joyes expresse That 's the good land this but the Wildernesse Onyons and Garlicke and the flesh-poâ—stoo Let them desire that have a list to eateâ— My pallat cannot rellish what they doe Manna my God I know is Angels meaâ—e But if this place affords it not to me Take me to Canaan since it is with thee Art thou not beauty Lord to whom the Sunne At height of glory is so darke a blot That when thoâ— didst obscure thy blessed Sonne The other had his wonted light forgot Yet in that blest Ecclipse this turn d such light That earth saw heaven though heaven was hid in night To the Angels 1. A Safe humility is wise Both to it selâ—e and others to I know there 's starres but use mine eyes To finde out what they cannot doe For though they both partake of light Both have not equall sence in â—ight 2. And is it safe you glorâ—ous lights That this dull glimering sparke my soule Aâ—â—ect to know those boundlesse heights Where your exalâ—ed spirits rule Or were my wisedome better spent To â—each my heart at home content 3. Yet as in dungeons we behold Through some small chinke a glimering ray And thence assured we are bold To thinke without there is a day So you discover to our sence Your excellence by your influence 4. Blest Children of a more blâ—st Father I le not discouâ—se your story For my affections had much rather Partake than speake your glory Speake your owne glory you that can Which no man ere shall know as man 5. And yet I care not I what Quite Of Cheâ—ub's Seraphin's or Thrones Or Angels lower are or higher Since all I know are holy ones If I keepe time with any Quiâ—e I like the seate I le with no higher 6. Farewell sweete Quiâ—e farewell I say This glimpse at distance doth confute All my discourse and makes me pray To know you there without dispute And since I long to meete least I shall stray Guide you your Lovet on upon his way T.B. On AEternity GOod God! eternity what can Aâ—â—onish more the faith of man When it shall please thee God that I On my unfriendly sicke bed lye And those about me shall descry In my pale face deaths livery When breath shall fleete and leave for me The relique of deaths victory A grim sad coarse oh must my light Astonisht â—oâ—le then take her flight To that long home where it shall seeâ— Or blest or curst AEternity Shall shee for ever ever dwell Or Saint in heaven or fiend in hell When ages numberlesse are gone Shal't be â—s if wee had past none 'T is so my God which when I thinke My staggard reason 'gins to sinke My braine turnes giddy and weake I Am rapt in wonders extasie Forgive mee Lord that thus presume To question thy eternall doome And since our minute life must gaine Pleasures eternall or such paine Asâ—ist mee so my God that when I shall for sake the sonnes of men My jocond soule may sainted bee In heaven and thy eternity Em. D. On the death of M M. T. MIstaken virgins do not drop a teare She is not dead beleev 't I 'le make 't appeare That which you call a hearse is nought beside A heavenly charet in 't a glorious bride And that which you more fondly â—eâ—ne a grave Mysterious heaven for her bride-bed gave Thus you mistaken to a â—unerall haste When you 're invited to a marriage â—east Heaven was her lover would not be deny'd The welcome promise of so faire a Bride Which long since having hee now thought it best T' espouse and take her to his happy rest And as wee see great Princes ere they take Their royall consorts they by proxie make The ceremonious marriage so did hee By proxie death wed her immoâ—tally And now inthron'd she doth â—it anâ— singâ— Divinest Anthems to her Lord and King 'Mongst quires of Angels she doth fill the skies With sweete tun'd notes of heavenly rapsidies Thus gloriously happy doth shee still live Whose death you â—ondly and unkindly grieve Em. D. FINIS * Her lips * Diamonds or other pretious stones
