd Old Hircanus by force of Parthian wrath To drink his last draught in the Cup of Death And have not all his off-spring which doe wander About the Stygian lake even Alexander Antipater and Aristobolus With Mariamnes and Antigonus Faire Alexandra and each Ghost elsewhere Who in the helm of Sion claim'd a share Been sent as Vassals of my wrath to plead In heritance in cloudy Deaths dark shade And lest that Hydra-like their power or wit Should breed a Rivall on my Throne to sit Have not my wits more subteliz'd than theirs Pluckt up that grave Sanhaedrine by whose cares The state of Salem fortifi'd her stage Against the stormes of Fortunes spightfull rage So that no bud nor branch may thence re-spring That may my power to a period bring Whence com'th it then that such a sad affright Of alteration turns my Day to Night And makes a lightning flash of sad-â—v'rthrow Disturb the Ocean where my hopes did flow It may be that the heav'ns whose boundlesse powers Controlls these currents and these tides of ours Have grudg'd to see me great and therefore send Those Heralds to proclame my Glories end For this I know which former times have taught That mortall men whose mindes are alwaies fraught With care to conquer in their deepest care Are but like bubbles blown alongst the aire Which by our breath 's no sooner blown and cherish'd Then by a counterpâ—ffe 't is gone and perish'd Else wherefore did the Fates so proudly thrust Great Niniveh and Babel to the dust Why have they trod on Carthage with their foot Or laugh'd to see brave Ilion's lights blown out Yea push'd at Craesus and Darius Crowne And thrust the Macedonian from his Throne But that the world may learn that honor's strain Is hardl'acquir'd but quickly lost again Shall I therefore like to a Childe whose eare Hath ty'd him in the bands of causlesse feare By hearing of a foolish doting fable Apprentice all my thoughts to this unstable Narration and trust that for a truth Which hath no warrant but a wand'rers mouth Or shall I like Endimion in the deep Of base security lye still and sleep VVhen Heav'ns by that great care of me they take Doe by these warnings bid me thus awake No ' gainst the Heav'ns I spurn not yet I scorn A Monarch and much lesse a Babe new born Should in Judaea to that state arise As may my Glory and my Crown surprise I will therefore look what a treacherous art Dissembling fury in a hollow heart Can add to high exploits and then imploy My wits to search the corner where that boy Can lurk whose fame thus makes the world agast And drunk with expectation and at last By sad experience I will make him hear That Crownes are weighty things for babes to wear VVhilst thus 'twixt Fear and Envy 's mutinous hoast The subtelizing Tirants soule is toss'd Rage breaks at last the gap and opes the way To vent the passions which his soule dismay Goe saith the subtle fox goe quickly call The Talmudists and Rabbins great and small The Priests the Prophets Pharises and Scribes Through all Judaea's severall coasts and tribes Make them revolve consider search and try The time and place of his Nativity VVhom these distracted Pilgrims have so farre Search'd by prognostication of a starre For wheresoe're or whosoe're he be Whose light thus threats t' obscure my Majestie I can conform my minde unto my fate And kisse the foot that tramples on my state And if the heav'ns will needs blot out my name I 'le doe him homage who procures the same Thus hath the viper big with fierce envy Breath'd out the flashes of his cruelty But God who dwelling in the heav'ns unfolds The heart's hid secrets rheines and deepest holds Laughs this dissembling project all to scorn And by his spirit doth secretly suborn The Sages to retire another way That so he may the Tyrants rage display He warneth also Joseph and his Bride To take the childe and step a while aside To Aegypt that Gods will might so be done Who sayes From Aegypt I have call'd my Sonne Exod. 4. Hosea 11. O God how deep 's the Ocean rich the store Of mercy thou lay'st up for evermore To such as truly doe rely upon Thy Providence for their salvation The Sword by day may fiercely rage and smite The Pestilence may rove abroad by night The Cedars may be pluck'd up from their station The Mountains may be hurl'd from their foundation The windes may blow the Seas may rage and even Black darknesse may ecclipse the lights of heaven But he who with a fully fixed minde On thee doth stay his Soule shall surely finde He needs not feare the crafty hunters snare Which for his downfall's stretched here and there For when the world was drown'd by Nereus waves Thy Noah like a Neptune them outbraves When