this journey made To seeke a shelter in this pleasant shade What greater portion on the Earth then this And in the Heavens what higher Paradise Mortals y' are cousen'd worldly Wit and Strength Pride and Vaine-glory failes poore man at length Where then is sure protection from all harmes I le tell thee where 't is in th' Almighties armes 27 The Warlick Horse whom Nature doth bedeek With strength and vigour and his thundring neck Is drest with youth and fortitude his eye Sends furious summons to the enemie While strength is in his loynes his courage can Breathe out defiance to the armed man 'T is good in youth to taste afflictions losse He that wil weare the Crown must bear the Crosse 28 Canst thou be silent when thy God is neere Canst thou be sad and hast no cause of feare Canst thou be dazled with thy sinnes reflection Canst thou be fearfull when thou hast protection Why dost thou mourne for Sions miserie Pride was the Prologue to her Tragedie Rather then murmure for deserved ill Close thy lips ever Soule be silent still 29 A Child of Heaven early doth begin To honour vertue and to trample sin Under his carelesse feet his scornefull eye Takes but slight notice of Earths vanitie Sweet-fac'd Humilitie is Honours Mother He that hath one will quickly have the other They both are matcht with Glory happy he That comes to Honour by Humilitie 30 Is it such honour to be humble then Are mourning mortals most the happiest men Where lyes their glory sayes the world for we See no such honour in humilitie Th' are ' tyr'd with rags and they are fed with feares Reproaches scandals and the peoples jeeres And is this honour yea and this story Is the Saints evidence for highest glory 31 Time darkeneth the Skyes Time brings the Day Time glads the eyes Time puffes all joy away Time builds a Kingdome Time o'rthrows a Nation Time writes a storie of their desolation Time hath a time when Time shall be no more Time makes some rich and Time makes rich men poore Time is when God will be his Churches friend When Times eternitie shall never end 32 For though fond man thou taste afflictions sorrow This gloomie ev'ning joy will come to morrow Indeed a night or two thy sorrowes may Eclipse thy glory but a shining day Will soone appeare to glad thy longing eyes Like shining Phoebus in the blushing Skyes Man shall finde mercie sinners may intrude To rest their soules in mercies multitude 33 The chafing Horse breaks through th'armed Ranks With his proud Rider and his bleeding flanks Are witnesses of haste his courage brave At last is cool'd and measureth out his grave Upon the bloudie earth thus we begin Rid by vain-glory and spurr'd on with sin To break Heav'ns high Command so Death is just Our pride and honour lyeth in the dust 34 And yet his blessings are farre more then blowes Men use to trample downe their conquer'd foes Under their Horses fetlocks few will give Their wounded enemie an houre to live Yet Israels God whose high victorious hand Can crush the sinfull pris'ners of the Land Into a piece of nothing still his strife Is but to give dead man eternall life 35 Have we a Right to these Terrestriall Toyes And yet a Title to Celestiall Joyes This is on Earth and that above the Skies The first the Promise and the last the Prize He that hath this will quickly have the last Glory comes posting when our griese is past If God denie us not this Earthly Ball He 'll give us Heaven which is best of all 36 He takes no pleasure when he doth subvert The Cause of man nor doth it glad his heart To over-turne a mortall in his pride He takes no glory for to blow aside The prosp'rous state of man it is his badnesse That brings him miserie when he may have gladnesse If sinne brings sorrow then and blindnesse blowes Blame thy bad deeds O man they are thy foes 37 What King can clip the flying wings of Time With all his Majestie Although he climbe Unto the top of Honour can his Power Stay swift-foot Phoebus chafing Steeds an houre To wait upon him Or what Prince can say I le bring to passe my purpose the next day Unlesse the Lord command these earthly things The least is higher then the reach of Kings 38 The world shall passe away and all therein Shall be no more as if they had not bin As if they never were they all shall fade They all were moving since they first were made Each word of God is good and there 's no Clause Of threatning ruine in those righteous Lawes To him that keeps those blest Commands for he Reward shall have unto eternitie 39 Why weep'st thou then O man why doth thine eyes Implore reliefe with watrie obsequies Why dost thou teach thy heavie heart to mourne In silent corners why dost thou adorne Thy Soule in sable weeds why dost thou dresse Thy selfe in sorrow woe and heavinesse Oh why complainest thou it is thy sin Barres out thy joy and bringeth judgements in 40 Search ev'ry corner of thy selfe sad Soule Trie all thy actions let not darknesse roule Thee in her lulling armes but now imbrace The glorious purchase of Heavens proffred grace Yet mourning Soule returne yet sinner wake From thy securitie goe hie thee take Thy well-prepared vension Heaven will stay And double blesse thee ere he part away 41 The Sunne being set all mortals goe to rest Our sorrow rises then each soule 's possest With feare and horror and each man complaines Of mightie losses and of little gaines We lift our hands to Heaven sometimes for aid We cast our eyes up when we are afraid But when doe Hearts and Hands and Eyes agree With Faith and Love Truth and Sinceritie 42 Oh Sinne my fatall Foe how bad is gaine Contracted from thee pleasure is but paine How false is sinners joy their Mines are mosse Their worke is toylesome yet their labour's losse Their blossome's blasted with a minutes breath Their light is darknesse and their life is death Sinne doth destroy the glorious Soule for why The Soule that sinneth shall be sure to die 43 Ah me how quickly doth this house of man Decay his wayes are like a feathred fan Which wav'reth with the wind his strength prime Is wondrous weake and his swift-posting time Is very short though sometimes he be high Like a tall Cedar which doth dare the Skie And swelleth in his pride a little Rub Of ficknesse makes the Cedar but a Shrub 44 Where shall we hide us is there ne'r a mountaine To o'r-shadow us or a pleasant fountaine For tyred Soules to bathe in while the Cloud Of Thunder is blowne over may we shroud Our Soules in no protection while our teares Shall wash our bosomes and invite the eares Of Heav'n to listen that our cryes may be Lodg'd in the Palace of Eternitie 45 Th'glory is departed Israels Land is taken Judah's
