hide his Head This Hole in Death shall doe what Life denai'd Yet shall it not long hold Him beeing dead For Heau'ns his Home Earth's but the Babylon Vpon whose Riuers bankes He still did moane Here Loue contends with Custome Loue would keepe His Corps without Custome within the Graue But Tyrant Custome swaying Loue doth weepe That Her deere LOVE shee may no longer haue And for a Fare-well Volleys forth her Voice In Grones and Sighes and Lachrimable Noise NOw Hee 's interr'd that all the World intombes But in the Center of his Court diuine Yet least Point of that Center now enwombes This Lord whose greatnesse nothing can containe Gods Peace be with Him sith Hee 's God of Peace Till by his pow'r He makes his Death decease Vnheau'n your selues ye holy Cherubins And giue attendance on your Lord in Earth Couer his Corps with your Celestiall wings From all that naturally annoyes beneath Descend sweet Angels Legioniz'd in Rankes And make your Heau'n on his Sepulchers Bankes There warble forth your Hymnes of highest praise In highest honour of your highest Lord And Lullabie asleep his Watchers Eies With secret Soule-enchanting sweet concords Whiles with Eie-blinding Beames of Glory dight He faire amounts â—o frolicke his Saints sight But tell me O thou fairest Faire of Men Where do'st thou lodge at Noone-day where do'st sleep O tell my Soule and Shee will find Thee then And as her Soule Thee found will safely keep For Thou more cleere than Springs of Eseboâ— Hast made Her with thy more cleere Blood 〈◊〉 Thy Wintry-* Woes are past Spights storms are ceas'd Now flowres of Comfort burgen eu'ry where Then rise my Loue thou canst not be diseas'd Out of the * Rockes Holes rise to mee appeare And in the Holes of Thee her refuge Rocke My Soule from from deadly Sinne and Shame vp-locke Out of this Rocke as out of Paradise Runne through the Mosse of my most feeble Flesh Vnto my Soule all soil'd with Sinne and Vice Gihons of golden streames her to refresh So may it runne O still so may it runne Till it hath made her blacke as bright as sunne O Gates of Heau'n orientall glorious Gates O Wounds no Wounds but Hau'ns of Heau'n secure Neasts of cleane Doues and Forts from fellest Fates Blessed Balme-Boxes that all sores recure O let me liuing die and dying liue In these most holy Wounds that Life doe giue O let these Wounds these Woundes indeprauate Be holy Sanctuaries for my whole Man That though sinnes sores It oft coninquinate Yet there It may be made as white as Swanne O holy Wounds Wounds holier than all Holies Still let your Bloods be Floods t'ingulph my Folies When Woes doe wound me wind me in thy Wounds Sweet Iesus that for me with Woe wast wounded When Foes by Wounds my Bodies life confound Then let my Soule in thy Wounds be surrounded There let Her rest securely till shee may By thy high Grace resume in Blisse her Clay When carnall Lust my Flesh fraile Flesh inflames Then quench the same in thy Wounds bleeding still When Furie with strong hand my Mind vnframes Then in thy Wounds reforme It to thy Will In few by this most bloody Immolation Let my by parted selfe haue whole Saluation And thou O iust commander of this All To please whose Iustice Iustice Death endur'd Thou that I hat death mad'st most patheticall Inspire me with Loue Hope and Faith assur'd That while I breath this ayre my voice may be No light vaine Ayre but voyce aduancing Thee And deepely die each obiect of my Sense In tincture of thy Sonnes all sauing Blood By which Aspect my Mindes reminiscence May ruminate the vertue of that good That is our Summum bonum and the rate Of Sinne Gods wrath and iust though heauy hate O holy God! then looke O looke on me Through the through wounded Sides of thy deere Sonne O let my Scarlet Sinnes pure purple be In his deere Blood my Sinnes Purgation For eu'n as through redde Glasse Things red do seeme So through that Blood my Workes thou good wilt deeme The kingdome of the Flesh is swaid by Sinne In Christ that kingdome thou hast crucifi'd Then let me dwell that faultlesse Flesh within Sith Sinne subdues all humane Flesh beside Then there O there let me both liue and die Sith Life by Death there liues immortally The Diuell and the World two Worlds of Strife With whom my Flesh conspires my Soule assaile Who to destroy her selfe giues them a knife And so with them conspires her selfe to spoile Then if thou flesh her not with Christ shee dies For shee in my Flesh liues none otherwise But shall I make long Furrowes on his Backe Or stil make Him but soape my Sinnes to scowre Shall He supply the Pow'r my soule doth lacke Yet shall shee still be idle with his pow're O no Lord no that 's not the way to winne But th' onely way to liue and die in sinne Then helpe me Lord to help his helping might And giue me of thy goods to grace his Grace Let not my sloth but clogge your actiue Sp'rit Although it doe the Same in Loue embrace For sith in Action Vertue doth consist Helpe me to worke together with my Christ. Had I all Faith and Mountaines could remoue And though I gaue my Body to the Fire All this were nothing if I had not Loue Then liuely Faith meere Loue doth Life-inspire Sith then without Loue Faith doth nought but die Giue me that Faith that liues by Charitie Had I of Men or Cherubins the Tongues Knew I all Secrets or all Prophesie Fed I the poore with all to me belongs All these without Loue do but liuing die And sith on Loue depends the Royall Law O let my faith Lord worke in Loue and awe Christ is a Rocke of Refuge but to those That fight thy Battailes then needs must I fight Against both Thy and My still-fighting Foes And euer flie to Him in want of might Let me rest on this Rocke but yet so rest As by my sloath He may not be opprest I long sweet God to see thy vnseene Face Then put me in this Rocks most holy Rifts That I with Moses there may see thy Grace Sith It cannot be seene but through these Clifts But if I be vnmeet thy Face to ken Shew me thy back-parts kind Lord say Amen God forbid that I should glorie sauing in the Crosse of our Lord Iesus Christ by whom the World is crucified to me and I to the World IOHN DAVIES of Hereford SONETS 1. THe ofter sinne the more griefe shewes a Saint The ofter sinne the lesse griefe notes a Fiend But oft with griefe to sinne the soule doth taint And oft to sinne with ioy the soule doth rend To sinne on Hope is sinne most full of Feare To sinue of malice is the Diuels sinne One is that Christ may greater burden beare The other that his Death might still beginne To sinne of Frailtie is a sinne but
loe he faints with trauell sore His corp'rall powres annihilated quite With Paines incursions loe yeeld now out-right Now at a Stand He staies yet hardly stands For bloodlesse breathlesse powrelesse is his Body Now faints that Pow'r that Heau'n and Earth commands His Body bloodlesse all and yet all bloody Drawne out by boyst'rous Blowes sanguinolent Which make him stand with Body double bent O see my Soule ah cast thy carefull Eie Vpon this Miracle-surmounting Wonder The Body of thy God is wrencht awry And double bow'd this massie Burden vnder Is He made crooked that was euer streight He is so made but made so most vnright Ah see how his most holy Hand relies Vpon his knees to vnder-prop his Charge Now Simon-Cyrene help or els he dies The Crosse hath broke his Backe it is too large Then take It off lest Malice be preuented And He die yer fell Furie be contented Weepe Daughters of Ierusalem amaine Here wash his wearie Body with your Teares Though He in Loue doth will you them refraine Yet sith He for your Loue this Burden beares Help with your sorrow to condole his griefe For Mates in Meane yeeld Miserie reliefe Weep Ioy and Mirth although it crosse your kind To see your kind Lord thus vnkindly Crost Crost all in all in Life Death Body Mind But crost least in his Crosse that crost him most For that though eruell most did him relieue Sith it did end the Deaths that Life did giue It 's mercie the condemned straight to rid Out of the paines to which condemn'd they be Christs cursed Crosse then shew this mercie did For which ere since it 's call'd a blessed Tree Where Paine it selfe doth pittie more than Men Who will not pittie there the Pained then It 's sed the longer that the world doth weare The worse It is the last Daies are the worst But these last