for Griefe to descant on And each mishap our hopes doe make infirme Though It we meete not with Suspition To force our friendship on a mortall foe Makes Folly triumph in our ouerthro But Loue that hath in Feares and Hopes no measure The more It longs her Obiect to possesse The more it doubts thereof the dire displeasure And beeing disseis'd thereof doth hope the lsse But O! this Loue is humane not diuine For Faith will not let Feare true loue decline Christ to thy longing-loue is as the Riuer Vnto the chased Hart which still he seekes And as Men thirstie mind but moysture euer So loue doth thinke on nought but what it likes If That Bee not It seekes no more to Bee But Beeing It would Be That bond or free Loue cannot liue without her Obiect long Sith shee then longing liues a dying life Who weenes her Right then to her offers wrong As doth the Husband that forsakes his Wife For in our deeds which Reason might reproue We scape vnshent if they were done in loue While loue doth lacke the oyle that makes it flame It is all Eare or Eie to heare or see Who can bewraie or where abides the same That there she may in loy or Sorrow be And listens vnto Newes with longing-heed In hope thereby to find her longingsmeed If It be good shee hopes it 's without peere If bad it be shee feares it 's worse than ill But be it good or bad shee it must heare Although the ioy or sorrow her may kill Desire doth neuer rest till that be had Which like to that Desire is good or bad Clothe him with Diamonds that quakes for cold Or cramme his purse with crownes that 's hunger-pin'd That for a freeze Gowne giue his Iewels would This all his Crownes for Crusts of coursest kin'd As each supplie supplies not each defect So nought contents Desire but his Elect. They that haue most are held most rich to be And they that haue their wish held most to haue Then as in Him is all that 's wisht of thee So Hee 's the Summe of all that thou canst craue It is the greatest gaine that can be made To get eternall good for goods that fade But rest these Thoughts which Thee of rest depriue In Paradise where he thou know'st do the est For there he said the Theefe should with him liue That day that he of life was dispossest Then when the life of Loue is dead to Griefe And liues to Ioy Ioy is dead Loues reliefe Hee for vs captiu'd our captiuitie And what is that but death the due of Sinne Which now he triumphs ore in victorie That we might still reioyce not grieue therein When Griefe is slaine it is a wrong to Ioy Our Powres in Sorrowes seruice to imploy Yet greater cause of griefe Griefe cannot giue But greater cause of ioy Ioy cannot yeeld Griefe Ioy resists and Ioy with Griefe doth striue Thus twixt these two still doubtfull is the field But Ioy at last as true Griefe doth presage Shall Victor be and no more Battell wage For this is He who though thus skarrified Tormented slaughtred and thus vilipended That is indeed the first Man deified Whom Men-of-God as-God to Men commended To Him the Prophets gaue this Testimonie That He should Liue as Man to die for Many His Skinne the Whips his Flesh Thornes made vnsound The Nailes his Nerues the cruell Speare his Heart Sharp Woes his Soule Gods wrath his Mind did wound So wounded was in all and eu'ry Part Thus his Soules-Soule was sacrifiz'd for Sinne That so our Soules might their lost glory winne His hand of Pow'r at first did figulate The Belsire of Mans most vnconstant kind And shall those Hands that Hand did figurate This Hand-almightie by their frailtie bind No no alas the Scepter 's in that Hand That doth both Heau'n and Hell of right command Hee like the glorious rare Arabian Bird Will soone result from his incinderment Which flaming Loue and Charitie had fir'd Of sole selfe-pow'r and owne arbitrement And though his Toyles be Silke-worme like his Tombe Yet shall his actiue Sp'rite his Flesh vntombe Diuinely then with Triumph Caesared He shall reblesse Thee with ten Thousand Blisses Whereby thy Soule shall aie be rauished With many millions of sweet Comforts kisses Whose Sweetes shall be so super-naturall That they perforce thy Cares shall cordial Then cheere thee sacred Virgin mourne no more The worst is past the best is now to come Thy blessed Wombe his blessed Body bore To die accurst for which He blest thy Wombe The Curse we caus'd for which He Death indures Then mourne no more but let the Griefe be Ours Fraile-Fleshes signiorizing Tyrant fell Vsurping Monarchie in her Effects Stearne Hydra-headed SINNE with Death and Hell He by his Death to free our Flesh subiects Then let Lifes Death that Lifes Death doth reliue Kill thy quicke woes and thy dead ioyes reuiue Serene thy Woe-adumbred Front sweet Saint Let Ioy transluce thy Beauties blandishment Thy Sonne feeles not for Death is Sence restraint Yet sees though dead thy liuing languishment Which well he wots though it of Loue proceed Auailes Him not nor mends His Killers Creed Thou know'st thy charge thy Master thee impos'd Sacred Euangelist His Soules deere Loue To thee her Sonne as to her Sonne dispos'd O then discharge thy charge for her behoue And like a Sonne yeeld her sad Heart reliefe With words that flow from fellow-feeling griefe Come come O Ioseph Nichodemus come Make haste post haste to take his Body downe He yet craues pitty though He yet be dumbe Yet by your ruth your loue may yet be showne Though feare of Men did make ye God forsake Yet God sith ye are Men will mercie take You did none other than his Minions did Whom of base Groomes his Grace did Minnionize Yet in his Troubles all their Heads they hid And left him for their Sinnes a Sacrifize Yet sith his Armes are spread them to embrace Ye may be sure Hee 'l take you too to grace Then sith in loue ye haue obtained leaue To take him downe that humbled so was raised Then downe retake him and withall beleeue He shall in Heau'n remounted aid be praised Vp with your Scala-Coeli to the Tree To take downe Heau'n for Heau'n of Heau'ns is Hee NOw Soule suppose thou see'st these worthy Men Laden with Linnen and with costly Gumbes Vnto the blessed-cursed Crosse to ren T'interre his Corps which DEATH now ouercomes Where beeing arriu'd the Ladders vp they reare To take Him downe with care surmounting Care See how the Infant Church whose feeble force Hath scarse the strength to lift vp Hand to Head Vnites her powers to take downe his Corse That is aliue and yet is perfect dead See with what fearefull care the Nailes they draw As if his Flesh yet felt or them He saw What prouidence they vse with Linnen large Crossing his dead Corps that to Death was Crost That so