destroy'd his Congregation The Lord hath caus'd the solemne Feasts to cease And all her Sabbaths ah what little peace Can mourning Sion see in any thing When God despiseth both her Priest and King 7 The Lord hath quite refus'd his holy place Where the high Priest did offer to his Grace Their rich Oblations as they dayly do His Sanctuary he abhorreth too The strength and fortresse of the pleasant Land Is given up into the Enemies hand Who with unhallowed mouths make harmony As in the day of high solemnity 8 The Lord long since hath threatened to destroy The Land of Israel and eclipse her joy And now her earthly right she must resigne Againe to him that gave it for a Line Is streacht about our Borders and we doubt How long this Line of woe is measured out The earth laments the walls do seeke redresse The Land does mourne in woe and heavinesse 9 Her Gates are sunke her mighty Barres destroyd The Citie 's open how can we avoyd The fury of the Foe her Princes gone Among the Gentiles we are left alone The Law is blotted out and none can lend A word of comfort when our miseries end The Lord speakes not by vision not by dreame To tell a period of our dismall Theame 10 The Elders they whose knowledge could confute Great learned Oratours are still and mute They hide their heads in dust their aged eye Is taught to weep and sometimes wish to dye Their loyns in sackcloath they have guirded round And silently they mourne upon the ground The amorous Virgins mourn their cloaths are rent Their beauty is like sorrows monument 11 Oh how mine eyes are blinded with my teares Pumpt from my sorrowes I am big with feares My Liver 's powred out upon the ground For our Lands losse and Kingdomes deadly wound The tender Infants in the streets do lye Imploring bread a little to supply Their hungry soules but yet they with vain moanes At last do dye with oft repeated groanes 12 A little bread the hungry Children cry Most dearest mother ere we quickly dye The mother weeps as fast she faine would give Her life for food that so her Child may live But as the dying Souldiers heart doth pant Labouring for life even so the Infants faint For lack of food the pretty Infant he Sleepes with deaths Lullaby on his mothers knee 13 What need I call a witnesse for thy woe To what shall I compare thy sorrowes oh Most glorious Iudah who is like to thee Blasted so soone so soone in misery How shall I comfort thee O fairest Land Alas thy ruines are beyond the hand Of Art to limne or draw thy breaches be Like mighty surges in the unruly Sea 14 Thy Prophets did delude thee whilst that they With Lyes fore-told thee of a Sun-shine day Their lying lips would not declare thy Lust Nor tell thee Earthly Glory soone would rust Then might thy Times to prosp'rous State been turn'd Thy Land not ruin'd nor thy Citie burn'd But now 't is levell'd even by their Lies Destruction posted on false Prophesies 15 And as the foraine Traveller doth passe He shakes his head and sighes woe and alas His wondring eyes admiring at the Land Which once was glorify'd with Heav'ns high hand Is this the Citie then the Traveller cryes Whose fame invited all the Nations eyes To looke upon her beautie This the Towne Call'd Earths perfection and her high Renowne 16 Even thus the Lord hath done his will on us The face of Sion is most leperous Her hideous Crimes are in her fore-head read The Lord hath done what he determined For he hath turn'd her Regall Glory downe The Heathen sway the Scepter weare the Crowne Our Foes on Earth doe flourish they doe rise It prospers well with Sions Enemies 17 Why goest thou weeping then oh Sion why Art thou thus troubled heaven cannot lye Though thou thy selfe art false what he commands Is finisht by his unresisted hands Thy horrid sins first furrowed up his brow With angry frownes and there 's no pitty now Dwells in his royall bosome but the foe He makes to glory at thy overthrow 18 And now our sinking soules begin to call Unto the Lord oh batter'd ruin'd wall Of dismall Sion once like shining beames Of heavens glory Let teares run like streames Along thy lovely cheeks both day and night Take they no rest but let thy conscience fright Thy soule from slumber lest thy darkned eye Be lull'd asleep in sad securitie 19 Arise and cry the first approaching houre Of silent night and let thy floudgates powre Forth streams of brackish teares mixt with a groan Lift up thy hands before the lofty Throne Of high eternity for the famisht Child Whose Parent 's dead and so the Babes exil'd From their deare mothers armes their lingring breath Longeth and waiteth for a welcome death 20 Behold O Lord our God to whom to whom Hast thou sent forth this heavy sudden doome Oh whom hast thou thus lashed shall we eate Our dearest Children up for want of meate Those pretty new-born Babes whose harmlesse eye Nere knew a sin must such sweet Infants dye And are our Priests and Prophets mangled heare Oh that