Times though bad doe nothing beare That can so martyr ought that Nature nurst And did not Truth it selfe the same avow Who would beleeue this Tragedie were true Then who 's a Particle of highest Pow're That will not weepe to see It brought so low What Eies so Gorgoniz'd that can endure To see the All-vpholder forc'd to bow Then sith Hee 's bow'd that canopi'd the skie Let Earth in center of her Center lie Dismount your tow'ring Thoughts aspiring Minds Vnplume their wings in flight pennipotent Sith Hee that flees on wings of swiftest Winds And with Heau'ns Monarch is equipolent Deignes to detrude His Super-excellence So low to checke base Earths magnificence O thou that back'st the Sun-bright Cherubins And gallop'st ore the glitt'ring Lampes of Heau'n Behold thy Sonne sole Lord of Seraphins Humbled to Earth nay with the Earth made eu'n O let his deiect highest Lowlinesse Our pride and thy fell plagues for pride suppresse Remount vs by His fall from whence we fell He 's fall'n in 't hands of Synne of Griefes the Ground Those selfe same Hands threw vs from Heau'n to Hell Yet by 's hard fall O let vs backe rebound And for we are the Mammothrepts of Sinne Crosse vs with Christ to weane our ioyes therein Vpon this Stand of Christ still could I stand To view with Pitties Eies His Wondrous plight My Muse is gâ—auell'd here in Silos Sand And all profunditie orewhelmes Her Spright That Weakenesse so should crosse th' Almighties Will As prest to goe yet opprest standeth still NOw let a sacred Trance transport thy Spirit O Man â—o that vnholy-holy Mount Christ-crosse supporting Mount where He did merit By bitter death from death thy Lifes remount Mount-Tabor All will mount to see his glorie But few his griefe will mount Mount Caluarie There see ah see though torture-tyred quight How He weake Worme creeps vp the Hill in Haste Yet lo the ruthlesse Iewes with maine and might Beyond His might do lugge him to His last As doubting feeble Flesh would faint and die To crosse their Crosse-intended crueltie Fell Enuie dies with Death but Malice liues In Life and Death of those shee seekes to bite The death of whom her halfe dead oft reuiues Yet grieues that Death hath freed them from her spight Then Malice doth gainst Mercie most rebell For shee her foes pursues past Death and Hell When Ionathan all fearelesse scal'd the Rockes Where charg'd he was with troupes of Philistines His Man him equall'd in sustaining knocks Then loe our Ionathan charg'd with our sinnes Now climes vp Caluerie to foyle our fone And shall we cowards leaue him there alone When Sauls bold Squire had seene his Lord to fall Vpon his sword he forth with did the same And rather chose death with his Generall Than spare his life to die with liuing shame Then sith our Saule falles on his Iustice Sword For vs wee die should like wise for our Lord. Now haue they scal'd this mestiue Mountaine top Ore-topt with dead mens Tops and fleshlesse Shins A grim aspect but here with ioy they hop Sith here their Plaies Catastrophe begins Among Deaths Tropheies th'Engine of his Death Is laid along the Dead-Skull-paued Earth See see my Soule ah harke how It doth cracke The Hand of Out-rage that deglutinates His Vesture glu'd with gore-blood to his Backe Which his enfestered Sores exulcerates Ah â—â—e a God! or rather Graue God knowes For now more like a Graue than God he showes There stands He shaking in a Feauer-fit While the cold Aire his Wounds confrigerates Where on some cold Stone faint Hee 's saine to sit Which to it selfe his Sores conglutinates The while his Tort'rers make the Morteffe ready To hold the Crosse that must sustaine him steedie Which beeing done see how their Teeth they grinde And rudely rend not raise him from that Stone There sticke the Cataplasmaes still behinde As proofs how they doe part this Holy-One They beare him to the Crosse but so they beare him As in their portage they doe rather teare him See now thereon how they long-straught him stretch And first one Hand fast to the same they naile Meane while hard by doth stand a ruthlesse Wretch That gainst this Lambe with open mouth doth raile Alas the while what dolor is He in Ah now eu'n now sweet Christ thy woes begin There with one Hand nail'd to the Tree he lies Hand-fasted so to Dolors heaui'st Hand The while his foes protract their Tyrranies That so his Crosse might still lie at a Stand Who fretat Time that fled they thought too fast And past in pittie from the pittie past Yet that no Time might scape without offence They fill his Eares with Blasphemies the while The while Spight studies so to plague his sense That ceaslesse plagues Times pittie might beguile While Heminds nothing but their onely good And freely bleeds to saue them with his blood His holy Heart doth ake more for their sinne Than for the Torments which they make it prooue Who opes his Heart to take his Plaguers in Till he Gods plagues by Plagues from them remooue
part of Thee It is sith Passions there are yet in strife Sprung from his Passions which Perfections be But kept he not the peace in so great strife No force of Nature could maintaine thy life Thy Teares doe quenching feed the sacred fire That Natures Lead transmutes to Graces Gold Zeale blowes the coles of thy diuine desire To haue as earst thou had'st thy Sonne in hold But since thou hast him in thy better Part As sure thou hast him as thy Soule or Heart Yet for his sight thy thirst is so extreame The Ocean of which comfort swels so high That though into thy Parts the Whole should streame Yet could it not their sore Thirst satisfie For that which is belou'd without annoy The Senses seuerally would stillenioy Then hauing Him but in thy Heart thy Heart Hath so much Sorrow with that boundlesse blisse That Grace by Nature is perplext in part So the whole Heart thereby perplexed is For till Flesh puts on immortalitie It cannot shake off Natures Qualitie Yet wert thou by his mouth forbid to weep Whose Biddings and Forbiddings are such Lawes As all are bound religiously to keepe Sith to infringe them doth Perdition cause And sith the vnion twixt you Two is such Thy weeping for thy selfe himselfe doth touch Tooke He not Flesh of Thee then is the same Thine by the law of Nature which is His For Nature neerer vnion cannot frame Which makes thine Eies to fashion Teares amisse And sith true Loue doth make you most intire Then must thy Teares fall crosse to his desire But yet thou sai'st but for thy Selfe thou weep'st When thou weep'st for Him beeing one with Thee And so thou ween'st his holy Heast thou keep'st Who for thy selfe to weepe gaue libertie Nay rather gaue command which to transgress Must be most damnable or little lesse The fault therefore herein if any be Must be thou ween'st in beeing one with Him Which Sinne thou sai'st proceedes of Grace in Thee Both which in both thine Eies thou mak'st to swimme Out of Election so presumptuously Thou sinnest thus by Graces regencie For if the Sunne in Sable him inuolu'd When Lights inlight'ner quencht was in his Blood If Natures frame was like to be dissolu'd To see her Maker marr'd in likelihood Then O! who cannot weepe for such a losse His heart 's more hard than heart of oake the Crosse. Thine Heart and Eies for both alike doe moue Sith Heart and Lookes are one in Deed and Show Doe pay him Tribute of religious Loue Which He hath paid and thou to Him do'st owe For what He paid thou ow'st by double Band Which Grace and Nature sealeth with thy Hand This dew of Grace nere falls but straight the Sunne Of Iustice doth exhale It to his Spheare And if the fowlest face It ouer runne In Mercies Eies It makes It Christall cleare For Eies that so oreflowe are Wels of Grace Wherein God loues to looke to see his face For this imperiall Water thy poore Heart The Lymbecke is to Styll it through thine Eies From Hearb of Grace call'd Rue by Sorrowes Art And made by quenchlesse flames of Loue to rise Wherein the Angels loue themselues to plunge And ioy to draine these drops becomes the Spunge Vpon this Water-streames with winds of strife Thy Soule doth saile vnto the Port of Peace To raigne for euer in the Land of Life With him for whom these Surges neuer cease For sith these Waues doe whaft from Sinne to Grace From Grace to Glorie then they passe apace Thy Sunne is set and at his going downe These brackish