those Who speake of love in tame prose Beleeve our joyes but dully censure usâ— Onely for loving thus Ah! how I smile that doubtly blest we doe Injoy our selves and all their envie too The Choyce WHat care I though she be 〈◊〉 Haire snow-like hand or Sun-like eye If in that beauty I not share Were she deformed what care I. What care I though shee be foule Haire swaâ—thy hand or sunne burnt eye So long as I enjoy her soule Let her be so why what care I. Dimme sight is cosened with a glasse Of gaudy gowne or humerous haire Such gold in melting leave more drosse Than some unpolish't prices share Be she â—aire or soule or either Or made up of both together Be her heart mine have hand or eye Be what it will why what care I. EPITAPHS Epitaphium Regis Swedorum HEre sleepes hee who was and is The subject of eternall blisse Religion and no other end Caus'd him his blood means to spend He conquer'd all onely his breath He lost by which he conquer'd death Now would'st thou know whom we deplore 'T is Sweaden Reader husht no more â— est while thou read thou and this stone Be both alike by death made one For death and griefe are neare of kinne So thou might'st die being griev'd for him 〈…〉 Tho. â—eedome An Elegy on the death of the renowned and victorious Guâ—tavâ—s Adolphus King of Sweathland Can the dry sound Hee 's dead no more affright The world with terâ—our than had some meane knight Languish't to death in downe or can the sound That Sweaden hath received a fatall wound Passe by and like the bullet hurt no more Than his stout brest that felt the mortall sore Oh no! it rankles in each weak'ned part And strikes a chill amazement to the heart Of feeble Christendome that by his losse Puts on it's titles badge The Christian Crosse And 't was a great one too yet let none wonder That heaven forboâ—â— to ring his knell in thunder Or thaâ— some angry Meteor did not stare And to the world their publique losse declare No no some such Ambassador as this Had beene too mercifull land made us misse Our just deserved punishment â—or wee Knowing our sinne begot this misery Might by a faign'd repentance have procur'd A pardon for the Prince but now assur'd Of our owne weaknesse we with teares may say We are losers though our army wonne the day His death begot his conquest and his foes Mourn'd at his fate witnesse those death wing'd blows Which heaven by meanes of his impressure steele Did make their bleeding carcasses to feele Then what remaines but that ouâ— prayers gaine This be the latest losse we may sustaine And that no more of Heavens great Champions fall Through our default to so sad funerall To the truly worthy and his worthily honoured friend Mris Judith Dyke on the death of her brother Mr John Dyke obiit ult. Martii 1636. TAmely and soft as the Prophetique breath That pants the â—atall passing bull of death Move my sad soule and to his happy hearse Pay the deserved tribute of thy verse And you blest maid whose griefe hath almost wonne Death by your griefe to make you both but one Cease your laments for how can you be crost In this since what God finds can neâ—râ— be lost And wisely thinke you may offend in this Love hath its errours and may doe amisse Death may looke dreadfull in an ill mans eye 'T is no great thing to live but lesse to die To die indeed as Common people doe That with perplexed soules bid earth adieu And by necessity of late compeld Their strugling spirits to the Coffin yeeld Were matter worthy griefe and onely they Are like the houses that entombe them clay But where the soule like his rapt with desire Disdaines dull earth and aymes at glories higher And by a bright Angelicke fire inflam'd Mounts towards heaven as oâ—t as heares it nam'd Like a sweete odor upward as it goes It yeelds a persume to th' Almighties nose And hence ascended 't is ' not just that wee Lament at its exalted dignity And sure no matter if wee must away Whether it be to morrow or to day And if to day at morne or night or noone So wee die well what need we care how soone I know the fertile soyle of his pure heart Gave warmth to every vertuous roote of Ait And had the August of his age bin come They had bin crown'd with a blest harvest home But now hee 's clouded from your eyes to show That none but Angels worthy are to know What hee shall aged be Oh! 