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
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
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
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
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
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
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
Give to Cesar and to God p. 19 But now they have seen and heard p. 20 Upon the crown of Thorns taken from our blessed Lords head all bloody p. 20 She began to wash his feet with Tears and wipe them with the hairs of her head p. 20 On St Peter cutting off Malchus his ear p. 21 But men loved darkness rather then light p. 21 I am ready not only to be bound but to dye p. 21 On St Peter's casting away his Nets at our Saviour's call p. 21 Our Lord in his Circumcision to his Father p. 22 On the wounds of our crucified Lord. p. 22 On our crucified Lord naked and bloody p. 23 Easter day p. 23 On the bleeding wounds of our crucified Saviour p. 24 Sampson to Dalilah p. 26 Psalm 23. p. 26 Psalm 137. p. 28 A Hymn on the Nativity sung by the Shepherds p. 29 Sospetto d'Herode p. 33 On a Prayer book sent to Mistris M. R. p. 56 On Mr. G. Herbert's Book intituled The Temple of sacred Poems sent to a Gentlewoman p. 60 A Hymn to the Name and Honour of St. Teresa that sought an early Martyrdom p. 61 An Apology for the precedent Hymn p. 67 On a Treatise of Charity p. 68 On the Glorious Assumption of the Blessed Virgin p 70 A Hymn on the Circumcision of our Lord. p. 72 On Hope by way of Question and Answer between A. Cowley and R. Crashaw p. 74 Musick 's Duel p. 81 Upon the death of a Gentleman p. 86 Upon the death of Mr. Herris p. 87 Another on the same p. 89 Another p. 91 His Epitaph p. 93 An Epitaph upon Husband and Wife who died and were buried together p. 95 An Epitaph upon Dr. 〈◊〉 p. 95 Upon Mr. Staninough's death p. 96 Upon the Duke of York's birth a Penegyrick p. 97 Upon Ford's Two Tragedies p. 100 On a foul morning being then to take a journey p. 101 Upon the fair Aethiopian sent to a Gentlewoman p. 102 On Marriage p. 102 To the morning satisfaction for sleep p. 102 Loves Horoscope p. 104 Out of Virgil in praise of the Spring p. 106 With a picture sent to a friend p. 107 In praise of Lessius his rule of Health p. 108 The beginning of Heliodorus p. 109 Out of the Greek Cupid's Cryer p. 110 On Nanus p. 112 Upon Venus putting on Mars his Arms. p. 115 Upon the same p. 115 Upon Bishop Andrew's Picture before his Sermons p. 115 Out of Martial p. 116 Out of Italian a Song p. 117 Another out of Italian p. 119 Another p. 119 On the Frontispiece of Isaacson's Chronologie p. 120 Another p. 121 An Epitaph upon Mr. Ashton a Conformable Citizen p. 122 Wishes to his supposed Mistress p. 124 In Picturam reverendissimi Episcopi D. Andrews p 129 Epitaphium in Dominum Herrisium p. 129 Principi recens natae omen Maternae Indolis p. 131 In Reginae partum hyemalem p. 133 Ad Reginam p. 134 In faciem Regis a morbillis Integram p. 135 Rex Redux p. 136 Ad Principem nondum natum p. 137 Crashaw the Anagram He Was Car. p. 141 To the Countess of Denbigh perswading her to resolution c. p. 143 To the Name above every name the Name Jesus a Hymn p. 146. A Hymn on the Epiphany sung as by the Three Kings p. 153 To the Queen upon Twelft-day p. 161 The Office of the Holy Crâ—…h p. 162 For the hour of Prime p. 164 The Third p. 165 The Sixth p. 167 The Ninth p. 169 Even-song p. 170 Compline p. 172 The Recommendation p. 173 Vexilla Regis The Hymn of the Holy Cross. p. 174 Charitas Nimia Or the dear Bargain p. 176 Sancta Maria dolorosa or The Mother of sorrows p. 178 The Hymn of St Thomas in Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament p. 183 The Hymn Lauda Sion c. p. 187 The Hymn in meditation of the day of judgement p. 191 The Hymn O Gloriosa Domina p. 194 The Flaming heart upon the Book and Picture of St. Teresa p. 196 A Song p. 197 Second part p. 197 To Mistress M. R. Councel concerning her Choise p. 198 Alexias The complaint of the forsaken wife of Saint Alexis The First Elegy p. 200 The Second Elegy p. 201 The Third Elegy p. 202 Description of a Religious House and condition of Life c. p. 204 Deaths Lecture the Funeral of a young Gentleman p. 206 Temperance or the cheap Physitian upon the Translation of Lessius p. 207 The Weeper 1 HAil Sister Springs Parents of Silver-forded rills Ever bubling things Thawing Christal Snowy Hills