winged Vowes Makes haste to meet her morning Spouse And close with his immortal kisses Happy Soul who never misses To improve that precious hour And every day Seize her sweet Prey All fresh and fragrant as he rises Dropping with a Balmy showr A delicious dew of Spices O let that happy Soul hold fast Her Heavenly Armful she shall taste At once ten thousand Paradises She shall have power To Rifle and Deflower The rich and roseal Spring of those rare sweets Which with a swelling Bosome there she meets Boundless and infinite bottomless Treasures Of pure inebriating pleasures Happy soul she shall discover What joy what bliss How many Heavens at once it is To have a God become her Lover On Mr G. Herbert's Book entituled The Temple of Sacred Poems sent to a Gentlewoman KNow you Fair on what you look Divinest Love lies in this Book Expecting Fire from your Eyes To kindle this his Sacrifice When your Hands unty these strings Think you 've an Angel by the wings One that gladly will be nigh To wait upon each morning sigh To flutter in the balmy Air Of your well perfumed Prayer These white Plumes of his Hee 'l lend you Which every day to Heaven will send you To take acquaintance of the Sphear And all the smooth-fac'd kindred there And though Herberts Name do owe These Devotions fairest know That while I lay them on the shrine Of your white Hand they are mine A Hymn to the Name and Honour of the Admirable Saint TERESA Foundress of the Reformation of the Discalced Carmelites both Men and Women a Woman for Angelical heighth of speculation for Masculine courage of performance more then a Woman who yet a Child out ran Maturity and durst plot a Martyrdom LOve thou art absolute sole Lord Of Life and Death To prove the Word â—…e need to go to none of all â—…hose thy old soldiers stout and tall â—…ipe and full grown that could reach down â—…ith strong Arms their Triumphant Crown â—…ch as could with lusty breath â—…eak loud unto the face of Death â—…eir great Lords glorious Name to none â—…f those whose large Brests built a Throne â—…r Love their Lord glorious and great â—…e'll see him take a private seat â—…nd make his Mansion in the milde â—…d milky Soul of a soft Child Scarce had she learnt to Lisp a name Of Martyr yet she thinks it shame Life should so long play with that Breath Which spent can buy so brave a Death 〈◊〉 never undertook to know â—…at Death with â—…ove should have to doe Nor hath she e'r yet understood Why to show Love she should shed Blood Yet though she cannot tell you why She can Love and she can Dye Scarce had she Blood enough to make A guilty Sword blush for her sake Yet has she a heart dares hope to prove How much less strong is Death then Love Be love but there let poor six years Be pos'd with the maturest Fears Man trembles at we straight shall find Love knows no nonage nor the Mind 'T is Love not Years or Limbs that can Make the Martyr or the Man Love toucht her Heart and loe it beats High and burns with such brave heats Such thirst to die as dare drink up A thousand cold Deaths in one Cup Good reason for she breaths all fire Her weak Brest heaves with strong desire Of what she may with fruitless wishes Seek for amongst her Mothers Kisses Since 't is not to be had at home She 'll travel to a Martyrdome No home for her confesses she But where she may a Martyr be She 'll to the Moors and Trade with them For this unvalued Diadem She offers them her dearest Breath With Christs name in 't in change for Death She 'll bargain with them and will give Them God and teach them how to live In him or if they this denie For him she 'll teach them how to die So shall she leave amongst them sown Her Lords Blood or at least her own Farewel then all the World adieu Teresa is no more for you Farewel all pleasures sports and joyes Never till now esteemed toyes Farewell whatever dear may be Mothers Arms or Fathers Knee Farewel House and Farewel Home She 's for the Moors and Martyrdome Sweet not so fast Loe thy fair Spouse Whom thou seek'st with so swift vows Calls thee back and bids thee come T' embrace a milder Martyrdome Blest pow'rs forbid thy tender life Should bleed upon a barbarous knife Or some base hand have power to rase Thy Brests chaste Cabinet and uncase A Soul kept there so sweet O no Wise Heaven will never have it so Thou art Love's victim and must dye A death more mystical and high Into Loves hand thou shalt let fall A still surviving Funeral He is the Dart must make the death Whose stroke wall taste thy hallowed Breath A Dart thrice dipt in that rich flame Which writes thy Spouses radiant name Upon the roof of Heaven where ay It shines and with a Soveraign ray Beats bright upon the burning faces Of souls which in that names sweet graces Find everlasting smiles so Rare So Spiritual Pure and Fair Must be the immortal instrument Upon whose choice point shall be spent A life so lov'd and that there be Fit Executioners for thee The fairest and the first-born Loves of fire Blest Seraphims shall leave their Quire And turn Loves soldiers upon thee To exercise their Archery O how oft shalt thou complain Of a sweet and subtile pain Of intollerable joyes Of a death in which who dies Loves his death and dies again And would for ever so be slain And lives and dies and knows not why To live but that he still may dye How kindly will thy gentle Heart Kisse the sweetly killing Dart And close in his Embraces keep Those delicious wounds that weep Balsome to heal themselves with thus When these thy Deaths so numerous Shall all at once dye into one And melt thy souls sweet Mansion Like a soft Lump of Incense hasted By too hot a fire and wasted Into perfuming Clouds So fast Shalt thou exhale to Heaven at last In a dissolving sigh and then O what ask not the Tongues of men Angels cannot tell suffice Thy self shalt feel thine own full joyes And hold them fast for ever there So soon as thou shalt first appear The Moon of Maiden Stars thy white Mistress attended by such bright Souls as thy shining self shall come And in her first ranks make thee room Where 'mongst her snowy Family Immortal welcomes wait on thee O what delight when she shall stand And teach thy Lips Heaven with her hand On which thou now may'st to thy wishes Heap up thy consecrated Kisses What joy shall seize thy Soul when she â—…ending her Blessed Eyes on thee Those second smiles of Heaven shall dart Her mild Rays through thy melting heart Angels thy old friends there shall greet thee Glad at their own home now to meet thee All thy good Works
send Whose drowsiness hath wrong'd the Muses friend What hope Aurora to propitiate thee Unless the Muse sing my Apology O in that Morning of my shame when I Lay folded up in sleeps Captivity How at the sight didst thou draw back thine Eyes Into thy modest veyl how did'st thou rise Twice Dy'd in thine own Blushes and did'st run To draw the Curtains and awake the Sun Who rowzing his illustrious Tresses came An seeing the loath'd Object hid for shame His Head in thy fair Bosome and still hides Me from his Patronage I pray he chides And pointing to dull Morpheus bids me take My own Apollo try if I can make His Lethe be my Helicon and see If Morpheus have a Muse to wait on me Hence 't is my humble Fancy finds no wings No nimble Raptures starts to Heaven and brings Enthusiastick Flames such as can give Marrow to my plump Genius make it live Drest in the glorious Madness of a Muse Whose Feet can walk the Milky way and chuse Her Starry Throne whose Holy heats can warm The Grave and hold up an exalted Arm To lift me from my lazy Urne and climb Upon the stopped shoulders of old Time And trace Eternity But all is dead All these delicious hopes are buried In the deep wrinkles of his angry Brow Where Mercy cannot find them but O thou Bright Lady of the Morn pitty doth lye So warm in thy soft Brest it cannot dye Have Mercy then and when he next shall rise O meet the angry God invade his Eyes And stroak his radiant Cheeks one timelly kiss Will kill his Anger and revive my Bliss So to the Treasure of thy pearly Deaw Thrice will I pay three Tears to show how true My grief is so my wakeful lay shall knock At th' Oriental Gates and duly mock The early Larks shrill Orizons to be An Anthem at the Days Nativity And the same Rosie-finger'd hand of thine That shuts Nights dying Eyes shall open mine But thou saint God of sleep forget that I Was ever known to be thy votary No more my Pillow shall thine Altar be Nor will I offer any more to thee My self a melting-Sacrifice I 'm born Again a fresh Child of the Buxome Morn Heir of the Suns first Beams why threat'st thou so Why dost thou shake thy Leaden Scepter goe Bestow thy Poppy upon wakeful woe Sickness and Sorrow whose pale Lids ne'r know Thy Downy Finger dwell upon their Eyes Shut in their Tears shut out their Miseries Loves Horoscope LOve brave vertues younger Brother Erst hath made my Heart a Mother She consults the conscious Sphears To câ—…lculate her young Sons years She asks if sad or saving pow'rs Gave Omen to his Infant hours She asks each â—…tar that then stood by If poor Love shall live or dye Ah my heart is that the way Are these the Beams that rule thy Day Thou know'st a Face in whose each look Beauty lays ope Loves Fortune-Book On whose fair Revolutions wait The obsequious Motions of Loves Fate Ah my Heart her Eyes and she Have taught thee new Astrology How e'r Loves Native hours were set What ever Starry Synod met T is in the Mercy of her Eye If poor Love shall live or dye If those sharp Rays putting on Points of Death bid Love begone Though the Heavens in Council sate To crown an uncontrouled Fate Though their best Aspects twin'd upon The kindest Constellation Cast amorous glances on his Birth And whisper'd the confederate Earth To pave his Paths with all the good That warms the Bed of Youth and Blood Love ha's no plea against her Eye Beauty frowns and Love must dye But if her milder infltence move And guild the hopes of humble Love Though Heavens inauspicious Eye Lay black on Loves Nativity Though every Diamond in Joves Crown Fixt his forehead to a frown Her Eye a strong appeal can give Beauty smiles and Love shall live O if Love shall live O where But in her Eye or in her Ear In her Breast or in her Breath Shall I hide poor Love from Death For in the life ought else can give Love shall dye although he live Or if Love shall dye O where But in her Eye or in her Ear In her Breath or in her Brest Shall I build his Funeral Nest While Love shall thus entombed lye Love shall live although he dye Out of Virgil In the praise of the Spring ALL Trees all Leavy Groves confess the Spring Their gentlest Friend then then the Lands begin To swell with forward pride and seed desire To generation Heavens Almighty Sire Melts on the Bosome of his Love and powrs Himself into her Lap in fruitful showres And by a soft insinuation mixt With Earths large Masse doth cherish and assist Her weak Conceptions No loan shade but Rings With chatting Birds delicious murmurings Then Venus mild instinct at set times yields The Herds to kindly meetings then the Fields Quick with warm Zephires lively breath lay forth Their pregnant Bosomes in a fragrant Birth Each body 's plump and jucy all things full Of supple moisture no coy twig but will Trust his beloved Bosome to the Sun Grown lusty now No Vine so weak and young That fears the foul-mouth'd Auster or those storms That the South-west wind hurries in his Arms But hastes her forward Blossomes and lays out Freely lays out her Leaves nor do I doubt But when the World first out of Chaos sprang So smil'd the days and so the tenor ran Of their felicity A spring was there An everlasting spring the jolly year Led round in his great Circle no winds Breath As then did smell of Winter or of Death When life's sweet Light first shone on Beasts and when From their hard Mother Earth sprang hardy men When Beasts took up their Lodging in the Wood Stars in their higher Chambers never cou'd The tender growth of things endure the sence Of such a change but that the Heav'ns indulgence Kindly supplys sick Nature and doth mold A sweetly temper'd Mean nor hot nor cold With a Picture sent to a Friend I Paint so ill my Piece had need to be Painted again by some good Poesie I write so ill my slender Line is scarce So much as th' Picture of a well-Lim'd Verse Yet may the Love I send be true though I Send not true Picture nor true Poesie Both which away I should not need to fear My Love or Feign'd or Painted should appear In praise of Lessius his rule of Health GOe now with some daring Drugg Bâ—…it the disease and while they tug Thou to maintain their cruel strife Spend the dear Treasure of thy life Go take Physick doat upon Some big-nam'd Composition The Oraculous Doctors mistick Bills Certain hard Words made into Pills And what at length shalt get by these Onely a Costlyer disease Goe poor Man think what shall be Remedy against thy Remedy That which makes us have no need Of Physick that 's Physick indeed Hark hither Reader wouldst thou see
