winged Vowes Makes haste to meet her morning Spouse And close with his immortal kisses Happy Soul who never misses To improve that precious hour And every day Seize her sweet Prey All fresh and fragrant as he rises Dropping with a Balmy showr A delicious dew of Spices O let that happy Soul hold fast Her Heavenly Armful she shall taste At once ten thousand Paradises She shall have power To Rifle and Deflower The rich and roseal Spring of those rare sweets Which with a swelling Bosome there she meets Boundless and infinite bottomless Treasures Of pure inebriating pleasures Happy soul she shall discover What joy what bliss How many Heavens at once it is To have a God become her Lover On Mr G. Herbert's Book entituled The Temple of Sacred Poems sent to a Gentlewoman KNow you Fair on what you look Divinest Love lies in this Book Expecting Fire from your Eyes To kindle this his Sacrifice When your Hands unty these strings Think you 've an Angel by the wings One that gladly will be nigh To wait upon each morning sigh To flutter in the balmy Air Of your well perfumed Prayer These white Plumes of his Hee 'l lend you Which every day to Heaven will send you To take acquaintance of the Sphear And all the smooth-fac'd kindred there And though Herberts Name do owe These Devotions fairest know That while I lay them on the shrine Of your white Hand they are mine A Hymn to the Name and Honour of the Admirable Saint TERESA Foundress of the Reformation of the Discalced Carmelites both Men and Women a Woman for Angelical heighth of speculation for Masculine courage of performance more then a Woman who yet a Child out ran Maturity and durst plot a Martyrdom LOve thou art absolute sole Lord Of Life and Death To prove the Word â—…e need to go to none of all â—…hose thy old soldiers stout and tall â—…ipe and full grown that could reach down â—…ith strong Arms their Triumphant Crown â—…ch as could with lusty breath â—…eak loud unto the face of Death â—…eir great Lords glorious Name to none â—…f those whose large Brests built a Throne â—…r Love their Lord glorious and great â—…e'll see him take a private seat â—…nd make his Mansion in the milde â—…d milky Soul of a soft Child Scarce had she learnt to Lisp a name Of Martyr yet she thinks it shame Life should so long play with that Breath Which spent can buy so brave a Death 〈◊〉 never undertook to know â—…at Death with â—…ove should have to doe Nor hath she e'r yet understood Why to show Love she should shed Blood Yet though she cannot tell you why She can Love and she can Dye Scarce had she Blood enough to make A guilty Sword blush for her sake Yet has she a heart dares hope to prove How much less strong is Death then Love Be love but there let poor six years Be pos'd with the maturest Fears Man trembles at we straight shall find Love knows no nonage nor the Mind 'T is Love not Years or Limbs that can Make the Martyr or the Man Love toucht her Heart and loe it beats High and burns with such brave heats Such thirst to die as dare drink up A thousand cold Deaths in one Cup Good reason for she breaths all fire Her weak Brest heaves with strong desire Of what she may with fruitless wishes Seek for amongst her Mothers Kisses Since 't is not to be had at home She 'll travel to a Martyrdome No home for her confesses she But where she may a Martyr be She 'll to the Moors and Trade with them For this unvalued Diadem She offers them her dearest Breath With Christs name in 't in change for Death She 'll bargain with them and will give Them God and teach them how to live In him or if they this denie For him she 'll teach them how to die So shall she leave amongst them sown Her Lords Blood or at least her own Farewel then all the World adieu Teresa is no more for you Farewel all pleasures sports and joyes Never till now esteemed toyes Farewell whatever dear may be Mothers Arms or Fathers Knee Farewel House and Farewel Home She 's for the Moors and Martyrdome Sweet not so fast Loe thy fair Spouse Whom thou seek'st with so swift vows Calls thee back and bids thee come T' embrace a milder Martyrdome Blest pow'rs forbid thy tender life Should bleed upon a barbarous knife Or some base hand have power to rase Thy Brests