they may the better wield that Charge And not by poize to let him fall be forc't See how the Body doubles in their Armes While Faith their loue with feruor double warmes For Martyrs Deaths giue life to Martyrs more Till DEATH be tir'd with reauing Them of Life This God did die as nere did Man before For Hee by yeelding meekely conquer'd Strife His Patience in such Passions and such Spightes Doth Life-inspire the faith of Proselites It is in vaine therefore with Sword or Fire To seeke to plant a Faith which cannot growe For Saints blood chokes It ere It can aspire And like a Deluge doth It ouerflow For when the Church is bath'd in Her owne blood Shee 's cur'd of all Diseases in that Flood Who will not runne into an Hell of Paine For His Hopes sake when he sees some therein For that same cause to seeme in blisse to raigne And by that Blisse eternall Glorie winne It 's sport to die when Life and Death conspire Feare to exclude and satiate the Desire WEll now those Women that were fled him fro When Tempests rag'd are come the Coast being cleare To pay him their last Dutie sith no mo They shall not as they doubt Him see nor heare Now eu'ry one is busied busily To grace Him Dead that for their grace did die Now downe they haue this dead Life-giuing Lord And now their zeale with diuine adoration Performes Loues complements in deed and word Now He hath suffred now they suffer Passion They spice Him sweetly with salt teares among And of sad Sighes they make their Obiit-Song O cruell hands quoth one that pierc'd these Hands But farre more cruell heart that gor'd this Heart Curst quoth another bee their feet that stand In Sinners Way who did these Feet endart O quoth a Third Paine still that Head suround That with these cruell Thornes this Head hath crown'd Infernall Furies whip them that haue torne This blessed Flesh thus whipt accursedly And be their Flesh with Wants to nothing worne That thus haue worne the Flesh of Deitie O worme of Conscience gnaw their Soules to nought That still did plague his Soule and vexe his Thought Let neuer Sunne recheere them with his Raies That Iustice Sonne haue thus in purple clowded Let nere Mouth ope but spit in their dispraise That haue these Lips in Death's pale Liu'ry shrouded Thus all like Honny-Bees sweet murmure make Against those Waspes that spoil'd their honny Cake Now draw they forth their Aromaticke Gumbes His Flesh most sweet to make most oderous See see how now His Traine late scatt'red comes Trooping with drooping Hearts most dolorous To helpe t'embalme Him and condole His death And to consort His Carcasse to the Earth See how in Peace they striue in Loue contend To kisse and rekisse his gore-crusted Face And with each kisse Teares Floods their force extend Which shall anticipate the others pace Loe how they hug Him with lowd-shaking cries Some hugge his Armes and others Legges and Thies But blest is He that hath his Head in hold Hee holds his hold till crowd enforce him thence Yet ere he parts his kisses millifold Bewray his loue and louing diligence And as the Babe is loath to leaue the Dugge Forepin'd with thirst so at his Lips they tugge Sweet Iesus giue me leaue in strong conceit Among these holy Ones to kisse thee once I as vnworthy will their leisure waite With vigilant attendance for the nonce Though they in loue are not my selfe aboue For who hath most forgiuen most doth loue If not thy Lips for I confesse deere Sweete I am vn worthy such preheminence Yet giue me leaue to kisse thy sacred Feet And wash them with my sad Teares confluence Let me with Marie who had much forgiu'n Yet I much more make Them my highest Heau'n For I aye me I am that Lumpe of Sinne That made thy Soule so heauie to the death I eu'ry day afresh thy woes begin Breathing out Death to thee with my Lifes breath Farre worse than he that blind thy Heart did gore For I doe see and yet doe wound it more O Christ with thy Rod strike my Rockie Heart That it may flow for Thee as Thine for me O let it bleed in pittie of thy smart And leaue to thinke on ought that grieueth Thee Bleed Heart weepe Eies that Blood and Water may Wash Blood and Water which I spilt away Sweet Honnied Sweet looke looke into my Heart See what Desires thy Loue doth pow'r therein Touching thy Loue I know thou hast the Arte To make the same in Deed thy Loue to winne Sith thy grace makes the Will and Deed intire O giue me grace to Doe as I Desire And as it 's written of the Elephant That he is fierce to see Grapes blood diffus'd So let me Wretch become most valiant Gainst Death and Hell to see thy Blood effus'd Who art the Grape which pressed on the Crosse Yeelds wine of Life and makes vs liue by losse When I behold thy still-fresh-bleeding Wounds I see the Deed to worke with the Desire Of my Redemption which my Soule confounds With shame though It the same doth life-inspire Whose good Deeds by Desire are onely done Though good Deeds end what good Desires begun When when deere Lord O when shall I fraile I Resist to Blood thy bloody foes resist When for thy sake shall I desire to die And in that deere Desire in Deed insist Till when I hold my deer'st Desires to be Vnworthy of thy Crosse much lesse of Thee Can I behold thy Gore rough-casted Corse Thine Head Heart Hands Backe Side Feet wounded all And all to free me from thy Fathers Curse And all I doe is but therein to fall I le trust Thy Secrecie Hearke in thine Eare I am the worst redeem'd with Blood so deere Then good Desires can nere repay the Debt Which thee I owe by Deeds seal'd with thy Blood My selfe thy Due I should too much forget To seeke to paie Thee with none other good For I am Thine Thou deerely paid'st for me Then both my Life and Death should honour Thee This World this Hellish World doth dimme mine Eies My Iudgements Eies that they but darkly see The way to worke by loue as worke the wise The godly wise whose workes tend all to Thee Then helpe me Loue to worke for Thee alone Meane while let me thy Passion thinke vpon Now doth this louing sacred Synaxie With diuine Orizons and deuout Teares Ensindon Him with choisest Draperie And to the Sepulcher his Body beares And as they beare him step by step they poure Downe showres of Teares which winds of Sighes procure But ah alasse his Mother all this while Like Niobe as Poets faine still sits All as shee did her Senses reconcile To senslesse Death and were in Tranced fits Without or Spâ—ite or Life or Heart or Soule Her violent woes her Senses so controule Now Loue to his last Home hath Him conuai'd That had no Hole in Life to