a Pathetical descant upon the devout Plainsong of Stabat Mater dolorosa 1. IN shade of Deaths sad Tree Stood doleful she Ah she now by no other Name to be known alas but Sorrow's Mother Before her Eyes Her 's and the whole World's joyes Hanging all torn she sees and in his woes And Pains her pangs and throes Each wound of his from every part All more at home in her own heart 2. What kind of Marble than Is that cold man Who can look on and see Nor keep such Noble sorrows company Sure even from you My Flints some drops are due To see so many unkind swords contest So fast for one soft Brest While with a faithful mutual floud Her Eyes bleed Tears his wounds weep blood 3. O costly intercourse Of deaths and worse Divided Loves while Son and Mother Discourse alternate wounds to one another Quick Deaths that grow And gather as they come and go His Nails write swords in her which soon her heart Pays back with more then their own smart Her swords still growing with his pain Turn Spears and straight come home again 4. She sees her Son her God Bow with a load Of borrow'd sins and swim In woes that were not made for him Ah hard Command Of Love Here must she stand Charg'd to look on and with a stedfast Eye See her life dye Leaving her only so much Breath As serves to keep alive her death 5. O Mother Turtle-dove Soft sourse of Love That these dry Lids might borrow Somthing from thy full seas of Sorrow O in that Brest Of thine the noblest Nest Both of Love's Fires and Flouds might I recline This hard cold Heart of mine The chil lump would relent and prove Soft Subject for the siege of Love 6. O teach those wounds to bleed In me me so to read This Book of Loves thus writ In lines of death my life may copy it With Loyal cares O let me here claim shares Yield something in thy sad prerogative Great Queen of griefs and give Me to my Tears who though all stone Think much that thou shouldst mourn alone 7. Yea let my life and me Fix here with thee And at the Humble Foot Of this fair Tree take our Eternal Root That so we may At least be in Loves way And in these chaste wars while the wing'd wounds flee So fast 'twixt him and thee My Brest may catch the kiss of some kind Dart Though as at second hand from either Heart 8. O you your own best Darts Dear doleful hearts Hail and strike home and make me see That wounded bosomes their own weapons be Come Wounds come Darts Nail'd hands and pierced hearts Come your whole selves Sorrow's great Son and Mother Nor grudge a younger Brother Of grief 's his portion who had all their due One single wound should not have left for you 9. Shall I set there So deep a share Dear wounds and onely now In sorrows draw no dividend with you O be more wife If not more soft mine Eyes Flow tardy Founts and into decent showrs Dissolve my Days and Hours And if thou yet faint soul defer To bleed with him fail not to weep with her 10. Rich Queen lend some relief At least an alms of Grief To ' a heart who by sad right of sin Could prove the whole sum too sure due to him By all those stings Of Love sweet bitter things Which these torn hands transcrib'd on thy true Heart O teach mine too the Art To study him so till we mix Wounds and become one Crucifix 11. O let me suck the Wine So long of this chaste Vine Till drunk of the dear wounds I be A lost thing to the World as it to me O faithful friend Of me and of my end Fold up my life in Love and lay 't beneath My dear Lord's vital death Lo heart thy hopes whole Plea her precious breath Powr'd out in Prayers for thee thy Lord 's in death The Hymn of St. Thomas in Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament WIth all the pow'rs my poor Heart hath Of humble Love and Loyal Faith Thus low my hidden life I bow to thee Whom too much Love hath bow'd more low for me Down down proud sense discourses dye Keep close my soul 's inquiring Eye Nor touch nor taste must look for more But each sit still in his own door Your Ports are all superfluous here Save that which lets in Faith the Ear. Faith is my skill Faith can believe As fast as Love new Laws can give Faith is my force Faith strength affords To keep pace with those pow'rful words And words more sure more sweet then they Love could not think truth could not say O let thy wretch find that relief Thou didst afford the faithful Thief Plead for me Love Alledge and show That Faith has farther here to go And less to lean on because than Though hid as God wounds writ thee Man Thomas might touch none but might see At least the suffring side of thee And that too was thy self which thee did cover But here ev n that 's hid too which hides the other Sweet consider then that I Though allow'd not Hand nor Eye To teach at thy lov'd Face nor can Taste thee God or touch thee Man Both yet believe and witness thee My Lord too and my God as loud as he Help Lord my Hope increase And till my portion in thy peace Give Love for Life nor let my days Grow but in new pow'rs to name thy Praise O dear memorial of that Death Which lives still and allows us Breath Rich Royal Food Bountiful Bread Whose use denies us to the Dead Whose vital gust alone can give The same leave both to Eat and Live Live ever Bread of Loves and be My Life my Soul my surer self to me O soft self-wounding Pelican Whose Brest weeps Balm for wounded Man Ah this way bend thy benign Houd To a bleeding Heart that gâ—…spes for Blood That Blood whose least drops soveraign be To wash my Worlds of sine from me Come Love Come Lord and that long day For which I languish come away When this dry soul those Eyes shall see And drink the unseal'd sourse of thee When Glory 's Sun Faith's shade shall chase Then for thy veil give me thy Face Amen Thè Hymn for the Blessed Sacrament Lauda Sion Salvatorem 1. RIse Royal Sion rise and sing Thy Soul 's kind Shepheard thy Hearts King Stretch all thy powers call if you can Harps of Heav'n to hands of man This Soveraign subject sits above The best ambition of thy Love 2. Lo the Bread of Life this day 's Triumphant Text. provokes thy praise The living and life-giving Bread To the Great Twelve distributed When Life himself at point to dy Of Love was his own Legacy 3. Come Love and let us work a Song Loud and pleasant sweet and long Let Lips and Hearts lift high the noise Of so just and solemn joys Which on his white brows this
bright day Shall hence for ever bear away 4. Lo the new Law of a new Lord With a new Lamb blesses the Board The aged Pascha pleads not years But spies Love's dawn and disappears Types yield to Truths shades shrink away And their Night dyes into out Day 5. But lest that dy too we are bid Ever to do what he once did And by a mindful mystick breath That we may live revive his Death With a well-blest Bread and Wine Transum'd and taught to turn Divine 6. The Heav'n-instructed house of Faith Here a Holy Dictate hath That they but lend their Form and Face Themselves with reverence leave their place Nature and Name to be made good By a Nobler Bread more needful Blood 7. Where Nature's Laws no leave will give Bold Faith takes heart and dares believe In different species name not things Himself to me my Saviour brings As Meat in that as Drink in this But still in both one Christ he is 8. The receiving Mouth here makes Nor wound nor breach in what he takes Let one or one Thousand be Here Dividers single he Bears home no less all they no more Nor leave they both less then before 9. Though in it self this Soveraign Feast Be all the same to every Guest Yet on the same life-meaning Bread The child of death eats himself dead Nor is 't Love's fault but Sins dire skill That thus from Life can Death distil 10. When the blest signs thou broke shal't see Hold but thy Faith intire as he Who howsoe'r clad cannot come Lesse then whole Christ in every crumme In broken forms a stable Faith Untouch't her precious Total hath 11. Lo the Life-food of Angels then Bow'd to the lowly mouths of men The Childrens Bread the Bridegroom's Wine Not to be cast to Dogs or Swine 12. Lo the full final Sacrifice On which all Figures fix't their Eyes The ransom'd Isack and his Ram The Manna and the Paschal Lamb. 13. Jesu Master Just and true Our Food and faithful Shepherd too O by thy self vouchsafe to keep As with thy self thou feedst thy sheep 14. O let that Love which thus makes thee Mix with our low Mortality Lift our lean Souls and let us up Convictors of thine own full cup. Coheirs of Saints that so all may Drink the same Wine and the same Way Nor change the Pasture but the Place To seed of Thee in thine own Face Amen The HYMN Dies irae dies illa In Meditation of the day of Judgment 1. HEars't thou my soul what serious things Both the Psalm and Sybil sings Of a sure Judge from whose sharp Ray The World in Flames shall fly away 2. O that fire before whose face Heav'n and Earth shall find no place O these Eyes whose angry light Must be the day of that dread Night 3. O that trump whose blast shall run An Even round with th' circling Sun And urge the murmuring graves to bring Pale mankind forth to meet his King 4. Horror of Nature Hell and Death When a deep groan from beneath Shall cry we come we come and all The Caves of Night answer one call 5. O that Book whose Leaves so bright Will set the World in severe Light O that Judge whose Hand whose Eye None can indure yet none can fly 6. Ah then poor Soul what wilt thou say And to what Patron chuse to pray When Stars themselves shall stagger and The most firm Foot no more then stand 7. But thou giv'st leave dread Lord that we Take shelter from thy self in Thee And with the wings of thine own Dove Fly to thy Scepter of soft Love 8. Dear remember in that day Who was the cause thou cam'st this way Thy sheep was stray'd and thou wouldst be Even lost thy self in seeking me 9. Shall all that labour all that cost Of Love and ev'n that loss be lost And this lov'd soul judg'd worth no less Then all that way and weariness 10. Just Mercy then thy reck'ning be With my price and not with me 'T was paid at first with too much pain To be paid twice or once in vain 11. Mercy my Judge Mercy I cry With blushing Cheek and bleeding Eye The conscious Colours of my sin Are Red without and pale within 12. O let thine own soft Bowells pay Thy self and so discharge that day If sin can sigh Love can forgive O say the word my Soul shall live 13. Those Mercies which thy Mary found Or who thy Cross confest and Crown'd Hope tells my heart the same Loves be Still alive and still for me 14. Though both my Pray'rs and Tears combine Both worthless are for they are mine But thou thy bounteous self still be And show thou art by saving me 15. O when thy last frown shall proclaim The flocks of goats to folds of flame And all thy lost sheep found shall be Let come ye Blessod then call me 16. When the dread Ite shall divide Those Limbs of death from thy left side Let those Life-speaking Lips command That I inherit thy right hand 17. O hear a suppliant heart all crush't And crumbled into contrite dust My hope my fear my Judge my Friend Take charge of me and of my end The HYMN O Gloriosa Domina HAil most High most humble one Above the World below thy Son Whose blush the Moon beauteously marres And stains the timerous light of Stars He that made all things had not done Till he had made himself thy Son The whole World's host would be thy guest And board himself at thy rich Brest O boundless Hospitality The Feast of all things feeds on thee The first Eve Mother of our Fall E'r she bore any one slew all Of her unkind gift might we have The inheritance of a hasty Grave Quick buried in the wanton Tomb Of one forbidden bit Had not a better Fruit forbidden it Had not thy healthful womb The Worlds new Eastern window been And given us Heav'n again in giving him Thine was the Rosy Dawn that sprung the Day Which renders all the Stars she stole away Let then the aged World be wise and all Prove Nobly here unnatural 'T is gratitude to forget that other And call the Maiden Eve their Mother Ye redeem'd Nations far and Near Applaud your happy selves in her All you to whom this Love belongs And keep 't alive with lasting songs Let Hearts and Lips speak loud and say Hail door of Life and sourse of Day The Door was shut the Fountain seal'd Yet Light was seen and Life reveal'd The Fountain seal'd yet Life found way Glory to thee great Virgin 's son In bosom of thy Fathers bliss The same to thee sweet Spirit be done As ever shall be was and is Amen The Flaming Heart upon the Book and Picture of the Seraphical Saint Teresa as she is usually expressed with a Seraphim beside her WEll meaning Readers you that come as friends And catch the precious name this piece pretends Make not too much haste t' admire That fair-cheek't