Seas did rise to meete his fall That Tethis of thy true loue to thine owne In her moist Lap receiues this Light of all But sith thou know'st by Nature he must rise Let Grace with comfort cleere thy cloudy Eies No doubt thou would'st by force of that strong Tie Ensue his Steps though glutted with his Gore And could'st a Death with Hels of Torment die So thou might'st liue with Him that dies no more Then to be barr'd of what Loue doth desire Turnes Loue to Langor and her frost to fire How liuely were that Death whose deadest Meane The dead'st Cadauer with a Touch reuiues And makes immaculate Soules most vncleane Beeing Death of Deaths that giueth life of liues And honnied were the death of such a life Where Sinne and Grace arc still at mortall strife For thou yet liu'st as many Deathes to feele As thou liu'st howres and no lesse griefe to taste Then was thy welfare in his onely weale Which beeing extreame then extreame woe thou hast But cheere thee Saint sith nought so violent Can though it perfect were be permanent Liue out thy liuing Death then in such peace As to thy dying life may yeeld repose Let woes encrease past present ioyes encrease For they doe winne at length that long doe lose And when as Griefe 's enthron'd in greatest grace Then downe it must and Ioy possesse her place And though thy Soule liues more by force then choise Within thy dying Corps her liuing Tombe Yet beeing there interr'd shee may reioyce It did and doth both God and her enwombe Then O how blessed is that Earth of Thine That two such Sp'rites of life doth still enshrine That Sepulcher of Death and Seate of Life Thy blisfull-blislesse-blessed Body O I want fit words while Words are all at strife Thy Bodies ten-times blessed state to show For that stanch Chest those pretious Iewels keepes That keepe the Chest secure in Dolors Deeps Then melt not O melt not thy Heart away In flames of Loue but loue to loue him still For if thou heartlesse be where shall he staie And if thou kill'st thy heart thou his do'st kill For thine is His then for Him tender It With loue that is for lasting onely fit Thou think'st perhaps so well he loueth Thee That if thy Soule for that deere loue should die He would giue Thee his Soule thy Soule to be Sith Soulelesse now his Body yet doth lie But sith from Death to Life he will remoue He His must vse then keep Thine for his loue Thou canst not feare his losse that all reliues For ardent loue quite kils the Ague Feare He can reuiue himselfe that All reuiues And can make All as if they neuer were Then sith Faith holds he is omnipotent Hold thee by Faith almightily content Let those whose Faith begins but now to sprout Or senslesse things that feele the force he felt Themselues vnto their Makers fortune sute While their kind Bowels in compassion melt But be thou ioyfull as thou faithfull art Sith Faith sucks comfort out of holy smart The Place that held him earst thou held'st an Heau'n The Time thou him enioy'dst a merrie Maie Comforts diuine the duties to him giu'n The Aire wherin he breath'd eternall Day If these seem'd thus whiles yet he liu'd to die What are they now he liues immortally Then let not Feare doubt more than Faith confirme Sith doubts are Grounds
for Griefe to descant on And each mishap our hopes doe make infirme Though It we meete not with Suspition To force our friendship on a mortall foe Makes Folly triumph in our ouerthro But Loue that hath in Feares and Hopes no measure The more It longs her Obiect to possesse The more it doubts thereof the dire displeasure And beeing disseis'd thereof doth hope the lsse But O! this Loue is humane not diuine For Faith will not let Feare true loue decline Christ to thy longing-loue is as the Riuer Vnto the chased Hart which still he seekes And as Men thirstie mind but moysture euer So loue doth thinke on nought but what it likes If That Bee not It seekes no more to Bee But Beeing It would Be That bond or free Loue cannot liue without her Obiect long Sith shee then longing liues a dying life Who weenes her Right then to her offers wrong As doth the Husband that forsakes his Wife For in our deeds which Reason might reproue We scape vnshent if they were done in loue While loue doth lacke the oyle that makes it flame It is all Eare or Eie to heare or see Who can bewraie or where abides the same That there she may in loy or Sorrow be And listens vnto Newes with longing-heed In hope thereby to find her longingsmeed If It be good shee hopes it 's without peere If bad it be shee feares it 's worse than ill But be it good or bad shee it must heare Although the ioy or sorrow her may kill Desire doth neuer rest till that be had Which like to that Desire is good or bad Clothe him with Diamonds that quakes for cold Or cramme his purse with crownes that 's hunger-pin'd That for a freeze Gowne giue his Iewels would This all his Crownes for Crusts of coursest kin'd As each supplie supplies not each defect So nought contents Desire but his Elect. They that haue most are held most rich to be And they that haue their wish held most to haue Then as in Him is all that 's wisht of thee So Hee 's the Summe of all that thou canst craue It is the greatest gaine that can be made To get eternall good for goods that fade But rest these Thoughts which Thee of rest depriue In Paradise where he thou know'st do the est For there he said the Theefe should with him liue That day that he of life was dispossest Then when the life of Loue is dead to Griefe And liues to Ioy Ioy is dead Loues reliefe Hee for vs captiu'd our captiuitie And what is that but death the due of Sinne Which now he triumphs ore in victorie That we might still reioyce not grieue therein When Griefe is slaine it is a wrong to Ioy Our Powres in Sorrowes seruice to imploy Yet greater cause of griefe Griefe cannot giue But greater cause of ioy Ioy cannot yeeld Griefe Ioy resists and Ioy with Griefe doth striue Thus twixt these two still doubtfull is the field But Ioy at last as true Griefe doth presage Shall Victor be and no more Battell wage For this is He who though thus skarrified Tormented slaughtred and thus vilipended That is indeed the first Man deified Whom Men-of-God as-God to Men commended To Him the Prophets gaue this Testimonie That He should Liue as Man to die for Many His Skinne the Whips his Flesh Thornes made vnsound The Nailes his Nerues the cruell Speare his Heart Sharp Woes his Soule Gods wrath his Mind did wound So wounded was in all and eu'ry Part Thus his Soules-Soule was sacrifiz'd for Sinne That so our Soules might their lost glory winne His hand of Pow'r at first did figulate The Belsire of Mans most vnconstant kind And shall those Hands that Hand did figurate This Hand-almightie by their frailtie bind No no alas the Scepter 's in that Hand That doth both Heau'n and Hell of right command Hee like the glorious rare Arabian Bird Will soone result from his incinderment Which flaming Loue and Charitie had fir'd Of sole selfe-pow'r and owne arbitrement And though his Toyles be Silke-worme like his Tombe Yet shall his actiue Sp'rite his Flesh vntombe Diuinely then with Triumph Caesared He shall reblesse Thee with ten Thousand Blisses Whereby thy Soule shall aie be rauished With many millions of sweet Comforts kisses Whose Sweetes shall be so super-naturall That they perforce thy Cares shall cordial Then cheere thee sacred Virgin mourne no more The worst is past the best is now to come Thy blessed Wombe his blessed Body bore To die accurst for which He blest thy Wombe The Curse we caus'd for which He Death indures Then mourne no more but let the Griefe be Ours Fraile-Fleshes signiorizing Tyrant fell Vsurping Monarchie in her Effects Stearne Hydra-headed SINNE with Death and Hell He by his Death to free our Flesh subiects Then let Lifes Death that Lifes Death doth reliue Kill thy quicke woes and thy dead ioyes reuiue Serene thy Woe-adumbred Front sweet Saint Let Ioy transluce thy Beauties blandishment Thy Sonne feeles not for Death is Sence restraint Yet sees though dead thy liuing languishment Which well he wots though it of Loue proceed Auailes Him not nor mends His Killers Creed Thou know'st thy charge thy Master thee impos'd Sacred Euangelist His Soules deere Loue To thee her Sonne as to her Sonne dispos'd O then discharge thy charge for her behoue And