fire sack'd Sodome loe thy Lot survives And in his Zoar like a Vulcan lives When Jericho's vain trust o'returns her walls Thy Rachab sits and sings her festivals When Syrian Captaines would command thy Seer Thy Seraphins doe guard him in their Quier When Babels scorching flames shall threat thy Saints They stand unstain'd and all their Aetna daunts And what needs more the Lions in their den May ramp and roar against the sonnes of men But hee who shall within thy shadow hide His head and in thy Tents and Courts abide Though heav'ns earth ayre and seas and all were shaken Shall never perish never be forsaken Yet stay my muse arrest thy course a space T' attend the tenor of this tragick-case VVhich with an unexpected troup of feares From secret ambush doth assault my ears What roaring griefs and tear-drownd plaints be those The neighboring Eccho's to the heav'ns up-throwes VVhat mourning groans and sad lamenting cries Be those which over this high mountain flies Ay me what 's this be those the caroling voyces Of a proud conquering army whose rejoyces Evaporate up to the azur'd round Reverberat the earth 's environ'd ground Or is' t the gleanings of that grievous cry VVhich conquer'd-wretches in their butchery And soule-depriving smart doe cut asunder Like clouds condensed when they melt with thunder No sure it is no voice of tryumph nor The voice of such as are tryumphed o're These wofull screeches rather represent The ditties of some harmless innocent VVhich by the tort'ring butchers butch'rous clap Are stab'd or stifled in the mothers lap And so it is for cruell Herod hath Subsign'd and seal'd a warrant for the death Of all those Infants which in Bethleem's coast Of two yeeres time or under age can boast For so the reverend Seer Hieremie Jer. 30.5 Hath in his never fayling Prophecy Foretold
tear-drown'd eye Weeps out his soules sad sorrowes but for what They neither know nor can prognosticat Is this the grave saith he where Laz'rus lyeth Is this the Tomb which his dead corps implyeth It is say they then roll away this stone Which holds him in his dusty mansion No no saith Martha now the time is past This is the fourth day since we made it fast Corruption e're now hath made him stench His putrifaction no perfume can quench What Martha saith he have not I e're now Told thee that if by faith thou shouldst subdue Thy soule thou shouldst behold the pow'r of God Change Moses serpent to an usefull rod They roll away the stone to heav'n doth he Lift up his heart his hand and weeping eye And with a loud voyce he doth thus encall His Fathers hearing O great All of all O dread Creator and ô loving Father From whom all creatures doe their essence gather I thank thee that thou now hast heard me nay I know that thou dost heare me every way But that this people may believe that thou Who in thy selfe art very truth and true Hast sent me thy right hands great strength to prove And to the sonnes of men make known thy love To thee I cry'd and yet to thee doe cry That thou wouldst their hard hearts once mollifie This said he straight on Lazarus doth call Come forth come forth stay no more there at all I have the keyes of life and death therefore To thee my quickning spirit I restore No sooner hath he spoke these words then he Who lay in death and graves captivitie Comes forth bound hand and foot with those poor ties Which laugh to scorn lifes superfluities Now loose him saith he loose him let him goe For God is Lord of life and death also O what a world of miracles doe here In coacervat troops of pow'r appeare He weeps and spends his teares this tells he 's Man His word awakes the dead God only can He makes the bound to walk and blind to see All this t' expresse his sacred Deity Yet will not loose the bonds nor move the stone Himselfe but gives to men direction To act that part that by this Riddle he May teach the sonnes of men a mysterie That he who without man did man first make Will not man but by man save or forsake Qui fecit te sine te non servat te sine te For though God works his work mirac'lously Yet t'ordinary meanes he doth man ty And now in end to shew how Christ of late The deafe and dumb did both re-consolate How for the payment of a Tributes penny A Dolphine from the deep affords him money How graciously th' Adulteresse is freed And both from sinne and shame stands purifi'd How that poor man who from the wombe was blinde By clay and spittle doth his eye-sight finde How Jairus daughter and the widdows sonne Of Naine were reviv'd how he alone Did feed five thousand with five barly loaves How dry-foot on the Seas proud waves he roaves I dare not longer undertake to tell