fallacy of fire That is a Seraphim they say And this the great Teresia Readers be rul'd by me and make Here a well-plac't and wise mistake You must transpose the picture quite And spell it wrong to read it right Read Him for Her and Her for Him And call the Saint the Seraphim Painter what didst thou understand To put her Dart into his hand See even the years and size of him Shows this the Mother Seraphim This is the Mistress flame and duteous he Her happy fire-works here comes down to see O most poor-spirited of men Had thy cold Pencil kist her Pen Thou couldst not so unkindly err To show us this faint shade for her Why Man this speaks pure mortal frame And mocks with female Frost Love's manly flame One would suspect thou meanst to print Some weak inferiour Woman Saint But had thy pale-fac't purple took Fire from the burning checks of that bright Book Thou wouldst on her have heapt up all That could be found Seraphical What e'r this youth of fire wears fair Rosie Fingers Radiant Hair Glowing Cheek and glistring Wings All those fair and flagrant things But before all that fiery Dart Had fill'd the Hand of this great Heart Do then as equal right requires Since his the blushes be and her 's the fires Resume and rectify thy rude design Undress thy Seraphim into Mine Redeem this injury of thy Art Give him the Vail give her the Dart. Give him the vail that he may cover The red Cheeks of a rivall'd Lover Asham'd that our worl'd now can show Nests of new Seraphims here below Give her the Dart for it is she Fair youth shoots both thy shaft and Thee Say all ye wise and well-pierc'd hearts That live and dy amidst her Darts What is 't your tastful spirits do prove In that rare life of her and Love Say and bear witness Sends she not A Seraphim at every shot What Magazins of immortal Arms there shine Heav'ns great Artillery in each'love-spun line Give then the Dart to her who gives the flame Give him the veil who gives the shame But if it be the frequent fate Of worst faults to be fortunate If all 's prescription and proud wrong Hearkens not to an humble song For all the gallantry of him Give me the suffring Seraphim His be the bravery of all those bright things The glowing Cheeks the glistering wings The Rosie hand the radiant Dart Leave her alone the Flaming Heart Leave her that and thou shalt leave her Not one loose shaft but Love's whole Quiver For in Love's Field was never found A Nobler weapon then a wound Love's Passives are his Activ'st part The wounded is the wounding heart O Heart the equal poise of Love 's both parts Big alike with Wounds and Darts Live in these conquering Leave 's Live all the same And walk through all Tongues one Triumphant flame Live here great Heart and love and dye and kill And bleed and wound and yield and conquer still Let this immortal Life where e'r it comes Walk in a croud of Loves and Martyrdomes Let mystick Deaths wait on 't and wise souls be The Love-slain witnesses of this life of thee O sweet incendiary shew here thy Art Upon this Carcass of a hard cold Heart Let all thy scatter'd shafts of Light that play Among the Leaves of thy large Books of day Combin'd against this Brest at once break in And take away from me my self and sin This Gracious Robbery shall thy bounty be And my best fortunes such fair spoils of me O thou undaunted Daughter of Desires By all thy Dow'r of Lights and Fires By all the Eagle in thee all the Dove By all thy Lives and Deaths of Love By thy large draughts of intellectual day And by thy thirsts of Love more large then they By all thy brim-fill'd Bowls of fierce desire By thy last mornings draught of liquid Fire By the full Kingdom of that final kiss That seiz'd thy parting Soul and seal'd thee his By all the Heav'ns thou hast in him Fair Sister of the Seraphim By all of Him we have in Thee Leave nothing of my Self in me Let me so read thy life that I Unto all life of mine may dy A Song LOrd when the sense of thy sweet Grace Sends up my Soul to seek thy Face Thy Blessed Eyes breed such desire I dye in Love's delicious Fire O Love I am thy Sacrifice Be still Triumphant Blessed Eyes Still shine on me fair Suns that I Still may behold though still I dye Second part Though still I dye I live again Still longing so to be still slain So gainful is such loss of breath I dye even in desire of death Still live in me this loving strife Of living Death and dying Life For while thou sweetly slayest me Dead to my self I live in thee To Mistrses M. R. Councel concerning her Choise DEar Heav'n-designed Soul Amongst the rest Of Suiters that besiege your Maiden brest Why may not I My fortune try And venture to speak one good word Not for my self alas but for my dearer Lord You 'ave seen already in this lower sphear Of Froth and Bubbles what to look for here Say gentle Soul what can you find But painted shapes Peacocks and Apes Illustrious Flies Guilded Dunghils Glorious Lyes Goodly surmises And deep disguises Oaths of Water Words of Wind Truth bids me say 't is time you cease to Trust Your Soul to any son of Dust. 'T is time you listen to a braver Love Which from above Calls you up higher And bids you come And choose your room Among his own fair sons of fire Where you among The Golden throng That watches at his Palace doors May pass along And follow those fair Stars of yours Stars much too fair and pure to wait upon The false smiles of a sublunary Sun Sweet let me Prophesie that at last 't will prove Your wary Love Lays up his purer and more precious vows And means them for a far more worthy Spouse Then this world of Lies can give you Ev'n for him with whom nor cost Nor love nor labour can be lost Him who never will deceive you Let not my Lord the Mighty Lover Of souls disdain that I discover The hidden Art Of his high stratagem to win your heart It was his Heav'nly Art Kindly to cross you In your mistaken Love That at the next remove Thence he might toss you And strike your troubled heart Home to himself to hide it in his Brest The bright ambrosial Nest Of Love of Life and everlasting Rest. Happy mistake That thus shall wake Your wise soul never to be won Now with a love below the Sun Your first choice fails O when you choose agen May it not be among the sons of men ALEXIAS The Complaint of the forsaken wife of Saint Alexis The First ELEGY I Late the Roman Youth 's lov'd praise and pride Whom long none could obtain though thousands try'd Lo here am left alas For my lost
which went before And waited for thee at the Door Shall own thee there and all in one Weave a Constellation Of Crowns with which the King thy spouse Shall build up thy triumphant Brows All thy old Woes shall now smile on thee And thy pains set bright upon thee All thy sorrows here shall shine And thy sufferings be Divine Tears shall take Comfort and turn Gems And wrongs repent to Diadems Even thy deaths shall live and new Dress the soul which late they slew Thy wounds shall blush to such bright scarrs As keep account of the Lambs wars Those rare Works where thou shalt leave Writ Loves Noble History with Wit Taught thee by none but him while here They seed our souls shall cloath thine there Each Heavenly Word by whose hid flame Our hard hearts shall strike fire the same Shall flourish on thy Brows and be Both Fire to us and Flame to thee Whose Light shall live bright in thy face By Glory in our Hearts by Grace Thou shalt look round about and see Thousands of crown'd Souls throng to be Themselves thy Crown Sons of thy Nows The Virgin Births with which thy Spouse Made fruitful thy fair soul Go now And with them all about thee bow To him put on he 'l say put on My Rosy Love that thy rich Zone Sparkling with the sacred Flames Of thousand souls whose happy names Heaven keeps upon thy score thy bright Life brought them first to kiss the Light That kindled them to starrs and so Thou with the Lamb thy Lord shall 't goe And where so e'r he sits his white Steps walk with him those ways of Light Which who in death would live to see Must learn in life to dye like thee An Apology for the precedent Hymn as having been writ when the Author was yet a Protestant THus have I back again to thy bright name Fair sea of Holy fires transfus'd the Flame 〈◊〉 took from reading thee 't is to thy wrong 〈◊〉 know that in my weak and worthless song Thou here art set to shine where thy full day â—…carce dawns O pardon if I dare to say â—…hine own dear Books are guilty for from thence 〈◊〉 Learnt to know that Love is Eloquence â—…hat Heavenly Maxim gave me heart to try 〈◊〉 what to other Tongues is Tun'd so high â—…hy praise might not speak English too forbid By all thy Mysteries that there lye hid â—…orbid it Mighty Love let no fond hate â—…f Names and Words so far prejudicate â—…uls are not Spaniards too one friendly Flood â—…f Baptisme blends them all into one Blood â—…hrists Faith makes but one body of all souls â—…nd loves that Bodies Soul no Law controuls â—…ur free Trafick for Heaven we may maintain â—…eace sure with Piety though it dwell in Spain â—…hat Soul soever in any Language can â—…eak Heav'n like hers is my Souls countrey-man O 'T is not Spanish but 't is Heaven she speaks 'T is Heaven that lies in Ambush there and breaks From thence into the wondring Readers Brest Who finds his warm heart hatch into a nest Of little Eagles and young Loves whose high Flights scorn the Lazie Dust and things that dye There are enow whose Draughts as deep as Hell Drink up all Spain in Sack let my Soul swell With thee strong Wine of Love let others swim In puddles we will pledge this Seraphim Bowls full of richer Blood then blush of Grape Was ever guilty of change we our shape My soul some drink from Men to Beasts O then Drink we till we prove more not less then Men And turn not Beasts but Angels Let the King Me ever into these his Cellars bring Where flows such Wine as we can have of none But him who trode the Wine-press all alone Wine of Youths life and the sweet deaths of Love Wine of immortal mixture which can prove Its Tincture from the Rosie Nectar Wine That can exalt weak Earth and so refine Our Dust that in one Draught Mortality May drink it self up and forget to dye On a Treatise of Charity RIse then immortal Maid Religion rise Put on thy self in thine own looks t' our Eyes Be what thy Beauties not our blots have made thee Such as e'r our dark sins to Dust betray'd thee Heav'n set thee down new drest when thy bright Birth Shot thee like Lightning to th' astonisht Earth From th' dawn of thy fair Eye-lids wipe away Dull Mists and melancholly Clouds take day And thine own Beams about thee bring the best Of whatsoe'r persum'd thy Eastern Nest. Girt all thy Glories to thee then sit down Open this Book fair Queen and take thy Crown These learned Leaves shall vindicate to thee Thy Holiest Humblest Handmaid Charity She 'l dress thee like thy self set thee on high Where thou shalt reach all hearts command each Eye Lo where I see thy offrings wake and rise From the pale Dust of that strange Sacrifice which they themselves were each one putting on A Majesty that may beseem thy Throne The Holy Youth of Heav'n whose Golden Rings Girt round thy awful Altars with bright wings Fanning thy fair Locks which the World believes As much as sees shall with these sacred Leaves Trick their tall Plumes and in that garb shall go If not more glorious more conspicuous tho Be it enacted then By the fair Laws of thy firm-pointed Pen Gods services no longer shall put on A sluttishness for pure Religion No longer shall our Churches frighted stones Lie scatter'd like the Burnt and Martyr'd bones Of dead Devotion nor faint Marbles weep â—…n their sad Ruines nor Religion keep A melancholly Mansion in those cold â—…rns Like Gods Sanctuaries they lookt of old Now seem they Temples consecrate to none Or to a new God Desolation No more the Hypocrite shall th' upright be Because he 's stiff and will confess no Knee While others bend their Knee no more shalt thou Disdainful Dust and Ashes bend thy Brow Nor on Gods Altar cast two scorching Eyes Bak't in hot scorn for a burnt Sacrifice But for a Lamb thy tame and tender Heart New struck by Love still trembling on his Dart Or for two Turtle Doves it shall suffice To bring a pair of meek and humble Eyes This shall from henceforth be the Masculine Theme Pulpits and Pens shall sweat in to redeem Vertue to Action that Life-feeding flame That keeps Religion warm not swell a name Of faith a Mountain word made up of Air With those dear spoils that wont to dress the Fair And fruitful Charities full Breasts of old Turning her out to tremble in the cold What can the Poor hope from us when we be Uncharitable ev'n to Charity On the Glorious Assumption of the Blessed Virgin HArk she is call'd the parting hour is come take thy farwel poor world heaven must go home A piece of Heavenly Light purer and brighter Then the chast stars whose choice Lamps come to ligâ—… 〈◊〉 While through the Christal Orbs clearer then they She climbs and makes a
shown it For he whose pretious memory Bathes in tears of every eye He to whom our sorrow brings All the streams of all her springs Was so rich in Grace and Nature In all the gifts that bless a Creature The fresh hopes of his lovely Youth Flourisht in so fair a grouth So sweet the Temple was that shrin'd The Sacred sweetness of his mind That could the Fates know to relent Could they know what Mercy meant Or had ever learnt to bear The soft Tincture of a Tear Tears would now have flow'd so deep As might have taught Grief how to weep Now all their steely Operation Would quite have lost the cruel fashion Sickness would have gladly been Sick himself to have sav'd him And his Feaver wisht to prove Burning onely in his Love Him when wrath it self had seen Wrath its self had lost his spleen Grim destruction here amaz'd In stead of striking would have gaz'd Even the Iron-pointed Pen That notes the Tragick Dooms of men Wet with Tears still'd from the Eyes Of the flinty Destinies Would have learnt a softer style And have been asham'd to spoile His Lives sweet story by the hast Of a cruel stop ill plac't In the dark Volume of our Fate Whence each Leaf of Life hath Date Where in sad particulars The total sum of Man appears And the short clause of Mortal Breath Bound in the period of Death In all the Book if any where Such a Term as this spare here Could have been found 't would have been read Writ in white Letters or his head Or close unto his name annext The fair gloss of a fairer Text. In brief if any one were free He was that one and onely he But he alas even he is dead And our hopes fair Harvest spread In the Dust Pity now spend All the Tears that Grief can lend Sad Mortality may hide In his Ashes all her pride With this inscription o'r his head All hope of never dying here lies dead His Epitaph PAssenger who e'r thou art Stay a while and let thy Heart Take acquaintance of this stone Before thou passest further on This stone will tell thee that beneath Is entomb'd the Crime of Death The ripe endowments of whose mind Left his years so much behind That numbring of his Vertues Praise Death lost the reckoning of his Days And believing what they told Imagin'd him exceeding old In him perfection did set forth The strength of her United worth Him his wisdomes pregnant growth Made so Reverend even in Youth That in the Center of his Brest Sweet as is the Phaenix Nest Every reconciled Grace Had their general meeting place In him goodness joy'd to see Learning learn Humility The splendor of his Birth and Blood Was but the Gloss