't is a â—aâ—e VVorth your best thankes that day deserves it's date Be registred to Glory when his Maker Made him of him and all his blisse partaker Now dare you loose a teare unlesse it bee Because you are not happie yet as hee 'T is charity to wish you so but then As you know how yet God knowes better when Death comes to call yet not to call as one Though all men die yet good men well alone The Sunne 's not lost but set the approaching day Shall make it's light more glorious by delay If then in death such differences consist Desire so to dissolve to be with Christ So prayes for you your true friend The Beedome Encomium Poetarum ad fratrem Galiel Scot TWice I began and twice my trembling hand Startled from what my Genius did command Lest harmelâ—sse â— should hazzard all my fame And my attempt win nothing but selfe shame It deem'd the praise of Poets worth the pen Rather of Angels than of mortall men My bolder heart bâ—d on for blind men may Although not see yet know there is a day And said perhaps my credit I might save The proverbe sayes nought venter nothing have Then come yea Muses were you nine times nine I could imploy you in this worke of mine Fill my wide â—ailes that while you stand my friend I may swimme safe unto my journey's end Since the first Mistique Chaos did entombe The earths faire sabricke in confusions wombe There is no art can plead antiquity Before the heavenly birth of Poesie I speake of those arts which this day we call As witnesse to their nature Liberall Next by th' ffect the worth of things is knowne They in respect of this seeme to have none The end of verse is to preserve from death VVhat ever from a Poet tooke its breath VVitnesse that golden age whose fame lives still By some few drops from Naso's golden quill He rescued Satuâ—nes Godhead from the ground And by his lines his aged temples crown'd He in a brasse-outlasting paper page Created thee Great Jove a silver age Apollo for his Daphne to his Layes Owes a rich wreath of thunder-scorning bayes One petty blast from his immortall breath Preserv'd Diana's chastity from death Nor need Actâ—on take it much in scorne That Ovid did coâ—nute him with a horne Homer yet lives whose pen for
else but what is thine inherit If e're which heaven desend and still uphold Our league should breake Oh! horror to be told And that the knot of our strong amity Should be dissolv'd by any crime in mee Then count mee lighter than my fleeting breath Show by this paper and I 'le blush to death But I feare no such mischiefe since ouâ— love So aptly in each others soules doth move No Rhetoricke can my zeale to thee impart So well I love thee that thou hast my heart And that my action may concord with time Be this thy New-yeares guift and call mee thine Ever till death T. B. The Corner stone 'T Was a faire stone though it was abus'd And by the senselesse builder was refus'd Alas their sinne blind soules and blinder eyes Sought by the pride of all their industries To polish maâ—tle porphery or that On which proud folly set so high a * rare And with such earth-bred trifles to refine Materiall Temples to the powre divine Whilst that bright stone from th' heavenly square taken Lies on the mountaine by these fooles forshaken Ah! had they knowne the value of this Jem It had not beene so under priz'd by them Oh! when that Babell building of their sinne Shall ruin'd dash upon themselves agin And wanting props to under-set it shall Uppon the builders head with teâ—â—our fall How will they wish this abject stone had beene By faith well laid them and their sinnes betweene Then had it like a storme-contemning rocke Secur'd their Mansions from their heavy shocke Of wrath and judgement both the which unjust Shall make them roare with woe Oh! had I wist Lord be the Basts of my hopes high Throne And then I 'le build on that strong Corner-stone The Royall Navy WHat 's breath a vapor glory a vaine chat What 's man a span what 's life shorter than that What 's death a key for what to ope heavens dore Who keepes it time for whom both rich and poore What 's heaven a haven what 's ships anchor there Hope faith and love with one small pinnace feare What are those men of warre how fraught with armes What burthen weighty suiting their alarum Whose ships the Kings what colours the red crosse What ensignes bloody from their Princes losse And whither bound to earth Oh! what 's their strife To conquer breath and glory man and life Oh! I foresee the storme Lord I confesse Then vapour or vaine chat or span I 'm lesse Save a relenting â—oe thy glories are More excellent in peace than death and warre For to that time that time his key shall lend And to thy tent my yeelding spirit send I will strike saile to these and strive to prove