Lest under such a weight my spirits faile Let this suffice those few which here be shown Make both his Godhead and his Manhead known The Proselyt's CANTO 5o. AS when a grave and sage Gymnosophist Minding to put his Scholler to the list Of publick dispute whence he hopes to gaine The honour of his long turmoyling paine Prescribes him first some disputable Theam To be contested in the Acadeam Which being toss'd in Dialectique manner By quircks and Sophismes of a subtill strainer Gives correspondent hopes or fears of what The publick The'ter can emarginat So Nicodemus having oft times heard Of that rich glory and that rich reward Which Christ had promis'd to all such as should By his directions be govern'd and rul'd Goes privily by night to him to try Who was the stronger Christ or th' Pharisie Master saith he I see thou art a man Come out from God for certainly none can Or speake or doe as thou hast spoke and done Without some divine inspiration Is' t so saith Christ brave Nicodemus now I needs must tell thee what thou dost not know Except a man be born again 't is sure He shall not enter in at Glories doore Be born again saith he what 's this I heare VVhat man can make this paradox appeare Can he that 's old return to 's mothers wombe And thence being born again a childe become This Maxim seemeth very strange to me It over-tops my weak capacity VVhat dost thou think this strange doth Christ then say That man must needs be born again Nay nay Unlesse a man be born again by water And by the Spirits inward hid lavacre He cannot enter in Gods kingdome for What 's born of flesh is flesh and what is more What is born of the Spirit 's likewise Spirit VVithout this birth no man can heav'n inherit The winde blows where it lists thou hear'st the sound Thereof but canst not tell where 't may be found From whence it comes or whither it doth goe So hidden are his waves who makes it blow Come come saith Necodemus tell me where Thou canst be bold this Doctrine to averre Thou speak'st to me of being born again But of a new birth I conceive no strain Thou prat'st to me of heav'ns great Kingdome but Of that Monarchick state I see no jot Make me then see a reason and a cause Of what thou speak'st else hold thy peace and pause VVell Nicodemus now of truth I see That Nature is to Grace an Enemie And what the nat'rall man thinks wisdome that Doth God as folly excommunicat And what the Lord counts wisdome that doth Nature Abhorre as voyd of her perfections feature VVhat if I should be bold but to demand Of thee this question what strong pow'r and hand Did frame thee in thy mothers womb when yet In darknesse as a Non-ens thou didst sit Whose fingers there condens'd thy bones what power Did fill thy veines with Bozra's crimson shower VVho made thy nerves and artyrs so to tie Thy bodies compact and societie Who fram'd thy braines great Chaos liver spleen Thy boyling choller or thy moyst'ning phleagm VVho made thy eyes so watchfull Centinels VVho made thy nose Judge of so various smels VVho made thy tongue to speak or eares to hear VVho made thy knees to bow or back to bear And last of all whence hadst thou that poor breath Whose presence lends thee life whose absence death Whose influence warms thee with celestiall fire And whose unmoved motion doth aspire In a poor minute to run round about Earths drossie globe and Seas green glassie spout Then in an eyes poor twinkle strives to know The treasures of the windes hail rain and snow Thence falling down doth view that woefull deep Wherein the Vessels of Gods wrath doe weep Thence scaling all the heav'ns doth scan the course Of all the Stars in their imperiall sourse Thence soaring higher
all wrath that did begin This wofull combat in thy soule for loe What we should suffer thou didst undergoe Hence were thy griefes thy bloody sweats and teares Hence were thy supplicavions and thy feares Hence were th' affrighting passions of thy soule As man alone thou could'st not them controle The spirit of man infirm'ty may sustaine But who can beare th' Almighties deep disdaine To see the Sonne of God sweat drops of blood 〈…〉 And yet no wonder though â— wond'rous cause Produce effect that reason quite dissâ—nowes If hell and death have pains in tollâ—â—able If flesh be weak and humane faith be feeble What wonder was it though with flesh aray'd Thou of th'Eternalls wrath wa st so dismay'd The wonder is how thou our true Phisition Knowing our sicknesse and our sad condition Cor Id'st by the drinking of our poyson'd Cap Refresh our soules and eke revive our hope O that in this thy wofull agonie We could but read our own perplexitie So should our sighs and teares