of his own Good The flourish of his sober Youth Was the pride of Naked Truth In composure of his Face Liv'd a fair but Manly Grace His Mouth was Rhetorick's best Mold His Tongue the Touchstone of her Gold What Word so e'r his Breath kept warm Was no Word now but a Charm For all persuasive Graces thence Suckt their sweetest Influence His Vertue that within had root Could not choose but shine without And th' Heart-bred Lustre of his worth At each corner peeping forth Pointed him out in all his ways Circled round in his own Rays That to his sweetness all mens Fyes Were vow'd Loves flaming Sacrifice Him while fresh and fragrant Time Cherisht in his Colden Prime E're Hebe's Hand had overlaid His smooth Cheeks with a Downy shade The rush of Deaths unruly Wave Swept him off into his Grave Enough now if thou canst pass on For now alas not in this stone Passenger who e're thou art Is he entomb'd but in thy Heart An Epitaph upon Husband and Wife who dieâ—… and were buried together TO these whom Death again did Wed This Grave 's the second Marriage-Bed For though the hand of Fate could force 'Twixt Soul and Body a divorce It could not sever Man and Wife Because they both liv'd but one Life Peace good Reader do not weep Peace the Lovers are asleep They sweet Turtles folded lye In the â—…st knot that Love could tye Let them sleep let them sleep on Till this stormy night be gone And the Eternal Morrow dawn Then the urtains will be drawn And they wake into a Light Whose Day shall never dye in Night An Epitaph upon Doctor Brook A Brook whose Stream so Great so Good Was Lov'd was Honour'd as a Flood Whose Banks the Muses dwelt upon More then their own Helicon Here at length hath gladly found A quiet passage under ground Mean while his loved Banks now dry The Muses with their Tears supply Upon Mr. Staninough's Death DEar Relicks of a dislodg'd soul whose lack Makes many a mourning Paper put on black O stay a while e're thou draw in thy Head And wind thy self up close in thy cold Bed Stay but a little while until I câ—…ll A summons worthy of thy Funeral Come then Youth Beauty and Blood all ye soft Power Whose silken Flatteries swell a few fond hours Into a false Eternity come Man Hyperbolized nothing know thy span Take thine own Measure here down down and bow Before thy self in thy Idaea thou Huge emptiness contract thy Bulk and shrink All thy wild Circle to a point O sink Lower and lower yet till thy small size Call Heaven to look on thee with narrow Eyes Lesser and lesser yet till thou begin To show a Face fit to confess thy Kin Thy Neighbour-hood to nothing here put on Thy self in this unfeign'd refexion Here gallant Ladies this impartial Glass Through all your painting shows you your own face These Death-scal'd Lips are they dare give the lye To the proud hopes of poor Mortality These Curtain'd Windows this self-prison'd Eye Out-stares the Lids of large-lookt Tyranny This posture is the brave one this that lies Thus low stands up me thinks thus and defies The World All daring Dust and Ashes onely you Of all Interpreters read Nature true Upon the Duke of York's Birth A Panegyrick BRitain the Mighty Ocean's lovely Bride Now stretch thy self fair Isle and grow spread wide Thy Bosome and make room thou art opprest With thine own Glories and art strangely Blest Beyond thy self for lo the God 's the Gods Come fast upon the and those Glorious ods Swell thy full Glories to a pitch so high As sits above thy best Capacity Are they not Ods and Glorious that to thee Those mighty Genii throng which well might be Each one an Ages labour that thy days Are Guilded with the Union of those Rays Whose each divided Beam would be a Sun To glad the Sphear of any Nation O if for these thou meanst to find a seat Th' ast need O Britain to be truly Great And so thou art their presence makes thee so They are thy Greatness Gods where e're they go Bring their Heaven with them their great footsteps place An everlasting smile upon the face Of the
Cough now no business here Out of Italian A Song TO thy Lover Deer discover That sweet blush of thine that shameth When those Roses It discloses All the Flowers that Nature nameth In free Air Flow thy Hair That no more Summers best dresses Be beholden For their Golden Locks to Phoebus Flaming Tresses O deliver Love his Quiver From thy Eyes he shoots his Arrows Where Apollo Cannot follow Featherd with his Mothers Sparrows O envy not That we dye not Those deer Lips whose Door encloses All the Graccs In their places Brother Pearls and Sister Roses From these Treasures Of ripe pleasures One bright smile to cleer the weather Earth and Heaven Thus made even Both will be good friends together The Air does 〈◊〉 thee Winds cling to thee Might a Word once fly from out thee Storm and Thunder Would fit under And keep silence round about Thee But if Natures Common Creatures So dear Glories dare not borrow Yet thy Beauty Owes a Duty To my loving lingring sorrow When to end me Death shall send me All his Terrors to affright me Thine Eyes Graces Guild their Faces And those Terrors shall delight me When my dying Life is flying Those sweet Airs that often slew me Shall revive me Or reprive me And to many Deaths renew me Out of the Italian LOve now no Fire hath left him We two betwixt us have divided it Your Eyes the Light hath reft him The Heat commanding in my Heart doth sit O! that poor Love be not for ever spoiled Let my Heat to your Light be reconciled So shall these Flames whose worth Now all obsoured lies Drest in those Beams start forth And dance before your Eyes Or else partake my Flames I care not whither And so in mutual Names O Love burn both together Out of the Italian WOuld any one the true cause find How Love came nak't a Boy and blind 'T is this listning one day too long To th' Syrens in my Mistress Song The extasie of a delight So much o'r-mastring all his might To that one Sense made all else thrall And so he lost his Clothes Eyes Heart and all On the Frontispiece of Isaacsons Chronologie explained IF with distinctive Eye and Mind you look Upon the Front you see more then one Book Creation is Gods Book wherein he writ Each Creature as a Letter filling it History is Creations Book which shows To what effects the Series of it goes Chronologie's the Book of History and bears The just account of Days of Moneths and Years But Resurrection in a Later Press And New Edition is the summe of these The Language of these Books had all been one Had not th' Aspiring Tow'r of Babylon Confus'd the Tongues and in a distance hurl'd As far the Speech as men o' th' new fill'd World Set then your Eyes in Method and behold Times Embleme Saturn who when store of Gold Coyn'd the first Age Devour'd that Birth he fear'd Till History Times eldest Child appear'd And Phaenix-like in spight of Saturns rage Forc'd from her Ashes Heires in every Age. From th' Rising Sun obtaining by just Suit A Springs Ingender and an Autumns Fruit. Who in those Volumes at her motion pen'd Unto Creations Alpha doth extend Again Ascend and view Chronology By Optick skill pulling far History Neerer whose Hand the piercing Eagles Eye Strengthens to bring remotest Objects nigh Under whose Feet you see the Setting Sun From the dark Gnomon o'r her Volumes run Drown'd in Eternal Night never to rise Till Resurrection show it to the Eyes Of Earth-worn men and her shril Trumpets sound Affright the Bones of Mortals from the ground The Columnes both are crown'd with either Sphere To show Chronology and History bear No other Culmen then the double Art Astronomy Geography impart Or Thus. LEt hoary Time's vast Bowels be the Grave To what his Bowels Birth and Being gave Let Nature die and Phaenix like from death Revived Nature take a second Breath If on Times right hand sit fair Historie If from the seed of empty Ruine she Can raise so fair an Harvest let her be Ne'r so far distant yet Chronology Sharp-sighted as the Eagles Eye that can Out-stare the broad-beam'd Days Meridian Will have a Perspicil to find her out And through the Night of error and dark doubt Discern the Dawn of Truth 's eternal Ray As when the Rosie Morn buds into Day Now that Time's Empire might be amply fill'd Babels bold Artists strive below to build Ruine a Temple on whose fruitful fall History rears her Pyramids more tall Then were th' Aegyptian by the life these give Th' Egyptian Pyramids themselves must live On these she lifts the World and on their base Shews the two Terms and Limits of Time's Race That the Creation is the Judgement this That the Worlds Morning this her Midnight is An Epitaph upon Mr. Ashton a Conformable Citizen THe modest front of this small floor Beleeve me Reader can say more Then many a braver Marble can Here lies a truly honest man One whose Conscience was a thing That troubled neither Church nor King One of those few that in this Town Honour all Preachers hear their own Sermons he heard yet not so many As left no time to practise any He heard them reverendly and then His practice preach'd them o'r agen His Parlour-Sermons rather were Those to the Eye then to the Ear. His Prayers took their price and strength Not from the loudness nor the length He was a Protestant at home Not onely in despight of Rome He lov'd his Father yet his Zeal Tore not off his Mothers Veil To th' Church he did allow her Dress True Beauty to true Holiness Peace which he lov'd in life did lend Her hand to bring him to his end When Age and Death call'd for the score No surfets were to reckon for Death tore not therefore but fans strife Gently untwin'd his thread of Life What remains then but that Thou Write these Lines Reader in thy Brow And by his fair Examples light Burn in thy imitation bright So while these Lines can but bequeath A Life perhaps unto his Death His better Epitaph shall be His Life still kept alive in Thee Out of Catullus COme and let us Live my Dear Let us Love and never Fear What the sowrest Fathers say Brightest Sol that dyes to day Lives again as blith to morrow But if we dark Sons of sorrow Set O then how long a Night Shuts the Eyes of our short Light Then let amorous Kisses dwell On our Lips begin and tell A Thousand and a Hundred score An Hundred and a Thousand more Till another Thousand smother That and that wipe of another Thus at last when we have numbred Many a Thousand many a Hundred We 'l confound the reckoning quite And lose our selves in wild delight While our joyes so multiply As shall mock the envious Eye Wishes to his supposed Mistress WHo e're she be That not impossible she That shall Command my Heart and me
all-chearing ray The fair Stars fill their wakeful fires the Sun himself drinks day The Antiphon Victorious Sign That now dost shine Transcrib'd above Into the Land of Light and Love O let us twine Our Roots with thine That we may rise Upon thy Wings and reach the Skies The Versicle Lo we adore thee Dread Lamb and fall Thus low before thee The Responsor 'Cause by the Covenant of thy Cross Thou hast sav'd at once the whole world's loss The Prayer O My Lord Jesu Christ Son of the living God! interpose I pray thee thine own pretious death thy Cross and Passion betwixt my Soul and thy Judgement now and in the hour of my death And vouchsafe to grant me thy Grace and Mercy to the living and dead remission and rest to thy Church peace and concord to us sinners life and glory everlasting Who livest and reignest with the Father in the unity of the Holy Ghost one God world without end Amen The Third The Versicle Lord by thy sweet and saving Sign The Responsor Defend us from our foes and thine Ver. Thou shalt open my Lips O Lord Res. And my mouth shall declare thy praise Ver. O God make speed to save me Res. O â—…ord make haste to help me Ver. Glory be to c. Res. As it was in the c. THE HYMN THe Third hour's deafen'd with the cry Of Crucify him Crucify So goes the vote nor ask them why Live Barabbas and let God dy But there is wit in wrath and they will try A Hall more cruel then their Crucify For while in sport he wears a spiteful Crown The serious show'rs along his decent Face run sadly down The Antiphon Christ when he dy'd Deceiv'd the Cross And on Death's side Threw all the loss The captive World awak't and found The Prisoner loose the Jaylor bound The Versicle Lo we adore thee Dread Lamb and fall Thus low before thee Tht Responsor 'Cause by the Covenant of thy Cross Thou hast sav'd at once the whole World's loss The Prayer O My Lord Jesu Christ Son of the living God! interpose I pray thee thine own precious death thy Cross and Passion betwixt my Soul and thy Judgement now and in the hour of my death And vouchsafe to grant me thy Grace and Mercy to the living and dead remission and rest to thy Church peace and concord to us sinners life and glory everlasting Who livest and reignest with the Father in the unity of the Holy Ghost one God world without end Amen The SIXTH The Versicle Lord by thy sweet and saving Sign The Responsor Defend us from our foes and thine Ver. Thou shalt open my lips O Lord Res. And my mouth shall declare thy praise Ver. O God make speed to save me Res. O Lord make haste to help me Ver. Glory be to c Res. As it was in c. The HYMN NOw is the Noon of sorrow's night High in his patience as their spight Lo the faint Lamb with weary Limb Bears that huge Tree which must bear him That fatal Plant so great of Fame For fruit of sorrow and of shame Shall swell with both for him and mix All woes into one Crucifix Is tortur'd Thirst it self too sweet a cup Gall and more bitter mocks shall make it up Are Nails blunt Pens of superficial smart Contempt and scorn can send sure wounds to search the inmost Heart The Antiphon O dear and sweet dispute 'Twixt death's and Love's far different Fruit Different as far As Antidotes