like a Sonne yeeld her sad Heart reliefe With words that flow from fellow-feeling griefe Come come O Ioseph Nichodemus come Make haste post haste to take his Body downe He yet craues pitty though He yet be dumbe Yet by your ruth your loue may yet be showne Though feare of Men did make ye God forsake Yet God sith ye are Men will mercie take You did none other than his Minions did Whom of base Groomes his Grace did Minnionize Yet in his Troubles all their Heads they hid And left him for their Sinnes a Sacrifize Yet sith his Armes are spread them to embrace Ye may be sure Hee 'l take you too to grace Then sith in loue ye haue obtained leaue To take him downe that humbled so was raised Then downe retake him and withall beleeue He shall in Heau'n remounted aid be praised Vp with your Scala-Coeli to the Tree To take downe Heau'n for Heau'n of Heau'ns is Hee NOw Soule suppose thou see'st these worthy Men Laden with Linnen and with costly Gumbes Vnto the blessed-cursed Crosse to ren T'interre his Corps which DEATH now ouercomes Where beeing arriu'd the Ladders vp they reare To take Him downe with care surmounting Care See how the Infant Church whose feeble force Hath scarse the strength to lift vp Hand to Head Vnites her powers to take downe his Corse That is aliue and yet is perfect dead See with what fearefull care the Nailes they draw As if his Flesh yet felt or them He saw What prouidence they vse with Linnen large Crossing his dead Corps that to Death was Crost That so
they may the better wield that Charge And not by poize to let him fall be forc't See how the Body doubles in their Armes While Faith their loue with feruor double warmes For Martyrs Deaths giue life to Martyrs more Till DEATH be tir'd with reauing Them of Life This God did die as nere did Man before For Hee by yeelding meekely conquer'd Strife His Patience in such Passions and such Spightes Doth Life-inspire the faith of Proselites It is in vaine therefore with Sword or Fire To seeke to plant a Faith which cannot growe For Saints blood chokes It ere It can aspire And like a Deluge doth It ouerflow For when the Church is bath'd in Her owne blood Shee 's cur'd of all Diseases in that Flood Who will not runne into an Hell of Paine For His Hopes sake when he sees some therein For that same cause to seeme in blisse to raigne And by that Blisse eternall Glorie winne It 's sport to die when Life and Death conspire Feare to exclude and satiate the Desire WEll now those Women that were fled him fro When Tempests rag'd are come the Coast being cleare To pay him their last Dutie sith no mo They shall not as they doubt Him see nor heare Now eu'ry one is busied busily To grace Him Dead that for their grace did die Now downe they haue this dead Life-giuing Lord And now their zeale with diuine adoration Performes Loues complements in deed and word Now He hath suffred now they suffer Passion They spice Him sweetly with salt teares among And of sad Sighes they make their Obiit-Song O cruell hands quoth one that pierc'd these Hands But farre more cruell heart that gor'd this Heart Curst quoth another bee their feet that stand In Sinners Way who did these Feet endart O quoth a Third Paine still that Head suround That with these cruell Thornes this Head hath crown'd Infernall Furies whip them that haue torne This blessed Flesh thus whipt accursedly And be their Flesh with Wants to nothing worne That thus haue worne the Flesh of Deitie O worme of Conscience gnaw their Soules to nought That still did plague his Soule and vexe his Thought Let neuer Sunne recheere them with his Raies That Iustice Sonne haue thus in purple clowded Let nere Mouth ope but spit in their dispraise That haue these Lips in Death's pale Liu'ry shrouded Thus all like Honny-Bees sweet murmure make Against those Waspes that spoil'd their honny Cake Now draw they forth their Aromaticke Gumbes His Flesh most sweet to make most oderous See see how now His Traine late scatt'red comes Trooping with drooping Hearts most dolorous To helpe t'embalme Him and condole His death And to consort His Carcasse to the Earth See how in Peace they striue in Loue contend To kisse and rekisse his gore-crusted Face And with each kisse Teares Floods their force extend Which shall anticipate the others pace Loe how they hug Him with lowd-shaking cries Some hugge his Armes and others Legges and Thies But blest is He that hath his Head in hold Hee holds his hold till crowd enforce him thence Yet ere he parts his kisses millifold Bewray his loue and louing diligence And as the Babe is loath to leaue the Dugge Forepin'd with thirst so at his Lips they tugge Sweet Iesus giue me leaue in strong conceit Among these holy Ones to kisse thee once I as vnworthy will their leisure waite With vigilant attendance for the nonce Though they in loue are not my selfe aboue For who hath most forgiuen most doth loue If not thy Lips for I confesse deere Sweete I am vn worthy such preheminence Yet giue me leaue to kisse thy sacred Feet And wash them with my sad Teares confluence Let me with Marie who had much forgiu'n Yet I much more make Them my highest Heau'n For I aye me I am that Lumpe of Sinne That made thy Soule so heauie to the death I eu'ry day afresh thy woes begin Breathing out Death to thee with my Lifes breath Farre worse than he that blind thy Heart did gore For I doe see and yet doe wound it more O Christ with thy Rod strike my Rockie Heart That it may flow for Thee as Thine for me O let it bleed in pittie of thy smart And leaue to thinke on ought that grieueth Thee Bleed Heart weepe Eies that Blood and Water may Wash Blood and Water which I spilt away Sweet Honnied Sweet looke looke into my Heart See what Desires thy Loue doth pow'r therein Touching thy Loue I know thou hast the Arte To make the same in Deed thy Loue to winne Sith thy grace makes the Will and Deed intire O giue me grace to Doe as I Desire And as it 's written of the Elephant That he is fierce to see Grapes blood diffus'd So let me Wretch become most valiant Gainst Death and Hell to see thy Blood effus'd Who art the Grape which pressed on the Crosse Yeelds wine of Life and makes vs liue by losse When I behold thy still-fresh-bleeding Wounds I see the Deed to worke with the Desire Of my Redemption which my Soule confounds With shame though It the same doth life-inspire Whose good Deeds by Desire are onely done Though good Deeds end what good Desires begun When when deere Lord O when shall I fraile I Resist to Blood thy bloody foes resist When for thy sake shall I desire to die And in that deere Desire in Deed insist Till when I hold my deer'st Desires to be Vnworthy of thy Crosse much lesse of Thee Can I behold thy Gore rough-casted Corse Thine Head Heart Hands Backe Side Feet wounded all And all to free me from thy Fathers Curse And all I doe is but therein to fall I le trust Thy Secrecie Hearke in thine Eare I am the worst redeem'd with Blood so deere Then good Desires can nere repay the Debt Which thee I owe by Deeds seal'd with thy Blood My selfe thy Due I should too much forget To seeke to paie Thee with none other good For I am Thine Thou deerely paid'st for me Then both my Life and Death should honour Thee This World this Hellish World doth dimme mine Eies My Iudgements Eies that they but darkly see The way to worke by loue as worke the wise The godly wise whose workes tend all to Thee Then helpe me Loue to worke for Thee alone Meane while let me thy Passion thinke vpon Now doth this louing sacred Synaxie With diuine Orizons and deuout Teares Ensindon Him with choisest Draperie And to the Sepulcher his Body beares And as they beare him step by step they poure Downe showres of Teares which winds of Sighes procure But ah alasse his Mother all this while Like Niobe as Poets faine still sits All as shee did her Senses reconcile To senslesse Death and were in Tranced fits Without or Spâ—ite or Life or Heart or Soule Her violent woes her Senses so controule Now Loue to his last Home hath Him conuai'd That had no Hole in Life to
