our land waters teares of passion vent Our waters then above our firmament Teares which our Soule doth for her sins let fall Take all a brackish tast and Funerall And even those teares which should wash sin are sin We after Gods Noe drowne the world againe Nothing but man of all invenom'd things Doth worke upon itselfe with inborne stings Teares are false Spectacles we cannot see Through passions mist what wee are or what shee In her this sea of death hath made no breach But as the tide doth wash the slimie beach And leaves embroderd workes upon the sand So is her flesh refin'd by deaths cold hand As men of China ' after an ages stay Do take up Porcelane where they buried Clay So at this grave her limbecke which refines The Diamonds Rubies Saphires Pearles Mines Of which this flesh was her soule shall inspire Flesh of such stuffe as God when his last fire Annuls this world to recompence it shall Make and name then th'Elixar of this All. They say the sea when it gaines loseth too If carnall Death the yonger brother doe Usurpe the body 'our soule which subject is To th' elder death by sinne is freed by this They perish both when they attempt the just For graves our trophies are and both deaths dust So unobnoxious now she'hath buried both For none to death sinnes that to sinne is loth Nor doe they die which are not loth to die So hath she this and that virginity Grace was in her extremely diligent That kept her from sinne yet made her repent Of what small spots pure white complaines Alas How little poyson cracks a christall glasse She sinn'd but just enough to let us see That extreme truth lack'd little of a lye Making omissions acts laying the touch Of sinne on things that sometimes may be such As Moses Cherubines whose natures doe Surpasse all speed by him are winged too So would her soule already'in heaven seeme then To clyme by teares the common staires of men How fit she was for God I am content To speake that death his vaine hast may repent How fit for us how even and how sweet How good in all her titles and how meet To have reform'd this forward heresie That woman can no parts of friendship bee How Morall how Divine shall not be told Lest they that heare her vertues thinke her old And lest we take Deaths part and make him glad Of such a prey and to his tryumph adde Elegie on Mris Boulstred DEath I recant and say unsaid by mee What ere hath slip'd that might diminish thee Spirituall treason atheisme 't is to say That any can thy Summons disobey Th' earths face is but thy Table there are set Plants cattell men dishes for Death to eate In a rude hunger now hee millions drawes Into his bloody or plaguy or sterv'd jawes Now hee will seeme to spare and doth more wast Eating the best first well preserv'd to last Now wantonly he spoiles and eates us not But breakes off friends and lets us peecemeale rot Nor will this earth serve him he sinkes the deepe Where harmelesse fish monastique silence keepe Who were Death dead by Roes of living sand Might spunge that element and make it land He rounds the aire and breakes the hymnique notes In birds Heavens choristers organique throats Which if they did not dye might seeme to bee A tenth ranke in the heavenly hierarchie O strong and long-liv'd death how cam'st thou in And how without Creation didst begin Thou hast and shalt see dead before thou dyest All the foure Monarchies and Antichrist How could I thinke thee nothing that see now In all this All nothing else is but thou Our births and life vices and vertues bee Wastfull consumptions and degrees of thee For wee to live our bellowes weare and breath Nor are wee mortall dying dead but death And though thou beest O mighty bird of prey So much reclaim'd by God that thou must lay All that thou kill'st at his feet yet doth hee Reserve but few and leaves the most to thee And of those few now thou hast overthrowne One whom thy blow makes not ours nor thine own She was more stories high hopelesse to come To her Soule thou'hast offer'd at her lower roome Her Soule and body was a King and Court But thou hast both of Captaine mist and fort As houses fall not though the King remove Bodies of Saints rest for their soules above Death gets'twixt soules and bodies such a place As sinne insinuates 'twixt just men and grace Both worke a separation no divorce Her Soule is gone to usherup her corse Which shall be'almost another soule for there Bodies are purer then best Soules are here Because in her her virtues did outgoe Her yeares would'st thou O emulous death do so And kill her young to thy losse must the cost Of beauty ' and wit apt to doe harme be lost What though thou found'st her proofe'gainst sins of youth Oh every age a diverse sinne pursueth Thou should'st have stay'd and taken better hold Shortly ambitious covetous when old She might have prov'd and such devotion Might once have stray'd to superstition If all her vertues must have growne yet might Abundant virtue'have bred a proud delight Had she persever'd just there would have bin Some that would sinne mis-thinking she did sinne Such as would call her friendship love and faine To sociablenesse a name profane Or sinne by tempting or not daring that By wishing though they never told her what Thus might'st thou'have slain more soules had'st thou not crost Thy selfe and to triumph thine army lost Yet though these wayes be lost thou hast left one Which is immoderate griefe that she is gone But we may scape that sinne yet weepe as much Our teares are due because we are not such Some teares that knot of friends her death must cost Because the chaine is broke but no linke lost To Sr Henry Goodyere WHo makes the Past a patterne for next yeare Turnes no new leafe but still the same things reads Seene things he sees againe heard things doth heare And makes his life but like a paire of beads A Palace when 't is that which it should be Leaves growing and stands such or else decayes But hee which dwels there is not so for hee Strives to urge upward and his fortune raise So had your body'her morning hath her noone And shall not better her next change is night But her faire larger guest to'whom Sun and Moone Are sparkes and short liv'd claimes another right The noble Soule by age growes lustier Her appetite and her digestion mend Wee must not sterve nor hope to pamper her With womens milke and pappe unto the end Provide you manlyer dyet you have seene All libraries which are Schools Camps Courts But aske your Garners if you have not beene In harvests too indulgent to your sports Would you redeeme it then your selfe transplant A while from hence Perchance outlandish ground Beares no
comparison The onely measure is and judge opinion HOLY SONNETS La Corona 1. DEigne at my hands this crown of prayer and praise Weav'd in my low devout melancholie Thou which of good hast yea art treasury All changing unchang'd Antient of dayes But doe not with a vile crowne of fraile bayes Reward my muses white sincerity But what thy thorny crowne gain'd that give mee A crowne of Glory which doth flower alwayes The ends crowne our workes but thou crown'st our ends For at our end begins our endlesse rest The first last end now zealously possest With a strong sober thirst my soule attends 'T is time that heart and voice be lifted high Salvation to all that will is nigh ANNVNCIATION 2 Salvation to all that will is nigh That All which alwayes is All every where Which cannot sinne and yet all sinnes must beare Which cannot die yet cannot chuse but die Loe faithfull Virgin yeelds himselfe to lye In prison in thy wombe and though he there Can take no sinne nor thou give yet he'will weare Taken from thence flesh which deaths force may trie Ere by the spheares time was created thou Wast in his minde who is thy Sonne and Brother Whom thou conceiv'st conceiv'd yea thou art now Thy Makers maker and thy Fathers mother Thou'hast light in darke and shutst in little roome Immensity cloysterd in thy deare wombe NATIVITIE 3 Immensitie cloysterd in thy deare wombe Now leaves his welbelov'd imprisonment There he hath made himselfe to his intent Weake enough now into our world to come But Oh for thee for him hath th'Inne no roome Yet lay him in this stall and from the Orient Starres and wisemen will travell to prevent