THE HOLY ROODE OR CHRISTS CROSSE Containing CHRIST Crucified described in Speaking picture By IOHN DAVIES And who in Passion sweetely sing the same Doe glorifie their owne in Jesus NAME Crux Christi clauis Coeli LONDON Printed for N Butter To the Right Honourable well accomplished Lady ALICE Countesse of Derby my good Lady and Mistresse And to her three right Noble Daughters by Birth Nature and Education the Lady Elizabeth Countesse of Huntington the Lady Francis Egerton and the Lady Anne Wife to the truely Noble Lord Gray Lord Chandois that now is be all Comfort when so euer CROST THough long yet loe at length What was design'd To you and yours great Lady now is come To your faire Hands to mooue your fairer Minde To minde His paine that is true pleasures Summe For Siren-pleasures that but Sense allure Must with the pleasures flowing from this paine Be clens'd else those will runne to Helles impure While these to Eden faire reflow againe The Crosse true Tree of life doth fairely grow In midd'st thereof of whose fruite if you taste The Nectar'd Iuyce will so your Soule oreflow That She will be ioy-drunke with that repast To Flesh and Blood this Tree but Wormewood seemes How ere the same may be of Suger-chest But* That which quickens Flesh the Crosse esteemes To be of Comforts better then the best Vpon the Crosse as on a Touch we may Trie our Soules value whether great or small If there it washt with Water-Strong doth stay We may be sure it's most Angelicall But with a touch if from this Touch the Crosse It fleetes as if the Crosse did Crosse i'ts kinde Then doth it shew that it is full of Drosse Till in Afflictions flames it be refinde But you with Salomon haue erst suruaid Nay prou'd the value of Earthes deerest Ioyes Then hardly can your Iudgement be betray'd Vnlesse sense will not see their felt annoyes Now as you are the Roote from whence doe spring True royall Branches beautifying their Stocke To this Tree beare them and faire Branches clinge To It as Iuy to th' immortall Oke For roiall Branches to the royalst Tree Doe cleaue by kind sith there they kindly thriue Then Ladies of this Tree embracers bee Which when ye die will make you more than liue When sensuall pleasure filled hath a Cuppe Of her sweete Liquor for you sith too blame Stirre it about before yee drinke it vp With some parte of this Tree to purge the same Els like sweete Poison it will bane the Soule But highly-lowly Ladies good as great Your great Minds Powers borne great can soone controule Vaine Pleasures siege and so their Spoiles defeate For Pleasures most ore'come the weakest Minds Vnfenc'd with Vertue lying ope to Vice Whose Iudgements eury flash of Pleasure blinds Borne but to Honours shame and Preiudice Then O firme Quadruple in Vnitie Of highly borne so kindly noble Hearts I wish all Pleasures flow from Caluery Most holy Mount into your inward'st parts And stil I 'le pray without Times smallest losse The Crosse may blesse you from your Comforts Crosse. Your Honors humble Seruant and deuoted Beadsman Iohn Dauies ⧠To the Authour THine Art and Subiect both such Worth containe That thou art best requited in thy paine EDVV. HERBRET Knight ¶ TO M. IOHN DAVIES my good friend SVch men as hold intelligence with Letters And in that nice and Narrow way of Verse As oft they lend so oft they must be Debters If with the Muses they will haue commerce Seldome at Stawles me this way men rehearse To mike Inferiours nor vnto my Betters He stales his Lines that so doeth them disperee I am so free I loue not Golden-fetters And many Lines fore Writers be but Setters To them which Cheate with Papers which doth pierse Our Credits when we shew our selues Abetters To those that wrong our knowledge we rehearse Often my good Iohn and I loue thy Letters Which lend me Credit as I lend my Verse Michael Drayton Ad Libri Lectorem WRite on and haue the Palme continue still In sacred style to treate of Powres diuine Inuoke no mortall Grace for Angels will From Heauen descend to grace this Tract of Thine Changing each blacke into a golden line Write on O blessed Subiect God and Men In Heauen and Earth approoues applaud thy paines Zeale seekes not Art yet see no barren Pen To common Trifles hath enlarg'd the reines Nor suckt the borrowed blood from stranger veines Hence All distrest may to their Soules apply True sauing Comfort for the Loue that could Enforce a God for wretched Man to die Curst crost and scornd tormented bought and sold And all for such to whom such Grace he would Cannot in Iustice but extend reliefe To such as mourne their sinnes and rue his griefe Thrice happy then be Thou stird vp to spend The Guifts he giues thee to so blest an end N. Deeble To all passionate Poets YE Poets that in Passion melt to Inke VVherewith Melpomen drawes her saddest Lines So melt that so my thirstie Pen may drinke Of you made Liquid for the sadd'st Designes For were all Spirits of Poets made intire And I therewith inspir'd and had I Pens Made of Times saddest Plumes yet full of Fire All were too cold for Passion for these Threns Here is a Ground for Art and Sorrowes Soules Diuinely holpe to prooue their Descant on This VVorld of Griefe so whoorles on Passions Poles That still it Varies though it still be One Then Braines if ere yee did your Owner steed My Heart hereon through my Pen make to bleed IOHN DAVIES of Hereford THE HOLY ROODE OR CHRISTES CROSSE SONET SInce all that All is altogether vaine Vncertaine mortall momentanie vile VVhich this Sin-Biac'd Bowle the Earth containes My Penn an Heau'nly Ditty shall compile Uouchsafe sweet Christ my Paper be thy Crosse My Pen that Naile that Nail'd thine holy Hand Mine Ynke thy Blood wherewith thou didst ingrosse Th' acquittance of my Uowes infringed Band The Subiect of my Songe let be thy Glory The Burden of the same thy Glories praise The Summe whereof thy Passions sacred Story Let these be all and some of all my Laies For heau'nly Quires by nature do reioyce VVhen Art in Graces Quire reares Natures Uoice WHile that blest Body Sauiour of each Soule Whose Bodies are the Temples of his Spright Hung on the Crosse by Death DEATH to controule The Temples Vaile Stones Graues Earth Skies and Light Rent claue op't quakt and thundring waxt obscure To see LIFE dye and Griefe theire God deuoure These lifelesse Bodies wanting Soules and Sence With sense of his Soules Soule-tormenting smart Condole prouok't by Pitties violence His paine though they of paine can feele no part They sencelesse are yet paines that sence exceed Make their obdurate sencelesse Hearts to bleede And wilt thou Man Gods Image Angells Lord Emperor of Earth and all hir Brest doth beare Made so in loue by him not him affoorde Seeing Him dye for thy Loue