hate inflict since hell began That was not heaped on this God and Man The wound was sore that crau'd a salue so sharpe The disease shamefull that fowle shame must cure Though Dauid healed Saul with sound of harp Our Dauids selfe must swoune ere health procure So many Sauls possest with Sathans store Must make the remedy exceeding sore O Pride the swelling Sore that nought can swage But such extreame deiection of the Highest O Sinne that do'st within the marrow rage Can nothing kill thee but the death of Christ O depth profound of Heau'ns iust doomes who may Tracke out th'Almightie in his pathlesse way He patient beares these contumelious wrongs So to supplant the kingdome of our pride He onely wise knowing what to all belongs Knew base we were vnlesse he should abide Basenesse it selfe to honour vs thereby And knewe we could not liue but he must die Thinke now how he that giues eternall rest Did restlesse passe away that hellish night VVhere Darkenesse children still did him molest VVith whatsoere his soule could most despight If any forc'd by sleepe began to nod Like Diuels they wake themselues by grieuing God There sits he blindfold that doth all things see Bats flying in his face that light doe loath Each one as irefull as an angrie Bee Doe sting his blessed Soule and Body both O restlesse hate that rest reiects wherefore Because the Lord of Rest should rest no more Ye heau'ns weepe out your world-enlight'ning eies Showre downe the Sunne and Moone in Teares of blood So in grosse darkenesse make a Deluge rise Of Gore to glut these furies with that flood For such a bloody worke of darkenesse done By fiends or furies nere saw Moone nor Sunne O hell that do'st all Cruelties surround Blush with bright Flames that blacke to burne are wont Vntill thy faces flush these fiends confound Sith thee in crneltie they farre surmount Light them with flames coufounding with their light To see the meed of their past hellish spight But O fraile Muse be not transported so VVith passion past the patience of thy Christ VVho praies for those that thus doe worke his woe Then O doe not his praier so resist But he is God but meerely Man can nere Endure such liellish rage to see or heare Kind Nature Night ordain'd for sweet repose To tired lymbes and wits through Daies turmoile But they the same quite opposite transpose And in tormenting Christ themselues they toyle How can it be but in eternall Night Iustice with restlesse plagues should them requite VVhat diff'rence is betweene those Hymnes diuine The Angels chaunt vnto his praise in heau'n And these discordant Notes of harsh Repine They are as Fame and Shame no lesse vneu'n For Sanctum Sanctum sing those sacred Quires But Crucifige Crucifige theirs O sweet celestiall Spirits Angelicall Are ye not maz'd with worlds of wonderment To see the Subiect of your Praises all To such shame subiect yet therewith content Your Tongues vnable are though most diuine Such Paine and Patience rightly to define What temper is that heart that is so hard That feeling this from bleeding yet forbeares VVhat substance are those eies that in regard Of this distresse dissolue not into Teares If Eies seeing this melt not and Hearts that feele They are not Hearts nor Eies but Flint or Steele But harke now Crowes and Curses interchange The Cocke and Peter striue to crowe and curse Who should exceed but Peter O most strange Giues Three for Two and yet he had the worse VVere not infernall Legions and thefe Fiends Ynough to vex thee Christ but must thy Friends Wert thou so hardie Peter in thy word What time in peace thou vowd'st with him to die And wert thou no lesse hardie with thy Sword In the first fight and from him now wilt flie That Man that ouercomes must weare the Crowne Thou art no Man a Wo-man put thee down Though All forsake Him thou wilt neuer faile Him These be thy vaunts and vaunting this did'st vow Yet thou with griefe do'st with his Foes assaile him And to a Maid more than a Maid do'st show Thy woman-weakenesse weaker than a woman For better is a woman farre than no man Saw'st thou that Man was God yea God and Man In all his workes and did He by his pow'r Strengthen thee Weakling for He all things can To march vpon the Seas foot-failing floore Saw'st thou by Reuelation He was Christ And yet for feare of his Crosse him deni'st Fear'st thou that Crosse that is the Tree of Life What! loath'st thou Death and yet do'st feare to liue Do'st strife eschew that is the end of strife Wilt thou not take because thou wilt not giue Is thy Soule rationall and yet thy Soule Doth Reasons reason brutishly controule Did He in loue O 't was a matchlesse fauor Take thee with him more firme to make thy faith To see God this God glorifie on Thabor And heard'st his voyce whom Heau'n and Earth obai'th Say 't was his Sonne more bright than Sunne thou saw'st Yet from God and his Sonne thy selfe withdraw'st Soule-wracking Rocke Faiths Rocke of ruine Peter Art thou for Christ his Church a fit foundation That in Faith from Faith sans Faith art a fleeter Tends thy faiths fleeting to Faiths confirmation If that stand fast that hath so false a Ground It most miraculous must needs be found Did'st thou desire with glorie rauished To Tabernacle Tabor there to dwell VVould'st thou in Heau'n with Christ be glorifi'd And not consociate him in his woes hell Art thou austere in life yet sensuall Thou Eschew'st the Gall and wilt but Honie chew Gods Councels are his owne therefore vnknownè All whose Intents no rules of Reason want Els that to thee he hath such fauour showne VVhat reason i st But God is God Igrant By whose Prerogatiue he may doe All And make thee and his firmer by thy fall Do'st thou esteeme it such a fowle reproach To know that Wisdom whence all Knowledge springs Think'st it no shame to set such shame abroach As cracks thy credit and the King of Kings Was Grace s'inglorious found that for thy grace Thoú gracelesly abiur'dst him to his face Could they acknowledge him that were his foes VVhen thou deniedst him that wert his friend By thy deniall they might well suppose That he was such as falsly they pretend Weepe Peter weepe for fowle is thine offence Wash it with Teares springing from Penitence T' was time to turne His Soule-conuerting Eies To thee peruerted Peter reas'nlesse Man Lest brutish feare which did thee Beast surprize Should make thee as thy selfe thy God to ban Can Mercies eies behold a fault so fowle With louing looke and not in anger scowle They louing lookt O constant Lord of Loue What is vile Man that Man thou valuest so Must his Redemption make thy heart to proue Though he false-hearted be such hels of woe Let Loue it selfe this Loue alone admire That loues for hate and dies through Loues
short Daies T' were pitty then a Gods heart-blood should be Like worthlesse water spild for louing Thee But looke O Heart-diuiding dreyrie sight See see thy Iesus O flint-hearted Iewes King'd with a Crowne of Thornes O spightfull spight Of piercing Thornes that doe transpierce his Browes See how they mall it on in ruthlesse rage That Thornes doe seeme his Braine-pan bruiz'd to gage Daughters of Sion see King Salomon Crown'd by his Mother on his Mariage day Ye Sonnes of Salem see Gods glorious Sonne Enrob'd with Wounds and Blood all goarie-gay All gentle Iosephs weepe none can doe lesse To see your Brother brought to such distresse Is that Head crown'd with Thornes vpon whose Crowne Depends the highest Heau'ns resplendant Roofe By whose reuulsion It would soone fall downe Yet did a weake Post hold this Prop of Proofe Who brought this strong Alcidâ—s downe so lo T' was I his Deianire that seru'd him so Yet Heau'nly Hercules though plagu'd thou be Thy Hydra-labours will thee Deific We Pagan Ofsprings aye will honour Thee Not as a Semi but sole God and cry Holy Holy Holy Iesus Christ Lord God of Saboth our true Eucharist O thou all-powreful-kind Omniparent What holds thy hands that should defend thy head Is Sinne so strong or so Omniualent That by Her pow'r thy pow'r is vanquished Why Sinne is Nothing O! then Nothing ist That binds thy Hands that nothing can resist Thy Head all heau'nly wisdome doth containe That 's onely wise and stands it with the same To weare a Crowne that yeelds both Shame and Paine And so seeme proud of Dolor and Defame Art glories God and Pleasures Soueraigne Yet lett'st their Contraries ore thee to raigne Could not thy Head that compasse can what not Compasse Mans deere Redemption with lesse losse Thy wisdome neuer can be ouershot Then shot the same at such a Crowne and Crosse O strange ambition of Humilitie To couet Hell to giue Hell