Th' effects of Herods jealous generall doome Seest thou my Soule with thy faiths eyes how he Which fils all place yet none holds him doth lye Was not his pity towards thee wondrous high That would have need to be pittied by thee Kisse him and with him into Egypt goe With his kinde mother who partakes thy woe TEMPLE 4 With his kinde mother who partakes thy woe Ioseph turne backe see where your child doth sit Blowing yea blowing out those sparks of wit Which himselfe on the Doctors did bestow The Word but lately could not speake and loe It sodenly speakes wonders whence comes it That all which was and all which should be writ A shallow seeming child should deeply know His Godhead was not soule to his manhood Nor had time mellowed him to this ripenesse But as for one which hath a long taske 'T is good With the Sunne to beginne his businesse He in his ages morning thus began By miracles exceeding power of man CRVCIFYING 5 By miracles exceeding power of man Hee faith in some envie in some begat For what weake spirits admire ambitious hate In both affections many to him ran But Oh! the worst are most they will and can Alas and do unto the immaculate Whose creature Fate is now prescribe a Fate Measuring selfe-lifes infinity to span Nay to an inch loe where condemned hee Beares his owne crosse with paine yet by and by When it beares him he must beare more and die Now thou art lifted up draw mee to thee And at thy death giving such liberall dole Moyst with one drop of thy blood my dry soule RESVRRECTION 6 Moyst with one drop of thy blood my dry soule Shall though she now be in extreme degree Too stony hard and yet too fleshly bee Freed by that drop from being starv'd hard or foule And life by this death abled shall controule Death whom thy death slue nor shall to mee Feare of first or last death bring miserie If in thy little booke my name thou enroule Flesh in that long sleep is not putrified But made that there of which and for which 't was Nor can by other meanes be glorified May then sinnes sleep and death soone from me passe That wak't from both I againe risen may Salute the last and everlasting day ASCENTION 7 Salute the last and everlasting day Joy at the uprising of this Sunne and Sonne Yee whose just teares or tribulation Have purely washt or burnt your drossie clay Behold the Highest parting hence away Lightens the darke clouds which hee treads upon Nor doth hee by ascending show alone But first hee and hee first enters the way O strong Ramme which hast batter'd heaven for mee Mild lambe which with thy blood hast mark'd the path Bright torch which shin'st that I the way may see Oh with thy owne blood quench thy owne just wrath And if thy holy Spirit my Muse did raise Deigne at my hands this crowne of prayer and praise Holy Sonnets I. AS due by many titles I resigne My selfe to thee O God first I was made By thee and for thee and when I was decay'd Thy blood bought that the which before was thine I am thy sonne made with thy selfe to shine Thy servant whose paines thou hast still repaid Thy sheepe thine Image and till I betray'd My selfe a temple of thy Spirit divine Why doth the devill then usurpe on mee Why doth he steale nay ravish that 's thy right Except thou rise and for thine owne worke fight Oh I shall soone despaire when I doe see That thou lov'st mankind well yet wilt'not chuse me And Satan hates mee yet is loth to lose mee II. Oh my blacke Soule now thou art summoned By sicknesse deaths herald and champion Thou art like a pilgrim which abroad hath done Treason and durst not turne to whence hee is fled Or like a thiefe which till deaths doome be read Wisheth himselfe delivered from prison But damn'd and hal'd to execution Wisheth that still he might be imprisoned Yet grace if thou repent thou canst not lacke But who shall give thee that grace to beginne Oh make thy selfe with holy mourning blacke And red with blushing as thou art with sinne Or wash thee in Christs blood which hath this might That being red it dyes red soules to white III. This is my playes last scene here heavens appoint My pilgrimages last mile and my race Idly yet quickly runne hath this last pace My spans last inch my minutes latest point And gluttonous death will instantly unjoynt My body and my soule and I shall sleepe a space But my'ever-waking part shall see that face Whose feare already shakes my every joynt Then as my soule to'heaven her first seate takes flight And earth borne body in the earth shall dwell So fall my sinnes that all may have their right To where they' are bred and would presse me to hell Impute me righteous thus purg'd of evill For thus I leave the world the flesh the devill IV. At the round earths imagin'd corners blow Your trumpets Angells and arise arise From death you numberlesse infinities Of soules and to your scattred bodies goe All whom the flood did and fire shall o'erthrow All whom warre death age agues tyrannies Despaire law chance hath slaine and you whose eyes Shall behold God and
Wardship to thine Angels be Native in heavens faire Palaces Where we shall be but denizen'd by thee As th' earth conceiving by the Sunne Yeelds faire diversitie Yet never knowes which course that light doth run So let mee study that mine actions bee Worthy their sight though blinde in how they see VII The Patriarches And let thy Patriarches Desire Those great Grandfathers of thy Church which saw More in the cloud then wee in fire Whom Nature clear'd more then us grace and law And now in Heaven still pray that wee May use our new helpes right Be sanctified and fructifie in mee Let not my minde be blinder by more light Nor Faith by Reason added lose her sight VIII The Prophets Thy Eagle-sighted Prophets too Which were thy Churches Organs and did sound That harmony which made of two One law and did unite but not confound Those heavenly Poëts which did see Thy will and it expresse In rythmique feet in common pray for mee That I by them excuse not my excesse In seeking secrets or Poëtiquenesse IX The Apostles And thy illustrious Zodiacke Of twelve Apostles which ingirt this All From whom whosoever do not take Their light to darke deep pits throw downe and fall As through their prayers thou'hast let mee know That their bookes are divine May they pray still and be heard that I goe Th' old broad way in applying O decline Mee when my comment would make thy word mine X. The Martyrs And since thou so desirously Did'st long to die that long before thou could'st And long since thou no more couldst dye Thou in thy scatter'd mystique body wouldst In Abel dye and ever since In thine let their blood come To begge for us a discreet patience Of death or of worse life for Oh to some Not to be Martyrs is a martyrdome XI The Confessors Therefore with thee triumpheth there A Virgin Squadron of white Confessors Whose bloods betroth'd not marryed were Tender'd not taken by those Ravishers They know and pray that wee may know In every Christian Hourly tempestuous persecutions grow Tentations martyr us alive A man Is to himselfe a Dioclesian XII The Virgins The cold white snowie Nunnery Which as thy mother their high Abbesse sent Their bodies backe againe to thee As thou hadst lent them cleane and innocent Though they have not obtain'd of thee That or thy Church or I Should keep as they our first integrity Divorce thou sinne in us or bid it die And call chast widowhead Virginitie XIII The Doctors Thy sacred Academie above Of Doctors whose paines have unclasp'd and taught Both bookes of life to us for love To know thy Scriptures tells us we are wrought In thy other booke pray for us there That what they have misdone Or mis-said wee to that may not adhere Their zeale may be our sinne Lord let us runne Meane waies and call them stars but not the Sunne XIV And whil'st this universall Quire That Church in triumph this in warfare here Warm'd with one all-partaking fire Of love that none be lost which cost thee deare Prayes ceaslesly ' and thou hearken too Since to be gratious Our taske is treble to pray beare and doe Heare this prayer Lord O Lord deliver us FroÌ„ trusting in those prayers though powr'd out thus XV. From being anxious or secure Dead clods of sadnesse or light squibs of mirth From thinking that great courts immure All or