Thy Captive in my hope faith feaâ—e and love EPIGRAMS Epigram 1. To my deare friend William Harrington T Is true my Will and I confesse I owe Thy friendship more than this yet to beâ—â—ow A 〈◊〉 upon a â—rend hath sometimes bin A 〈◊〉 worth th' acceptance of a â—ing Though my pen-seathâ—r'd Muse yet cannot teach My feeble quill to that â—ap't height to reach 'T will be no lesse content to mee if shee Be but well entertain'd deare friend of thee Thou art a King in friendship and I may Then thus to my no little comfort say That too good Wills my worthlesse Muse hath won My Scot and my no lesse-lov'd Harrington Thy friend Th. Beed Epigram 2. Of one Mary Fraile who lay with Mr Reason MAry was long desirous for to marry And vow'd that past fifteene she would not tarry I am suâ—e this vow of modesty did faile Alas yet pardon her for flesh is Fraile No suitors came nor could her longing eyes Meeâ—e any that might seaze her as his prize But making conscience not to breake her vow Shee is as then the promist no maid now Though thou know'st not why she so young did sport I 'de have thee thinke Fraile had some Reason â—or't Epigram 3. On the same Mary a great lover of Mary-bones WHy she doth Mary-â—ones afâ—ect would'st know I thinke the reason is not hard to show The bone she cannot eaâ—e that 's hard as flinâ— Oh then I guesse the cause there 's something in'tâ— Well what 's that something Oh my Muse there sticke She that loves marrow likely loves a Epigram 4. To the excellent Poets Mr George Withersâ— I Never saw thee but should grossely lie To say I know thee not for â—illy I Or one that is more stupid well may guesse At what thou art by what thoâ— dost expresse Oh that blest day when first my willing hand Opt the remembrance of this Sinsicke land Trust mee I griev'd to thinke that now my age Had sixteene summers acted on this stage Yet was a stranger to so raâ—e a soule As thine whose heaven-bred boldnesse durst controle Without respect of persons every sinne That to thy knowledge had committed bin Then next thy Satyres and thy Motto I Made hast to purchase where I might espio How some too base for earth not worth a name Sought by their mire and dirt to clâ—y thy same And credit mee I hardly could forbeare Upon these pittied lines to drop a teare But that I know vertue oppos'd by fate Lookes greatest like the Sunne in lowest stare When other wits who have in some base time Imploy'd of â—ate that they might conquer time Shall like those paper toyes in which they trust Be eate by wormes or molded into dust And want a name thou by thy vertues grac't Shall live till earth by fire be imbâ—ac't Thy unknown well-wisher Th. Beed Epigram 5. By way of consolation to his deare friend William Scot on the death of his brother Gilman Scot SUffer mee dearest friend to bring a verse Though uninvited to attend the hearse Of him whose memory death cannot bloâ— Since hee yet lives in thee my friendly Scot I know the â—ertile soyle of his pure heart Gave warmth to every vertuous roote of Art And had the August of his age bin come Y' had seene him crown'd with a rich harvest home But now he 's clouded from your eyes to show That none but angels worthy are to know What hee shall aged be Oh! 't is a fate Worth your best thankes that day deserves its date Be registred to glory when heaven pleas'd Him of his earthly flesh-encumbrance eas'd Yet daâ—e you lose a teare unlesse for joy That heaven in mercy gave him for the toy Which wee call breath a life that shall outlive What e're dull earth or all your love could give I know the fates have lop't off from your tree Many faiâ—e branches which I doubt not bee Againe sarre fairer than his muddy â—oyle Could suffer them to grow too for the â—oyle Of living was their trouble but that care They wisely did contemne and so repaire To that blest pallace which for pious men The maker fram'd and now is opt agen For this new entrance do not then once more Spend any uselesse teare behold