Heau'n thereby For what 's the World but Hell yea Hell at best Yet for the World He brookes these Hels of woes That so the World of Heau'n might be possest For with his Saints through Hell He thither goes First He is Crown'd then Crost both with annoy But they are * Crost then Crown'd and both with ioy But O my Soule to stirre in thee deuotion Vpon this ground of Griefe thine Eie still fixe See here the King of Heau'ns Earthly promotion Crown'd with sharp Thornes and made a Crucifixe Which bruzing broach His Browes lo for our sakes His Head is bruized that should bruize the Snakes To King Him right Hee 's Scepter'd with a Reed As if his Kingdome were but like a Kex Then crouch they with Haile King Then straight Areed Who smote thee Iesus Thus his Soule they vex O Bat-blind Fooles doe ye infatuate That Wisdome that makes Wisdome gouerne Fate To pitty wretched Wights orewhelm'd with dole An humane dutie t' is which Men should doe But to deride a poore distressed Soule A sauage part it is and damned too Yet such is their damn'd in humanitie That they make merry with his miserie O Thou that do'st the Heads condecorate Of Kings Terrestriall with Emperiall Crownes Why lett'st weake Wormes thy Head dedecorate With worthlesse Briers and flesh-transpiercing Thornes It 's to acquite the Pennance of our Pride By this Poll-deed with Blood exemplifi'd The Speare the Pen his pretious Blood the Inke Wherewith he Iesus to this Deed subscrib'd And Consummatum est the Seale did sinke To our Quietus est that were proscrib'd Then by that Iesus sign'd so with his Hand Seal'd with his Gore we cleare discharged stand Ah might it please thy dread Exuperance To write th'excript thereof in humble Hearts And giue them vs Then by Recgonizance Wee 'l aye be bound to praise Thee for our parts And if our indeuotion breake our Band Our little All shall rest at Thy command Our little All for all we haue's but little Nay lesse than nothing all we haue is Thine Wilt haue those Soules which thou in vs didst settle Retake them as thine owne for th' are diuine Wilt haue our Bodies which thou didst create Then take them to thee thou true Panaret Such forfeiture were too too fortunate For such vnhappie Bodies lucklesse Soules Then would we euer our Bonds violate Sith Freedome so their forfeiture enroules In Booke of Life in Heau'ns Exchequer rich Where we as free as freely would keep touch And thou my Soule should'st be the Antitype Of what thou art sith thou art Slaue to Sinne True Patterne of true Vertues Archetype Then should'st thou be and being rest therein Yet resting so that thou shouldst euer moue To Him that hath so deerely bought thy loue That though Confusion shall dispuluerate All that this Round Orbiculer doth beare Yet He that so doth supererogate Shall aye in order my Thanks Organs heare The Orbs of Heau'n shall stop and Time shall stay But they shall sound his Praise an endlesse day Faine would I fix my Thoughts with these sharp Thornes To these sore wounds that these sharp Thornes doe tent Such Sight a squemish stomacke ouerturnes But comforts mine with Matter subiacent My Thorny sinnes each Thornes deep Sepulture Doth in Charybdises of Blood deuoure For looke how Pikes in Battailes-front are pight To bide the shocke of Foes crost eu'ry way So through his Browes these Thornes are crossed quight To bide the shocke of sinnes which him affray These Thornes through pierc'd besides that is within Haue length enough to pierce the Head of Sinne. But now my Soule make thou a swift regresse Yet Rose-sweet is the ingresse to these Briers From whence through sense thereof thou did'st digresse And view with wonder what the Heau'n admires For God that is most iealous of his honour For Men most vile endures most base dishonour Iustice vniustly for Iniustice deemed And scourged crowned wounded prest to die A Worme no Man this God-man for Man seemed For formelesse is diuine Formositie Drie Root parcht Plant burnt Leafe and wither'd Flow'r Yet fruit It hath that hath reuiuing pow'r As when bright Phebus Landlord of the Light And his Fee-farmer Luna most are parted He sets no sooner but shee comes in sight So when our sinnes from God had vs auerted The Lord of Life no sooner set in Death But gaue vs Lunaticks Life 's light beneath He that the Earth within His Palme includes And Heau'ns Embrace-all measures with His Span A Rough-cast of thicke Gore his Body shrouds Then Blood exhausted Flesh is weake and wan For as Thornes did his Head conuulnerate So Rods all round did Him excoriate It 's pleasant to recount our Woe in Weale These Stripes had I deseru'd which He endures These deepe Incisions my Prides Swellings heale Then must I ioy in counting what It cures To tell the Ierkes with ioy that ioy do bring Is both a wealesull and a wofull thing These most Herodian-cruelties effected His People-pleasing Dooms-man Him presents To Furies fell with
Hellish rage affected That ioy in His past Hellish Languishments Yet for He hop'd to point at Pitty than In Sorrowes Map He saith Behold the Man Behold the Man and not the God behold Yes Bifax God and Man behold in Him His Person both those Natures doth infold But Man thou see'st but God thine Eies doth dimme Thine Eie is Mortall and no mortall Eie Can brooke the splendor of Heau'ns Maiestie Yet had thine Eies bin equall though obscure Thou might'st haue cleerely seene this spotlesse Man A God in Word in Deed in Life in Pow'r But hee 's most blind that will not see and can The Earth did interpose it selfe betweene Thee and Gods sonne else God thou mightst haue seene But what prouok'd thee Pilate so to rue His case in case no more but Man He were Thou heard'st no doubt his Words and Works were true Wonders and Miracles which made thee feare And fearing rue his Case but Feare nor Ruth Can make thee False-heart to acquit this Truth The more is thy Soules torment by how much The more thy soule did eie his Truth and Pow'r If his Disgrace and griefs did make thee gruch Thy gruching soule thy greater Griefe procures If thou vnlike thy selfe thy selfe do'st thwart Thy dole dies not when thine owne Crosse thou art Can that cleare Element that quencheth fire Although it cleare thy Hands thy Conscience cleere Or quench a Soules iust with sinne raged ire No Hypocrite to wash th' art nere the nere But drops of grace and Teares well mixt with mone May pierce with falling the chiefe Corner Stone Nor can a Princes Lawes if most vnright Excuse the Iudge that iudgeth by those Lawes Nor Ignorance shall Guiltinesse acquite The Iudge must iudge his owne and Prince his Cause For if his Lawes would haue him iudge amisse He breakes Gods law to keep those Lawes in this Then Iudges though therefore ye be misiudg'd If Man without God make Herodian lawes Iudge not by them though ye by them be iudg'd Sith Meanes to ill Effects are like their Cause It 's better die for loue of Equitie Than that by vs an Innocent should die But ah alas alas it is too true Too many Iudges of this Iron Age With brazen faces will crosse Christ anew For Princes loue Rewards and Patronage These these are they that make the World so ill Who make the Lawes speake as their Sou'raignes will How many Lands grone vnderneath this Load Those Patrons of Oppression so abound Who make an Hell where-ere they make aboad And for Coyne crost the Crosse of Christ confound For hauing got the Law into their Hands Make Law for meede crosse Christ and Lawes commands All Ages had a grudge of this Disease But this Age lies quite speechlesse of the same For Iudgement oft is mute for want offees And fingers Things in signe of death with shame Christs Crosse him speed that thinkes to speed in Suits That hath but onely Liquids for these Mutes Many a wofull Mothers sighing Childe Goes to the Gybbet by their Iudge misdoom'd Because they had not Iudgements hands defil'd With that wherein shee seekes to be intoom'd O crime of crimes when Men must lose their breath Not for their faults but theirs that doome them death And many a Fathers true begotten Sonne Inuokes the Heau'ns for iudgement on their Iudge By whom both They and Theirs haue bin vndone Either for want of giuing or some grudge Who through their Iudges fault are lands bereft And oft by him hang'd afterwards for Thefâ— Then can no death nor torment be too sore For Iudges iudging for