no hâ—ppinesse or that this earth Is only for our prison fram'd Or that thou art covetous To them whom thou lovest or that they are maim'd From reaching this worlds sweet who seek thee thus With all their might Good Lord deliver us XVI From needing danger to bee good From owing thee yesterdaies teares to day From trusting so much to thy blood That in that hope wee wound our soule away From bribing thee with Almes to excuse Some sinne more burdenous From light affecting in religion newes From thinking us all soule neglecting thus Our mutuall duties Lord deliver us XVII From tempting Satan to tempt us By our connivence or slack companie From measuring ill by vitious Neglecting to choake sins spawne Vanitie From indiscreet humilitie Which might be scandalous And cast reproach on Christianitie From being spies or to spies pervious From thirst or scorne of flame deliver us XVIII Deliver us for thy descent Into the Virgin whose wombe was a place Of midle kind and thou being sent To'ungratious us staid'st at her full of grace And through thy poore birth where first thou Glorifiedst Povertie And yet soone after riches didst allow By accepting Kings gifts in the Epiphanie Deliver and make us to both waies free XIX And though that bitter agonie Which is still the agonie of pious wits Disputing what distorted thee And interrupted evennesse with fits And through thy free confession Though thereby they were then Made blind so that thou might'st from theÌ„ have gone Good Lord deliver us and teach us when Wee may not and we may blinde unjust men XX. Through thy submitting all to blowes Thy face thy clothes to spoile thy fame to scorne All waies which rage or Justice knowes And by which thou could'st shew that thou wast born And through thy gallant humblenesse Which thou in death did'st shew Dying before thy soule they could expresse Deliver us from death by dying so To this world ere this world doe bid us goe XXI When senses which thy souldiers are Wee arme against thee and they fight for sinne When want sent but to tame doth warre And worke despaire a breach to enter in When plenty Gods image and seale Makes us Idolatrous And love it not him whom it should reveale When wee are mov'd to seeme religious Only to vent wit Lord deliver us XXII In Churches when the'infirmitie Of him which speakes diminishes the Word When Magistrates doe mis-apply To us as we judge lay or ghostly sword When plague which is thine Angell raignes Or wars thy Champions swaie When Heresie thy second deluge gaines In th' houre of death the'Eve of last judgement day Deliver us from the sinister way XXIII Heare us O heare us Lord to thee A sinner is more musique when he prayes Then spheares or Angels praises bee In Panegyrique Allelujaes Heare us for till thou heare us Lord We know not what to say Thine eare to'our sighes teares thoughts gives voice and word O Thou who Satan heard'st in Jobs sicke day Heare thy selfe now for thou in us dost pray XXIV That wee may change to evennesse This intermitting aguish Pietie That snatching cramps of wickednesse And Apoplexies of fast sin may die That musique of thy promises Not threats in Thunder may Awaken us to our just offices What in thy booke thou dost or creatures say That we may heare Lord heare us when wee pray XXV That our eares sicknesse wee may cure And rectifie those Labyrinths aright That wee by harkning not procure Our praise nor others dispraise so invite That wee get not a slipperinesse And senslesly decline
never tast deaths woe But let them sleepe Lord and mee mourne a space For if above all these my sinnes abound 'T is late to aske abundance of thy grace When wee are there here on this lowly ground Teach mee how to repent for that 's as good As if thou'hadst seal'd my pardon with thy blood V. If poysonous mineralls and if that tree Whose fruit threw death on else immortall us If lecherous goats if serpents envious Cannot be damn'd Alas why should I bee Why should intent or reason borne in mee Make sinnes else equall in mee more heinous And mercy being easie and glorious To God in his sterne wrath why threatens hee But who am I that dare dispute with thee O God Oh! of thine onely worthy blood And my teares make a heavenly Lethean flood And drowne in it my sinnes blacke memorie That thou remember them some claime as debt I thinke it mercy if thou wilt forget VI. Death be not proud though some have called thee Mighty and dreadfull for thou art not soe For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not poore death nor yet canst thou kill mee From rest and sleepe which but thy pictures bee Much pleasure then from thee much more must flow And soonest our best men with thee doe goe Rest of their bones and soules deliverie Thou art slave to Fate chance kings and desperate men And doth with poyson warre and sicknesse dwell And poppie or charmes can make us sleepe as well And better then thy stroake why swell'st thou then One short sleepe past wee wake eternally And death shall be no more death thou shalt die VII Spit in my face you Jewes and pierce my side Buffet and scoffe scourge and crucifie mee For I have sinn'd and sinn'd and onely hee Who could do no iniquitie hath dyed But by my death can not be satisfied My sinnes which passe the Jewes impiety They kill'd once an inglorious man but I Crucifie him daily being now glorified Oh let mee then his strange love still admire Kings pardon but he bore our punishment And Iacob came cloth'd in vile harsh attire But to supplant and with gainfull intent God cloth'd himselfe in vile mans flesh that so Hee might be weake enough to suffer woe VIII Why are wee by all creatures waited on Why doe the prodigall elements supply Life and food to mee being more pure then I Simple and further from corruption Why brook'st thou ignorant horse subjection Why dost thou bull and bore so seelily Dissemble weaknesse and by'one mans stroke die Whose whole kinde you might swallow feed upon Weaker I am woe is mee and worse then you You have not sinn'd nor need be timorous But wonder at a greater wonder for to us Created nature doth these things subdue But their Creator whom sin nor nature tyed For us his Creatures and his foes hath dyed IX What if this present were the worlds last night Marke in my heart O Soule where thou dost dwell The picture of Christ crucified and tell Whether his countenance can thee affright Teares in his eyes quench the amasing light Blood fills his frownes which from his pierc'd head fell And can that tongue adjudge thee unto hell Which pray'd forgivenesse for his foes fierce spight No no but as in my idolatrie I said to all my profane mistresses Beauty of pitty foulnesse onely is A signe of rigour so I say to thee To wicked spirits are horrid shapes assign'd This beauteous forme assumes a pitious minde X. Batter my heart three person'd God for you As yet but knocke breathe shine and seeke to mend That I may rise and stand o'erthrow mee ' and bend Your force to breake blowe burn and make me new I like an usurpt towne to'another due Labour to'admit you but Oh to no end Reason your viceroy in mee mee should defend But is captiv'd and proves weake or untrue Yet dearely'I love you and would be lov'd faine But am betroth'd unto your enemie Divorce mee ' untie or breake that knot againe Take mee to you imprison mee for I Except you'enthral mee never shall be free Nor ever chast except you ravish mee XI Wilt thou love God as he thee then digest My Soule this wholsome meditation How God the Spirit by Angels waited on In heaven doth make his Temple in thy brest The Father having begot a Sonne most blest And still begetting for he ne'r begonne Hath deign'd to chuse thee by adoption Coheire to'his glory ' and Sabbaths endlesse rest And as a robb'd man which by search doth finde His stolne stuffe sold must lose or buy'it againe The Sonne of glory came downe and was slaine Us whom he'had made and Satan stolne to unbinde 'T was much that man was made like God before But that God should be made like man much more XII Father part of his double interest Unto thy kingdome thy Sonne gives to mee His joynture in the knottie Trinitie Hee keepes and gives to me his deaths conquest This Lambe whose death with life the world hath blest Was from the worlds