chaste Cabinet and uncase A Soul kept there so sweet O no Wise Heaven will never have it so Thou art Love's victim and must dye A death more mystical and high Into Loves hand thou shalt let fall A still surviving Funeral He is the Dart must make the death Whose stroke wall taste thy hallowed Breath A Dart thrice dipt in that rich flame Which writes thy Spouses radiant name Upon the roof of Heaven where ay It shines and with a Soveraign ray Beats bright upon the burning faces Of souls which in that names sweet graces Find everlasting smiles so Rare So Spiritual Pure and Fair Must be the immortal instrument Upon whose choice point shall be spent A life so lov'd and that there be Fit Executioners for thee The fairest and the first-born Loves of fire Blest Seraphims shall leave their Quire And turn Loves soldiers upon thee To exercise their Archery O how oft shalt thou complain Of a sweet and subtile pain Of intollerable joyes Of a death in which who dies Loves his death and dies again And would for ever so be slain And lives and dies and knows not why To live but that he still may dye How kindly will thy gentle Heart Kisse the sweetly killing Dart And close in his Embraces keep Those delicious wounds that weep Balsome to heal themselves with thus When these thy Deaths so numerous Shall all at once dye into one And melt thy souls sweet Mansion Like a soft Lump of Incense hasted By too hot a fire and wasted Into perfuming Clouds So fast Shalt thou exhale to Heaven at last In a dissolving sigh and then O what ask not the Tongues of men Angels cannot tell suffice Thy self shalt feel thine own full joyes And hold them fast for ever there So soon as thou shalt first appear The Moon of Maiden Stars thy white Mistress attended by such bright Souls as thy shining self shall come And in her first ranks make thee room Where 'mongst her snowy Family Immortal welcomes wait on thee O what delight when she shall stand And teach thy Lips Heaven with her hand On which thou now may'st to thy wishes Heap up thy consecrated Kisses What joy shall seize thy Soul when she â—…ending her Blessed Eyes on thee Those second smiles of Heaven shall dart Her mild Rays through thy melting heart Angels thy old friends there shall greet thee Glad at their own home now to meet thee All thy good Works
a Pathetical descant upon the devout Plainsong of Stabat Mater dolorosa 1. IN shade of Deaths sad Tree Stood doleful she Ah she now by no other Name to be known alas but Sorrow's Mother Before her Eyes Her 's and the whole World's joyes Hanging all torn she sees and in his woes And Pains her pangs and throes Each wound of his from every part All more at home in her own heart 2. What kind of Marble than Is that cold man Who can look on and see Nor keep such Noble sorrows company Sure even from you My Flints some drops are due To see so many unkind swords contest So fast for one soft Brest While with a faithful mutual floud Her Eyes bleed Tears his wounds weep blood 3. O costly intercourse Of deaths and worse Divided Loves while Son and Mother Discourse alternate wounds to one another Quick Deaths that grow And gather as they come and go His Nails write swords in her which soon her heart Pays back with more then their own smart Her swords still growing with his pain Turn Spears and straight come home again 4. She sees her Son her God Bow with a load Of borrow'd sins and swim In woes that were not made for him Ah hard Command Of Love Here must she stand Charg'd to look on and with a stedfast Eye See her life dye Leaving her only so much Breath As serves to keep alive her death 5. O Mother Turtle-dove Soft sourse of Love That these dry Lids might borrow Somthing from thy full seas of Sorrow O in that Brest Of thine the noblest Nest Both of Love's Fires and Flouds might I recline This hard cold Heart of mine The chil lump would relent and prove Soft Subject for the siege of Love 6. O teach those wounds to bleed In me me so to read This Book of Loves thus writ In lines of death my life may copy it With Loyal cares O let me here claim shares Yield something in thy sad prerogative Great Queen of griefs and give Me to my Tears who though all stone Think much that thou shouldst