and Poisons are By that first fatal Tree Both Life and Liberty Were sold and slain By this they both look up and live again The Versicle Lo we adore thee Dread Lamb and bow thus low before thee The Responsor 'Cause by the covenant of thy Cross. Thou hast sav'd the World from certain loss The Prayer O My Lord Jesu Christ son of the living God! interpose I pray thee thine own precious death thy Cross and Passion betwixt my soul and thy judgement now and in the hour of my death And vouchsafe to grant me thy grace and mercy to the living and dead remission and rest to thy church peace and concord to us sinners life and glory everlasting Who livest and reignest with the Father in the unity of the Holy Ghost one God world without end Amen The NINTH The Versicle Lord by thy sweet and saving Sign The Responsor Defend us from our foes and thine Ver. Thou shalt open my lips O Lord Res. And my mouth shall declare thy praise Ver. O God make speed to save me Res. O Lord make haste to help me Glory be to c. As it was in c. The HYMN THe Ninth with awful horror hark'ned to those groans Which taught attention even to Rocks and Stones Hear Father hear thy Lamb at last complains Of some more painful thing then all his pains Then bows his all-obedient head and dies His own Lov 's and our sin 's great Sacrifice The Sun saw that and would have seen no more The Center shook her useless veil th' inglorious Temple tore The Antiphon O strange mysterious strife Of open death and hidden life When on the cross my King did bleed Life seem'd to die Death dy'd indeed The Versicle Lo we adore thee Dread Lamb and fall thus low before thee The Responsor 'Cause by the covenant of thy Cross Thou hast sav'd at once the whole world's loss The Prayer O my Lord Jesu Christ son of the living God! interpose I pray thee thine own pretious death thy Cross â—…d Passion betwixt my soul and thy judgement now and in the hour of my death and vouchsafe to grant me thy grace and mercy to the living and dead remission and rest to thy Church peace and concord to us sinners life and glory everlasting who livest and reignest with the Father in the unity of the Holy Ghost one God world without end Amen Even-Song The Versicle Lord by thy sweet and saving Sign The Responsor Defend us from our foes and thine Ver. Thou shalt open my Lips O Lord Res. And my mouth shall declare thy praise Ver. O God make speed to save me Res. O Lord make haste to help me Ver. Gâ—…ory be to c. Res. As it was in c. The HYMN BUt there were Rocks would not relent at this Lo for their own hearts they rend His Their deadly hate lives still and hath A wild reserve of wanton wrath Superfluous Spear but there 's a Heart stands by Will look no wounds be lost no death shall dy Gather now thy grief 's ripe fruit Great Mother-maid Then sit thee down and sing thy Ev'n-song in the sad Trees shade The Antiphon O sad sweet Tree Woful and joyful we Both weep and sing in shade of thee When the dear Nails did lock And graft into thy gracious Stock The hope the health The worth the wealth Of all the ransom'd World thou hadst the power In that propitious hour To poise each precious Limb
And prove how light the World was when it weigh'd with Him Wide maist thou spred Thine Arms and with thy bright and blisful head O'r look all Libanus Thy lofty crown The King himself is thou his humble Throne Where yielding and yet conquering he Prov'd a new path of patient victory When wondring death by death was slain And our Captivity his Captive ta'ne The Versicle Lo we adore thee Dread Lamb and bow thus low before thee The Responsor Cause by the covenant of thy Cross Thou hast sav'd the World from certain loss The Prayer O My Lord Jesu Christ son of the living c. COMPLINE The Versicle Lord by thy sweet and saving Sign The Responsor Defend us from our foes and thine Ver. Thou shalt open my lips O Lord. Res. And my mouth shall declare thy praise Ver. O God make speed to save me Res. O Lord make haste to help me Ver. Glory be to c. Res. As it was in c. The HYMN THe Compline hour comes last to call Us to our own Live's funeral Ah hartless task yet hope takes head And lives in him that here lies dead Run Mary run bring hither all the Blest Arabia for thy Royal Phenix ' nest Pour on thy Noblest sweets which when they touch This sweeter Body shall indeed be such But must thy bed Lord be a borrow'd Grave Who lendst to all things all the life they have O rather use this Heart thus far a fitter Stone 'Cause though a hard and cold one yet it is thine own Amen The Antiphon O save us then Merciful King of men Since thou wouldst needs be thus A Saviour and at such a rate for us Save us O save us Lord. We now will own no shorter wish nor name a narrower word Thy blood bids us be bold Thy wounds give us fair hold Thy sorrows chide our shame â—…hy Cross thy Nature and thy Name Advance our claim And cry with one accord Save them O save them Lord. The Versicle Lo we adore thee Dread Lamb and bow thus low before thee The Responsor 'Cause by the covenant of thy Cross Thou hast sav'd the world from certain loss The Prayer O My Lord Jesu Christ Son of c. The RECOMMENDATION THese Hours and that which hovers o'r my end Into thy Hands and Heart Lord I commend Take both to thine account that I and mine In that hour and in these may be all thine That as I dedicate my devoutest Breath To make a kind of Life for my Lords Death So from his living and life-giving Death My dying Life may draw a new and never-fleeting Breath VEXILLA REGIS The Hymn of the Holy Cross. 1. LOok up languishing soul Lo where the fair Badge of thy Faith calls back thy care And bids thee ne'r forget Thy Life is one long Debt Of Love to Him who on this painful Tree Paid back the Flesh he took for thee 2. Lo how the streams of Life from that full Nest Of Loves thy Lord 's too liberal Brest Flow in an amorous Floud Of Water wedding Bloud With these he wash't thy stain transfer'd thy smart And took it home to his own heart 3. But though great Love greedy of such sad gain Usurp't the portion of thy pain And from the Nails and Spear Turn'd the steel point of Fear Their use is chang'd not lost and now they move Not stings of Wrath but wounds of Love 4. Tall Tree of Life thy Truth makes good What was till now ne'r understood Though the prophetick King Struck loud his faithful string It was thy wood he meant should make the Throne For a more then Salomon 5. Large throne of Love Royally spred With purple of too rich a Red. Thy crime is too much duty Thy burthen too much Beauty Glorious or grievous more thus to make good Thy costly Excellence with thy Kings own Blood 6. Even ballance of both Worlds our World of sin And that of Grace Heav'n weigh'd in Him Us with our price thou weighedst Our price for us thou payedst Soon as the right-hand scale rejoyc't to prove How much Death weigh'd more light then Love 7. Hail our alone Hope let thy fair Head shoot Aloft and fill the Nations with thy Noble fruit The while our hearts and we Thus graft our selves on thee Grow thou and they and be thy fair increase The sinner's pardon and the just man's peace Live O for ever Live and Reign The Lamb whom his own Love has slain And let thy lost sheep live t' inherit That Kingdom which this Cross did merit Amen Charitas Nimia Or the dear Bargain LOrd what is Man why should he cost thee So dear what had his ruine lost thee Lord what is Man that thou hast over-bought So much a thing of nought Love is too kind I see and can Make but a simple Merchant man 'T was for such sorry Merchandise Bold Painters have put out his Eyes Alas sweet Lord what wer 't to thee If there were no such Worms as we Heav'n ne'rtheless still Heav'n would be Should Mankind dwell In the deep Hell What have his Woes to do with thee Let him go weep O'r his own wounds Seraphims will not sleep Nor Sphears let fall their fatihful rounds Still would the youthful Spirits sing And still thy spacious Palace ring Still would those beauteous Ministers of Light Burn all as bright And bow their flaming heads before thee Still Thrones and Dominations would adore thee Still would those ever-wakeful sons of fire Keep warm thy praise Both nights and days And teach thy lov'd name to their Noble Lyre Let froward Dust then do its kind And give it self for sport to the proud wind Why should a piece of peevish Clay plead shares In the Eternity of thy old cares Why shouldst thou bow thy awful Brest to see What mine own madnesses have done with me Should not the King still keep his Throne Because some desperate Fool 's undone Or will the World 's illustrious Eyes Weep for every Worm that dies Will the gallant Sun E'r the less Glorious run Will he hang down his Golden head Or e'r the sooner seek his Western bed Because some foolish Fly Grows wanton and will dye If I were lost in misery What was it to thy Heav'n and thee What was it to thy precious blood If my soul Heart call'd for a floud What if my faithless soul and I Would needs fall in With guilt and sin What did the Lamb that he should dye What did the Lamb that he should need When the Wolf sins himself to bleed If my base Lust Bargain'd with Death and well-beseeming Dust Why should the white Lamb's bosome write The purple name Of my sin's shame Why should his unstain'd Brest make good My blushes with his own heart-blood O my Saviour make me see How dearly thou hast paid for me That lost again my Life may prove As then in Death so now in Love Sancta Maria dolorum Or the Mother of sorrows
the storm that mocks Your selves you are the Rocks Of your own doubt Besides this fear of danger there 's no danger here And he that here fears Danger does deserve his Fear On the blessed Virgins bashfulness THat on her Lap she casts her humble Eye 'T is the sweet pride of her Humility The fair Star is well fixt for where O where Could she have fixt it on a fairer Sphear 'T is Heav'n 't is Heav'n she sees Heav'ns God there lies She can see Heaven and ne'r lift up her Eyes This new Guest to her Eyes new Laws hath given 'T was once look up 'T is now look down to Heaven Upon Lazarus his Tears RIch Lazarus richer in those Gems thy Tears Then Dives in the Robes he wears He scorns them now but O they 'l sute full well With th' Purple he must wear in Hell Two went up into the Temple to Pray TWo went to pray O rather say One went to brag th' other to pray One stands up close and treads on high Where th' other dares not lend his Eye One neerer to Gods Altar trod The other to the Altar's God Upon the Asse that bore our Saviour HAth onely Anger an Omnipotence In Eloquence Within the Lips of Love and Joy doth dwell No Miracle Why else had Balaams Asseâ—…a Tongue to chide His Masters Pride And thou Heaven-burthen'd Beast hast ne'r a word To praise thy Lord That he should find a Tongue and vocal Thunder Was a great wonder But O me-thinks 't is a far greater one That thou find'st none Matt. 8. I am not worthy that thou should'st come under my Roof THy God was making haste into thy Roof Thy humble Faith and Fear keeps him aloof He 'l be thy Guest because he may not be He 'l come into thy house no into thee Upon the Powder-day HOw fit our well-rank'd Feasts do follow All mischief comes after All-Hallow I am the Door ANd now th' art set wide ope the Spear's sad Art Lo hath unlockt thee at the very Heart He to himself I fear the worst And his own hope Hath shut these Doors of Heaven that durst Thus set them ope Matt. 10. The Blind Cured by the word of our Saviour THou speak'st the Word thy Word 's a Law Thou Spak'st and streight the blind man saw To speak and make the Blind man See Was never man Lord spake like Thee To speak thus was to speak say I Not to his Ear but to his Eye Matthew 27. And he answered them nothing O Mighty Nothing unto thee Nothing we owe all things that be God spake once when he all things made He sav'd All when he Nothing said The World was made of Nothing then 'T is made by Nothing now again To our Lord upon the Water made Wine THou Water turn'st to Wine fair Friend of Life Thy Foe to cross the sweet Arts of thy Reign Distils from thence the Tears of Wrath and Strife And so turns Wine to Water back again Matthew 22. Neither durst any man from that Day ask him any more Questions MIdst all the dark and knotty Snares Black Wit or Malice can or dares Thy Glorious Wisdom breaks the Nets And treads with uncontrouled steps Thy quel'd Foes are not only now Thy Triumphs but thy Trophies too They both at once thy Conquests be And thy Conquests Memory Stony Amazement makes them stand Waiting on thy Victorious hand Like Statues fixed to the Fame Of thy renown and their own shame As if they only meant to breath To be the Life of their own Death 'T was time to hold their Peace when they Had ne'r another word to say Yet is their silence unto thee The full sound of thy Victory Their silence speaks aloud and is Thy well pronounc'd Panegyris While they speak nothing they speak all Their share in thy Memorial While they speak nothing they proclaim Thee with the shrillest Trump of Fame To hold their peace is all the ways These Wretches have to speak thy Praise Upon our Saviours Tomb wherein never man was laid HOw Life and Death in Thee Agree Thou had'st a Virgin Womb And Tomb. A Joseph did betroth Them both It is better to go into Heaven with one Eye c. ONe Eye a Thousand rather and a Thousand more To fix those full-fac't Glories O he 's poor Of Eyes that has but Argus store Yet if thou l't fill one poor Eye with thy Heaven and Thee O grant sweet Goodness that one Eye may be All and every whit of me Luke 11. Upon the dumb Devil cast out and the slanderous Jews put to silence TWo Devils at one blow thou hast laid flat A Speaking Devil this a Dumb one that Wa' st thy full Victories fairer increase