mine eyes were drowned in a teare 21 Oh that mine eyes with silent teares were drown'd The young and old lye groveling on the ground The warlike youngmen and the amorous face Of spotlesse Virgins death doth now displace And laies them in their monuments they bow Their weake mortallity to heavens fierce brow If these the ruines be of our sad day With flouds of teares I 'le weep my selfe away 22 Thou bring'st my foes about my naked wall Thou giv'st them cause to glory in my fall And they do doe it wherefore dost thou lay Woes to my soule as in a Solemne day Thy wrath was kindled few or none remaine To scape from killing it was counted vaine Those that I nourished with mine own Cup My raging Enemy hath swallowed up CONTEMPLATION II. THe lab'ring Watch is idle if the Spring Be not wound up and thus in ev'ry thing There is a Motion for the Soule doth trace The Lawes of Nature or the Rules of Grace Our hearts are cold and various like the Moone Each minute changing if the righteous Sunne Shine not upon us all the world may marke Our Motion standing and our Glory darke But when the high Creator shewes his face And clothes the Mortall with diviner Grace The brave Heroick heart aspires to shroud His Contemplation loftier then a Cloud What amorous beautie in the world can shine Like to the Graces of a Soule Divine No black Disaster here can ever maske That lovely Face no troubles stay her Taske No mists of miserie eclipse her motion Nor no delusion hinder her devotion The Soule is full of Raptures and her eyes Reacheth Eternitie above the Skyes Th' amorous Soule on Earth is wondrous coy Desiring nothing else but heavenly joy Yet can it be as this lamented story Makes evident that Heaven
should hide Glory From such an honoured Soule which even 〈◊〉 Hath glorify'd from all eternitie And doth he give the Enemie his owne Place Hath God like Janus got a double face Doth the base Enemie so high aspire Whom oft he threatneth with consuming fire Yea and their prosp'rous State does oft redowne To magnifie the honour of Heavens Crowne The Usurer whose back beares all the Curses Of his poore neighbour could he fill his Purses By being godly he would venture too To pray to Heaven as the godly doo And could the base Adulterer bring to passe His filthy ends and meet a hand-smooth Lasse Each Sabbath day at Church this fellow he Would be an ugly hearer constantly The proud man he would make an ugly face And pray and heare if this would give a place Of gaine and honour to his high Ambition Thus holy Writ should serve each base condition But now the glorious Soule which Heaven aspires His heart is warmed by Diviner fires His life is circumspect his blushing face Weares the high ornaments of heavenly Grace This Soule is nobly righteous and it leanes On its Creator in the most extreames If sinne assaults the Soule it soone will flie To the high mansion of Eternitie For its protection there with trembling feares She bathes her bosome with repenting teares The lovely Heaven borne Soule has no false ends The feare of Enemies nor the love of friends Shall ne'r ensnare her from those Joyes above For why th' amorous Soule hath fixt her love Upon her glorious Saviour neverthelesse She oft may sit in woe and heavinesse And be in many an earthly contemplation When Heav'n brings War and Ruine on a Nation Then earthly reasonings may whisper loud When Heaven is cov'red with a sable Cloud Of bloudie War and Famine when they poure Those dismall drops in such a dreadfull Showre On one distracted Kingdome then what way When darknesse does eclipse the light of day Is there for soules to wander when its eyes Are bloudshot to behold those villanies Which bloudy Actors play when War shall reigne In height of envy numerous bodies slaine Imbracing gentle earth when death shall vaile Man in mortality all faces pall Because of hungry famine when the Child For want of friend and food is far exil'd From present necessaries and therefore lies With deaths pale Image in his tender eyes And when heavens darts shall flye like Sim Jim The soule is sad her funerall lights burne dimme When life is turn'd to death and food to feare She sometimes weeps as did the Prophets here Yet with a laden heart and watry eye The soule doth sometimes mutter this reply Unconstant state of earth shall any he That is but dust direct eternitie By his vaine babling can mortall man Guide the Celestiall Orbs by wisdome can He rule the earth by power can he stay The Steeds of Phoebus and tye up the day Nay can he rule himselfe or guid his mind Are not his waies as wavering as the wind And wilt thou teach thy Maker since thy birth What hast thou been thou peece of moving earth What hath thy tottring soule no faith at all Or is thy love to heaven so wondrous small Hath all this Un verse so little rest To give a tired heart and yet possest With love of this low earth my Saviour dy'd That through his death I might be glorified And shall I now resuse to dye for him Hath fin made these darke eyes so quickly dimme No let this earthly man through fire be try'd My soule shall live with him for whom I dy'd Where in the Canopy of his beauteous breast I shall sleep safe with undisturbed rest Have I so little power to controule The assaults of sin and death Alas poore soule Be gone my numerous feares away away After a tempest comes a shining day See see what dazling glory is behind You darkned cloud looke up my muzzled mind Flie on the wings of contemplation see Thy journies end is high Eternity And this deare Reader does most oft redowne To heavens honour when earths troubles drowne The Saints sometimes in sorrow earth 's a toy And this disjunction fits the soule for joy When on the other side if heaven should give A royall Legacie that Saints might live On