mourn alone 7. Yea let my life and me Fix here with thee And at the Humble Foot Of this fair Tree take our Eternal Root That so we may At least be in Loves way And in these chaste wars while the wing'd wounds flee So fast 'twixt him and thee My Brest may catch the kiss of some kind Dart Though as at second hand from either Heart 8. O you your own best Darts Dear doleful hearts Hail and strike home and make me see That wounded bosomes their own weapons be Come Wounds come Darts Nail'd hands and pierced hearts Come your whole selves Sorrow's great Son and Mother Nor grudge a younger Brother Of grief 's his portion who had all their due One single wound should not have left for you 9. Shall I set there So deep a share Dear wounds and onely now In sorrows draw no dividend with you O be more wife If not more soft mine Eyes Flow tardy Founts and into decent showrs Dissolve my Days and Hours And if thou yet faint soul defer To bleed with him fail not to weep with her 10. Rich Queen lend some relief At least an alms of Grief To ' a heart who by sad right of sin Could prove the whole sum too sure due to him By all those stings Of Love sweet bitter things Which these torn hands transcrib'd on thy true Heart O teach mine too the Art To study him so till we mix Wounds and become one Crucifix 11. O let me suck the Wine So long of this chaste Vine Till drunk of the dear wounds I be A lost thing to the World as it to me O faithful friend Of me and of my end Fold up my life in Love and lay 't beneath My dear Lord's vital death Lo heart thy hopes whole Plea her precious breath Powr'd out in Prayers for thee thy Lord 's in death The Hymn of St. Thomas in Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament WIth all the pow'rs my poor Heart hath Of humble Love and Loyal Faith Thus low my hidden life I bow to thee Whom too much Love hath bow'd more low for me Down down proud sense discourses dye Keep close my soul 's inquiring Eye Nor touch nor taste must look for more But each sit still in his own door Your Ports are all superfluous here Save that which lets in Faith the Ear. Faith is my skill Faith can believe As fast as Love new Laws can give Faith is my force Faith strength affords To keep pace with those pow'rful words And words more sure more sweet then they Love could not think truth could not say O let thy wretch find that relief Thou didst afford the faithful Thief Plead for me Love Alledge and show That Faith has farther here to go And less to lean on because than Though hid as God wounds writ thee Man Thomas might touch none but might see At least the suffring side of thee And that too was thy self which thee did cover But here ev n that 's hid too which hides the other Sweet consider then that I Though allow'd not Hand nor Eye To teach at thy lov'd Face nor can Taste thee God or touch thee Man Both yet believe and witness thee My Lord too and my God as loud as he Help Lord my Hope increase And till my portion in thy peace Give Love for Life nor let my days Grow but in new pow'rs to name thy Praise O dear memorial of that Death Which lives still and allows us Breath Rich Royal Food Bountiful Bread Whose use denies us to the Dead Whose vital gust alone can give The same leave both to Eat and Live Live ever Bread of Loves and be My Life my Soul my surer self to me O soft self-wounding Pelican Whose Brest weeps Balm for wounded Man Ah this way bend thy benign Houd To a bleeding Heart that gâ—…spes for Blood That Blood whose least drops soveraign be To wash my Worlds of sine from me Come Love Come Lord and that long day For which I languish come away When this dry soul those Eyes shall see And drink the unseal'd sourse of thee When Glory 's Sun Faith's shade shall chase Then for thy veil give me thy Face Amen Thè Hymn for the Blessed Sacrament Lauda Sion Salvatorem 1. RIse Royal Sion rise and sing Thy Soul 's kind Shepheard thy Hearts King Stretch all thy powers call if you can Harps of Heav'n to hands of man This Soveraign subject sits above The best ambition of thy Love 2. Lo the Bread of Life this day 's Triumphant Text. provokes thy praise The living and life-giving Bread To the Great Twelve distributed When Life himself at point to dy Of Love was his own Legacy 3. Come Love and let us work a Song Loud and pleasant sweet and long Let Lips and Hearts lift high the noise Of so just and solemn joys Which on his white brows this