in time prevent Th' eternall throbbings of deaths punishment But since we cannot as we would recall Our mispent time and so repaire our fall O teach us in our lives to follow thee That with thee we may finde conformitie Of comfort in our crosse so shall thy grace Once make us to enjoy thee face to face Yea let the path or way be what it will Let griefe and toile and tears and torment still Beat down our outward Man yet let us make Our inner man more strong by faith and take Example by thee both in life and death To seek Gods favour and to 〈◊〉 his wrath The Surpryse CANTO 3o. THrice hath the Sonne of righteousnes display'd The soure-sweet symptoms of a soule dismay'd And thrice hath zeale-bred pray'rs prevayling power Recleer'd th'eclypses of his darkned houre Thrice hath he bidden his Discyples pray Lest to tentation they should one the way But while he checks their watch they 're still asleep Droun'd in the bottome of secur'ties deep So frequent are our foyles our faith â— unsteady That flesh is ever weak though th'spirit's ready Yet once more will he rouze them from their rest And print this farewell Sermon in their breast My friends saith he oft have I bid you watch Lest Sathan in his snare your soules should catch But you havedroup'd you have been drouzy still Hence forth goe sleep and take your rest at will For th' houre is come The Sonne of Man 's betray'd The Traitounis at hand and for his avde An armed Legion com'th yet none can take My life from me but for my poore sheeps sake I lay it down and take it up againe And by my willing death you life retain Arise let us goe hence Scarse are they gone When loe the traitor and his legion Come all along and to my Saviour goe First to surprize him then work his ov'r throw And first comes Judus in a poore Lambs fleece Though inwardly a raying Wolfe be is Throwing his arms about his Masters neck Doth greet him with this foule dissembling check Haile Master to his word he joyns a kisse And by that signall tells the troupe who h 'is But ô my Saviour meekly doth enquire Friend wherefore com'st thou so dost thou desire By this thy kisse to kill the Sonne of Man The task is foule goe on doe what thou can Hadst thou but as a stranger been suborn'd Thus to betray me I could well have born 't Or hadst thou as a causlesse hatefull foe Conspir'd to work and perpetrate my woe I would not then have grudged But to see Him who did dip his hand i th' dish with me And him who in my bosome lately lay Lift up his heele against me and betray Me to the death 't is strange but Father what Thou hast begun continue consummat Fie on thee Judas Sathans first born sonne Hadst thou but kept one spark of grace within Thy hellish breast these words of friendly love Might have suffic'd thy treach'rous heart to move And pull'd thee down upon thy soules bow'd knees To beg the pardon of thy treacheries But ah as one poore bubbling drop alone Can hardly gutter flint or Porphire stone So hardly can one word though ne'er so â—â—ue An indur'd heart to sense of sinne subdue Whil'st thus he spâ—â—ks to Judas all the â—est Of that proud rable have themselves addrest To apprehend him straight way He but saith Whom seek you friends Jesus of Nar areth Say they he answers Surely I am he Which words import he 's God and Man trulie Iam did from the burning bush foretell The safe redemption of his Israel And this word He doth his human'ty show Who by his death should satisfie the Law For he 's the Man and truly onely He Who gives man life and imâ—ortalitie No sooner hath he spoke â—hose words I 'm he When by those words consounded back they flie And to the ground doe fall such was the power And piercing virtue of my Saviour He doth enquire againe Whom would you have Jesus say they the man of Naxareth I surely am the man saith he the truth I have already told you from my mouth If me you seek then let those goe their way From you I shall not flie but with you stay For what is writ of me fulfill I must Let those goe safe lot me sustain the worst Not long agoe my Saviour hath foretold The times were comming in the which men should Of two coats sell the one and buy a sword Peter remembreth this Prophetione Word And seeing Matchas proudly lay his hand Upon his Master draweth forth his brand And ayminght proud Malchus head that blow Did crop his eare and cut it quite in two Surely the sword of Peter was but just Who stops his ear to God and man doth trust May justly lose his eare his eye his hand And all his body that doth God withstand But Peter here doth wrong could he but know 't He beats the stone and quts the hand did throw 't The blow on Judas should have been