earth most long and happy then might vice Count heaven a paine and earth a Paradise And if the world should often heare or see That Saints did live in high prosperity Each wretch would turne a Saint for his owne end Looking for earth by making heaven his friend But now go on brave soule do thou contemne All wordly pompe a royall Diadem Shall crowne thy arched browes thy present paine Thou wilt not reckon when thou com'st to raigne Heaven shal receive thee earth shall raise thy name In spight of sinners or their blasted fame And as thy body rests in deaths darke tent This verse shall stand upon thy monument This valiant mortall by a second birth Enjoy'd a Crowne in heaven conquer'd earth CHAP. III. Verse 1. WHerefore should Mortals labour thus to shroud Their publike Sorrow in a darkned Cloud Of Silence Why should Blacknesse cover all The mourning March of Sions Funerall I am the Man of Sorrow and Heavens Marke I am the chasened Bird the early Larke His furious Rod hath seized upon me On me the Monument of Miserie 2 Who ever saw this glorious Eye of Day Eclips'd in Darknesse And this Ball of Clay Wrapt in a Sable Mantle like black Night Covering the world with Mists whose Terrors fright All Mortals in their slumbers Thus mine eyes Dim'd with their teares doe weepe whole Elegies Of Lamentations while his hand hath drest My Soule in Troubles banisht from her Rest 3 My Soule is sad enough I need no more Such change of Torments then I had before I need no other Foe to come and slay My dying selfe and why then all the day Does my incensed Lord against me stand Why at a Mortall doth he turne his hand What will he fight with Earth Alas before Much time is spent we shall be seene no more 4 How soone is Beautie lost and Natures Booke Quite blotted out and with an earthly looke Departs this troubled world soone broke as Glasse The fleshes Glory is but withering Grasse Sinne brings in Sorrow Griefe makes Beautie old The Drosse is intermingled with the Gold The least of Heavens displeasure if he frowne It is enough to bring Earths Glory downe 5 Dull piece of feeble Earth and mortall Man A shew of something yet art nothing can Th' Almightie not consume thee lest he shall Build up a Worke against a tott'ring wall What meanes th' Almightie hand of the most high Thus to surround us whose mortalitie Will bring us soone to Dust each day we fall Insnar'd with Sorrow Bitternesse and Gall. 6 Times black hair'd daughter night that locks all eies And hearts in silent slumbring lullabies This swarthy nurse with darke and horrid theames That frights
of good is glory and the hire Of Satans instruments is endlesse fire His worke being done on Earth he shall commence In never dying flames Hels recompence Strike them with dreadfull thunder Lord and flashes Of fearefull Lightning lay on thy lashes Upon their naked shoulders let them see Thy wrath pursues them to eternitie 65 And since they would thy Precepts disannull Lord make them stupid let their braines be dull Let them not see where Truth and Error lyes Give them a deafned care and blinded eyes Give them a sinking soule that may soone faint Make it erroneous hard and obstinant O make their memory loath'd when they shall vade From the worlds prospect like an evening shade 66 Three Acts are past along our bloudie Stage And there is two to come our mournfull Age Is a sad president to all eyes O may Our enemies fall fill up the following Play Now let our enemies act their dismall part Let each foe strike his fellow to the heart So let them dye Lord blast them let them be The Epilogue of our sad Tragedie CONTEMPLATION III. WHat meanes the Joy that Worldlings take on Earth Triumphing in false Glory and vaine Mirth Why are their faces drest with flourisht smiles Of joviall merriment and yet the whiles Their soules doe sinke with sorrow Can they beare The checks of Conscience with so little care What is the Soule asleepe while mortals act Their merry Comedies while they contract Guilt on th' accused Conscience while they lye Rockt in securitie with this Lullaby What meanes the prosp'rous pompe of such a Blade Whose earthly honour may a while perswade The world there is no God the sinners state Doth alway flourish and is fortunate Hee 's deckt with antick Robes of the best fashion He blasphemes Heav'n in each Recreation Looke on the wretch he hath all earthly glories Brave Buildings stately Works Heroick Stories Wrought with laborious Needles where the hand Of curious Art doth give a countermand To the worlds ignorance while Natures eye In looking prayseth Ingenuitie He hath both wealth and wit a warlike arme That 's strong and valiant oft in offring harme High honour great advancement prayse of men And love of Ladies which are offred when The man is full of Money thus he walkes In his vain-glory and he alwayes talkes Of great affaires his Honour doth defie To tell the Truth and yet he hates the Lie Should be returned on him while his face Is a red embleme of sinnes black disgrace Vile wretch how safe thou art while Conscience she Doth lye intombed in obscuritie There is a time for flames or else for feares A time for torments or a time for teares Retire into thy Closet take thy Pen Goe muse on the mortalitie of men Write the disasters that attend the Crowne Of earthly Royaltie goe thou wretch sit downe In thy retired Chamber halfe a day Let Conscience speak and Conscience thus wil say Ah man obdurate man why wast thou borne Into the world or why did Heav'n adorne Thy Soule with immortalitie why did Love Whose rare transcendencie is farre above The worlds desert or reason ever stretch Those sweet imbraces to so vile a wretch To so deform'd a wretch as thou O piece of Clay Didst thou deserve it blinded sinner say What canst thou answer me proud