one silly Teare O Aire and Earth why doe ye not conspire To burne this Turfe that Water wants with Fire Aswell the Crosse the Hammer Nailes and Speare Did crucifie thy Iesus as the Iewes No no thy sinnes his Crucifiers were That by his death they might their life excuse O Synne how sinnefull art Thou sith thou must Excuse thy Crymes by crimes much more vniust I st not enough the Soule quite to subuert Wherein Thou liu'st but must thou spoile Him too Through whome the Soule doth liue by whom Thou Art And so do That that doth thy selfe vndoo Then blame not Faith thy foe to spoile thy State When thou thy selfe thy selfe dost dissipate Thinke Man whose Feete are swifter faâ—re then Thought To doe what ere is opposite to Good Thinke that thou seest him on his face longe straught In Praier and in Passion sweating Bloud Sith from al parts for Thee his bloud out flies Giue Him one Drop of Water from thine Eyes A Birde there is as Pliny doth report That in the time of treading sweateth bloud That Birde Ciconia height sweates so in sport But this kinde Pellican in maestiue moode So That in pleasure sweats begetting young But This in Paine with sanguine sweate among This kinde most kinde Soule-sauing Emperick His owne blood broacheth so our Soules to saue And for our Healths He maks his owne Heart sick Yea dyes that by his Death wee life might haue Then sith this blest by-parted Man-god dies For Mans loue Mans loue should be like likewise Thinke now thou seest O ioy-griefe-breeding sight Ioy for his merit griefe for his annoy Perditions child with Men Swords Staues and Light The Lord of Light to catch and so destroy Now thinke thou seest that Reprobate by birth With kisse betray the Lord of Heau'n and Earth Then see ah see how They Limbes of that Lord That Lords it in Deaths gloomie Continent His tender hands bind with a boist'rous cord So strait that straight with rigour violent It seemes to cut in two those tender hands For soft flesh yeelds when such rough force commands And canst Thou see O Thou thou carelesse Man Thou worme thou insect slaue to base Contempt Freedome thus bound for thee if so thou can And yet liue loosly th' art from grace exempt O that the God of grace as Man should die For man whose grace in loosenesse most doth lie Now thinke O thinke thou seest those hounds of hell That yelp out blasphemies about their pray With vngraue gate to runne doe him compell And with tumultuous noyse him lead away Ah see how He that staid the Sunnes swift course Through thicke and thin doth staâ—lesse run perforce Ierusalem O faire Ierusalem Figure of Heau'n built on celestiall soyle Yet wast beheau'nd through blessed Bethelem Shall yet her heau'ns blisse in thee suffer foyle O be thou not ingrate but dash to dust With thine owne downfall thine owne folke vniust Thinke now thou seest the sonnes of Babylon Infernall furies furiously present Meekenesse it selfe this harmelesse holy One To Annas high Priest low hels President Where he with armes and hands meeke lambe stands bound To heare what sense of hearing might confound Here Truth it selfe with Falshood fowle is charged To which for making mild and iust replies A cursed Fist on his blest face discharged A furious buffer that enflam'd his eies Ah see thy God how he doth reeling stand With blood-shot eine by force of hellish hand O damned hand fell engine of reproach How dar'st thou strike that awfull sacred face Before whose dread aspect the Heauens crouch Before whose Maiesties most glorious grace The Seraphins with reuerend feare doe quake And all th' infernal Legions trembling shake What franticke fit what rage did thee incense What fiend what desperat furie made thee dare To offer him that barb'rous violence That is of God the liuely Character Why didst not dread lest his high hand of powre Vpon thy pate would suddaine vengeance powre Saw'st thou not Iustice sitting in his Front As well as Mercie in his eies to sit Did both at once thy cruell eies afront And yet thy heart and hand not staid by it Did Deitie in his face make a stand Yet That not make thee Diuell hold thy hand Then is it cleere thy Hand is none of thine Much lesse thy Heart that did thy Hand direct But it is Hels and wrought Hels damn'd designe Or els that Grace that Face might well protect Nere durst the Diuell tempt him with such force Then though the Fiend be selfe ill thou art worse Canst thou O tell me tell me canst thou Man With th'eie of Thought behold this drierie sight With dried eies Those eies that whilome ran With blood for thee wilt not one drop require Why should the Sunne and Moone the Heau'ns bright eies Then looke on thee but as thine enemies Now thinke O thinke thou see'st O sauage sight His foes inhumane hale him thence in haste Along the streetes with clamour rage and spight To Caiphas house where he was so disgrac't As neuer Man much lesse a God could be Yet neuer God more good to man than he Bound as before he stands in whom we rest Afront the face of that pernitious Priest Who with the Scribes and Elders there are prest In their reproachfull slaunders to persist Meane while meeke Soule though he from guilt be cleare Yet stands he mute as though he guiltie were See the coniuring proud remorcelesse Priest Rend in fell rage too like a furious fiend The pompous vestures of this Pithonist When Christ doth vrg'd aright his cause defend Whereat the rest in depth of scorne and hate His diuine Truth with taunts doe deprauate And to expresse the rancor of their spight They blindfold him and make his face as t' were A Drumme to call his Foes against him to fight For still a tab'ring on his face they are So fast their fists doe fall as Drum-sticks while The Drumme doth sound Alarum to the broyle But that which doth all credit farre exceed But that all credit to this Truth is due They in his louely Face O loathsome deed Doe spitting spall or rather spalling spue O Heau'ns can ye endure to see your King More vilely vs'd than Toad or vilest thing O wonder farre surmounting wonderments O more than most profound humilitie Doe they fiends varnish with fowle excrements That Face whose grace the Heau'ns doth glorifie And he endure it what should we endure When he most pure for vs was made s'impure Men if they spit doe choose the fowlest place VVhere to bestow their eie-offending fleame Is no place fowler than his heau'nly face To cast that filth that reaketh hellish steame O dongue O dust O heire of rottennesse VVilt ere be proud seeing such humblenesse God silent is whiles Diu'ls doe spit on him The heau'ns are whist whiles hell reuiles their Lord The measure of abuse vp to the brimme These hellish furies fill in deed and word VVhat could Gods