shade but all in vain Of sturdy Adamant is his strong Chain 19. While thus Heav'ns highest Counsails by the low Foot-steps of their Effects he trac'd too well He tost his troubled Eyes Embers that glow Now with new Rage and wax too hot for Hell With his foul Claws he fenc'd his â—…urrowed Brow And gave a gastly shreek whose horrid Yell Ran trembling through the hollow vaults of Night The while his twisted Tail he gnaw'd for spight 20. Yet on the other side fain would he start Above his Fears and think it cannot be He studies Scripture strives to sound the heart And feel the Pulse of every Prophecy He knows but knows not how or by what Art The Heav'n expecting Ages hope to see A Mighty Babe whose pure unspotted Birth From a chaste Virgin womb should bless the Earth 21. But these vast Mysteries his Senses smother And Reason for what 's Faith to him devour How she that is a Maid should prove a Mother Yet keep inviolate her Virgin Flow'r How Gods Eternal Son should be mans Brother Poseth his proudest Intellectual Pow'r How a pure Spirit should incarnate be And Life it self wear Death 's frail Livery 22. That the Great Angel-blinding Light should shrink His Blaze to shine in a poor Shepheards Eye That the unmeasur'd God so low should sink As Pris'ner in a few poor Rags to lie That from his Mothers Brest he Milk should drink Who feeds with Nectar Heav'ns fair Family That a vile Manger his low Bed should prove Who in a Throne of Stars Thunders above 23. That he whom the Sun serves should faintly peep Through Clouds of Infant flesh that he the old Eternal Word should be a Child and weep That he who made the Fire should fear the Cold That Heav'ns high Majesty his Court should keep In a Clay-cottage by each Blast control'd That Glories self should serve our Griefs and Fears And free Eternity submit to years 24. And further that the Law 's Eternal Giver Should bleed in his own Law 's obedience And to the circumcising Knife deliver Himself the forfeit of his Slaves offence That the unblemisht Lamb blessed for ever Should take the mark of Sin and pain of Sence These are the knotty Riddles whose dark doubt Intangles his lost Thoughts past getting out 25. While new Thoughts boyl'd in his enraged Brest His gloomy Bosomes darkest Character Was in his shady Forehead seen exprest The Forehead 's shade in Griefs expression there Is what in sign of joy among the blest The Faces lightning or a smile is here Those stings of care that his strong Heart opprest A desperate Oh me drew from his deep Brest 26. Oh me thus bellow'd he Oh me what great Portents before mine Eyes their Pow'rs advance And serves my purer sight only to beat Down my proud Thought and leave it in a Trance Frown I and can great Nature keep her seat And the gay Stars lead on their Golden dance Can his attempts above still prosp'rous be Auspicious still in spight of Hell and me 27. He has my Heaven what would he more whose bright And radiant Scepter this bold Hand should bear And for the never-fading Fields of Light My fair Inheritance he confines me here To this dark House of shades Horrour and Night To draw a long-liv'd Death where all my Cheer Is the solemnity my sorrow wears That Mankinds Torment waits upon my Tears 28. Dark dusky Man he needs would single forth To make the partner of his own pure Ray And should we Pow'rs of Heav'n Spirits of worth Bow our bright Heads before a King of Clay It shall not be said I and clomb the North Where never wing of Angel yet made way What though I mist my blow yet I strook high And to dare something is some victory 29. Is he not satisfied means he to wrest Hell from me too and sack my Territories Vile Humane Nature means he not t' invest O my despight with his Divinest Glories And rising with rich spoils upon his Brest With his fair Triumphs fill all future stories Must the bright Arms of Heav'n rebuk these Eyes Mock me and dazle my dark Mysteries 30. Art thou not Lucifer he to whom the droves Of Stars that guild the Morn in charge were given