Still spending never spent I mean Thy fair Eyes sweet Magdalene 2 Heavens thy fair Eyes be Heavens of ever-falling stars T is seed-time still with thee And Stars thou sow'st whose Harvest dares Promise the earth to countershine What ever makes Heavens fore-head fine 3 But we 're deceived all Stars they 're indeed too true For they but seem to fall As Heavens other spangles do It is not for our Earth and us To shine in things so pretious 4 Upwards thou dost weep Heavens bosome drinks the gentle stream Where th' Milky Rivers meet Thine Crawls above and is the Cream Heaven of such fair Floods as this Heaven the Christal Ocean is 5 Every morn from hence A brisk Cherub something sips Whose soft influence Adds sweetness to his sweetest Lips Then to his Musick and his Song Tastes of this breakfast all day long 6 When some new bright guest Takes up among the stars a room And Heaven will make a Feast Angels with their Bottles come And draw from these full Eyes of thine Their Masters Water their own Wine 7 The Dew no more will weep The Primroses pale Cheek to deck The Dew no more will sleep Nuzzel'd in the Lillies Neck Much rather would it Tremble here And leave them both to be thy Tear 8 Not the soft Gold which Steals from the Amber-weeping Tree Makes Sorrow half so Rich As the drops distill'd from thee Sorrows best Jewels lie in these Caskets of which Heaven keeps the Keys 9 When Sorrow would be seen In her brightest Majesty For she is a Queen Then is she drest by none but thee Then and only then she wears Her richest Pearls I mean thy Tears 10 Not in the Evenings Eyes When they red with weeping are For the Sun that dies Sits Sorrow with a Face so fair No where but here did ever meet Sweetness so sad sadness so sweet 11 Sadness all the while She sits in such a Throne as this Can do nought but smile Nor believes she sadness is Gladness it self would be more glad To be made so sweetly sad 12 There is no need at all That the Balsome-sweating bough So coyly should let fall His med'cinable â—…ears for now Nature hath learn't t'extract a Dew More Soveraign and Sweet from you 13 Yet let the poor drops weep Weeping is the case of Woe Softly let them creep Sad that they are vanquish't so They though to others no relief
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
nothing else but empty Me Narrow and low and infinitely less Then this great Mornings mighty business One little World or two Alas will never do We must have store Go Soul out of thy self and seek for More Go and request Great Nature for the Key of her huge Chest Of Heav'ns the self-involving Set of Sphears Which dull Mortality more feels then hears Then rouse the nest Of nimble Art and traverse round The Airy shop of Soul-appeasing sound And beat a summons in the same All-Soveraign Name To warn each several kind And shape of sweetness be they such As sigh with supple wind Or answer Artful touch That they convene and come away To wait at the Love-Crowned Doors of that Illustrious Day Shall we dare this my Soul we 'l do 't and bring No other Note for 't but the Name we sing Wake Lute and Harp And every sweet-lipp'd thing That talks with Tuneful string Start into life and leap with me Into a hasty fit-tun'd harmony Nor must you think it much T' obey my bolder touch I have authority in Love's Name to take you And to the work of Love this morning wake you Wake in the Name Of Him who never sleeps all things that are Or what 's the same Are Musical Answer my Call And come along Help me to meditate mine immortal Song Come ye soft Ministers of sweet sad mirth Bring all your Houshold-stuff of Heav'n on Earth O you my Soulâ—…s most certain Wings Complaining Pipes and pratling strings Bring all the store Of Sweets you have and murmur that you have no more Come ne'r to part Nature and Art Come and come strong To the conspiracy of our spacious song Bring all the Pow'rs of Praise Your Provinces of well-united Worlds can raise Bring all your Lutes and Harps of Heav'n and Earth What e'r cooperates to the common mirth Vessels of vocal joys Or you more Noble Architects of intellectual noise Cymballs of Heav'n or Humane sphears Solliciters of Souls or Ears And when you are come with all That you can bring or we can call O may you fix For ever here and mix Your selves into the long And everlasting series of a deathless Song Mix all your many Worlds above And loose them into One of Love Chear thee my Heart For thou too hast thy part