beginning slaine and he Hath made two Wills which with the Legacie Of his and thy kingdome doe thy Sonnes invest Yet such are these laws that men argue yet Whether a man those statutes can fulfill None doth but thy all-healing grace and Spirit Revive againe what law and letter kill Thy lawes abridgement and thy last command Is all but love Oh let this last Will stand EPIGRAMS Hero and Leander BOth rob'd of aire we both lye in one ground Both whom one fire had burnt one water drownd Pyramus and Thisbe Two by themselves each other love and feare Slaine cruell friends by parting have joyn'd here Niobe By childrens births and death I am become So dry that I am now mine owne sad tombe A burnt ship Out of a fired ship which by no way But drowning could be rescued from the flame Some men leap'd forth and ever as they came Neere the foes ships did by their shot decay So all were lost which in the ship were found They in the sea being burnt they in the burnt ship drown'd Fall of a wall Under an undermin'd and shot-bruis'd wall A too-bold Captaine perish'd by the fall Whose brave misfortune happiest men envi'd That had a towne for tombe his bones to hide A lame begger I am unable yonder begger cries To stand or moue if he say true hee lies A selfe accuser Your mistris that you follow whores still taxeth you 'T is strange that she should thus confesse it though'it be true A licentious person Thy sinnes and haires may no man equall call For as thy sinnes increase thy haires doe fall Antiquary If in his Studie he hath so much care To'hang all old strange things let his wife beware Disinherited Thy father all from thee by his last Will Gave to the poore Thou hast good title still Phryne Thy flattering picture Phryne is like thee Onely in this that you both painted be An obscure writer
not an artificiall day In this you'have made the Court the Antipodes And will'd your Delegate the vulgar Sunne To doe profane autumnall offices Whilst here to you wee sacrificers runne And whether Priests or Organs you wee'obey We sound your influence and your Dictates say Yet to that Deity which dwels in you Your vertuous Soule I now not sacrifice These are Petitions and not Hymnes they sue But that I may survay the edifice In all Religions as much care hath bin Of Temples frames and beauty ' as Rites within As all which goe to Rome doe not thereby Esteeme religions and hold fast the best But serve discourse and curiosity With that which doth religion but invest And shunne th'entangling laborinths of Schooles And make it wit to thinke the wiser fooles So in this pilgrimage I would behold You as you' are vertues temple not as shee What walls of tender christall her enfold What eyes hands bosome her pure Altars bee And after this survay oppose to all Bablers of Chappels you th'Escuriall Yet not as consecrate but merely'as faire On these I cast a lay and country eye Of past and future stories which are rare I finde you all record and prophecie Purge but the booke of Fate that it admit No sad nor guilty legends you are it If good and lovely were not one of both You were the transcript and originall The Elements the Parent and the Growth And every peece of you is both their All So'intire are all your deeds and you that you Must do the same things still you cannot two But these as nice thinne Schoole divinity Serves heresie to furder or represse Tast of Poëtique rage or flattery And need not where all hearts one truth professe Oft from new proofes and new phrase new doubts grow As strange attire aliens the men wee know Leaving then busie praise and all appeale To higher Courts senses decree is true The Mine the Magazine the Commonweale The story of beauty ' in Twicknam is and you Who hath seene one would both As who had bin In Paradise would seeke the Cherubin To Sr Edward Herbert at Iulyers MAn is a lumpe where all beasts kneaded bee Wisdome makes him an Arke where all agree The foole in whom these beasts do live at jarre Is sport to others and a Theater Nor scapes hee so but is himselfe their prey All which was man in him is eate away And now his beasts on one another feed Yet couple'in anger and new monsters breed How happy'is hee which hath due place assign'd To'his beasts and disaforested his minde Empail'd himselfe to keepe them out not in Can sow and dares trust corne where they have bin Can use his horse goate wolfe and every beast And is not Asse himselfe to all the rest Else man not onely is the heard of swine But he 's those devills too which did incline Them to a headlong rage and made them worse For man can adde weight to heavens heaviest curse As Soules they say by our first touch take in The poysonous tincture of Originall sinne So to the punishments which God doth fling Our apprehension contributes the sting To us as to his chickins he doth cast Hemlocke and wee as men his hemlocke taste We do infuse to what he meant for meat Corrosivenesse or intense cold or heat For God no such specifique poyson hath As kills we know not how his fiercest wrath Hath no antipathy but may be good At lest for physicke if not for our food Thus man that might be'his pleasure is his rod And is his devill that might be his God Since then our businesse is to rectifie Nature to what she was wee'are led awry By them who man to us in little show Greater then due no forme we can bestow On him for Man into himselfe can draw All All his faith can swallow ' or reason chaw All that is fill'd and all that which doth fill All the round world to man is but a pill In all it workes not but it is in all Poysonous or purgative or cordiall For knowledge kindles Calentures in some And is to others jcy Opium As brave as true is that profession than Which you doe use to make that you know man This makes it credible you have dwelt upon All worthy bookes and now are such an one Actions are authors and of those in you Your friends finde every day a mart of new To the Countesse of Bedford T' Have written then when you writ seem'd to mee Worst of spirituall vices Simony And not t' have written then seemes little lesse Then worst of civill vices thanklessenesse In this my doubt I seem'd loath to confesse In that I seem'd to shunne beholdingnesse But 't is not soe nothing as I am may Pay all they have and yet have all to pay Such borrow in their payments and owe more By having leave to write so then before Yet since rich mines in barren grounds are showne May not I yeeld not gold but coale or stone Temples were not demolish'd though prophane Here Peter Ioves there Paul have Dian's Fane So whether my hymnes you admit or chuse In me you'have hallowed a Pagan Muse And denizend a stranger who mistaught By blamers of the times they mard hath sought Vertues in corners which now bravely doe Shine in the worlds best part or all in you I have beene told that vertue'in Courtiers hearts Suffers an Ostracisme and departs Profit ease fitnesse plenty bid it goe But whither only knowing you I know Your or you vertue two vast uses serves It ransomes one sex and one Court preserves There 's nothing but your worth which being true Is knowne to any other not to you And you can never know it To admit No knowledge of your worth it some of it But since to you your praises discords bee Stop others ills to meditate with mee Oh! to confesse wee know not what we sould Is halfe excuse wee know not what we would Lightnesse depresseth us emptinesse fills We sweat and faint yet still goe downe the hills As new Philosophy arrests the Sunne And bids the passive earth about it runne So wee have dull'd our minde it hath no ends Onely the bodie 's busie and pretends As dead low earth ecclipses and controules The quick high Moone so doth the body Soules In none but us are such mixt engines found As hands of double office For the ground We till with them and them to heav'n wee raise Who prayer-lesse labours or without this prayes Doth but one halfe that 's none He which said Plough And looke not back to looke up doth allow Good sced degenerates and oft obeyes The soyles disease and into cockle strayes Let the minds thoughts be but transplanted so Into the body ' and bastardly they grow What hate could hurt our bodies like our love Wee but no forraigne tyrans could remove These not ingrav'd but inborne dignities Caskets of soules Temples and Palaces For bodies shall from death redeemed bee Soules but