moresure Who th' Author was of this distemp'rature Malchus but acts false Judas falser plot 'T is pitty Judas had not Malchus lot Yet that poore Peter now may wisely know That good intention's not enough to show The actions good and that shows cannot hide The hidden frailty of a self-sick pride Christ bids him put his transhing sword againe Into his place for humane streng this vaine And he who by the sword his will doth cherish Shall sometime by the sword both fall and perish Dost thou not know saith he that what a cup My father doth propine I must drink up Thouh it were ne'er so bitter were 't not so This world should perish in an endlesse woe Or dost thou think that if I pleas'd t' escape I could not this earths drossie globe ov'rleap And riding on a thousand Cherubs wings Prepareany ineseue with the King of Kings Or think'st thou not but if I lov'd t'remove I
been Gods sonne no lesse For who did ever see so firm and strong Expressions of Deitie ev'n among Infirmities and weaknesse saddest strains As now burst forth in Naturesbubling vains By this just Joseph Arimathea's Lord Hath beg'd of Pilat by submissive word That he Christs body might have pow'r to take Down from the Crosse and in his grave to make Him rest who rest and peace had promised Unto all such as sought to him for ayde Pilat yeelds to it Joseph's quickly gone Through Salems streets and rich stor'd shops each one And of pure balm and myrhs elixar'd Nard A hundred weight he buyes and afterward Embalmes my Saviours body and doth binde It in a Tyrian lawn more dainty fin'd Than that which Venus putteth on the eyes Of Cupid to obscure his leacheries Then in his Garden corner with all haste In his new-digged tombe he hath it plac'd And that the body there might rest secure He puts a stone upon the Sepulture ' Mongst many passions of the soule by which Man doth his guilty minde surcharge too much Whil'st he doth wander in that desert where Nothing is reap'd in end but griefe and care That pultrone Feare for most part leads the ring Where Cruelty hath harp'd on Envies string For nothing can secure that sordid mind Where wrath and malice are in one combin'd Hence doth the High Priest and his rascall-train To Pilats hall return yet once again And under colour of a wise prevention Belch out the vomit of their foul intention This fellow say they while he liv'd did say Pull down this Temple and on the third day I will re-build it Lest therefore by night Some steal him from his grave and so affright The world with frantick tales of 's resurrection Let us walk wisely and ' gainst this infection Prepare an an tidote for by such toyes The weaker may be led to great annoyes Goe goe saith Pilus doe what ere you list Hath not his blood yet satisfi'd your thirst 'T is strange to see that death cannot put end Unto that wrath which doth on rage depend The very beasts that live by cruell pray Drink blood eat flesh but cast the bones away But ay me poor faint-hearted Muse how long Wilt thou sigh forth his obsequies whose wrong Though all the Main were turn'd to teares and ink Could not suffice to write them on her brink Weep therefore weep a space and weeping look Not like a runnall or a bubling brook Whose proudest swellings we no sooner spy But straight they are exhaust their channell 's dry But like the Ocean whose unfathom'd deep Sends forth those restlesse streames which never sleep For here thou hast the deepest deep distresse That ever heart could think or tongue expresse The sonne of God heav'ns master-peece the bright Transplendent glory of th' Almighties light Th' eternall Word which was e're time began In time for man made man nay not a man A worm a wretch a servant nay a slave To calumny contempt to crosse to grave Yet peace my Muse and let not griefe exile Thee from due comfort let a blushing smile Comfort thee rather for those wounds which stands Imprinted in his heart his feet his hands Make him although despised and disdain'd To carnall eyes where sinne and shame 's maintain'd A pretious Victime off red up for thee To whom of due belong'd the cursed tree Yea he is that great star of Jacob who Makes Japhet unto Shem's sweet tents to go And bids the world write anthems of Rejoyces Because his grave makes ours a bed of Roses Where though he for a season rest and sleep Yet shall not earth him in her armes long keep But as the Sonne of God he thence shall rise And lead Captiv'ty captive through the skies And thence ascending to his glorious throne Shall be our all in all and all in One For notwithstanding all that stamp and stirre Whereby his grave is sealed and made sure Up up again he shall Gods holy one