That th' one spake or that thâ—… other held his peace Luk. 10. And a certain Priest comming that way looked on him and passed by Why dost thou wound my wounds O thou that passest by Handling turning them with an unwounded eye The calm that cools thine eye does shipwrack mine for O! Unmov'd to see one wretched is to make him so Luk. 11. Blessed be the Paps which Thou hast sucked SUppose he had been Tabled at thy Teats Thy Hunger feels not what he Eats He 'l have his Teat e'r long a bloody one The Mother then must suck the Son To Pontius washing his Blood-stained hands IS Murther no sin or a sin so cheap That thou need'st heap A Rape upon 't till thy Adult'rous touch Taught her these sulled Cheeks this blubber'd Face â—…he was a Nimph the Meadows knew none such Of honest Parentage of unstain'd Race The Daughter of a fair and well-fam'd Fountain As ever Silver tipt the side of shady Mountain See how she weeps and weeps that she appears Nothing but Tears Each drop's a Tear that weeps for her own wast Hark how at every touch she does complain her Hark how she bids her frighted Drops make haste And with sad Murmurs chides the hands that stain her Leave leave for shame or else Good judge decree What water shal wash this when this hath washed thee Matthew 23. Ye build the Sepulchres of the Prophets THou trim'st a Prophet's Tomb and dost bequeath The Life thou took'st from him unto his Death Vain Man the stones that on his Tomb do lie Keep but the score of them that made him die Upon the Infant Martyrs TO see both blended in one Flood The Mothers Milk the Childrens Blood Makes me doubt if Heaven will gather Roses hence or Lillies rather Joh. 16. Verily I say unto you ye shall weep and lament WElcome my Grief my Joy how dear's â—…o me my Legacy of Tears I 'll weep and weep and will therefore Weep 'cause I can weep no more Thou thou Dear Lord even thou alone Giv'st joy even when thou givest none Joh. 15. Upon our Lords last comfortable Discourse with his Disciples ALl Hybla's Honey all that sweetness can Flows in thy Song O fair O dying Swan Yet is the joy I take
in 't small or none It is too sweet to be a long-liv'd one Luk. 16. Dives asking a drop A Drop one drop how sweetly one fair drop Would tremble on my Pearl-tipt fingers top My Wealth is gone O go it where it will Spare this one Jewel I 'll be Dives still Mark 12. Give to Caesar And to God ALl we have is God's and yet Caesar challenges a Debt Nor hath God a thinner share What ever Caesar's payments are All is God's and yet 't is true All we have is Caesar's too All is Caesar's and what odds So long as Caesar's self is Gods But now they have seen and hated SEen and yet hated Thee they did not see They saw Thee not that saw and hated Thee No no they saw thee not O Life O Love Who saw ought in Thee that their Hate could move Upon the Crown of Thorns taken from our Blessed Lords Head all bloody KNow'st thou this Soldier 't is a much chang'd Plant which yet Thy Self didst set 'T is chang'd indeed did Autumn e'r such Beautys bring To shame his Spring O! who so hard an Husbandman could ever find A Soyl so kind Is not the Soil a kind one think ye that returns Roses for Thorns She began to wash his Feet with Tears and wipe them with the Hairs of her Head HEr Eyes Flood licks his Feets fair stain Her Hairs Flame licks up that again This Flame thus quench't hath brighter Beams This Flood thus stained fairer Streams On St. Peter cutting off Malchus his Ear. WEll Peter dost thou wield thy active Sword Well for thy self I mean not for thy Lord. To strike at Ears is to take heed there be No witness Peter of thy Perjury Joh. 3. But Men loved Darkness rather than Light THe Worlds Light shines shine as it will The World will love its Darkness still I doubt though when the World 's in Hell It will not love its darkness half so well Act. 21. I am ready not onely to be Bound but to Dye COme death come bands nor do you shrink my ears At those hard words Mans Cowardise calls Fears Save those of Fear no other Bands fear I Nor other Death then this the fear to Die On St. Peter casting away his Nets at our Saviours Call THou hast the Art on 't Peter and canst tell To cast thy Nets on all occasions well When Christ calls and thy Nets would have thee stay To cast them Well's to cast them quite away Our Lord in his Circumcision to his Father TO thee these First Fruits of my growing Death For what else is my life lo I bequeath Taste this and as thou lik'st this lesser flood Expect a Sea my heart shall make it good Thy wrath that wades here now e'r long shall swim The Flood-gate shall be set wide ope for him Then let him drink and drink and do his worst To drown the wantonness of his wild Thirst. Now 's but the Nonage of my Pains my Fears Are yet both in their hopes not come to years The Day of my dark Woes is yet but Morn My Tears but tender and my Death new-born Yet may these unfledg'd griefs give fate some guess These Cradle-torments have their towardness These Purple buds of blooming Death may be Erst the full Stature of a fatal Tree And till my riper Woes to Age are come This Knife may be the Spears Praeludium On the wounds of our crucified Lord. O These wakeful Wounds of thine Are they Mouths or are they Eyes Be they Mouthes or be they Eyn Each bleeding part some one supplies Lo a Mouth whose full-bloom'd Lips At too dear a rate are Roses Lo a blood-shot Eye that weeps And many a cruel Tear discloses O thou that on this Foot hast laid Many a Kiss and many a Tear Now thou shalt have all repaid Whatsoe'r thy Charges were This Foot hath got a Mouth and Lips To pay the sweet summe of thy Kisses To pay thy Tears an Eye that weeps Instead of Tears such Gems as this is The difference onely this appears Nor can the change offend The Debt is paid in Ruby-Tears Which thou in Pearls didst lend On our crucified Lord Naked and Bloody TH' have left thee Naked Lord O that they had This Garment too I would they had deny'd Thee with thy self they have too richly clad Opening the Purple Wardrobe of thy Side O never could be found Garments too good For thee to wear but these of thine own Blood Easter-day RIse Heir of fresh Eternity From thy Virgin-Tomb Rise Mighty man of Wonders and thy world with thee Thy Tomb the universal East Natures new Womb Thy Tomb fair Immortalities perfumed Nest Of all the Glories make Noon gay This is the Morn This Rock buds forth the fountain of the streams of day In Joyes white Annals live this hour When life was born No Cloud scoul on his radiant Lids no Tempest lowre Life by this Light 's Nativity All Creatures have Death onely by this days just Doom is forc't to dye Nor is Death forc't for may he lye Thron'd in thy Grave Death will on this condition be content to dye On the bleeding Wounds of our crucified Lord. JEsu no more it is full Tide From thy Hands and from thy Feet From thy Head and from thy Side All thy Purple Rivers meet Thy restless Feet they cannot go For us and our Eternal good As they are wont what though They Swim alas in their own Flood Thy Hand to give thou canst not lift Yet will thy Hand still giving be It gives but O itself 's the Gift It drops though bound though bound 't is free But Oh thy Side thy deep dig'd Side That hath a double Nilus going Nor ever was the 〈◊〉 Tide Half so Fruitful half so Flowing What need thy fair Head bear a 〈◊〉 In Tears as if thine Eyes had none What need they help to drown thine Heart That strives in Torrents of its own Water'd by the showres they bring The Thorns that thy Blest Brows encloses A cruel and a costly Spring Conceive proud hopes of proving Roses Not a Hair but pays his River To this Red Sea of thy Blood Their little Channels â—…an deliver Something to the general Flood But while I speak whither are run All the Rivers nam'd before I counted wrong there is but one But O that one is one all o're Rain-swoln Rivers may rise proud Threatning all to overflow But when indeed all 's overflow'd They themselves are drowned too This thy Bloods deluge a dire chance Dear Lord to thee to us is found A deluge of deliverance A Deluge lest we should be drown'd Ne'r was 't thou in a Sence so sadly True The Well of living Waters Lord till now Sampson to his Dalilah COuld not once blinding me Cruel suffice When first I look't on thee I lost mine Eyes Psalm 23. HAppy me O haypy Sheep Whom my God vouchsafes to keep Even my God even he it is That points me to these ways of
of us his Lamb will bring Each his pair of Silver Doves At last in fire of thy fair Eyes We 'l burn our own best Sacrifice Sospetto d' Herode Libro Primo Argomento Casting the times with their strong signes Death's Master his own his own death Divines Strugling for Help his best Hope is Herod's suspition may heal his Therefore he sends a Fiend to wake The sleeping Tyrants fond mistake Who fears in vain that he whose Birth Mean's Heav'n should meddle with his Earth 1 MUse now the servant of soft Loves no more Hate is thy Theame and Herod whose unblest Hand so what dares not jealous Greatness tore A thousand sweet Babes from their Mothers Brest The Blooms of Martydome O be a Door Of Language to my Infant Lips ye best Of Confessors whose Throats answering his swords Gave forth your Blood for Breath spoke Souls for Words 2 Great Anthony Spains well-beseeming pride Thou Mighty Branch of Emperours and Kings The Beauties of whose dawn what Eye may bide Which with the Sun himself weighs equal Wings Mapp of Heroick worth whom far and wide To the beleeving World Fame boldly sings Deign thou to wear this humble Wreath that bowes To be the sacred Honour of thy Brows 3. Nor needs my Muse a Blush or these bright Flow'rs Other then what their own blest Beauties bring They were the smiling Sons of those sweet Bow'rs That drink the Dew of Life whose deathless Spring Nor Sirian Flame nor Borean Frost deflow'rs From whence Heav'n-labouring Bees with busie wing Suck hidden Sweets which well digested proves Immortal Honey for the Hive of Loves 4. Thou whose strong Hand with so transcendent worth Holds high the Rein of fair Parthenope That neither Rome nor Athens can bring forth A Name in Noble Deeds Rival to thee Thy Fames full noise makes proud the patient Earth Far more then Matter for my Muse and me The Tyrrhâ—…ne Seas and Shores sound all the same And in their Murmures keep thy Mighty Name 5. Below the bottom of the great Abysse There where one Center reconciles all things The Worlds profound Heart pants there placed is Mischiefs old Master close about him clings A curl'd knot of embracing Snakes that kiss His correspondent Cheeks these loathsome Strings Hold the perverse Prince in Eternal Ties Fast bound since first he forfeited the Skies 6. The Judge of Torments and the King of Tears He fills a burnisht Throne of quenchless fire And for his old fair Robes of Light he wears A gloomy Mantle of dark Flames the Tire That Crowns his hated head on high appears Where seav'n tall Horns his Empires pride aspire And to make up Hells Majesty each Horn Seav'n Crested Hydra's horribly adorn 7. His Eyes the sullen Dens of Death and Night Startle the dull Air with a dismal Red Such his fell Glances as the fatal Light Of staring Comets that look Kingdoms dead From his black Nostrils and blew Lips in spight Of Hells own stink a worser stench is spread His Breath Hells Lightning is and each deep groan Disdains to think that Heav'n Thunders alone 8. His Flaming Eyes dire exhalation Unto a dreadful Pile gives fiery Breath Whose unconsum'd Consumption preys upon The never-dying Life of a long death In this sad House of slow Destruction His shop of Flames he fries himself beneath A mass of Woes his Teeth for Torment gnash While his Steel sides sound with with his Tails strong lash 9. Three Rigorous Virgins waiting still behind Assist the Throne of th'Iron-Sceptered King With whips of Thorns and knotty Vipers twin'd They rouse him when his rank Thoughts need a sting Their Locks are Beds of uncomb'd Snakes that wind About their shady Brows in wanton Rings Thus Reigns the wrathful King and while he Reigns His Scepter and himself both he disdains 10. Disdainful wretch how hath one bold Sin cost Thee all the Beauties of thy once bright Eyes How hath one black Eclipse cancell'd and crost The Glories that did Guild thee in thy Rise Proud Morning of a perverse Day how lost Are thou unto thy self thou too self-wise Narcissus foolish Phaeton who for all Thy high-aim'd hopes gain'dst but a Flaming fall 11. From Death's sad shades to the Life-breathing Air This mortal Enemy to Mankinds good Lifts his malignant Eyes wasted with care To become Beautiful in humane Blood Where Jordan melts his Chrystal to make fair The Fields of Palestine with so pure a Flood There does he fix his Eyes and there Detect New matter to make good his great suspect 12. He calls to mind th' old quarrel and what spark Set the contending Sons of Heav'n on fire Oft in his deep Thought he revolves the Dark Sibills Divining Leaves he does enquire Into th' old Prophesies trembling to mark How many present Prodigies conspire To Crown their past Predictions both he lays Together in his pondrous mind both weighs 13. Heavens Golden-winged Herald late he saw To a poor Galilean Virgin sent How low the Bright Youth bow'd and with what awe Immortal Flow'rs to her fair Hand present He saw th' old Hebrews womb neglect the Law Of Age and Barrenness and her Babe prevent His Birth by his Devotion who began Betimes to be a Saint before a Man 14. He saw Rich Nectar Thaws release the Rigor Of th' Icy North from Frost-bound Atlas hands His Adamantine Fetters fall green Vigor Gladding the Scythian Rocks and Libian Sands He saw a vernal smile sweetly disfigure Winters sad Face and through the flowry Lands Of fair Engaddi Honey-sweating Fountains With Manna Milk and Balm new broach the Mountains 15. He saw how in that Blest Day-bearing Night The Heav'n rebuked shades made haste away How bright a Dawn of Angels with new Light Amaz'd the midnight World and made a Day Of which the Morning knew not Mad with Spight He markt how the poor Shepheards ran to pay Their simple Tribute to the Babe whose Birth Was the great Business both of Heav'n and Earth 16. He saw a threefold Sun with rich encrease Make proud the Ruby Portals of the East He saw the Temple Sacred to sweet Peace Adore her Princes Birth flat on her Brest He saw the falling Idols all confess A coming Deity He saw the Nest Of pois'nous and unnatural Loves Earth-nurst Toucht with the Worlds true Antidote to burst 17. He saw Heav'n Blossome with a new-born Light On which as on a Glorious stranger gaz'd The Golden Eyes of Night whose Beam made Bright The way to Beth'lem and as boldly blaz'd Nor askt leave of the Sun by Day as Night By whom as Heav'ns illustrious Hand-maid rais'd Three Kings or what is more three Wise men went Westward to find the Worlds true Orient 18. Struck with these great concurrences of things Symptomes so deadly unto Death and him Fain would he have forgot what fatal Strings Eternally bind each rebellious Limb. He shook himself and spread his spatious Wings Which like two bosom'd Sails embrace the dimme Air with a dismal