lips eyes thighs differ from thy two But so as thine from one another doe And oh no more the likenesse being such Why should they not alike in all parts touch Hand to strange hand lippe to lippe none denies Why should they brest to brest or thighs to thighs Likenesse begets such strange selfe flatterie That touching my selfe all seemes done to thee My selfe I embrace and mine owne hands I kisse And amorously thanke my selfe for this Me in my glasse I call thee But alas When I would kisse teares dimme mine eyes and glasse O cure this loving madnesse and restore Me to mee shee my halfe my all my more So may thy cheekes red outweare scarlet dye And their white whitenesse of the Galaxy So may thy mighty amazing beauty move Envy ' in all women and in all men love And so be change and sicknesse farre from thee As thou by comming neere keep'st them from me The Annuntiation and Passion TAmely fraile body'abstaine to day to day My soule eates twice Christ hither and away She sees him man so like God made in this That of them both a circle embleme is Whose first and last concurre this doubtfull day Of feast or fast Christ came and went away Shee sees him nothing twice at once who'is all Shee sees a Cedar plant it selfe and fall Her Maker put to making and the head Of life at once not yet alive yet dead She sees at once the virgin mother stay Reclus'd at home Publique at Golgotha Sad and rejoyc'd shee 's seen at once and seen At almost fiftie and at scarce fifteene At once a Sonne is promis'd her and gone Gabriell gives Christ to her He her to John Not fully a mother Shee 's in Orbitie At once receiver and the legacie All this and all betweene this day hath showne Th' Abridgement of Christs story which makes one As in plaine Maps the furthest West is East Of the'Angels Ave ' and Consummatum est How well the Church Gods Court of faculties Deales in some times and seldome joyning these As by the selfe-fix'd Pole wee never doe Direct our course but the next starre thereto Which showes where the'other is and which we say Because it strayes not farre doth never stray So God by his Church neerest to him wee know And stand firme if wee by her motion goe His Spirit as his fiery Pillar doth Leade and his Church as cloud to one end both This Church by letting those daies joyne hath shown Death and conception in mankinde is one Or 't was in him the same humility That he would be a man and leave to be Or as creation he hath made as God With the last judgement but one period His imitating Spouse would joyne in one Manhoods extremes He shall come he is gone Or as though one blood drop which thence did fall Accepted would have serv'd he yet shed all So though the least of his paines deeds or words Would busie a life she all this day affords This treasure then in grosse my Soule uplay And in my life retaile it every day Goodfriday 1613. Riding Westward LEt mans Soule be a Spheare and then in this The intelligence that moves devotion is And as the other Spheares by being growne Subject to forraigne motion lose their owne And being by others hurried every day Scarce in a yeare their naturall forme obey Pleasure or businesse so our Soules admit For their first mover and are whirld by it Hence is 't that I am carryed towards the West This day whē my Soules forme bends toward the East There I should see a Sunne by rising set And by that setting endlesse day beget But that Christ on this Crosse did rise and fall Sinne had eternally benighted all Yet dare I'almost be glad I do not see That spectacle of too much weight for mee Who sees Gods face that is selfe life must dye What a death were it then to see God dye It made his owne Lieutenant Nature shrinke It made his footstoole crack and the Sunne winke Could I behold those hands which span the Poles And tune all spheares at once peirc'd with those holes Could I behold that endlesse height which is Zenith to us and our Antipodes Humbled below us or that blood which is The seat of all our Soules if not of his Made durt of dust or that flesh which was worne By God for his apparell rag'd and torne If on these things I durst not looke durst I Upon his miserable mother cast mine eye Who was Gods partner here and furnish'd thus Halfe of that Sacrifice which ransom'd us Though these things as I ride be from mine eye They' are present yet unto my memory For that looks towards them thou look'st towards mee O Saviour as thou hang'st upon the tree I turne my backe to thee but to receive Corrections till thy mercies bid thee leave O thinke mee worth thine anger punish mee Burne off my rusts and my deformity Restore thine Image so much by thy grace That thou may'st know mee and I 'll turne my face THE LITANIE I. The FATHER FAther of Heaven and him by whom It and us for it and all else for us Thou madest and govern'st ever come And re-create mee now growne ruinous My heart is by dejection clay And by selfe-murder red From this red earth O Father purge away All vicious tinctures that new fashioned I may rise up from death before I 'am dead II. The SONNE O Sonne of God who seeing two things Sinne and death crept in which were never made By bearing one tryed'st with what stings The other could thine heritage invade O be thou nail'd unto my heart And crucified againe Part not from it though it from thee would part But let it be by applying so thy paine Drown'd in thy blood and in thy passion slaine III. The HOLY GHOST O Holy Ghost whose temple I Am but of mudde walls and condensed dust And being sacrilegiously Halfe wasted with youths fires of pride and lust Must with new stormes be weatherbeat Double in my heart thy flame Which let devout sad teares intend and let Though this glasse lanthorne flesh do suffer maime Fire Sacrifice Priest Altar be the same IV. The TRINITY O Blessed glorious Trinity Bones to Philosophy but milke to faith Which as wise serpents diversly Most slipperinesse yet most entanglings hath As you distinguish'd undistinct By power love knowledge bee Give mee a such selfe different instinct Of these let all mee elemented bee Of power to love to know you unnumbred three V. The Virgin MARY For that faire blessed Mother-maid Whose flesh redeem'd us That she-Cherubin Which unlock'd Paradise and made One claime for innocence and disseiz'd sinne Whose wombe was a strange heav'n for there God cloath'd himselfe and grew Our zealous thankes wee poure As her deeds were Our helpes so are her prayers nor can she sue In vaine who hath such titles unto you VI. The Angels And since this life our nonage is And wee in
influence all impression came But by receivers impotencies lame Who though she could not transubstantiate All states to gold yet guilded every state So that some Princes have some temperance Some Counsellers some purpose to advance The common profit and some people have Some stay no more then Kings should give to crave Some women have some taciturnity Some nunneries some graines of chastitie She that did thus much and much more could doe But that our age was Iron and rustie too Shee she is dead she 's dead when thou knowst this Thou knowst how drie a Cinder this world is And learn'st thus much by our Anatomy That 't is in vaine to dew or mollifie It with thy teares or sweat or blood nothing Is worth our travaile griefe or perishing But those rich joyes which did possesse her heart Of which she 's now partaker and a part But as in cutting up a man that 's dead The body will not last out to have read On every part and therefore men direct Their speech to parts that are of most effect So the worlds carcasse would not last if I Were punctuall in this Anatomy Nor smels it well to hearers if one tell Them their disease who faine would think thy're well Here therefore be the end and blessed maid Of whom is meant what ever hath been said Or shall be spoken well by any tongue Whose name refines course lines and makes prose song Accept this tribute and his first yeares rent Who till his darke short tapers end be spent As oft as thy feast sees this widowed earth Will yearely celebrate thy second birth That is thy death for though the soule of man Be got when man is made 't is borne but than When