mortall why Thou shouldst not have thy judgement now to die What art thou feeble Earth a little dust What 's Beauties blossome it will quickly rust What is this spacious Universe but a Theame What is mans dignitie but an idle Dreame What is thy wealth a weather-cock of woe And what is honour but mans overthrow And what are all thy friends they passe away Like short-liv'd Actors in a Tragick Play Friends wealth wit honour beautie have no power To save thee from the King of feares one houre Bid now farewell unto those houres whose strife With thriftlesse joy hath spun a wearie life A life of vanitie whose very name Masketh the ornaments of Vertues fame Yet dearest soule returne yet hearke to me Yet be thou mindfull of eternitie Yet heare poore Conscience speak since time almost Hath run his swift-foot houres and thou art lost Did I say lost Ah Soule th' rt happie then If Earth could hide thee in her darkned Den If thou wert lost indeed from Heav'ns bright eye If Death could shade thee in obscuritie If Earth and Sea and Hell and Death should winde thee In their dark shadows yet thy Judge would finde thee And then Oh then the sinner being found How will the eyes of the Almightie wound Thy now condemned Soule while thou before The high Tribunall howling shalt implore Some Rock to over-shadow thee yet deny'd That slender shelter how wilt thou abide Before the dreadfull Throne from whence shall come Thy damned Sentence of eternall Doome And is this all No then thou shalt retire To never-quenched flames of furious fire Whose everlasting fuell shall extend To all eternitie and never end In Hells darke hideous and hollow Vaule Where soules converse with fiends for ev'ry fault There is a sev'rall plague Gluttons are fed With scalding Lead and Brimstone and the dead Besotted Drunkard as he ev'ry day Drunke Healths to Hell to passe the time away So in eternall torment endlesse toyle His throat is washt with quaffes of burning oyle The stubborn Child the wrathfull Furies hold with long-tormenting lashes Th'Usurer drinks whole Draughts of molten Gold And there the cruell Murtherer doth lye Alwayes a stabbing yet can never dye There lyes the Wanton who Loves fire did feele Stretcht upon tort'ring racks of burning Steele Heat by eternall flames blowne with the breaths Of thousand thousands never-dying deaths Then dearest Soule repent 't is not too late To beg for mercie that most glorious Gate Is seldome shut come spend thy after-yeares If thou hast any in repenting teares In true repenting teares bathe oft thy brest Let not thy slumber lull thee to thy rest Till thou hast got a pardon dost thou know How highly glorious is th' overthrow Of Sinne and Death and Hell what royall favour Is in the lovely eyes of such a Saviour What chast imbraces and what sweet communion What rare discoveries what ravisht union What present providence from Earths annoyes What after-evidence of endlesse joyes What wise directions through threatning harmes What safe protections in th' Almightie Armes Of such a blessed Saviour whose sweet b … Gives health in sicknesse and a life in death And this would change thee sinner this ev'n this Would turne thy Closet to a Paradise This sweet Repentance would adorne thy face With Heavens amours and with blushing grace For thy fore-past Rebellion this would give A learned President how thou mightst live To reigne in endlesse glory this would trie If thou dost live before thou com'st to die Reade this third Chapter mark but who they be That Heaven exposeth to calamitie The Prophet here cryes out I am the man Whose back is gall'd with
journeyes end Some die for love and some by hate doe die Some end their dayes through pining povertie And some by too much riches some the Sword Doth part in sunder others by a word Receive their Deaths alarum all must fall But Death by Famine is the worst of all 10 A Feast is made for mirth but mourners shall Attend our Banquet to our Funerall And see the tender Mother full of feares Bathing her Infant with her watrie teares Yet must she kill the prettie harmelesse Dove The Lawes of Famine blot the Line of Love Go sweet-fac'd Babe this feast was not for laughter Thou go'st before thy Parents follow after 11 Come let 's be sad O Sion let our eyes Pumpe flouds of teares to drowne this sacrifice Of indignation lest th' aspiring flames Lick up our Kingdome and consume our names The Sword doth range and now the fire doth climbe To meet the Starres and scorch the wings of Time The proudest Pinacle and the highest Towre Is farre too weake to grapple with their Powre 12 Come let 's be sad Oh Sion while our teares Confute the Nations that were full of jeeres Why was the darkned world so blinded why Did the proud King thinke Heav'n would falsifie Why would you not believe that the high hand Of pow'rfull Babylon should take our Land Know now vaine mortals Heav'n's not like to you For he is faithfull holy just and true 13 Oh sinn now hast thou drawne thy Curtain round The darkned world and how are mortals drownd In thy in chanting streames the Prophet lyes The Priests are foolish that are counted wise The wise and hardie sinners courage cooles And those are wisest that are counted fooles Ev'n the jest man although he suffer here The day of his Redemption draweth neere 14 Have you beheld the blind with what a pace He walks along guarding his tender face And body with his staffe for feare of hurt And yet at last he tumbleth in the durt Thus blind men wandred and for want of eyes They tumble in the bloudie sacrifice Of many a bleeding body which by hate Were hurt and slaine poore vile unfortunate 15 Depart polluted Israel cry the foes depart From Sions territories set not your heart Upon her glory that so quickly dyes Your feet your hands and your