The nimblest of the Lightning-winged Loves The fairest and the first-born smile of Heav'n Look in what Pomp the Mistress Planet moves Rev'rently circled by the lesser seaven Such and so rich the Flames that from thine Eyes Opprest the common-people of the Skies 31. Ah wretch what boots thee to cast back thy Eyes Where dawning hope no beam of comfort Shows While the reflection of thy forepast joyes Renders thee double to thy present woes Rather make up to thy new Miseries And meet the mischief that upon thee grows If Hell must mourn Heav'n sure shall sympathize What force cannot effect fraud shall devise 32. And yet whose force fear I have I so lost My self my Strength too with my innocence Come try who dares Heav'n Earth what e'r dost boâ—… A borrowed Being make thy bold defence Come thy Creator too what though it cost Me yet a second fall we 'd try our strengths Heav'n saw us struggle once as brave a fight Earth now should see and tremble at the sight 33. Thus spoke th' impatient Prince and made a pause His foul Hags rais'd their Heads and clapt their Handâ—… And all the Powers of Hell in full applause Flourisht their Snakes and tost their Flaming Brands We said the horrid Sisters wait thy Laws Th' obsequious Handmaids of thy high Commands Be it thy part Hells mighty Lord to lay On us thy dread Commands ours to obey 34. What thy Alecto what these hands can do Thou mad'st bold proof upon the brow of Heav'n Nor should'st thou bate in pride because that now To these thy sooty Kingdoms thou art driven Let Heav'ns Lord chide above louder then thou In language of his Thunder thou art even With him below here thou art Lord alone Boundless and absolute Hell is thine own 35. If usual Wit and Strength will do no good Vertues of Stones nor Herbs use stronger Charms Anger and Love best hooks of Humane blood If all fail we 'll put on our proudest Arms And pouring on Heav'ns Face the Seas huge Flood Quench his curl'd fires we 'll wake with our Alarms Ruine where e'r she sleeps at Natures feet And crush the World till his wide corners meet 36. Reply'd the proud King O my Crowns defence Stay of whose strong hopes you of whose brave worth The frighted Stars took faint experience When 'gainst the Thunders mouth we marched forth Still you are prodigal of your Love's expence In our great Projects both 'gainst Heav'n and Earth I thank you all but one must single out Cruelty she alone shall cure my doubt 37. Fourth of the cursed knot of Hags is she Or rather all the other three in one Hells shop of slaughter she do's oversee And still assist the
which went before And waited for thee at the Door Shall own thee there and all in one Weave a Constellation Of Crowns with which the King thy spouse Shall build up thy triumphant Brows All thy old Woes shall now smile on thee And thy pains set bright upon thee All thy sorrows here shall shine And thy sufferings be Divine Tears shall take Comfort and turn Gems And wrongs repent to Diadems Even thy deaths shall live and new Dress the soul which late they slew Thy wounds shall blush to such bright scarrs As keep account of the Lambs wars Those rare Works where thou shalt leave Writ Loves Noble History with Wit Taught thee by none but him while here They seed our souls shall cloath thine there Each Heavenly Word by whose hid flame Our hard hearts shall strike fire the same Shall flourish on thy Brows and be Both Fire to us and Flame to thee Whose Light shall live bright in thy face By Glory in our Hearts by Grace Thou shalt look round about and see Thousands of crown'd Souls throng to be Themselves thy Crown Sons of thy Nows The Virgin Births with which thy Spouse Made fruitful thy fair soul Go now And with them all about thee bow To him put on he 'l say put on My Rosy Love that thy rich Zone Sparkling with the sacred Flames Of thousand souls whose happy names Heaven keeps upon thy score thy bright Life brought them first to kiss the Light That kindled them to starrs and so Thou with the Lamb thy Lord shall 't goe And where so e'r he sits his white Steps walk with him those ways of Light Which who in death would live to see Must learn in life to dye like thee An Apology for the precedent Hymn as having been