loe he faints with trauell sore His corp'rall powres annihilated quite With Paines incursions loe yeeld now out-right Now at a Stand He staies yet hardly stands For bloodlesse breathlesse powrelesse is his Body Now faints that Pow'r that Heau'n and Earth commands His Body bloodlesse all and yet all bloody Drawne out by boyst'rous Blowes sanguinolent Which make him stand with Body double bent O see my Soule ah cast thy carefull Eie Vpon this Miracle-surmounting Wonder The Body of thy God is wrencht awry And double bow'd this massie Burden vnder Is He made crooked that was euer streight He is so made but made so most vnright Ah see how his most holy Hand relies Vpon his knees to vnder-prop his Charge Now Simon-Cyrene help or els he dies The Crosse hath broke his Backe it is too large Then take It off lest Malice be preuented And He die yer fell Furie be contented Weepe Daughters of Ierusalem amaine Here wash his wearie Body with your Teares Though He in Loue doth will you them refraine Yet sith He for your Loue this Burden beares Help with your sorrow to condole his griefe For Mates in Meane yeeld Miserie reliefe Weep Ioy and Mirth although it crosse your kind To see your kind Lord thus vnkindly Crost Crost all in all in Life Death Body Mind But crost least in his Crosse that crost him most For that though eruell most did him relieue Sith it did end the Deaths that Life did giue It 's mercie the condemned straight to rid Out of the paines to which condemn'd they be Christs cursed Crosse then shew this mercie did For which ere since it 's call'd a blessed Tree Where Paine it selfe doth pittie more than Men Who will not pittie there the Pained then It 's sed the longer that the world doth weare The worse It is the last Daies are the worst But these last Times though bad doe nothing beare That can so martyr ought that Nature nurst And did not Truth it selfe the same avow Who would beleeue this Tragedie were true Then who 's a Particle of highest Pow're That will not weepe to see It brought so low What Eies so Gorgoniz'd that can endure To see the All-vpholder forc'd to bow Then sith Hee 's bow'd that canopi'd the skie Let Earth in center of her Center lie Dismount your tow'ring Thoughts aspiring Minds Vnplume their wings in flight pennipotent Sith Hee that flees on wings of swiftest Winds And with Heau'ns Monarch is equipolent Deignes to detrude His Super-excellence So low to checke base Earths magnificence O thou that back'st the Sun-bright Cherubins And gallop'st ore the glitt'ring Lampes of Heau'n Behold thy Sonne sole Lord of Seraphins Humbled to Earth nay with the Earth made eu'n O let his deiect highest Lowlinesse Our pride and thy fell plagues for pride suppresse Remount vs by His fall from whence we fell He 's fall'n in 't hands of Synne of Griefes the Ground Those selfe same Hands threw vs from Heau'n to Hell Yet by 's hard fall O let vs backe rebound And for we are the Mammothrepts of Sinne Crosse vs with Christ to weane our ioyes therein Vpon this Stand of Christ still could I stand To view with Pitties Eies His Wondrous plight My Muse is gâ—auell'd here in Silos Sand And all profunditie orewhelmes Her Spright That Weakenesse so should crosse th' Almighties Will As prest to goe yet opprest standeth still NOw let a sacred Trance transport thy Spirit O Man â—o that vnholy-holy Mount Christ-crosse supporting Mount where He did merit By bitter death from death thy Lifes remount Mount-Tabor All will mount to see his glorie But few his griefe will mount Mount Caluarie There see ah see though torture-tyred quight How He weake Worme creeps vp the Hill in Haste Yet lo the ruthlesse Iewes with maine and might Beyond His might do lugge him to His last As doubting feeble Flesh would faint and die To crosse their Crosse-intended crueltie Fell Enuie dies with Death but Malice liues In Life and Death of those shee seekes to bite The death of whom her halfe dead oft reuiues Yet grieues that Death hath freed them from her spight Then Malice doth gainst Mercie most rebell For shee her foes pursues past Death and Hell When Ionathan all fearelesse scal'd the Rockes Where charg'd he was with troupes of Philistines His Man him equall'd in sustaining knocks Then loe our Ionathan charg'd with our sinnes Now climes vp Caluerie to foyle our fone And shall we cowards leaue him there alone When Sauls bold Squire had seene his Lord to fall Vpon his sword he forth with did the same And rather chose death with his Generall Than spare his life to die with liuing shame Then sith our Saule falles on his Iustice Sword For vs wee die should like wise for our Lord. Now haue they scal'd this mestiue Mountaine top Ore-topt with dead mens Tops and fleshlesse Shins A grim aspect but here with ioy they hop Sith here their Plaies Catastrophe begins Among Deaths Tropheies th'Engine of his Death Is laid along the Dead-Skull-paued Earth See see my Soule ah harke how It doth cracke The Hand of Out-rage that deglutinates His Vesture glu'd with gore-blood to his Backe Which his enfestered Sores exulcerates Ah â—â—e a God! or rather Graue God knowes For now more like a Graue than God he showes There stands He shaking in a Feauer-fit While the cold Aire his Wounds confrigerates Where on some cold Stone faint Hee 's saine to sit Which to it selfe his Sores conglutinates The while his Tort'rers make the Morteffe ready To hold the Crosse that must sustaine him steedie Which beeing done see how their Teeth they grinde And rudely rend not raise him from that Stone There sticke the Cataplasmaes still behinde As proofs how they doe part this Holy-One They beare him to the Crosse but so they beare him As in their portage they doe rather teare him See now thereon how they long-straught him stretch And first one Hand fast to the same they naile Meane while hard by doth stand a ruthlesse Wretch That gainst this Lambe with open mouth doth raile Alas the while what dolor is He in Ah now eu'n now sweet Christ thy woes begin There with one Hand nail'd to the Tree he lies Hand-fasted so to Dolors heaui'st Hand The while his foes protract their Tyrranies That so his Crosse might still lie at a Stand Who fretat Time that fled they thought too fast And past in pittie from the pittie past Yet that no Time might scape without offence They fill his Eares with Blasphemies the while The while Spight studies so to plague his sense That ceaslesse plagues Times pittie might beguile While Heminds nothing but their onely good And freely bleeds to saue them with his blood His holy Heart doth ake more for their sinne Than for the Torments which they make it prooue Who opes his Heart to take his Plaguers in Till he Gods plagues by Plagues from them remooue