And place in the great Throng Of this unbounded all-imbracing Song Pow'rs of my Soul be proud And speak loud To all the dear-bought Nations this Redeeming Name And in the wealth of one rich Word proclaim New Similes to Nature May it be no wrong Blest Heav'ns to you and your Superior song That we dark Sons of Dust and Sorrow A while dare borrow The name of your Delights and our Desires And fit it to so farr inferior Lyres Our Murmurs have their Musick too Ye Mighty Orbs as well as you Nor yields the Noblest nest Of warbling Seraphim to the ears of Love A choicer Lesson then the joyful Brest Of a poor panting Turtle-Dove And we low Worms have leave to do The same bright business ye third Heav'ns with you Gentle Spirits do not complain We will have care To keep it fair And send it back to you again Come lovely Name appear from forth the bright Regions of peaceful Light Look from thine own illustrious home Fair King of Names and come Leave all thy Native Glories in their gorgeous Nest And give thy self a while the gracious Guest Of humble Souls that seek to find The hidden Sweets Which man's heart meets When thou art Master of the Mind Come Lovely Name life of our hope Lo we hold our Hearts wide ope Unlock thy Cabinet of Day Dearest Sweet and come away Lo how the thirsty Lands Gasp for thy golden showrs with long stretch't hands Lo how the laboring Earth That hopes to be All Heaven by Thee Leaps at thy Birth Th' attending World to wait thy Rise First turn'd to Eyes And then not knowing what to do Turn'd them to Tears and spent them too Come Royal Name and pay th' expence Of all this precious patience O come away And kill the Death of this Delay O see so many Worlds of barren years Melted and Measur'd out in Seas of Tears O see the weary Lids of wakeful Hope Love's Eastern windows all wide ope With Curtains drawn To catch the Day-break of thy Dawn O dawn at last long-look't for day Take thine own wings and come away Lo where aloft it comes It comes among The conduct of adoring Spirits that throng Like diligent Bees and swarm about it O they are wise And know what Sweets are suck't from out it It is the Hive By which they thrive Where all their hoard of Honey lies Lo where it comes upon the snowy Doves Soft back and brings a bosome big with Loves Welcome to our dark World thou Womb of Day Unfold thy fair Conceptions and display The Birth of our bright joys O thou compacted Body of Blessings Spirit of Souls extracted O dissipate thy spicy Powr's Cloud of condensed sweets and break upon us In balmy showrs O fill our senses and take from us All force of so prophane a Fallacy To think ought sweet but that which smells of thee Fair Flowry Name in none but thee And thy Nectareal fragrancy Hourly there meets An universal Synod of all Sweets By whom it is defined Thus That no Perfume For ever shall presume To pass for oderiferous But such alone whose sacred Pedigree Can prove it self some kin sweet name to Thee Sweet Name in thy each Syllable A thousand Blest Arabias dwell A Thousand Hills of Frankincense Mountains of myrrh and Beds of Spices And Ten thousand Paradises The Soul that tasts thee takes from thence How many unknown Worlds there are Of Comforts which thou hast in keeping How many thousand Mercies there In Pity 's soft Lap lie a sleeping Happy he who has the Art To awake them And to take them Home and lodge them in his Heart O that it were as it was wont to be When thy old friends of fire all full of thee Fought against frowns with smiles gave Glorious chase To persecutions and against the Face Of Death and fiercest dangers durst with brave And sober pace march on to meet a Grave On their bold Brests about the World they bore thee And to the Teeth of Hell stood up to teach thee In Center of their inmost souls they wore thee Where Racks and Torments striv'd in vain to reach thee Little alas thought they Who tore the fair Brests of thy Friends Their Fury but made way For thee and serv'd them in thy Glorious ends What did their weapons but with wider pores Inlarge thy flaming brested Lovers More freely to transpire That impatient fire The heart that hides thee hardly covers What did their weapons but set wide the doors I or thee fair purple Doors of Love's devising The Ruby windows which inrich't the East Of thy so oft repeated Rising Each wound of theirs was thy new
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
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