loue feare or meed Whose Skinnes were nail'd to Iudgement-seats of yore That Iudges Eies thereon might daiely feed For though the Prince be good if bad they be His Realme is rul'd as nought were worse than Hee NOw Soule returne with thy sole Soules returne It will not be they will not pittie him Againe He goes no torment serues their turne But Death with torment must part Life from Lymme Now Barrabas is free'd Christ iudg'd to die Onespils the other sheds blood diuersly That Man-destroyer is from Death preseru'd This Man-preseruer Death must straight destory Right 's made away and Wrong is still reseru'd In nought but in Christ crucifi'd they ioy So doe good Christians too but here 's the ods They are the Diu'ls Demeasne but Christians Gods The ruthlesse Crucifige now they crie Like hungrie Hounds that close pursue the Pray Whose blood to sucke their pliant Iudge they plie With ceaslesse clamours Him to make away And thus to vrge him to 't they crie at once His blood be on vs and our little oncs These Cries for blamelesse Blood diuerberate The high resounding Heau'ns conuexitie That bloods lowd Cries the skies doe penitrate With shrill Vindicta's irresistably If Men haue blood for blood by Iustice course Gods blood in Equitie hath much more force Mans blood is spilt for spilling blood of Man Because Mans spirit alone resembleth Gods But God's the thing it selfe by Iustice than Betweene both bloods is ods surmounting ods The Ransome of the World is rich Christ knoes Who spils it then deserues a world of woes The damned Doomes-man hath him iudg'd to death The Diu'll that Diu'll elinguate for his doome O wau'ring Weather-cocke what way ward breath Turn'd thee about from thy first holy-doome Doth thy damn'd double Tongue iudge him to die Whom selfe same Tongue before did iustifie Past is thy Iudgement on this Iudge of All His iudgement on thee is as yet to come Thy doome in thy owne Thoughts was partiall But He on thee shall giue a righteous doome Pilate farewell till then Christ bids th'adue When fiends shall plague thee as fiends plague him now NOw Eie of Sp'rite behold this Spectacle Christs Crosse him speed Crosse on his Backe He beares That Tree that Soule-refreshing Vmbracle Together with our Sinne His shoulders teares When Crosse and Sinne and Gods most heauie hate Depend on Flesh they Flesh doe lacerate Ah! see how th'All-supporting shoulders bow Vnder this Burden most importable And how his Legs do double as they goe As forc'd to beare much more than they are able Disabled through our frailtie lo how He Yeelds to th' oppression of this yeelding Tree Hee all whose life was nothing but a Crosse Of all Soule-vexing Crosses life to wracke Those by retaile he had but This in grosse Is laid on him so quite to breake his Backe Backe-broken loe He wends with these graue freights To cast this Crosse-like Anchor in Deaths Streights No step He treads but to those Streights they tend Crossed with Christs-Crosse or a Crosse per se Hee Mutes and Consonants did adde to th' end His Mother 's bitter teares the Liquids be The Iewes the Vowels are that spell his woe That life expels These make the Christ-crosse Row See how the sweat fals from his bloodlesse Browes Which doth illiquefact the clotted Gore His Burden paines him so with pinching Throwes That lab'ring
Did euer Mercie Iustice so oreflow To saue Iniustice while it workes her woe Mercie orewhelm'd in woe to Iustice praies To pardon vniust damned Cruelties And with deep sighes and groanes her griefes bewraies Lest Iustice should confound her Enemies O Mercie infinite how much are Wee Loose in our Liues and Manners bound to Thee And yet this Mercie Patience Grace and Loue Can nought auaile their rage to mittigate Who trie what paine the perfect'st flesh may prooue Yer Paines the vitall Powres quite dissipate Trieye Conclusions Diuels on your God That brookes your Ierkes to free you from the Rod Now Time not Mercie mooues their Hearts of Steele Because the Sunne wends mourning to the West To take the other Hand like paine to feele Yet still prorogue the Consummatum est So to the Crosse that Hand they slowely fixe And still his paine with mockes and mowes they mixe Both Hands thus nail'd loe how they skip for ioy To see the blood come spinning from his vaines And for they would his sight the more annoy Like worse than fiends they triumph in his paines Then glorious is his Triumphs excellence That such spight conquers with such patience His Hands thus handled then his feet they take And with a Naile of more than ample size They boare them through which makes them so to ake That It wrings water from his Manhoods Eies Weepe Angels Saints and ye Celestiall Spheares To see your Glories Eies ecclipst with Teares Thus beeing fixt vpon the senslesse Crosse How beit it crackt in token of its cares Now here now there the same they turne and tosse Which scarse can beare* That which her Burden bears If Heart of Oake with these griefes broken be What Hearts haue they that ioy the same to see For loe with ioy to see the same they hie While He sweet Christ lies nail'd amidst the Throng Here stands one grenning with his necke awry There stands another lolling out the Tongue Meane while O Christ thy paines no Tongue can tell Saue onely Thine that knew'st such paines too well Well yet at length his Body vp they reare The poize whereof constraines the Crosse to cracke Ah harke my Muse harke harke how in the Aire It groanes to feele the God of Natures wracke Cracke on sweet Crosse and call for vengeance due Against those Wolues which Natures God pursue Thus beeing rear'd He hou'ring hangs on hie In doubt as yet what place in the Aier to haue For now this way he reeles and by and by The other way Hee 's tossed like a Waue The while on Dolors Deepes in stormes of Strife With Armes displai'd He swimmes to lose his Life Now vp He is and past the Pikes thus farre As one spu'd out of Heau'n and cast from Earth For Heau'n and Earth do both against Him warre Who trauels now with our Redemptions birth The whiles the Fiend doth tempt Him in these woes That so He might that blessed Burden lose But now ah now ensues a pinching paine For hauing brought him to the Sockets Brimmes That should the reeling Crosse and Him sustaine They iog it in to lacerate his lymmes No maruell though the Temples vaile did rent Beeing neere such tearing of th'Omnipotent O Christ my Iesus deere celestiall Sweet In this annoy thine ease as should appeare Was nought but this to rest thee on thy feete When as thy Hands with hanging wearie were And then to ease thy nummed feet againe Thou mak'st thy Hands thy heauie corps sustaine If for thine aking Head thou seekest ease Then loe a Wreath of Thornes bewraps thy Browes Whose piercing pricks thy Head doe so disease That it confounds the same with pinching Throwes That Head whose Members It exhilerates Now agonizing anguish macerates All Members feele the anguish of the Head In Animals whose Soules are sensitiue Except through Accident the same be dead But Members to reioyce when Head doth griue Is most vnnaturall but Grace in this Makes Headsannoy become the Bodies blisse If towards the Heau'ns for help thou cast thine Eies Lo there thou seest thy Fathers Browes to bend Against Mans sinne which on thy shoulders lies So that he lookes more like a foe than friend If to the Earth for help thou look'st againe Loe there thyfoes stand prest t' increase thy paine In this extreame thy friends fled euery one Albeit thou did'st foretell they should doe so Onely thy Mother and thy darling Iohn Stood by thee still wringing their hands for woe These blessed Paire repaired to thee then When thou seem'dst left of God and loath'd of Men The hatefull Homicide the damned Theefe Which on thy left hand hoong derides thy pow'r And for thou wouldst not yeeld thy selfe reliefe Thou couldst not he wretch thought with thought vnpure So many deemethy Members loft of Thee When they with mortall torments martyr'd be But Faith is most compleate when Sense hath nought Where on to giue her but the least repose When Meanes whereby her Battailes must be fought Faile vtterly yet Shee no ground to lose This faith is worthy of the Crosse and Crowne Because when all is lost shee holds her owne This faith the Theefe that on thy right hand hoong Had in full force