writ when the Author was yet a Protestant THus have I back again to thy bright name Fair sea of Holy fires transfus'd the Flame 〈◊〉 took from reading thee 't is to thy wrong 〈◊〉 know that in my weak and worthless song Thou here art set to shine where thy full day â—…carce dawns O pardon if I dare to say â—…hine own dear Books are guilty for from thence 〈◊〉 Learnt to know that Love is Eloquence â—…hat Heavenly Maxim gave me heart to try 〈◊〉 what to other Tongues is Tun'd so high â—…hy praise might not speak English too forbid By all thy Mysteries that there lye hid â—…orbid it Mighty Love let no fond hate â—…f Names and Words so far prejudicate â—…uls are not Spaniards too one friendly Flood â—…f Baptisme blends them all into one Blood â—…hrists Faith makes but one body of all souls â—…nd loves that Bodies Soul no Law controuls â—…ur free Trafick for Heaven we may maintain â—…eace sure with Piety though it dwell in Spain â—…hat Soul soever in any Language can â—…eak Heav'n like hers is my Souls countrey-man O 'T is not Spanish but 't is Heaven she speaks 'T is Heaven that lies in Ambush there and breaks From thence into the wondring Readers Brest Who finds his warm heart hatch into a nest Of little Eagles and young Loves whose high Flights scorn the Lazie Dust and things that dye There are enow whose Draughts as deep as Hell Drink up all Spain in Sack let my Soul swell With thee strong Wine of Love let others swim In puddles we will pledge this Seraphim Bowls full of richer Blood then blush of Grape Was ever guilty of change we our shape My soul some drink from Men to Beasts O then Drink we till we prove more not less then Men And turn not Beasts but Angels Let the King Me ever into these his Cellars bring Where flows such Wine as we can have of none But him who trode the Wine-press all alone Wine of Youths life and the sweet deaths of Love Wine of immortal mixture which can prove Its Tincture from the Rosie Nectar Wine That can exalt weak Earth and so refine Our Dust that in one Draught Mortality May drink it self up and forget to dye On a Treatise of Charity RIse then immortal Maid Religion rise Put on thy self in thine own looks t' our Eyes Be what thy Beauties not our blots have made thee Such as e'r our dark sins to Dust betray'd thee Heav'n set thee down new drest when thy bright Birth Shot thee like Lightning to th' astonisht Earth From th' dawn of thy fair Eye-lids wipe away Dull Mists and melancholly Clouds take day And thine own Beams about thee bring the best Of whatsoe'r persum'd thy Eastern Nest. Girt all thy Glories to thee then sit down Open this Book fair Queen and take thy Crown These learned Leaves shall vindicate to thee Thy Holiest Humblest Handmaid Charity She 'l dress thee like thy self set thee on high Where thou shalt reach all hearts command each Eye Lo where I see thy offrings wake and rise From the pale Dust of that strange Sacrifice which they themselves were each one putting on A Majesty that may beseem thy Throne The Holy Youth of Heav'n whose Golden Rings Girt round thy awful Altars with bright wings Fanning thy fair Locks which the World believes As much as sees shall with these sacred Leaves Trick their tall Plumes and in that garb shall go If not more glorious more conspicuous tho Be it enacted then By the fair Laws of thy firm-pointed Pen Gods services no longer shall put on A sluttishness for pure Religion No longer shall our Churches frighted stones Lie scatter'd like the Burnt and Martyr'd bones Of dead Devotion nor faint Marbles weep â—…n their sad Ruines nor Religion keep A melancholly Mansion in those cold â—…rns Like Gods Sanctuaries they lookt of old Now seem they Temples consecrate to none Or to a new God Desolation No more the Hypocrite shall th' upright be Because he 's stiff and will confess no Knee While others bend their Knee no more shalt thou Disdainful Dust and Ashes bend thy Brow Nor on Gods Altar cast two scorching Eyes Bak't in hot scorn for a burnt Sacrifice But for a Lamb thy tame and tender Heart New struck by Love still trembling on his Dart Or for two Turtle Doves it shall suffice To bring a pair of meek and humble Eyes This shall from henceforth be the Masculine Theme