unhallowed eyes Are too unholy now no prayers will pierce Th' eares of Heaven the spacious Universe Will give you no prosperitie for why Sinne is the cause that makes mans glory die 16 Dare man that feeble Worme and transitorie Forgotten Dreame thinke it a piece of glory To warre against th'Almightie Can he make The Earth to tremble or by Power shake The fabrick of the World or blast the name Of the proud enemie in their height of fame But as you have begun your mischiefe so The Lord shall make an end presumptious foâ— 17 How blind are our vaine eyes with solly Can There be a certaine help from helpLesse man We thought th' Aegyptians Armie sure would save Our starved bodies from the hungry grave But they were weake and now our foes affaile us Our foes offend us and our friends doe faile us Can any mortall save himselfe from harme Put then no trust O man in thy weake arme 18 Like tyred Harts we are insnared round With light-foot Hunters and the following Hound And now our tyred soules for lack of breath Yield themselves pris'ners to pursuing Death Our Sunne is set the laboring sands are run From Times swift Hower-glasse our Day is done 'T is done indeed Time alwayes did attend us Time did begin us therefore Time must end us 19 The Ioftie Eagle in his high Carriere Aspires to touch the starrie Hemisphere And in his height of pride he faine would be Inheriter of Luna's Canopie Eagles are not so swift to make their way Through the light Ayre as is this Ball of Clay This uncollected man whose hate doth meet My wandring foot-steps in the desolate street 20 The King our Royall King our verybreath Was a sad offring sacrific'd to death Whose down fall sinkes our soules yet what was he But a weake embleme of mortalitie His dignitie a dreame his honour fades Like morning shadowes or the ev'ning shades Hath Wealth Health Honor and Preferment wings So have their hopes that put their trust in Kings 21 And now Oh Edom joy falls thick on joy On thy poore selfe our torments were a toy To thee laugh on or rather learne to steepe Thy soule in sorrow teach thine eyes to weepe O Land of Vz the Cup comes o'r to thee The Cup of Poyson and Calamitie The world the Edom which did ring thy name Shall see the sorrow of a sinners shame 22 But gentle Sion now the Heav'ns are cleare The morning riseth and thy darkned seare Is set the glorious lustre of Heav'ns eye Disperseth darknesse from th' Orient Skie Our Woe is past but Edom next must be Our following fellowes to Captivitie Whose sad destruction to the world will show A second mourning Monument of Woe CONTEMPLATION IV. HOw Orient is bright Phoebus in each Ray Promising the glory of a Sun-shine Day â—n some bright new-borne Morning but ere he Aspires the height of Heavens Canopie O'r-rid in highest Noone his beautie shrouds It selfe in sable Curtaines of darke Clouds The Heavens now looke angry and the Aire That was so calme so cleare so pleasant faire Is drest with horrid darknesse while in sunder The Spheres do seem to rend with claps of thunder And dreadfull firie flashes which doe flie More swift then thought along the darkned Skie Ah world thus various art thou and thus strange Thus apt to alter and thus apt to change Thus oft dost promise and more oft dost breake While thou pretendest power and yet art weake Sometimes thou hast a Smile sometimes a Frowne Sometimes thou sett'st us up then pull'st us downe Sometimes th' Heavens are cleare and sometimes darke The Morning calme yet in th' Evening hearke What showres and dreadfull thunder-cracks there be Ere Phoebus cooles him in the Westerne Sea Sometimes we have our health and ease then oh A little sicknesse brings us wondrous low Sometimes w'have wealth and then our winged store Like Hawkes flye from our fist and we are poore In a short moment sorrow comes too soone Upon the back of joy and like the Moone We varie sometimes Love makes Envie cease Sometimes we live in Warre sometimes in Peace We rise aloft we aspire we sit on high Then we descend decease lye downe and die The often changing of the various weather Is a true embleme whither wilt thou whither O Earth conduct us but me thinkes our eye Knowes too too well thy various vanitie And for our president poore Sions losse Will teach us well their Gold was turn'd to drosse Their precious stones to pebles and their place A ruin'd heape their honour to disgrace Their fulnesse now is Famine and their Soyle Is barren too their pleasure is a spoyle Their beautie
is deformitie their power Is weake and in few waste and flying houres The hope of Earths eternitie's cut off The Land is lost the Kingdome is a scoffe To the wide Universe their Comedie Is metamorphos'd to a Tragedie Their highest dignitie is disregarded Their wisdome slighted honour unrewarded What Nation fought with greater braverie Then warlike Isr'el which their foes slaverie Could often manisest what Valour might Be matcht to theirs while in each bloudie fight Each long'd to be the formost to inga … A troupe of Lyons in their rampant rage Was a poore sigure of their noble hearts While Heav'n was darkned with those numerous darts That flew along the Ayre backt with the breath Of Furie and each Arrow ript with Death There might you heare the wounded Heathen crie To their false gods while that the blashing Skie Did eccho their implorement th' Earth being hid With heaps of murthred Heathens here a head Lyes tumbling while the base unwor thy braine Is found too foolish to be knit againe Unto the for lorne shoulders or complie In any Plot or trecherous Villanie Not farre from that there lyes a Hand and Arme With signes of peace too feeble for a harme Against poore Sion there a Leg doth lye Which should have serv'd his Master for to flye To some strong Rock of Resuge now the day