Execution But chiefly there do's she delight to be Where Hells capacious Cauldron is set on And while the black souls boil in their own gore To hold them down and look that none seeth o're 38. Thrice howl'd the Caves of Night and thrice the sound Thundring upon the Banks of those black Lakes Rung through the hollow vaults of Hell profound At last her listning Ears the noise o'rtakes She lifts her sooty Lamps and looking round A gen'ral hiss from the whole Tire of Snakes Rebounding through Hells inmost Caverns came In answer to her formidable Name 39. 'Mongst all the Palaces in Hells Command No one so merciless as this of hers The Adamantine Doors for ever stand Impenetrable both to Pray'rs and Tears The Walls inexorable Steel no hand Of Time or Teeth of hungry Ruine fears Their ugly Ornaments are the bloody stains Of ragged Limbs torn Sculls and dasht out Brains 40. There has the Purple Vengeance a proud seat Whose ever-brandisht Sword is sheath'd in blood About her Hate Wrath Warre and Slaughter sweaâ—… Bathing their hot Limbs in Life's precious Flood There rude impetuous Rage do's storm and fret And there as Master of this murd'ring brood Swinging a huge Sith stands impartial Death With endless business almost out of Breath 41. For Hangings and for Curtains all along The Walls abominable Ornaments Are Tools of Wrath Anvils of Torments hung Fell Executioners of foul intents Nails Hammers Hatchets sharp and Halters strong Swords Spears with all the fatal instruments Of Sin and Death twice dipt in the direstains Of Brothers mutual Blood and Fathers Brains 42. The Tables furnisht with a cursed Feast Which Harpyes with lean Famine feed upon Uufill'd for ever Here among the rest â—…nhumane Erisicthon too makes one Tantalus Atreus Progne here are Guests Wolvish Lycaon here a place hath won The Cup they drink in is Medusa's Scull Which mixt with Gall and Blood they quaff brim full 43. The foul Queen's most abhorred Maids of Honour Medaea Jezabel many a meagre Witch With Circe Scylla stand to wait upon her But her best Huswives are the Parcae which Still work for her and have their Wages from her They prick a bleeding Heart at every stitch Her cruel Clothes of costly Threds they Weave Which short-cut Lives of murdered infants Leave 44. The House is hers'd about with a black Wood Which nods with many a heavy headed Tree Each Flower 's a Pregnant poyson try'd and good Each Herb a Plague The Winds sighs timed be By a black Fount which weeps into a Flood Through the thick shades obscurely might you see Minotaures Cyclopses with a dark drove Of Dragons Hydraes Sphinxes fill the Grove 45. Here Diomed's Horses Phereus Dogs appear With the fierce Lyons of Therodamas Busiris ha's his bloody Altar here Here Sylla his severest prison has The Lestrigonians here their Table rear Here strong Procrustes plants his Bed of Brass Here cruel Scyron boasts his bloody Rocks And hateful Schinas his so feared Oaks 46. What ever Schemes of Blood fantastick frames Of Death Mezentius or Geryon drew Phalaris Ochus Ezelinus names Mighty in Mischief with dread Nero too Here are they all here all the Swords or Flames Assyrian Tyrants or Egyptian knew Such was the House so furnisht was the Hall Whence the fourth Fury answer'd Pluto's call 47. Scarce to this Monster could the shady King The horrid summe of his intentions tell But she swift as the momentary wing Of Lightning or the words he spoke left Hell â—…he rose and with her to our World did bring Pale proof of her fell presence th' Air too well With a chang'd Countenance witness'd the Fight And poor Fowls intercepted in their Flight 48. Heav'n saw her rise and saw Hell in the sight The Fields fair Eyes saw her and saw no more But shut their flowry Lids for ever Night And Winter strow her way yea such a sore Is she to Nature that a general fright An universal Palsie spreading o're The face of things from her dire Eyes had run Had not her thick Snakes hid them from the Sun 49. Now had the Nights Companion from her Den Where all the busie day she close doth lye With her soft wing wip't from the brows of men Day 's sweat and by a gentle Tyranny And sweet oppression kindly cheating them Of all their Cares tam'd the rebellious Eye Of sorrow with asoft and Downy hand Sealing all Brests ina Lethaean band 50. When the Erynâ—…s her black Pineons spread And came to Bethlem where the cruel King Had now retir'd himself and borrowed His Brest a while from care 's unquiet sting Such as at Thebes dire Feast she shew'd her head Her Sulphur-breathed Torches brandishing Such to the frighted Palace now she comes And with soft feet searches the silent Rooms 51. By Herod now was born The Scepter which of old great David swaid Whose Right by David's linage so long worn Himself a stranger to his own had made And from the head of Judahs house quite torn The Crown for which upon their necks he laid A sad yoak under which they sigh'd in vain And looking on their lost state sigh'd again 52. Up through the spacious Palace passed she To where the Kings proudly-reposed head If any can be soft to Tyranny And self-tormenting sin had a soft bed She thinks not fit such he her face should see As it is seen by Hell and seen with dread To change her face's stile she doth devise And in a pale Ghost's shape to spare his Eyes 53. Her self a while she lays aside and makes Ready to personate a mortal part Joseph the King 's dead Brother's shape she takes What he by Nature was is she by Art She comes to th' King and with her cold hand slakes His Spirits the sparks of Life and chills his Heart Lifes forge fain'd is her voice and false too be Her words Sleep'st thou fond man Sleep'st thou said she 54. So sleeps a Pilot whose poor Bark is prest With many a mercyless o'r-mastring Wave For whom as dead the wrathful Winds contest Which of them deep'st shall dig her watry Grave Why dost thou let thy brave soul lie supprest In Death-like slumbers while thy dangers crave A waking Eye and Hand look up and see The Fates ripe in their great Conspiracy 55. Know'st thou not how of th' Hebrew 's Royal stemme That old dry stock a despair'd Branch is sprung A most strange Babe 〈◊〉 who here conceal'd by them In a neglected Stable lies among Beasts and base Straw already is the stream Quite turn'd th' ingrateful Rebels this their young Master with voice free as the Trump of Fame Their new King and thy Successor proclaim 56. What busie Motions what wild Engines stand On tiptoe in their giddy Brains th' have fire Already in their Bosomes and their hand Already reaches at a sword they hire Poysons to speed thee yet through all the Land What one comes to reveal what they conspire Go now make much of
the World thus do they vary Each string his Note as if they meant to carry Their Masters blest soul snatcht out at his Ears â—…y a strong Extasy through all the Sphears Of Musicks Heaven and seat it there on high â—…th ' Empyraeum of pure Harmony At length after so long so loud a strife Of all the strings still breathing the best life Of blest variety attending on His Fingers fairest Revolution In many a sweet Rise many as sweet a fall A full-mouth'd Diapason swallows all This done he lists what she would say to this And she although her Breath's late exercise Had dealt too roughly with her tender Throat Yet summons all her sweet powers for a Note Alas in vain for while sweet soul she tries To measure all those wild diversities Of chatt'ring strings by the small size of one Poor simple voice rais'd in a Natural Tone She fails and failing grieves and grieving dies She dies and leaves her life the Victor's prize Falling upon his 〈◊〉 O fit to have That liv'd so sweetly dead so sweet a Grave Upon the Death of a Gentleman FAithless and fond Mortality Who will ever credit thee Fond and faithless thing that thus In our best hopes beguilest us What a reckoning hast thou made Of the hopes in him we laid For Life by Volumes lengthened A Line or two to speak him dead For the Laurel in his Verse The sullen Cypresse o'r his Herse For a silver-crowned Head A durty Pillow in Death's Bed For so dear so deep a Trust Sad requital thus much Dust Now though the blow that snatcht him hence Stopt the Mouth of Eloquence Though she be dumb e'r since his Death Not us'd to speak but in his Breath Yet if at least she not denies The sad Language of our Eyes We are contented for then this Language none more fluent is Nothing speaks our Grief so well As to speak nothing Come then tell Thy mind in Tears who e'r thou be That ow'st a Name to Misery Eyes are Vocal Tears have Tongues And there be words not made with Lungs Sententious showers O let them fall Their cadence is Rhetorical Here 's a Theme will drink th' expence Of all thy watry Eloquence Weep then onely be exprest Thus much He 's Dead and Weep the rest Upon the Death of Mr. Herrys A Plant of Noble stemme forward and fair As ever whisper'd to the Morning Air Thriv'd in these happy Grounds the Earths just pride Whose rising Glories made such haste to hide His Head in Clouds as if in him alone Impatient Nature had taught Motion To start from Time and chearfully to fly Before and seize upon Maturity Thus grew this gracious Plant in whose sweet shade The Sun himself oft wisht to sit and made The morning Muses perch like Birds and sing Among his Branches yea and vow'd to bring His own delicious Phoenix from the Blest Arabia there to build her Virgin Nest To hatch her self in 'mongst his Leaves the Day Fresh from the Rosie East rejoyc't to play To them she gave the first and fairest Beam That waited on her Birth she gave to them The purest Pearls that wept her Evening Death The balmy Zephirus got so sweet a Breath By often kissing them and now begun Glad time to ripen expectation The timerous Maiden-Blossomes on each Bough Peept forth from their first blushes so that now A Thousand ruddy hopes smil'd in each Bud And flatter'd every greedy Eye that stood Fixt in Delight as if already there Those rare Fruits dangled whence the Golden year His Crown expected when O Fate O Time That seldom lett'st a blushing youthful Prime Hide his hot Beams in shade of silver Age So rare is hoary vertue the dire Rage Of a mad storm these bloomy joyes all tore Ravisht the Maiden Blossomes and down bore The Trunk yet in this Ground his precious Root Still lives which when weak Time shall be pour'd out Into Eternity and circular joys Dance in an endless round again shall rise The fair Son of an ever-youthful Spring To be a shade for Angels while they sing Mean while who e'r thou art that passest here O do thou water it with one kind Tear Upon the Death of the most desired Mr. Herrys DEath what dost O hold thy blow What thou dost thou dost not know Death thou must not here be cruel This is Natures choicest Jewel This is he in whose rare frame Nature labour'd for a Name And meant to leave his precious Feature The pattern of a perfect Creature Joy of Goodness Love of Art Vertue wears him next her Heart Him the Muses love to follow Him they call their Vice Apollo Apollo Golden though thou be Th' art not fairer then is he Nor more lovely lift'st thy head Blushing from thine Eastern Bed The Glories of thy Youth ne'r knew Brighter hopes then he can shew Why then should it e'r be seen That his should Fade while thine is Green And wilt Thou O cruel boast Put poor Nature to such cost O 't will undoe our common Mother To be at charge of such another What think we to no other end Gracious Heavens do use to send Earth her best perfection But to vanish and be gone Therefore only give to day To morrow to be snatcht away I 've seen indeed the hopeful Bud Of a ruddy Rose that stood Blushing to behold the Ray Of the new saluted Day His tender Top not fully spread The sweet dash of a shower now shed Invited him no more to hide Within himself the Purple pride Of his forward Hower when lo While he sweetly 'gan to show His swelling Glories Auster spide him Cruel Auster thither hy'd him And with the rush of one rude blast Sham'd not spitefully to wast All his Leaves so fresh so sweet And lay them trembling at his feet I 've seen the Mornings lovely Ray Hover o'r the new-born Day With Rosie wings so richly Bright As if he scorn'd to think of Night When a ruddy storm whose scoul Made Heavens radiant face look foul Call'd for an untimely Night To blot the newly blossom'd Light But were the Roses blush so rare Were the Mornings smile so fair As is he nor Cloud nor Wind But would be courteous would be kind Spare him Death O spare him then Spare the sweetest among men Let not pitty with her Tears Keep such distance from thine Ears But O thou wilt not canst not spare Haste hath never time to hear Therefore if he needs must go And the Fates will have it so Softly may he be possest Of his monumental Rest. Safe thou dark home of the dead Safe O hide his loved head For Pitties sake O hide him quite From his Mother Natures sight Lest for the Grief his loss may move All her Births Abortive prove Another IF ever Pitty were acquainted With sterne Death if e're he fainted Or forgot the cruell vigor Of an Adamantine rigour Here o here we should have known it Here or no where he 'd have