complemâ—nt alone invites the â—aâ—e No I have prov'd thee and thy preâ—ious name Confirmes thy nâ—ture to be like the same A glorious Gâ—m whose lustre doth out shine All those poore merits that I dare call mine And I must prize thee since thy worâ—h is showne Superlâ—â—ive and farre above mine owne Suffice it that my friendship and my Art Sâ—â—â—ves still to weare thee Pearle upon my heart Epigram 18. To the Heroicall Captaine Thomas Jamâ—s of his discovery made by the Northwest passâ—ge towards the South Sea 1631. HEroicke soule thy memory must live Beyond those stone built structures that can give Their earth an Ages talke or can assure The effigies of some mony Gull shall dure Till spiders eate his memory Oh poore glory T' inscrible a Marble with the tedious story Of some stout Sir whose vertue neere was more Than how to quarrâ—llâ— for perhaps a whore But thou great James hast by thy Actions fram'd A trophie that hereafter thou being nam'd Men shall rise up with â—everence and keepe Thy â—ame from freezing when thy Ashes sleepe To the same Captaine on his Couragious and pious behaviour in the said voyage MArchlesâ—e Commander when fierce winds did hurle Water to aire and made the old waves curle To mounts of solid liquor when strong streames Of moving marble did assault thee James Did not thy conquer'd courage like the rest Flag and sit heavie on thy hopelesse breast Didst thou not faint to heare the Thunder roare And â—urious seas rebell against the Shoare Didst thou not quake at this why then I see Thy soule though prison'd in thy flesh was free Thou werr above a man thy zeale like fire Dissolv'd th' opposing Ice and did aspiâ—e Through all the stormes of darke condensed ayre Wrapt in a sheeâ—e of storme-contemning prayer These were prevailiâ—g blowes and broke more Ice At once then all your hands at ten-times twice This man'd your ship securely through the maine And stered you safely to your home againe I. B. Epigram 19. A Complaint of his separation from his Mistris caused by his friends injunction DEare Heart remember that sad hower When we were forc't to part How on thy cheekes I wept a shower With sad and heavy heart About thy waste my Armes did twist Oh! then I sight and then I kist Ten thousand feates and joyes in one Did such distraction frame As if the livelesse world would runne To Chaos backe againe Whilst my poore heart amidst these feares Lay bathâ—d in my milke warme teares Ah then I thought and thinking wept How friends and fate diâ—ower On thee I eander how they kept Thee from thy Heroes Tower While thunder groâ—nd and heaven did weepe To rocke thy sence in silent sleepe But fate must unresisted stand Oh who can it oppose Necessiti's a Tyrant and No meane in mischiefe knowes Else might my fairer Love and I Unsever'd live till one did dye Just so the hungry Inâ—ant from His Motheâ—s dugge is tane When his weake arme 's yet spread along More dulcid milke to gaine And nothing brings the babe to rest Untill he sleepe upon her brest Thus being banisht from my Love And forâ—'t to leave her sight No thoughts but those of her can move In me the least delight But like true steele my heart doth pant To touch the long'd-for Adamant Oh let no storme of discontent Be clouded in your browes Deare friends that have my being lâ—nt Give being to my vowesâ— I will much engage my heart if when I say shee 's mine you ' â—e say Amen Such kindnessâ— to our true love showne Shall binde uâ—doubly then your owne Epigram 20. To the memory of his honoured friend Master John Donne an Eversary BLest dust and better soule to you alone I raise this structure not in Jet or Stone Whose â—â—aileâ—y in its luster onely can Tell us below there lyes a sâ—â—ayler man But heighâ—ned by those severall glories which Doe â—qually your better selfe in rich In those â—ude lines if such poore things can live I would a memory to your being give Burst ope thy Cell blest shade and â—ise that we May doe some homage to thy excellency Or that thy gâ—â—ar example may invite Us to a wish of everlasâ—ing night In which thy Sun of vertue shall appeare Sâ—â—ull as if earth had no darkenesse there Oh happy spring of thine whose seede and flower Was sowed and bloom'd and witherd in an hower For if long age be counted but a span Thy inch of time scarce measur'd halfe a man But sleepe sleepe best of spirits why should I Disturbe thy ashes t is a misery To know thou wert and art not for so men Mourne Jewels they once had but lost agen So he whose bitter fate is forc't to prove The misery of a memorable Love Remembring what it was and since no more He may enjoy it as he