Hath crost his speed he cannot run away There was brave Gallantry in Israels eye Each strove with honour who the first should dye Fighting on heapes of their bemang led foes They made renowne to wait upon their blowes Where in the Clouds of Darts with winged speed Death gallop'd through the Armies with a Reed To measure out the Graves of them which hee Had sent to wander to eternitie Thus valiant Israel who now doth yield Hath slaine their threescore thousand in a field While Heav'n did ead them then high Isr'els name Rode on the wings of everlasting faâ—…e The Starres did light in order and the Moone Stood still and in the 〈◊〉 height of Noone Swâ—ft Phoebus did his 〈◊〉 Horses stay From t … Careere and length'â—ed out the day To see those games of Death p … y'd where each blow Fore-told the enemie of his ov … hrâ—w But where 's that Valour nâ—w that Royaltie So quickly turn'd into 〈◊〉 What slav'd themselves 〈…〉 serve ev'n them Which once were servants to Jerusalem What must their Crowne be vail'd must they goe downe While Heathens arch their temples with their Crowne ' Are they subdued by the Conquered And must the blind man by the blind be led If this be true this Motto then makes knowne Thy power was Heavens Sion not thine owne And hadst thou been obedient to his will Thy warlike arme might have subdued still Those thy unconquer'd foes then like a Bride Heaven would have guarded lov'd and dignifi'd His owne peculiar people then his Arme Would have imbrac'd thee and have banisht harme From these thy ruin'd Borders then his Eye Had lov'd thee with Celestiall jealousie Ah holy Land if thou wert ruin'd thus How shall we fare what shall become of us If thou wert smitten as the Prophets pen Doth manifest we monumonts of men Drunke with the wine of solly how shall we Escape from a more dolesome Tragedie I often reade Israel was of one minde But Englands wayes are wav'ring like the winde Israel was circumspect and serious But England blinde unconstant various Their Armies fought like one one armed man We numerous multitudes of Divisions can We looke for peace in this distracted mould Not knowing who to helpe nor where to hold The Citizens implore the Armies may Disband the valiant Souldier askes his pay Ere he layes downe some foolish fellowes fling Libels abroad of Loyaltie to the King But it is false alas their wicked aime Is to involve the Citie in a flame A fourth Contriver with his shallow crowne Holds best to pull the two Assemblyes downe He rayles against the Peeres and Commons too Reviles them all yet cannot tell you who It is that doth disturbe him others chat Against Divines yet cannot tell for what Another he would have new Members chose And yet he knowes no ill by none of those The rest would have a new Militia hold Yet can they finde no fault against the old Thus in their various mindes and mutinies The people fall to Contrarieties The poore would have Meat at a lower rate But that the Farmers and the Butchers hate Should ever take effect some thinke that Beere Is brew'd too small and that 't is sold too deere But him the Victualler doth soone advise To be content because they pay Excise Another sayes did not the rich men sweepe Up all the Cloth Clothes would be better cheape And him the Clothier presently perswades Wer 't not for these they could not keepe their Trades The Courtier he doth out of zeale defie The Parliament sweares he 's for 's Majestie One cryes him up another cryes him downe A third would have the Prince to wear the Crowne A fourth will none of that sayes 't is a thing Not needfull that there should be any King The Separate rayles at all the Priests attendants The Presbyterian checks the Independants Alas sayes one how could we ever looke For better times since that the holy Booke Of Common Prayer went down then those that went But for a Token had the Sacrament What are we wiser then our Fathers they Without the Service-Booke would never pray But now this fellow 's silenc'd by another That thinks he 's somewhat wiser then the other Quoth he what diff'rence 'twixt the Church and Stable The Service-Booke was most abominable A Librarie sent from Rome wherein was 't rare They pray'd for foule weather when we should have faire And why is humane Learning thus affected The Seribes and Pharises they were neglected By our deare Saviour he cast lovely eyes Upon the simple and refus'd the wise And thus good Reader there is no confusion Like that which hath such strong delusion Of liking and disliking some disprayse The man whom others would have Fortune rayse To high preferment Ah what hath our Lands But double tongues false hearts divided hands And a distracted braine a poys'nous breath Of Envie and a life expecting death Or death in midst of life oh why are wee The onely Monuments of Miserie Most blessed Faith and Love you never varie From your first blessednesse nor act contrarie Unto your blessed Natures from above Love dotes on Faith and Faith ingendreth Love O glorious God thy Saints ne'r disagree In Heav'n when they possesse high dignitie Loves Banner is display'd about thy Throne Thy holy Angels are no more then one But man oh that wretch man is like th' Ocean Who now is calme and hath a gentle motion And in a moment makes his billowes runne Aloft and shoots his surges at the Sunne And since Divisions to destructions tend What followes ruin'd England but her end Cease then oh England from this