Did euer Mercie Iustice so oreflow To saue Iniustice while it workes her woe Mercie orewhelm'd in woe to Iustice praies To pardon vniust damned Cruelties And with deep sighes and groanes her griefes bewraies Lest Iustice should confound her Enemies O Mercie infinite how much are Wee Loose in our Liues and Manners bound to Thee And yet this Mercie Patience Grace and Loue Can nought auaile their rage to mittigate Who trie what paine the perfect'st flesh may prooue Yer Paines the vitall Powres quite dissipate Trieye Conclusions Diuels on your God That brookes your Ierkes to free you from the Rod Now Time not Mercie mooues their Hearts of Steele Because the Sunne wends mourning to the West To take the other Hand like paine to feele Yet still prorogue the Consummatum est So to the Crosse that Hand they slowely fixe And still his paine with mockes and mowes they mixe Both Hands thus nail'd loe how they skip for ioy To see the blood come spinning from his vaines And for they would his sight the more annoy Like worse than fiends they triumph in his paines Then glorious is his Triumphs excellence That such spight conquers with such patience His Hands thus handled then his feet they take And with a Naile of more than ample size They boare them through which makes them so to ake That It wrings water from his Manhoods Eies Weepe Angels Saints and ye Celestiall Spheares To see your Glories Eies ecclipst with Teares Thus beeing fixt vpon the senslesse Crosse How beit it crackt in token of its cares Now here now there the same they turne and tosse Which scarse can beare* That which her Burden bears If Heart of Oake with these griefes broken be What Hearts haue they that ioy the same to see For loe with ioy to see the same they hie While He sweet Christ lies nail'd amidst the Throng Here stands one grenning with his necke awry There stands another lolling out the Tongue Meane while O Christ thy paines no Tongue can tell Saue onely Thine that knew'st such paines too well Well yet at length his Body vp they reare The poize whereof constraines the Crosse to cracke Ah harke my Muse harke harke how in the Aire It groanes to feele the God of Natures wracke Cracke on sweet Crosse and call for vengeance due Against those Wolues which Natures God pursue Thus beeing rear'd He hou'ring hangs on hie In doubt as yet what place in the Aier to haue For now this way he reeles and by and by The other way Hee 's tossed like a Waue The while on Dolors Deepes in stormes of Strife With Armes displai'd He swimmes to lose his Life Now vp He is and past the Pikes thus farre As one spu'd out of Heau'n and cast from Earth For Heau'n and Earth do both against Him warre Who trauels now with our Redemptions birth The whiles the Fiend doth tempt Him in these woes That so He might that blessed Burden lose But now ah now ensues a pinching paine For hauing brought him to the Sockets Brimmes That should the reeling Crosse and Him sustaine They iog it in to lacerate his lymmes No maruell though the Temples vaile did rent Beeing neere such tearing of th'Omnipotent O Christ my Iesus deere celestiall Sweet In this annoy thine ease as should appeare Was nought but this to rest thee on thy feete When as thy Hands with hanging wearie were And then to ease thy nummed feet againe Thou mak'st thy Hands thy heauie corps sustaine If for thine aking Head thou seekest ease Then loe a Wreath of Thornes bewraps thy Browes Whose piercing pricks thy Head doe so disease That it confounds the same with pinching Throwes That Head whose Members It exhilerates Now agonizing anguish macerates All Members feele the anguish of the Head In Animals whose Soules are sensitiue Except through Accident the same be dead But Members to reioyce when Head doth griue Is most vnnaturall but Grace in this Makes Headsannoy become the Bodies blisse If towards the Heau'ns for help thou cast thine Eies Lo there thou seest thy Fathers Browes to bend Against Mans sinne which on thy shoulders lies So that he lookes more like a foe than friend If to the Earth for help thou look'st againe Loe there thyfoes stand prest t' increase thy paine In this extreame thy friends fled euery one Albeit thou did'st foretell they should doe so Onely thy Mother and thy darling Iohn Stood by thee still wringing their hands for woe These blessed Paire repaired to thee then When thou seem'dst left of God and loath'd of Men The hatefull Homicide the damned Theefe Which on thy left hand hoong derides thy pow'r And for thou wouldst not yeeld thy selfe reliefe Thou couldst not he wretch thought with thought vnpure So many deemethy Members loft of Thee When they with mortall torments martyr'd be But Faith is most compleate when Sense hath nought Where on to giue her but the least repose When Meanes whereby her Battailes must be fought Faile vtterly yet Shee no ground to lose This faith is worthy of the Crosse and Crowne Because when all is lost shee holds her owne This faith the Theefe that on thy right hand hoong Had in full force for what saw he in thee Saue extreame Patience in a World of wrong That he should thinke thee God and Man to be Who iustifi'd thee to be iustifi'd And praid to Thee as to Man Deified O thou true Theefe more true was neuer any Would in thy case I were for all thy paine Thy paines to day shall passe to pleasures many Too many for mans heart to entertaine O blessed Theefe so blest was neuer Theefe To die with him whose death 's thy Soules reliefe But now O Christ how far'st thou all this while Not well I wot though well it be for me Ah looke how all thy foes doe grenne and smile To see thy vile aduancement on this Tree Come downe say they and saue thy selfe for why Thou art Gods Sonne and therefore canst not die But these their words are most irronicall Proceeding from the depth ofscorne and hate And all their words and deeds tyrannicall Vndoing all that doe thy woes abate O! enuious Serpents hatcht in Hèll belo What fiend a faultlesse Soule could torture so Downe from the height of his exalted Crosse He casts his daz'led Eies with motion slow Vpon his blessed Mother ah how closse Her Heart with woe is shut to feele his wo His woe shee feeles for of her Flesh is He Then all His Bodies paines Her Bodies be His Bodies paine Her Soule and Body pines Her extreame loue in all extremitie His passions feele for such Loue nere repines To suffer with her Obiect feelingly If then Her Loues life Death of Deaths indures Iudge what a Hell of woe Her Soule immures Woman quoth He behold behold thy Sonne Thns said in few as He had said thus much Behold his end that at thy selfe begun Behold his Body that nore Filth could