did before Weepes the sad consequence and prints thereby His sorrowes offerd to the Readers eye But I must leave thee thus and thinke of thee To the mad world a just Antipathy Thou were not of those men whose gowne and hood Must plead a wisdome though not understood Nor of the tribe of such as easily can Drop jests or vapours upon any man These are the Indians that doe frâ—ske and râ—n To the false rayes of each supposed Sunne Simple Americans that doe ingrosse The â—oyes of every noble genius Nor were you such whose cunning had the â—kill To murder a friend closely nor to kill With a pretence of safety your just Endes Depended not on liking of your friends But if the opposites of vice may be Exprest by any contrariety Let all men know what all men wish which is But a content on earth and after blisse Which thou art crownd with thus some stones are set At greater rate then some whole Cabinet When thy triumphant spirit once did inne At the poore cottage of thy â—rayler skinne Though every thought was payment of a rent To high and worthy such a tenement Yet as it had a knowledge did dispiaâ—e Because thou wouldst not â—arry longer there It droopes and ruinates it selfe and â—alls In every glory oâ— its principalls So Princes in a journey having beene The honoured guests of some poore village Inne Are mourn'd at their departure and now more Grieves the sad host then he was glad before Come Virgins you whose innocency can Embalme the memâ—ry of a divine man Yâ—u whose unspotted glories as your faces Preserve your fame and multiply its graces Whose easie goodnesse never did affect To wound obedient spirits with neglect Noâ— triumph in the fall of former loves Come come blest Virgins bring your peacefull Doves And at the Alâ—aâ— of his sacred â—hrine Present them and your zeale as I doe mine That to the world hereafter may be read Here innocency by Virgins wound lyes dead An Elegie on the death of his loving friend I C WHy should the labour of my mournefull Verse Find so sad subject as thy
timelesse hearse My soule which now is not but where thou art Stayes but to tell the world we will noâ— part And the glad Casket which thy ashes beares Shâ—ll tide me after thee in miâ—e owne teares And then rejoyce that we whose hearts were one In death shall celebrate Communion Wisedome of fate that earely did remove Thee hence that I in heaven might seeke my love And so assure me that time thou couldst dye No beauty but must taste mortality I know my bounded every Grace In the strict limits of thy well built face And thought those principles of beauty there Unchangable as bodies in their sphere But I recant and tell the world this truth There is no priviledge in blood or youth Else how could'st thou whose every smile or breath Was a suâ—ficient antidote 'gainst death Have met a grave and like a drooping flowre Have wiâ—hered to nothing in an houre Sleepe while some Angell with a peaceâ—ull wing Courtaines thy ashes here and hovering O're thy innocuous breast by that display Informes mee where my dust must take its way Then my infranchis'd spirit up shall fly To our just wedding for eternity And pitty all those enmities below That did with hold us from uniting so And smile to know that all our envious friends Have lost their plot and we obtain'd our ends But wee will marry here in spight of those That would our much wish't meeting interpose Death shall be prest lye closer sweete make roome That wee may make our marriage bed thy Tombe My sonne give mee thy heart ANd why my heart since I have none Or if I have perhaps 't is stone And rather than have such a one Better have none Lord canst thou chuâ—e no other partâ— The world alas hath stole my heaâ—â— Pleasure intis't it by strange Art From mee to part One Angell lust and all the rest Possesses it or else as bad a guest And in the midd'st there is a neast For sloath to rest Envie would have it all but pride Disdaining any should divide Possession there Enter and then as tyrants who By bloud are rais'd their states undoe Doth domineeâ—e The Petition HEate mee my God and heare mee soone Because my morning toucheth noone Nor can I looke for their delight Because my noone layes hold on night I am all circle my morne night and noone Are individable then heare mee soone Thou art all time