Can in the grave take no corruption But by his Resurrection makes our faith Triumph the more ore sinne ore hell and death The former times prefigur'd have this truth Did he not save one from the Lions mouth Was not another thrown amidst the Sea And after three dayes set at libertie Yea were not three at one thrown in the fire As vassals of a Tyrants proud desire Yet by his pow'r so preserv'd that the flame Did neither harm their haires nor garments seame Did not he by his mighty pow'r ere now Naims poor widowes sonne to life renew When Lazarus had four dayes ly'n in grave Did he not by his word his soule receive When as the good Centurion's daughter lay Asleep did he not turn her night to day When Eutichus did from his third loft fall Did not his quickning sp'rit his sp'rit recall And when Tabitha jappa's Nymph lay dead Did not his Cumi straight lift up her head Those and a thousand more then those doe stand As great Herculean trophces in his hand Those were but shaddows he the substance is The type was theirs the antitipe is his And all of those beare witnesse that his power Can kill and quicken rescue and devoure Now doth the date of that appointed time Wherein he should arise from Deaths dark clime Draw neer for from the sixt dayes afternoon The Sabbaths whol day he did rest eft soon The eight daies morn no sooner'gins to break But loe the sonne of Righteousnes doth wake And with a better light the world recleare Then ever Titan brought t' our Hemispheare And as that God who did the world create Upon the sixt day did man animate And on the seventh day celebrate his rest A type of our Eternall heavenly feast So did my Soules most grarious Redeemer Crush on the sixt day my soules sad blasphemer And on the seventh day resting in the grave Did from Goliahs hand his Isr'el save And rising on the eight dayes morne hath made The womans heel to bruise the serpents head This day of old had small or no respect But now to heav'n it doth our hearts erect And justly makes his Gods a ther the Sunne VVho in th'Eccliptick of true light doth run This day more sacred should be kept then any Because by it Salvation spirings to many And therefore 〈…〉 as farre As Titan hath beyond 〈…〉 staâ—reâ— For look how much our second birth is more Then our first birth 〈◊〉 is our Sabbath for Upon the sixth day we had our Creation But on this Sabbath light life and salvation And since upon this day we from our fall With him have rise it is Dominicall And merits to be sign'd with ink that 's red Because his blood our debt hath can celled Th' intended period of the time now come The sonne of Jesse Israels brid egroome Comes from his late bed-chamber richly deckt With Majesty with glory and respect His wedding garments robes and rings are on His griefes his passions and his woes
date I for my last and glorious change shall waite For He who was dead is alive and shall To me be Alpha and Omega All. The Trophee CANTO 7o. CHrist had not come from heav'n to earth but that He might our dying soules re-animat He had not liv'd on earth so long to try Cares watches griefes reproaches misery Had he not meant to write us an example In patience upon their necks to trample Nor had he took our flesh if not to die That by his suff'rings he might satisfie The wrath of God due unto mans offence And reconcile that sin-bred difference Nor had he dy'd were 't not to rise again And reunite us to our Soveraigne Nor did he rise but that he might ascend And so bring our Redemptions to an end Thus was he born thus did he live and thus He hath both dy'd and rose againe for us That our new birth new life and new death may By him be turn'd to an eternall day Now if that any ask who shall perswade VVeake man that he such mighty power had The trembling earth the darkned sunne the grave The quickned dead the rent vaile and that slave VVhich in earths centers dwels can all declare The Virgins sonne and eke th' Almighties heire True God and Man earths Monarch heav'ns great King Did those stupendious works t' effect forth bring But if sublunar things subject to errour Can neither work our joy nor strike with terrour Our hardned hearts let glorious Angels then Serve to extirpate misbeliefe from men For they did by their presence shake those fooles VVho by their spears and staves and murth'ring tools Sought to detaine the Lord of Life i' th' grave Let all such guardians such reward still have Then to some weaker women whose true care And love to life had quickly brought them there They furnish matter of true consolation Declaring his true life whose death and passion Had but of late their soule so pierc'd with woe That naturall