his Quill In vaine what man ere found the Prophet ly'd He writ your Ruine when he prophesy'd And then he pray'd for 't too if prayer may Not worke your fall why did the Prophet pray But to our Sceane why are our soes so heartie In their darke deeds there is a praying partie Waits at the gate of Heaven for a Seale To binde the Furies up in burning Steele And send the foes of Heav'n to travell on Fearefull Cocytus and black Phleaeton And the infernall Styae then you shall share In endlesse torments of the Churches Prayer Nay you will know the price of Prayer before That Death hath quite wip'd out Dame Natures Skore When your sick soules upon your lips shall sit And Death shall ' rest you with a high Court Writ And when thy feet and hanâ—â— by Death are bound And all about thee seeme to dance the Round And when thy envious eyes are almost blinde And when Hells hort or hath possest thy minde With their tormenting feares and when the Bell Shall tell thy tort'ring Conscience that new Hell Is readie to receive thee when the thing Thy couz'ned Soule did love are o◠〈◊〉 â—ings 〈◊〉 flye away when they shall sell and pawne Thy … pt-up goods and when the Curtaine 's drawne And all thy friends shall leave thee with a Crie And Death begins to close thy darkned eye How would thy Soule then prize one houre to pray And give a thousand worlds that Death would stay His summons but a while and let him speake A word to Heaven though his words be weake But now it is too late alas the eares Of Heaven's shut and neither cryes nor teares Cannot availe what can the sinner say His heart is hardned and he cannot pray Oh that he could then one repenting story Of faithfull pray'r turnes miserie to glory And then an Habeas corpus comes apace To bring the Pris'ner to another place This changes Death for Life all miserie Into a Palace of Eternitie Makes him to be Loves Monument beside Death is no Jayler but a gentle Guide If Prayer have this power then why am I So long in telling you their destinie That are the bloudie Actors of these Times And sonnes of Horror why doe these my Rimes Wrong thus your patience and my wearie Pen Not character the rudenesse of these men I le tell you why indeed I did intend But know not to begin nor how to end Is the world mad doe giddie mortalls see Their Soules consist of immortalitie And shall thâ—â— short liv'd Stage this transitorie Unworthy 〈◊〉 still be the worldlings glory Why is the Land in such a hurry why Doth Envie lodge in ev'ry loftie eye Why are our enemies of their wits bereaven Why in their furie doe they rage at Heaven And why thus ruine Earth and thinke it well To cut their passage to the Gates of Hell With their bloud-thirstie Blades what shall I say There is a godly partie that doth pray My foes for your sad Ruine these are them That are the Citizens of Hierusalem And the worlds wondrous Warriors whose cleane hands Are winged battlements for these weakned Lands By such as these th' Assyrians mightie Hoast Whose Gen'rall blasphemed Heav'n and did boast Of Fortitude and Valour yet did run With feare and horror ere the fight begun And yet they had good cause to runne and ride A hundred fourescore and five thousand dy'd That dismall ev'ning by an unseene Arme And Death did triumph in that num'rous swarme That measur'd out their graves others did flie When none pursu'd them with a mightie Crie 'T was Pray'r deliv'red Paul the Churches paine Set Peter loose knockt off his gingling Chaine And saved Barnabas if it be so Then this fore-tells our enemies overthrow Sing Drinke and Sweare Curse Vapour Spoyle and Play The Church ere long will keepe a holy-day In memorie of your Ruine for mine eye Beholds the Day is neere when you shall dye And your black Actions fall 't is very neere In a darke Cloud my foes you well may feare 'T is even at your doores I am sure you shall Have both a suddaine and a finall fall And in your graves when you shall sleepe in dust Your glory dies your Brazen Records rust Like to your rotten Names you shall lay downe A wearie body and a wicked Crowne Then a weake Child may travaile by your grave Nay trample on your honour yet not have 〈…〉 at his bosome you will be 〈…〉 Death lulls you to eternitie 〈…〉 this all proud man can ever doe 〈…〉 â—…owning Envie sleepe in ashes too 〈…〉 oh had now my hand an Eagles Quill 〈◊〉 write high Rhethorick or had I skill â—o picture those rare pleasures in my Lines Or paint those orient beames that ever shines In Loves illustrious Glory I could spend Perpetuall Ages ere I made an end Of embling Immortalitie for those That are the friends of Heaven and the worlds soes Those brave heroick hearts that ever are Above the Clouds upon the wings of Prayer And loftie Contemplation those who feares Sinnes guilt and horror and with silent teares Doe bathe their amorous eye-lids but I le misse The Caract'ring so rare a Paradise Lest I am lost and you too soone be drown'd Sweet Readers in amazement and I wound Your bosomes with Loves arrowes lest your eye Should slumber too much in Loves Lullaby Who can describe their glory lest he be Himselfe wrapt first into eternitie And so deare Land adue let Loves sweet Boy Crowne thee with harmonie of Peace and Joy And purest milke-white Robes cast off thy moanes And let thy voyce utter some ravisht Tones 〈◊〉 a well-measur'd evennesse let thy dayes Be past in puritie and spent in prayse Oh doe but banish sinne then a few yeares Will weare out quite the mem'rie of thy feares Then Heav'n will puffe away this darkned storme And arch thy browes in a victorious forme Give thee all Royaltie and thou shalt ride In Honours Chariot and be dignify'd Adorne thy beautious face with Vertues Gem Impale thy glory with a Diadem For present times thou shalt have Lessons sent For after-Ages a learn'd President He will not leave thee if thy gentle eye Can learne the part of the Spouse loyaltie England farewell goe dearest Nurse adue Forget not Heaven he will thinke of you His lovely Armes thy body shall surround If thy archt browes be with sweet Vertue crown'd Though I may fall yet let this Infant be Thy Guider and a Monument for me FINIS