desire Those glitt'ring Sunnes his bright transpiercing eies On Peters eies as on two Fountaines shine By whose attractiue vertue Dropsarise Then downe distill in showres of Angels wine Who with heau'ns hoast therefore their tongues imploy To praise their God in hymnes starke drunke with ioy VVho cannot loue to thinke on loue so high That loues in Mercie Iustice Obiects hate Yea loues a Man that doth that loue defie VVho cannot die for such loue liues too late Let neuer Adams sonnes through Eaues offence To God and Nature vse such violence This hellish Night beeing ended then suppose This heau'nly Day-starreled to Plutos court Pilats I would say but respect of woes He there endur'd made true and false report Yet did this Comet cleare make Pilate pause Ere doom'd him as contagious by the lawes In the diuine sweet features of his face That might an heart of steele relent with ruth Pilate no doubt beheld a world of grace And well perceiu'd his Innocence and Truth Yet must he die doe Pilate what he can And for his Iudge that Monster is the Man To doome to death Rights wrongers is but right Although we wrongfully doe deeme them so That 's wronging Right as Men that haue no sight In that which righteous God alone doth kno But when the Conscience cries the doome is wrong The tongue pronounceth Hell confound that Tongue Dismist by Pilate see thy most iust Iudge From this Iudge most vniust led to a King Much more vniust loe how Hee 's forc'd to trudge Through thicke and thin harke how their clamors ring About his Eares and see the people flocke To see whereat to wonder gaze and mocke To Herod come that long had long'd to see him See now as if some Iuggler he had bin That would shew tricks to all men that would fee him How he prouokes Him some trick to begin But for He silent stands and thwarts his mind He holds Him but a Foole and foole vnkind Oye great Princes little doe ye know What wrong you doe vnto your high estate Tinsult through pompous pride on States below And thinke all Fooles not frolickt with like Fate Ye are no Gods and therefore know ye not Whom ye abuse and what may be your Lot This Foole wise foole holds Him full wise a foole And on the Mantle must that fooles doth fit He learn'd his wisdome in grosse Follies schoole But Wisdome on her Throne in Christ doth sit One seem'd not was the other was not seem'd Yet seem'd a God indeed though Man was deem'd He man was deem'd indeed that stird vp strife And crost the course the way ward world still runnes Life was accus'd with deadly sinne in life God was a Diuell deem'd by Sathans sonnes A Diuell deem'd or Man that had a Diuell But such a Man is worse or full as euill But Wrong that wrencheth eu'ry right awry And doth her selfe her selfe oft contradict That Supposition now doth flat denie And for a foole hee 's tane and nam'd and nickt Had he a Diuell bin or they as wise As Diuels be more smooth had bin their lies Here Wisdome that baptizeth with his Sp'rit All godly wise is baptiz'd for a foole Their angers glowing heat with this despight They thinke in red-hot raging hate to coole If his loue lik'd the foole that fooles detest For vs poore fooles he lik'd that he lou'd least Olet yea let weake Humane-wisdome vaile Her Peacoks plumes and make swift wing from Fame By this Example let her courage quaile And haue no heart to hurt her Honors shame If he whom Angels praise and Heau'ns adore Endure such shame let Earth seeke fame no more He was accus'd of what not so 't were euill Glutton Wine-bibber loath'd Samaritan Dam'd sinners coapesmate one that had a diuell Soule-slaying Schismaticke nor God nor Man But Hatreds Hydra bred in Stygian Poole And to conclude all clos'd all with the Foole. O had I Art to satisfie Desire That would with Words throwe downe Mans pride to hell That would past Heauen if it could aspire And makes the Bulke with ranke ambition swell I would vpon this Ground set such a Straine As should surmount the reach of Voyce or Braine Meekenesse looke on thy selfe and blush for shame To see thy selfe thy selfe surpassed so Humilitie low low stoop thy high fame Thou art surmounted farre farre God doth kno Thou boundlesse flood of Vertues confluence Thy bounds in him haue endlesse residence Looke Glorie on thy Lord thy God behold Inuested with Contempts derided coat Yet see what constant Grace his face doth hold O earth fraile earth thy Props strong patience note And neuer lift thy selfe thy selfe aboue To loue thy selfe vnlesse this Lord to loue See see how he in midst of all Extreames The proper Place where Vertue is confi'nd Though mad Misrule his name with shame blasphemes Yet his rare patience passeth humane kind Which well be wraies this Man is more than man That loues for hate and blâ—st when Spight did ban How mute was he among so many lies Lowd lies God wot braid out by his Accusers How still meeke Lambe among so many cries Offowle mouth'd hounds his hunters and abusers In few he show'd so many Guifts of Grace That men might cleerely see God in his face God in his face for mong the sonnes of men Was not a fairer or Forme more diuine The Paragon of Beauâ—ie was he then Which in his sacred shape did brightly shine For Beautie was constraind her selfe t' excell When shee him made faire without Parralell Yet could not so great grace Grace great as God Infus'd in all his parts protect this Man From the most roguish Whip and slauish Rod But he must brooke them both doe what he can And yet he did what none but God could doe Which he they sed did like a diuell too But what will not Spight say to worke her spight Against what Good soere that thwarts her will Shee 'l call the brightest Day the darkest Night And God a Diuell Good the cause of Ill For if her Conscience once be cauteriz'd Shee is a very Fiend and worse aduiz'd For Rage is mad and cares not what shee doth And Spight enraged cares lesse what shee saies Then what 's to be expected from them both But Words and Deeds that God and Man dispraise Though God raignes ouer All by Natures right Yet is He subiect to Mans hate and spight The Heauens Sou'raigne is thus subiect made To Hels damn'd vassals vilest villanie Yet Faith and Reason discreet Soules persuade That Hell is subiect to Heau'ns Deitie Then by this short account which yet is right Hell is not halfe so bad as Hate and Spight Yet though they befarre worse than what is worst They onely fill the Iewes hard hollow hearts From whose aboundance their tongues most accurst Doe speake and so are mou'd their other parts If Hate and Spight be curst Hearts onely mouers They must be Murders spightfull-hatefull louers These spights thus past