comfort could not cure their blow Such as our conscience is or good or bad Accordingly we are rejoyc'd or sad When God to us his countenance doth show Or in a cheerfull smile or frowning aw The righteous Man is like the Lyon bold The wicked shrink for feare within their hold And one day when their joyes away shall fly Then shall they shrink and feare eternally One woman there was of a speciall note The Magdalen of late known by her spot But now by penitentiall tears made clean She greater grace and favour doth obtain For he whodwelleth in the heav'ns doth weigh The hearts of men in scales of Veritie And looks not on our outward carnall things But on that treasure which the heart forth brings To this poore woman then they first doe talk And with her in the way of comfort walk That she who sometime was a sinner might To after-sinners shew the wondrous hight The depth the length and breadth of mercy that Unto the penitent's accumulat For God doth not take heed to what we were But unto what we by adoption are For still his mercies supr'abound and more Where sinnes abundant plenty dwelt before If he can see our tears our cheeks distaine And bubble up from true repentance vaine Some eight dayes hence this Nymph began to weep And make her tears bedew her Masters feet Her eyes as yet have not shut up their sluces So deep 's the memoyr of her youths abuses And eke so fresh the relish of his smart Who spent his blood to purge her sinfull heart That she cannot her throbbing sighs restrain Nor from her restlesse seas of teares refraine But when sh'ath weep'd enough she still weeps more And ' gainst her sorrowes cannot shut the doore VVhil'st thus she weeps she turnes unto her stay And bowing down beholds where Jesus lay And loe two Angels there doe sit the one VVhere Jesus head did lye and rest anon Another she espies there where his feet Had their impression in the hard rock set They see the woman weep and thus enquire VVoman why weep'st thou what dost thou desire She answers Sure I weep not without cause For here of late in deaths devouring jawes My Lord did lye but now alas he 's gone And none can tell me whither no not one They thus reply what foole art thou to seek The living ' mongst the dead did he not speak And preach to you last day in Galile The sonne of man must suffer and third day Rise up again he is not here goe goe Tell his Disciples that he 's rise But loe VVhil'st thus they parley Jesus comes and still Rebukes her for her mis-informed will VVoman saith he woman what dost thou mean VVhat wilt thou never from thy teares abstain She takes him for the Gardner and saith Sir If you have took him hence pray let me heare VVhere you have layd him and be sure from thence I will re-bring him at what-ere expence To those fond words my Saviour saith But Mary She answers him Rabboni Without tary Falls down before his feet to kisse them but He to that fond affection yeeldeth not O doe not touch me Mary saith he for I am not yet ascended but what 's more Expedient for the world goe quickly tell My weak Disciples that the gates of hell Which gap'd against me now have no more pow'r To hedge me in for I have broke their door And to my members doe propine Lifes cup That they may dine with me I with them sup O what a masse or magazen is here Of pretious comfort by a Gardiner Breath'd to a woman O what large extent Of pardon 's sealed to a Penitenâ—â— For whil'st I see her thus so sadly weep And him comfort her ' gainst her griefs I keep In minde that Program which of late he told Blessed are they who mourn for loe behold They shall reap comfort and thrice blessed they Who ask seek knock for verily I say They shall receive and finde and enter for To such my Father doth not shut his door Next this whil'st I behold the great mistake Wherein her true affection although weake Made her believe a Gardner she had seen I doe impute it to her tear-drown'd eyn I cannot choose but make my soule to smile At this so happy fraud and sweet beguile For never man did to my weak esteem Give him a fitter stile or truer name For where did ever garden in the stower Of stormy rage produce so sweet a flower Or where did ever Gardner plant or frame So rich an imp in such a withring stem Did he not first in Paradise re-plant The promis'd Primrose of the Covenant In Baal-haman graft'd he not that Vine About the which the Saints their armes doe twine Is not he Sharons Rose the Valleyes Lilly Engeddies Camphire Bethleems Daffadilly Gethsemans Gilly-flow'r and Golgaths Rheu And Arimathea's Turn-sol ever true It is not then a great mistake to call Him Gardner who makes those to rise and fall O glorious Gardner