for what saw he in thee Saue extreame Patience in a World of wrong That he should thinke thee God and Man to be Who iustifi'd thee to be iustifi'd And praid to Thee as to Man Deified O thou true Theefe more true was neuer any Would in thy case I were for all thy paine Thy paines to day shall passe to pleasures many Too many for mans heart to entertaine O blessed Theefe so blest was neuer Theefe To die with him whose death 's thy Soules reliefe But now O Christ how far'st thou all this while Not well I wot though well it be for me Ah looke how all thy foes doe grenne and smile To see thy vile aduancement on this Tree Come downe say they and saue thy selfe for why Thou art Gods Sonne and therefore canst not die But these their words are most irronicall Proceeding from the depth ofscorne and hate And all their words and deeds tyrannicall Vndoing all that doe thy woes abate O! enuious Serpents hatcht in Hèll belo What fiend a faultlesse Soule could torture so Downe from the height of his exalted Crosse He casts his daz'led Eies with motion slow Vpon his blessed Mother ah how closse Her Heart with woe is shut to feele his wo His woe shee feeles for of her Flesh is He Then all His Bodies paines Her Bodies be His Bodies paine Her Soule and Body pines Her extreame loue in all extremitie His passions feele for such Loue nere repines To suffer with her Obiect feelingly If then Her Loues life Death of Deaths indures Iudge what a Hell of woe Her Soule immures Woman quoth He behold behold thy Sonne Thns said in few as He had said thus much Behold his end that at thy selfe begun Behold his Body that nore Filth could
to change to Mercies White This Passions vertue is so passing pure That Fowle to Faire it turnes and Darke to Light The Land-marke to true Rest when Troubles tosse In Sorrowes seas is Christ vpon the Crosse. Ye vnconfused orders Angellick In order come to take this Blood effuz'd Bring forth Celestiall Bowles with motion quick To which this pretious blood may be infuz'd Let not one drop be lost of such rare Blood That makes men passing bad exceeding good Couer this Aqua-uitae with your wings From touch of Infidels and Iewes prophane They haue no int'rest in this King of Kings Whose blood they suck'd which blood will be their bane Make much thereof sith but the least drop of it Is worth ten thousand Worlds for price and profit Yet let poore Spirited Conuerts drinke their fill And I will their drie Soules till with it they swell Such diuine surfetting is wholesome still For noysome Humors it doth quite expell Yea though with griefe they swell and breake with paine Such griefe brings ioy and makes them whole againe The Elephants of yore inur'd to warre Before the Fight some blood were vs'd to see Which them incenst the more to make them dare Then if a Beast shall not our better be Sith Christ wee see quite drown'd thus in his Blood We must endure the Racke as he the Rood Fiue Founts he opens whence doe gushing flow Red Seas to drowne our blacke Egyptian sinnes That they nomore may seeke our ouerthrow Then should we goe like Israels Denizins Though Wasts of Woes orethrowing eu'ry Let Till we into the Land of Promise get NOw to this Lifelesse yet Life-giuing Body Returne my Soule see see how like a Clod He hangs with gastly-grimme aspect all bloody Ah who would weene this Man should be a God And yet what Man can doubt it sith He died As Man for Men that this God crucified What cheere O holy Marie Gods deere Mother How fares thy Heart transpierc'd with Sorrowes sword Thy Sonne is slain yet sure there is none other That kils and straight reuiueth with a Word If He alone hath this almightie pow'r Doubt not but He himselfe Himselfe will cure What! doe I doubt that thou a doubt do'st make Of his reuiuall O! I wrong thee much Ifso I should for thy Faith cannot shake Sith it is stai'd by Gods vnshaken Touch Then that thou should'st be thus so woe-begon I see no cause saue Natures course alone Nature will yerne when monstrous minded Men Prodigiously doe violate Her Lawes But when they wracke her selfe what will shee then Will shee not mourne to grieue hath shee no cause Shee were vnlike her selfe and her selfe foe If toucht so neere she were not toucht with woe Then sacred Saint thou must haue leaue to mourne Thy losse is great although thy gaine be more Thy Heart must rend to see thy deere Heart torne It needs must bleed when It s so full of Gore If it be drie through bleedings great excesse Would Mine for Thine might bleed and neuer cease ANd sith twixt you is such proximitie That thou do'st throughly taste the smart he feeles I le turne my speech a while alone to thee To comfort thee with ioy which Faith reueales And though thou now triumph in endlesse ioy This might be sed to thee in thine annoy Thine Eies that see engulpht in seas of Tears Griefes Obiects greater than they are indeed Dissolue in Brine to season so thy Cares That Sorrow may thereon with pleasure feed When Sorrowes swellings burst out of the Eies The Heart doth hold to giue them fresh supplies Thine Eares beleeue all Sounds how sweet so ere Are but the Accents of a Tragicke voyce The Angels Notes doe seeme but parts to beare In the Confusion of an irkesome noyse For when the Body is without the Head What Musicke makes the Trunke but dull or dead The Ecchoes of thy Plaints doe seeme to thee The mournfull cries of Riuers Rockes and Hills As though their Maker them had made to be True feelers of his Paines thy Griefes their Ills For when as Natures God feeles violence Nature makes nought that hath not feeling sense Each glimpse of Ioy to thee is like the Spoiles Of some rich Kingdome to her conquer'd Prince Which are the markes of her recurelesse foiles And without warre his warring Thoughts conuince For others mirth doth then become our mone When they make merrie with our losse alone What ere delights the Eare then renouates The woefull want of thy Sonnes fu gred Words For Angels voice but recapitulates The misse of That which sweeter voice affoords And to be minded of the losse of Ioy Doth make vs find in old losse new annoy As Loue that highly prizeth pricelesse Things Trebles the price of those of highest rate So Reason and Iudgement Faithlesse almightie Wings Lifting thy Soule to see thy high estate Makes his Crosse thy Crosse-Crosse-let treble crost Because so well thou know'st what thou hast lost And all the Sweetes thy Senses apprehend Are but as Crummes of thy late royall cheere Which thy erst full-fed Soule doe but offend And make thy Looke more hunger-pin'd appeare The Pallat vs'd to ful-disht daintie Cates The homely crumms of course Crusts deadly hates Worlds-glorie is to thee a Lightnings flame Which doth but light to see calamitie For out it goes when it hath show'd the same And Hell doth leaue behind t' affront the Eie For Glorie in his Grace did so excell That Heāu'n with it compar'd is worse than Hel. For killing in his owne Life-giuing Death The sacred life of liues it doth ensue All liuings Things died with his yeelding breath So made Death victor and did Death subdue But by Death to subdue Lifes conquering Foe Is Life in Death though Flesh and Blood say no. No no sai'st Thou deere Saint as Flesh thou art Whose Blood doth boile in passion for thy losse For through his Death thy Life feeles mortall smart So his Crosse Tree of Life is thy Lifes Crosse For Grace and Nature beeing opposite Doth breed an endlesse bate twixt Flesh and Sp'rite When Faith doth Reason into Loue transmute Then Faith through Loue surmounteth Reasons reach And scornes with Flesh and Blood once to dispute But in the Metaphy sicks Reas'n doth teach Yet now thy Faith and Loue and Reas'n conspire To reaue thy rest in quest of thy desire Thy Loue by reason of thy miseries Engulphs thy Memorie in griefe so deepe That thou forgett'st thy fore-past promises Remembring but thy hearts ease still to weepe For when hearts-ease doth from the heart depart Nature enforceth Teares to ease the Heart But yet the inward presence of thy Sonne His outward absence deere Saint may supply Who from thy Wombe into thy Heart is gone That thou mai'st feele him much more vitally Then in thy Heart which Sorrowes Sword doth wound Hemakes his Tent to Tent and make it sound But if thou feel'st not yet this Lord of Life Stirre in that liueli'st feeling