touch Is now desil'd with Blood and festred Sores Both which thou seest that Body all begores Behold thy Sonne now nail'd vnto a Tree Whom to thy Breast of yore thy Loue did naile Behold his Head which oft was wound by Thee Now Thornes sharp set doe wonnd and sore assaile Those Limbes which thou hast milk-bath'd on thy Lap. Are now allore besmear'd with Bloody Rappe Ah! see those Eies in which thou woont'st to prie As if therein thou saw'st a World of grace Now see them sinking stand as Death stood by Whose gastly presence inserenes my face Woman behold thy Sonne plagu'd thus for this That Hee for Mans deere loue his IESVS is O! Heart-strings hold or rather Heart-strings breake What Heart can hold all this to see and heare Then can a Womans Heart by nature weake The heauie weight of Gods fell vengeance beare The plagues he felt Gods wrath for sinne inflicted For which shee 's fellow-feelingly afflicted O blessed virgin Marie holy Mould That bare the blessed fruit of lesse-flow'r Sith Grace gainst Nature made thy Heart to hold That must be full of Grace so full of Pow'r O let Eternitie thy Lauds enshrine Within all Mouthes or Humane or Diuine And well mai'st Thou be called full of Grace Sith that the God of Grace thy Wombe did fill And blessed art Thou for that blessed Case Among all Men and Women of good will For they must euer blesse Thee that beleeue Thou gau'st him Flesh by which their Spirits doe liue O Starre giuing light for light to Iacobs starre Shine Thou with light translucent in that Spheare His Spheare surrounds and mooueth without iarre In that immediate Orbe to His appeare A glorious Lampe to lend all Women light That walke or wander in this worlds darke Night Let neuer Mouth be found so full of Gall As to exaugurate thy blessed Name But be Thou blest with praise perpetuall And let both Heau'n and Earth sound out the same Sith Thou bar'st Him that on his Body bare The Pennance of our Sinne thy cause of care My Mother and thine owne quoth He againe O Iohn behold and take thou mine as thine Be thou Her sonne in all that doth pertaine To all those blessed Sonnes whose Sire is mine In loue in care in diligence and dutie Be thon Her Sonne sith this to Sonnes is sutie Comfort Her Heart Her woe-crosse-wounded Heart Shee is a Wo-man Man asswage Her Woe With Manly Comforts thou more cheerefull art Although thy Gall be full of grièfe I know Yet being strong thou better maist sustaine It And help Her Heart with Griefe split to containe It You that passe by this place behold me too And see if any paines be like to mine Read on my Head what I was borne vnto ACROWNE and yet my Crowne my Head doth pine Witnes the Holes the same makes in my Erowes And witnes That that from those Fountaines flowes See see ah see how I that made this All Am made farre worse than All A meere Offence Looke in my face if thou canst for thy Gall And seest onght there like me but patience For there thou seest bath'd in sanguine streames Where Paine and Patience sits in high'st extreames O you that passe by me see how I hang In torment such as no flesh ere did feele As if all paines in one were in each pang As if the Serpent more than stung my Heele The ease I haue is Worlds of all disease Sith Man shall fure the better farre for These Number my Bones for now they may be so Sith bare they be and tell how many must Make vp the true Anotomie of Wo For in me you shall find that figure iust Sith PAINE was neuer proud of her degree Vnull in Purple shee was crown'd in me You that doe passe by me see how my Palmes For you are rent and all their sinewes crackt O giue me then at least your Pitties Almes Sith for your Treasons ah I thus am Rackt Then sith this Racke from wracks doth set you free Can you doe lesse than loue the Racke for me My Paines not onely free you from annoy Yea such annoy as no thought can conceiue But make you owe withall all endlesse ioy Which for your loue in'pangs of Death I giue Then O deere Pilgrims pittie you my paine And loue O loue me lest I die in vaine You that doe passe by me my Feet behold That in the way of Sinners neuer stood How they my Body beare not as they should Yet as they should they beare It for your good Then wash my Feet with Marie with one Teare Sith all your sinnes they with my Body beare And see if you can any place espie About that Body free from Wounds or Bloes If not then pittie me for whom I die Pittie O pittie my vnpittied woes But if you cannot woe be to me then For I had nere felt woe but for you Men. The Fountaine of my Blood my Liuer 's drie In vaine my thirstie Veines doe sucke the same No burning Cole can be more hot than I For vehement paine doth all my parts inflame In eu'ry Nerue like wild fire it doth rage Without one drop of Mercie It to swage See see how Anguish makes my Soule to beat My panting sides for holding her in paine Who seeks poore Soule to shift her wearie Seat Which plagues her more the more shee toiles in vaine Sith thus in Loue for Man sh'endures this doule Then in loue pittie Man my painefull Soule And let it grieue thy Soule my Soule to grieue That thus doth languish for the loue of thee O let not thine with mine vnkindly striue But that but one Soule be twixe thee and me And let true Loue in Deed One both vs make That am thus more than broken for thy sake The time hath bin as knowes ETERNITIE I rid vpon the glorious Cherubins And in my Hand held all Felicitie That now am made a Packe-horse for thy Sinnes I was as God doth know high as the High'st Till I for thee tooke on me to be Christ. There was a Time I was what was I not That was not more than infinitly blest But now thy Curse is fall'n vnto my Lot And all to turne thy Curse vnto the best I giue my life for thine as thou do'st proue Nay Heau'n for Hell and all but for thy loue The Time hath bin when Angels compast me Still chaunting Hymnes in honour of my name But now am compast with a company Of wretched Wormes that gnaw mine Honours fame Which fame to me witnesse my woes is deere Then iudge what 't is such blasphemies to heare No Sense Pow'r Part in Body or in Soule Nor parts of those Parts but in all extreames Tormented are in part and in the whole And quite orewhelm'd with diuine-furies streames Sith then O Loue I am thus plagu'd for Thee Pittie O pittie Deare Loue pittie me Sith God hath lest me as I Heau'n haue left And PAINE hath put me where