man doth die our body 's as the wombe And as a Mid-wife death directs it home And you her creatures whom she workes upon And have your last and best concoction From her example and her vertue if you In reverence to her do thinke it due That no one should her praises thus rehearse As matter fit for Chronicle not verse Vouchsafe to call to minde that God did make A last and lasting'st peece a song He spake To Moses to deliver unto all That song because hee knew they would let fall The Law the Prophets and the History But keepe the song still in their memory Such an opinion in due measure made Me this great office boldly to invade Nor could incomprehensiblenesse deterre Mee from thus trying to emprison her Which when I saw that a strict grave could doe I saw not why verse might not do so too Verse hath a middle nature heaven keepes Soules The Grave keepes bodies Verse the Fame enroules A Funerall ELEGIE 'T Is lost to trust a Tombe with such a guest Or to confine her in a marble chest Alas what 's Marble Jeat or Porphyrie Priz'd with the Chrysolite of either eye Or with those Pearles and Rubies which she was Joyne the two Indies in one Tombe 't is glasse And so is all to her materials Though every inch were ten Escurials Yet she 's demolish'd can wee keepe her then In works of hands or of the wits of men Can these memorials ragges of paper give Life to that name by which name they must live Sickly alas short-liv'd aborted bee Those carcasse verses whose soule is not shee And can shee who no longer would be shee Being such a Tabernacle stoop to be In paper wrapt or when shee would not lie In such a house dwell in an Elegie But'tis no matter wee may well allow Verse to live so long as the world will now For her death wounded it The world containes Princes for armes and counsellors for braines Lawyers for tongues Divines for hearts and more The rich for stomackes and for backs the poore The officers for hands merchants for feet By which remote and distant Countries meet But those fine spirits which do tune and set This Organ are those peeces which beget Wonder and love and these were shee and shee Being spent the world must needs decrepit bee For since death will proceed to triumph still He can finde nothing after her to kill Except the world it selfe so great was shee Thus brave and confident may Nature bee Death cannot give her such another blow Because shee cannot such another show But must wee say she 's dead may 't not be said That as a sundred clocke is peecemeale laid Not to be lost but by the makers hand Repollish'd without errour then to stand Or as the Affrique Niger streame enwombs It selfe into the earth and after comes Having first made a naturall bridge to passe For many leagues farre greater then it was May 't not be said that her grave shall restore Her greater purer firmer then before Heaven may say this and joy in 't but can wee Who live and lacke her here this vantage see What is 't to us alas if there have beene An Angell made a Throne or Cherubin Wee lose by 't and as aged men are glad Being tastlesse growne to joy in joyes they had So now the sick starv'd world must feed upon This joy that we had her who now is gone Rejoyce then Nature and this World that you Fearing the last fires hastning to subdue Your force and vigour ere it were neere gone Wisely bestow'd and laid it all on one One whose cleare body was so pure and thinne Because it need disguise no thought within 'T was but a through-light scarfe her minde t'inroule Or exhalation breath'd out from her Soule One whom all men who durst no more admir'd And whom who ere had worke enough desir'd As when a Temple 's built Saints emulate To which of them it shall be consecrate But as when heaven lookes on us with new eyes Those new starres every Artist exercise VVhat place they should assigne to them they doubt Argue ' and agree not till those starres goe out So the world studied whose this peece should be Till shee can be no bodies else nor shee But like a Lampe of Balsamum desir'd Rather t' adorne then last she soone expir'd Cloath'd in her virgin white integritie For marriage though it doth not staine doth die To scape th'infirmities which wait upon VVoman she went away before sh'was one And the worlds busie noyse to overcome Tooke so much death as serv'd for opium For though she could not nor could chuse to dye She'ath yeelded to too long an extasie Hee which not knowing her said History Should come to reade the booke of destiny How faire and chast humble and high she'ad been Much promis'd much perform'd at not fifteene And measuring future things by things before Should turne the leafe to reade and reade no more VVould thinke that either destiny mistooke Or that some leaves were torne out of the booke But 't is not so Fate did but usher her To yeares of reasons use and then inferre Her destiny to her selfe which liberty She tooke but for thus much thus much
bee Division and thy happyest Harmonie Thinke thee laid on thy death-bed loose and slacke And thinke that but unbinding of a packe To take one precious thing thy soule from thence Thinke thy selfe patch'd with fevers violence Anger thine ague more by calling it Thy Physicke chide the slacknesse of the fit Thinke that thou hear'st thy knell and think no more But that as Bels cal'd thee to Church before So this to the Triumphant Church calls thee Thinke Satans Sergeants round about thee bee And thinke that but for Legacies they thrust Give one thy Pride to'another give thy Lust Give them those sinnes which they gave thee before And trust th' immaculate blood to wash thy score Thinke thy friends weeping round thinke that they Weepe but because they goe not yet thy way Thinke that they close thine eyes and thinke in this That they confesse much in the world amisse Who dare not trust a dead mans eye with that Which they from God and Angels â—â—er not Thinke that they shroud thee up think from thence They reinvest thee in white innocence Thinke that thy body rots and if so low Thy soule exalted so thy thoughts can goe Think thee a Prince who of themselves create Wormes which insensibly devoure their State Thinke that they bury thee and thinke that right Laies thee to sleepe but a Saint Lucies night Thinke these things cheerefully and if thou bee Drowsie or slacke remember then that shee Shee whose complexion was so even made That which of her ingredients should invade The other three no Feare no Art could guesse So far were all remov'd from more or lesse But as in Mithridate or just perfumes Where all good things being met no one presumes To governe or to triumph on the rest Only because all were no part was best And as though all doe know that quantities Are made of lines and lines from Points arise None can these lines or quantities unjoynt And say this is a line or this a point So though the Elements and Humors were In her one could not say this governes there Whose even constitution might have woon Any disease to venter on the Sunne Rather then her and make a spirit feare That hee too disuniting subject were To whose proportions if we would compare Cubes th' are unstable Circles Angular She who was such a chaine as Fate employes To bring mankinde all Fortunes it enjoyes So fast so even wrought as one would thinke No accident could threaten any linke Shee shee embrac'd a sicknesse gave it meat The purest blood and breath that e'r it eate And hath taught us that though a good man hath Title to heaven and plead it by his Faith And though he may pretend a conquest since Heaven was content to suffer violence Yea though hee plead a long possession too For they 're in heaven on earth who heavens workes do Though hee had right and power and place before Yet death must usher and unlocke the doore Thinke further on thy selfe my Soule and thinke How thou at first wast made but in a sinke Thinke that it argued some infirmitie That those two soules which then thou foundst in me Thou fedst upon and drewst into thee both My second soule of sense and first of growth Thinke but how poore thou wast how obnoxious Whom a small lumpe of flesh could poyson thus This curded milke this poore unlittered whelpe My body could beyond escape or helpe Infect thee with Originall sinne and thou Couldst