Nature her own Physitian be Wouldst see a man all his own Wealth His own Physick his own Health A Man whose sober Soul can tell How to wear her Garments well Her Garmetts that upon her sit As Garments should do close and sit A well-cloath'd soul that 's not opprest Nor choakt with what she should be drest A Soul sheath'd in a Chrystal shrine Through which all her bright Features shine As when a piece of wanton Lawn A thin aereal Vail is drawn O'r Beauties Face seeming to hide More sweetly shows the blushing Bride A Soul whose intellectual Beams No Mists do Mask no lazy steams A happy soul that all the way To Heaven hath a Summers day Would'st thou see a Man whose well warm'd blood Bathes him in a genuine flood A Man whose Tuned humours be A set of rarest Harmony Wouldst see blith Looks fresh Cheeks beguile Age wouldst see December smile Wouldst see a nest of Roses grow In a bed of reverend Snow Warm Thoughts free Spirits flattering Winters self into a Spring In summe wouldst see a Man that can Live to be old and still a Man The beginning of Heliodorus THe smiling Morn had newly wak't the Day And tipt the Mountains in a tender Ray When on a Hill whose high Imperious Brow Looks down and sees the humble Nile below Lick his proud feet and haste into the seas Through the great Mouth that 's nam'd from Hercules A band of men rough as the Arms they wore Look't round first to the Sea then to the Shore The Shore that shewed them what the Sea deny'd Hope of a Prey There to the main Land ty'd A ship they saw no men she had yet prest Appear'd with other lading for her Brest Deep in the groaning waters wallowed Up to the third Ring o'r the shore was spread Death's purple Triumph on the blushing ground Lifes late forsaken Houses all lay drown'd In their own Bloods dear deluge some new dead Some panting in their yet warm ruines bled While their affrighted souls now wing'd for flight Lent them the last flash of her glimmering Light Those yet fresh streams which crawled every where Shew'd that stern warre had newly bath'd him there Nor did the face of this disaster show Marks of a fight alone but feasting too A miserable and a monstrous Feast Where hungry War had made himself a Guest And coming late had eat up Guests and all Who prov'd the Feast to their own Funeral c. Out of the Greek Cupid's Cryer LOve is lost nor can his Mother Her little fugitive discover She seeks she sighs but no no where spies him Love is lost and thus she crys him O yes if any happy Eye This roaving wanton shall descry Let the Finder surely know Mine is the Wagg 't is I that own The winged wand'rer and that none May think his Labour vainly gone The glad descryer shall not miss To taste the Nectar of a Kiss From Venus Lips but as for him That brings him to me he shall swim In riper joys more shall be his Venus assures him then a kiss But lest your Eye discerning slide These marks may be your judgements guide His Skin as with a Fiery blushing High-colour'd is His Eyes still flushing With nimble Flames and though his Mind Be ne'r so curst his Tongue is kind For never were his Words in ought Found the pure issue of his thought The working Bees soft melting Gold That which their waxen Mines enfold Flow not so sweet as do the Tones Of his I un'd Accents but if once His anger kindle presently It boils out into cruelty And fraud he makes poor mortals hurts The objects of his cruel sports With dainty Curles his froward face Is Crown'd about but O what place What farthest nook of lowest Hell Feels not the strength the reaching spell Of his small hand yet not so small As 't is powerful therewithal Though bare his Skin his Mind he covers And like a saucy Bird he hovers With wanton Wing now here now there 'Bout Men and Women nor will spare Till at length he perching rest In the Closet of their Brest His weapon is a little Bow Yet such a one as Jove knows how Ne'r suffred yet his little Arrow Of Heav'ns high'st Arches to fall narrow The Gold that on his Quiver smiles Deceives mens fears with flattering wiles But O too well my wounds can tell With bitter shafs 't is sauc't too well He is all cruel cruel all His Torch imperious though but small Makes the Sun of Flames the Sire Worse then Sun-burnt in his Fire Wheresoe'r you chance to find him Seize him bring him but first bind him Pitty not him but fear thy self Though thou see the crafty Else Tell down his Silver drops unto thee They 'r counterfeit and will undoe thee With baited smiles if he display His fawning Cheeks look not that way If he offer sugred Kisses Start and say the Serpent hisses Draw him drag him though he pray Wooe intreat and crying say Prethee sweet now let me go Here 's my Quiver Shafts and Bow I 'le give thee all take all take heed Lest his kindness make thee bleed What e'r it be Love offers still presume That though it shines 't is Fire and will consume HIgh mounted on an Ant Nanus the tall Was thrown alas and got a deadly fall Under th' unruly Beasts proud feet he lies All torn with much adoe yet e'r he dies He strains these words Bâ—…se Envy doe laugh on Thus did I fall and thus fell Phaethon Upon Venus putting on Mars his Arms. WHat Mars his sword fair Cytherea say Why art thou Arm'd so desperately to day Mars thou hast beaten naked and O then What needst thou put on Arms against poor men Uupon the same PAllas saw Venus arm'd and streight she cry'd Come if thou dar'st thus thus let us be try'd Why fool says Venus thus provok'st thou me That being nak't thou know'st could conquer thee Upon Bishop Andrews his Picture before his Sermons THis Reverend shadow cast that setting Sun Whose Glorious course through our Horizon run Left the dimme Face of this dull Hemisphaere All one great Eye all drown'd in one great Tear Whose fair illustrious Soul led his free Thought Through Learnings Universe and vainly sought Room for her spacious self until at length She found the way home with an Holy strength Snatch't her self hence to Heaven fill'd a bright place Mongst those immortal Fires and on the Face Of her great Maker fixt her flaming Eye There still to read true pure Divinity And now that grave Aspect hath deign'd to shrink Into this less appearance if you think 'T is but a dead face Art doth here bequeath Look on the following Leaves and see him breath Out of Martial FOur Teeth thou hadst that rank'd in goodly state Kept thy Mouths Gate The first blast of thy Cough left two alone The second none This last Cough Aelia Cought out all thy fear Th' hast left the third
they by the seasonable fright Of an unseasonable night Loosing it once again stumble on true Light 2 And as before his too-bright eye Was their more blind idolatry So his officious blindness now shall be Their black but faithful perspective of thee 3 His new prodigious night Their new and admirable light The supernatural Dawn of thy pure day While wondring they The happy converts now of him Whom they compell'd before to be their sin Shall henceforth see To kiss him only as their rod Whom they so long courted as God Cho. And their best use of him they worship't be To learn of him at lest to worship thee 2 It was their Weakness woo'd his Beauty But it shall be Their wisdom now as well as duty T' injoy his Blot and as a large black Letter Use it to spel thy Beauties Better And make the night it self their torch to thee 2 By the oblique ambush of this close night Couch't in that conscious shade The right ey'd Areopagite Shall with a vigorous guess invade And catch thy quick reflex and sharply see On this dark Ground To descant thee 3 O price of the rich Spirit with that fierce chase Of this strong Soul shall he Leap at thy lofty Face And seize the swift flash in rebound From this obsequious Cloud Once call'd a Sun Till dearly thus undone Cho. Till thus triumphantly tam'd O ye two Twin-Suns and taught now to negotiate you 1 Thus shall that reverend Child of light 2 By being Scholar first of that new night Come forth Great Master of the mistick day 3 And teach obscure Mankind a more close way By the frugal negative Light Of a most wise and well-abused Night To read more legible thine original Ray Cho. And make our darkness serve thy day Maintaining 'twixt thy World and ours A commerce of contrary pow'rs A mutual Trade 'Twixt Sun and Shade By confederate Black and White Borrowing Day and lending Night 1 Thus we who when with all the Noble powr's That at thy cost are call'd not vainly ours We vow to make brave way Upwards and press on for the pure intelligential prey 2 At lest to play The amorous spies And peep and proffer at thy sparkling Throne 3 Instead of bringing in the blissful Prize And fastning on thine Eyes Forfeit our own And nothing gain But more ambitious loss at lest of brain Cho. Now by abased Lids shall learn to be Eagles and shut our Eyes that we may see The Close Therefore to thee and thine auspicious ray Dread sweet lo thus At lest by us The delegated Eye of Day Does first his Scepter then himself in solemn Tribute pay Thus he undresses His sacred unshorn Tresses At thy adored Feet thus he lays down 1 His gorgeous tire Of Flame and Fire 2 His glittering Robe 3 His sparkling Crown 3 His Gold 2 His Mirrh 3. His Frankincence Cho. To which he now has no pretence For being show'd by this days light how far He is from Sun enough to make thy Star His best ambition now is but to be Somthing a brighter shadow Sweet of thee Or on Heav'ns azure forehead high to stand Thy Golden Index with a duteous Hand Pointing us home to our own Sun The World's and his Hyperion To the Queen's Majesty on Twelfth-day MADAM 'Mongst those long rows of Crowns that guild your Race These Royal sages sue for decent place The day-break of the Nations their first ray When the dark World dawn'd into Christian day And smil'd i' th Babes bright face the purpling Bud And Rosy dawn of the right Royal Blood Fair first-fruits of the Lamb sure Kings in this They took a Kingdom while they gave a kiss But the World's Homage scarce in these well blown We read in you Rare Queen ripe and full grown For from this day 's rich seed of Diadems Does rise a radiant crop of Royal stems A Golden Harvest of Crown'd heads that meet And crowd for kisses from the Lambs white feet In this illustrious throng your lofty floud Swels high fair confluence of all highborn Bloud With your bright head whose groves of Scepters bend Their wealthy tops and for these feet contend So swore the Lambs dread Sire and so we see 't Crowns and the Heads they kiss must court these Feet Fix here fair Majesty may your heart ne'r miss To reap new Crowns and Kingdoms from that kiss Nor may we miss the joy to meet in you The aged honors of this day still new May the great time in you still greater be While all the year is your Epiphany While your each day's Devotion duly brings Three Kingdoms to supply this days three Kings The Office of the Holy Cross For the hour of Matins The Versicle Lord by thy sweet and saving Sign The Responsory Defend us from our Foes and Thine Ver. Thou shalt open my Lips O Lord. Res. And my mouth shall declare thy praise Ver. O God make speed to save me Res. O Lord make haste to help me Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Ghost As it was in the beginning is now and ever shall be world without end Amen THE HYMN THe wakeful Matines haste to sing The unknown sorrows of our King The Father's Word and Wisdome made Man for Man by Man's betraid The world's price set to sale and by the bold Merchants of Death and Sin is bought and sold Of his best Friends yea of himself forsaken By his worst foes because he would besieg'd and taken The Antiphon All hail fair Tree Whose Fruit we be What Song shall raise Thy seemly praise Who broughtst to light Life out of Death Day out of night The Versicle Lo we adore thee Dread Lamb and bow thus low before thee The Responsor 'Cause by the Covenant of thy Cross Thou hast sav'd at once the whole World's loss The Prayer O My Lord Jesu Christ Son of the living God! interpose I pray thee thine own pretious death thy Cross and Passion betwixt my Soul and thy Judgement now and in the hour of my death And vouchsafe to grant me thy Grace and Mercy to the living and dead remission and rest to thy Church peace and concord to us sinners life and glory everlasting Who livest and reignest with the Father in the Unity of the Holy Ghost one God world without end Amen For the hour of Prime The Versicle Lord by thy sweet and saving Sign The Responsor Defend us from our foes and thine Ver. Thou shalt open my Lips O Lord. Res. And my mouth shall declare thy praise Ver. O God make speed to save me Res. O Lord make haste to help me Glory be to c. As it was in c. THE HYMN THe early Prime blushes to say She could not rise so soon as they Call'd Pilate up to try if he Could lend them any Cruelty Their Hands with lashes arm'd their Tongues with lyes And loathsome Spittle blot those beauteous Eyes The blissful springs of Joy from whose