my God and I Am part of that eternity Yet being made I want that might To be as thou art Infinite As in thy flesh so he thou Lord to mee That is both infinite and eternity But I am dust at most but man That dust extended to a span A span indeed â—or in thy hand Stretcht or contracted Lord I stand Contract and stretch mee too that I may be Straightned on earth to be enlarg'd to thee But I am nothing then how can I call my selfe or dust or man Yet thou from nothing all didst frame That all things might exalt thy name Make mee but something then my God to thee Then shall thy praise be all in all to mee VVHen first of linne I tooke survey Sinne that first wrought poore mans decay Mee thought the seeming pleasures that it wore Betray'd a face So full of grace That I desir'd it more and more As raâ—â—les babies and such â—oyes Are the â—ull bundles of childhoods joyes I rested in appearance little knowing That such vaine things Which sorrow bring An alteration in their growing As warning once descri'd from sarre Through some darke cloud a glimeting starre That lead mee on to seeke its lustre out Hee that makes all Answer'd his call Had turn'd my erâ—or quiâ—e about Did'st thou not God divide those ' seas AEgypt and Israels death and ease When sepaâ—ated waves like Mountaines sweld On either side To quench their pride That 'gainst thy edict did â—ebell God didst not thou â—ebuke those seas Natures great burthen and disease When Peters Faith his failing strength did cherish When calling loud I' th watery cloud He cry'd â—ave Master or I perish Thou did'st my God and thou the world And sinne my beaten Barke have hâ—l'd In a more desperate storme yet still I see And heare the say To thy poore clay Is any thing too hard â—or mee The Inquisition 1. VVHere art thoâ— God or where is hee That can discover thee to mee The worlds without thee sure for here Doth domineere Hell flesh and sinne thou art not there 2. Doth Aire thy blessed spirit hold And â—â—om our eyes thy sight unsold Thou art not there my God for here Doth domineere Satan aires Prince thou art not there 3. Or doth thy sacâ—ed essence keepe Court in the Chamber oâ— the deepe No sure my God â— not so for here Doth domineere Leviathan thou art not there 4. Doth flames too subtill for our â—ence So spy impaild thy excellence No sure my God not so for here Doth domineere The fiery Prince thou art not there In none of these confind yet thou dost scatter Thy presence through both earth aire fire wateâ— 5. Each place containes thee God yet thou Art no where no where dost remaine Though every place wee thee allow No place we know can thee containe Then I have found thee now though here Nor here thou art not yet thou art Both there and here be anywhere So thou bee in my heart Where being Lord let that thy closet bee To keepe thee safe in mee and mee in thee A Proud man Vile worme of dust vaine clay how durst thou venteâ— To â—well thy selfe above the earth thy center Vapors exhal'd and lifted to the skies Or dissipare or else prove prodigies Why being nothing art thou Bold to d'on The ingloriouâ— itch of exaltation And by a peâ—ulant pride disdainst to bee More heightn'd by a selfe humility As if the Babell of thy thoughts could shroud Th' aspiâ—ing battlements within a cloud And so the mighty machin safely stand Whose weaker basis is but mosse and sand Strange mystery of sinne that drives us on As farie as heaven to â—ind perdition For wert thou there and prov'd to bee so then Heaven would â—ast downe a devill once agen Yet thus perhaps thy pride might â—â—â—ed bee The Prince of Devils doth but equall thee Change but the subject and some sins admit To hâ—mble minds a happy benefit To kill the man oâ— sin to coveâ— grace To â—resse by violence to Gods holy place Câ—ntention for a Crowne for blessing strife Are sins that â—â—ll mortalyty with life But to be proud not to be proud addes more Sinne to that pride than pride had sinne before Meditation 1. MY God came downe in thunder once but then The sonnes of men Affrighted at the dreadfull cracke Sounded fell backe Desiring not his presence so agen 2. My God came downe in whirlewinds too and flame But his great Name So blazon'd did astonish more Than heretofore When pointed thunder his loud Herrald came 3. My God came downe in