neither then refuse nor leave it now Thinke that no stubborne sullen Anchorit Which fixt to a pillar or a grave doth sit Bedded and bath'd in all his ordures dwels So fowly as our Soules in their first built Cels. Thinke in how poore a prison thou didst lie After enabled but to suck and crie Thinke when 't was growne to most 't was a poore Inne A Province pack'd up in two yards of skinne And that usurp'd or threatned with a rage Of sicknesses or their true mother Age. But thinke that death hath now enfranchis'd thee Thou hast thy'expansion now and libertie Thinke that a rustie Peece discharg'd is flowne In peeces and the bullet is his owne And freely flies this to thy Soule allow Thinke thy shell broke thinke thy Soule hatch'd but now And think this slow-pac'd soule which late did cleave To'a body and went but by the bodies leave Twenty perchance or thirty mile a day Dispatches in a minute all the way Twixt heaven and earth she stayes not in the ayre To looke what Meteors there themselves prepare She carries no desire to know nor sense Whether th'ayres middle region be intense For th' Element of fire she doth not know Whether she past by such a place or no She baits not at the Moone nor cares to trie Whether in that new world men live and die Venus retards her not to'enquire how shee Can being one starre Hesper and Vesper bee Hee that charm'd Argus eyes sweet Mercury Workes not on her who now is growne all eye Who if she meet the body of the Sunne Goes through not staying till his course be runne Who findes in Mars his Campe no corps of Guard Nor is by Iove nor by his father bard Bee ere she can consider how she went At once is at and through the Firmament And as these starres were but so many beads Strung on one string speed undistinguish'd leads Her through those Spheares as through the beads a string Whose quick successioÌ„ makes it still one thing As doth the pith which lest our bodies slacke Strings fast the little bones of necke and backe So by the Soule doth death string Heaven and Earth For when our Soule enjoyes this her third birth Creation gave her one a second grace Heaven is as neare and present to her face As colours are and objects in a roome Where darknesse was before when Tapers come This must my Soule thy long-short Progresse bee To'advance these thoughts Remember then that she She whose faire body no such prison was But that a Soule might well be pleas'd to passe An age in her she whose rich beauty lent Mintage to other beauties for they went But for so much as they were like to her Shee in whose body if we dare preferre This low world to so high a marke as shee The Westerne treasure Easterne spicetie Europe and Afrique and the unknowne rest Were easily found or what in them was best And when w'have made this large discoverie Of all in her some one part then will bee Twenty such parts whose plenty and riches is Enough to make twenty such worlds as this Shee whom had they knowne who did first betroth The Tutelar Angels and assigned one both To Nations Cities and to Companies To Functions Offices and dignities And to each severall man to him and him They would have given her one for every limbe She of whose soule if wee may say 't was gold Her body was th'Electrum and did hold Many degrees of that
in Sion which hath power To eate and her foundations to devour 12 Nor would the Kings of the earth nor all which live In the inhabitable world beleeve That any adversary any foe Into Ierusalem should enter so 13 For the Priests sins and Prophets which have shed Blood in the streets and the just murthered 14 Which when those men whom they made blinde did stray Thorough the streets defiled by the way With blood the which impossible it was Their garments should scape touching as they passe 15 Would cry aloud depart defiled men Depart depart and touch us not and then They fled and strayd and with the Gentiles were Yet told their friends they should not long dwell there 16 For this they are scattered by Jehovahs face VVho never will regard them more No grace Unto their old men shall the foe afford Nor that they are Priests redeeme them from the sword 17 And wee as yet for all these miseries Desiring our vaine helpe consume our eyes And such a nation as cannot save VVe in desire and speculation have 18 They hunt our steps that in the streets wee feare To goe our end is now approached neere Our dayes accomplish'd are this the last day Eagles of heaven are not so swift as they 19 VVhich follow us o'r mountaine tops they flye At us and for us in the desart lye 20 The annointed Lord breath of our nostrils hee Of whom we said under his shadow wee Shall with more ease under the Heathen dwell Into the pit which these men digged fell 21 Rejoyce O Edoms daughter joyfull bee Thou which inhabitst her for unto thee This cup shall passe and thou with drunkennesse Shalt fill thy selfe and shew thy nakednesse 22 And then they sinnes O Sion shall be spent The Lord will not leave thee in banishment Thy sinnes O Edoms daughter hee will see And for them pay thee with captivitie CAP. V. 1 REmember O Lord what is fallen on us See and marke how we are reproached thus 2 For unto strangers our possession Is turn'd our houses unto Aliens gone 3 Our mothers are become as widowes wee As Orphans all and without fathers be 4 Waters which are our owne wee drunke and pay And upon our owne wood a price they lay 5 Our persecutors on our necks do sit They make us travaile and not intermit 6 We stretch our hands unto th' Egyptians To get us bread and to the Assyrians 7 Our Fathers did these sinnes and are no more But wee do beare the sinnes they did before 8 They are but servants which do rule us thus Yet from their hands none would deliver us 9 With danger of our life our bread wee gat For in the wildernesse the sword did wait 10 The tempests of this famine wee liv'd in Black as an Ocean colour'd had our kinne 11 In Iudaes cities they the maids abus'd By force and so women in Sion us'd 12 The Princes with their hands they hung no grace Nor honour gave they to the Elders face 13 Unto the mill our yong men carried are And children fell under the wood they bare 14 Elders the gates youth did their songs forbeare Gone was our joy our dancings mournings were 15 Now is the crowne falne from our head and woe Be unto us because we'have sinned so 16 For this our hearts do languish and for this Over our eyes a cloudy dimnesse is 17 Because mount Sion desolate doth lye And foxes there do goe at libertie 18 But thou O Lord art ever and thy throne From generation to generation 19 Why should'st thou forget us eternally Or leave us thus long in this misery 20 Restore us Lord to thee that so we may Returne and as of old renew our day 21 For oughtest thou O Lord despise us thus 22 And to be utterly enrag'd at us SATYRES Satyre I. AWay thou fondling motley humorist Leave mee and in this standing woodden chest Consorted with these few bookes let me lye In prison and here be coffin'd when I dye Here are Gods conduits grave Divines and here Natures Secretary the Philosopher And jolly Statesmen which teach how to tie The sinewes of a cities mistique bodie Here gathering Chroniclers and by them stand Giddie fantastique Poëts of each land Shall I leave all this constant company And follow headlong wild uncertaine thee First sweare by thy best love in earnest If thou which lov'st all canst love any best Thou wilt not leave mee in the middle street Though some more spruce companion thou dost meet Not though a Captaine do come in thy way Bright parcell gilt with forty dead mens pay Not though a briske perfum'd piert Courtier Deigne with a nod thy courtesie to answer Nor come a velvet Justice with a long Great traine of blew coats twelve or fourteen strong Wilt thou grin or fawne on him or prepare A speech to Court his beautious sonne and heire For better or worse take mee or leave mee To take and leave mee is adultery Oh monstrous superstitious puritan Of refin'd manners yet ceremoniall man That when thou meet'st one with enquiring eyes Dost search and like a needy broker prize The silke and gold he weares and to that rate So high or low dost raise thy formall hate That wilt consort none untill thou have knowne What lands hee hath in hope or of his owne As though all thy companions should make thee Jointures and marry thy deare company Why should'st thou that dost not onely approve But in ranke it chie lust desire and love The nakednesse and barrennesse to enjoy of thy plumpe muddy whore or prostitute boy Hate vertue though shee be naked and bare At birth and death our bodies naked are And till our Soules be unapparrelled Of bodies they from blisse are banished Mans first blest state was naked when by sinne Hee lost that yet hee was cloath'd but in beasts skin And in this course attire which I now weare With God and with the Muses I conferre But since thou like a contrite penitent Charitably warm'd of thy sinnes dost repent These vanities and giddinesses loe I shut my chamber doore and come le ts goe But sooner may a cheape whore who hath beene Worne by as many severall men in sinne As are black feathers or musk-colour hose Name her childs right true father ' mongst all those Sooner may one guesse who shall beare away The infant of London Heire to an India And sooner may a gulling weather Spie By drawing forth heavens Sceanes tell certainly What fashioned hats or ruffes or suits next yeare Our subtile wittied antique youths will weare Then thou when thou depart'st from mee can show Whither why when or with whom thou wouldst go But how shall I be pardon'd my offence That thus have sinn'd against my conscience Now we are in the street He first of all Improvidently proud creepes to the wall And so imprisoned and hem'd in by mee Sells for a little state high libertie Yet though he cannot skip forth now to greet
Dr Donne IS Donne great Donne deceas'd then England say Thou'hast lost a man where language chose to stay And shew it's gracefull power I would not praise That and his vast wit which in these vaine dayes Make many proud but as they serv'd to unlock That Cabinet his minde where such a stock Of knoweledge was repos'd as all lament Or should this generall cause of discontent And I rejoyce I am not so severe But as I write a line to weepe a teare For his decease Such sad extremities May make such men as I write Elegies And wonder not for when a generall losse Falls on a nation and they slight the crosse God hath rais'd Prophets to awaken them From stupifaction witnesse my milde pen Not us'd to upbraid the world though now it must Freely and boldly for the cause is just Dull age Oh I would spare thee but th' art worse Thou art not onely dull but hast a curse Of black ingratitude if not couldst thou Part with miraculous Donne and make no vow For thee and thine successively to pay A sad remembrance to his dying day Did his youth scatter Poetrie wherein Was all Philosophie Was every sinne Character'd in his Satyres made so foule That some have fear'd their shapes kept their soule Freer by reading verse Did he give dayes Past marble monuments to those whose praise He would perpetuate Did hee I feare The dull will doubt these at his twentieth yeare But more matur'd Did his full soule conceive And in harmonious-holy-numbers weave A Crowme of sacred sonets fit to adorne A dying Martyrs brow or to be worne On that blest head of Mary Magdalen After she wip'd Christs feet but not till then Did hee fit for such penitents as shee And hee to use leave us a Litany Which all devout men love and sure it shall As times grow better grow more classicall Did he write Hymnes for piety and wit Equall to those great grave Prudentius writ Spake he all Languages knew he all Lawes The grounds and use of Physicke but because 'T was mercenary wav'd it Went to see That blessed place of Christs nativity Did he returne and preach him preach him so As none but hee did or could do They know Such as were blest to heare him know 't is truth Did he confirme thy age convert thy youth Did he these wonders And is this deare losse Mourn'd by so few few for so great a crosse But sure the silent are ambitious all To be Close Mourners at his Funerall If not In common pitty they forbare By repetitions to renew our care Or knowing griefe conceiv'd conceal'd consumes Man irreparably as poyson'd fumes Do waste the braine make silence a fafe way To'inlarge the Soule from these walls mud and clay Materialls of this body to remaine With Donne in heaven where no promiscuous paine Lessens the joy wee have for with him all Are satisfyed with joyes essentiall My thoughts Dwell on this Ioy and do not call Griefe backe by thinking of his Funerall Forget he lov'd mee Waste not my sad yeares Which haste to Davids seventy fill'd with feares And sorrow for his death Forget his parts Which finde a living grave in good mens hearts And for my first is daily paid for sinne Forget to pay my second sigh for him Forget his powerfull preaching and forget I am his Convert Oh my frailtie let My flesh be no more heard it will obtrude This lethargie so should my gratitude My vowes of gratitude should so be broke Which can no more be then Donnes vertues spoke By any but himselfe for which cause I Write no Encomium but an Elegie IZ WA An Elegie upon the death of the Deane of Pauls Dr. Iohn Donne By Mr. Tho Carie. CAn we not force from widdowed Poetry Now thou art dead Great DONNE one Elegie To crowne thy Hearse Why yet dare we not trust Though with unkneaded dowe-bak't prose thy dust Such as the uncisor'd Churchman from the flower Of fading Rhetorique short liv'd as his houre Dry as the sand that measures it should lay Upon thy Ashes on the funerall day Have we no voice no tune Did'st thou dispense Through all our language both the words and sense 'T is a sad truth The Pulpit may her plaine And sober Christian precepts still retaine Doctrines it may and wholesome Uses frame Grave Homilies and Lectures But the flame Of thy brave Soule that shot such heat and light As burnt our earth and made our darknesse bright Committed holy Rapes upon our Will Did through the eye the melting heart distill And the deepe knowledge of darke truths so teach As sense might judge what phansie could not reach Must be desir'd for ever So the fire That fills with spirit and heat the Delphique quire Which kindled first by thy Promethean breath Glow'd here a while lies quench't now in thy death The Muses garden with Pedantique weedes O'rspred was purg'd by thee The lazie seeds Of servile imitation throwne away And fresh invention planted Thou didst pay The debts of our penurious bankrupt age Licentious thefts that make poëtique rage A Mimique fury when our soules must bee Possest or with Anacreons Extasie Or Pindars not their owne The subtle cheat Of slie Exchanges and the jugling feat Of two-edg'd words or whatsoever wrong By ours was done the Greeke or Latine tongue Thou hast redeem'd and open'd Us a Mine Of rich and pregnant phansie drawne a line Of masculine expression which had good Old Orpheus seene Or all the ancient Brood Our superstitious fooles admire and hold Their lead more precious then thy burnish't Gold Thou hadst beene their Exchequer and no more They each in others dust had rak'd for Ore Thou shalt yield no precedence but of time And the blinde fate of language whose tun'd chime More charmes the outward sense Yet thou maist claime From so great disadvantage greater fame Since to the awe of thy imperious wit Our stubborne language bends made only fit With her tough-thick-rib'd hoopes to gird about Thy Giant phansie which had prov'd too stout For their soft melting Phrases As in time They had the start so did they cull the prime Buds of invention many a hundred yeare And left the rifled fields besides the feare To touch their Harvest yet from those bare lands Of what is purely thine thy only hands And that thy smallest worke have gleaned more Then all those times and tongues could reape before But thou art gone and thy strict lawes will be Too hard for Libertines in Poetrie They will repeale the goodly exil'd traine Of gods and goddesses which in thy just raigne Were banish'd nobler Poems now with these The silenc'd tales o'th'Metamorphoses Shall stuffe their lines and swell the windy Page Till Verse refin'd by thee in this last Age Turne ballad rime Or those old Idolls bee Ador'd againe with new apostasie Oh pardon mee that breake with untun'd verse The reverend silence that attends thy herse Whose awfull solemne murmures were