Pulpits and Pens shall sweat in to redeem Vertue to Action that Life-feeding flame That keeps Religion warm not swell a name Of faith a Mountain word made up of Air With those dear spoils that wont to dress the Fair And fruitful Charities full Breasts of old Turning her out to tremble in the cold What can the Poor hope from us when we be Uncharitable ev'n to Charity On the Glorious Assumption of the Blessed Virgin HArk she is call'd the parting hour is come take thy farwel poor world heaven must go home A piece of Heavenly Light purer and brighter Then the chast stars whose choice Lamps come to ligâ—… 〈◊〉 While through the Christal Orbs clearer then they She climbs and makes a
shown it For he whose pretious memory Bathes in tears of every eye He to whom our sorrow brings All the streams of all her springs Was so rich in Grace and Nature In all the gifts that bless a Creature The fresh hopes of his lovely Youth Flourisht in so fair a grouth So sweet the Temple was that shrin'd The Sacred sweetness of his mind That could the Fates know to relent Could they know what Mercy meant Or had ever learnt to bear The soft Tincture of a Tear Tears would now have flow'd so deep As might have taught Grief how to weep Now all their steely Operation Would quite have lost the cruel fashion Sickness would have gladly been Sick himself to have sav'd him And his Feaver wisht to prove Burning onely in his Love Him when wrath it self had seen Wrath its self had lost his spleen Grim destruction here amaz'd In stead of striking would have gaz'd Even the Iron-pointed Pen That notes the Tragick Dooms of men Wet with Tears still'd from the Eyes Of the flinty Destinies Would have learnt a softer style And have been asham'd to spoile His Lives sweet story by the hast Of a cruel stop ill plac't In the dark Volume of our Fate Whence each Leaf of Life hath Date Where in sad particulars The total sum of Man appears And the short clause of Mortal Breath Bound in the period of Death In all the Book if any where Such a Term as this spare here Could have been found 't would have been read Writ in white Letters or his head Or close unto his name annext The fair gloss of a fairer Text. In brief if any one were free He was that one and onely he But he alas even he is dead And our hopes fair Harvest spread In the Dust Pity now spend All the Tears that Grief can lend Sad Mortality may hide In his Ashes all her pride With this inscription o'r his head All hope of never dying here lies dead His Epitaph PAssenger who e'r thou art Stay a while and let thy Heart Take acquaintance of this stone Before thou passest further on This stone will tell thee that beneath Is entomb'd the Crime of Death The ripe endowments of whose mind Left his years so much behind That numbring of his Vertues Praise Death lost the reckoning of his Days And believing what they told Imagin'd him exceeding old In him perfection did set forth The strength of her United worth Him his wisdomes pregnant growth Made so Reverend even in Youth That in the Center of his Brest Sweet as is the Phaenix Nest Every reconciled Grace Had their general meeting place In him goodness joy'd to see Learning learn Humility The splendor of his Birth and Blood Was but the Gloss of his own Good The flourish of his sober Youth Was the pride of Naked Truth In composure of his Face Liv'd a fair but Manly Grace His Mouth was Rhetorick's best Mold His Tongue the Touchstone of her Gold What Word so e'r his Breath kept warm Was no Word now but a Charm For all persuasive Graces thence Suckt their sweetest Influence His Vertue that within had root Could not choose but shine without And th' Heart-bred Lustre of his worth At each corner peeping forth Pointed him out in all his ways Circled round in his own Rays That to his sweetness all mens Fyes Were vow'd Loves flaming Sacrifice Him while fresh and fragrant Time Cherisht in his Colden Prime E're Hebe's Hand had overlaid His smooth Cheeks with a Downy shade The rush of Deaths unruly Wave Swept him off into his Grave Enough now if thou canst pass on For now alas not in this stone Passenger who e're thou art Is he entomb'd but in thy Heart An Epitaph upon Husband and Wife who dieâ—… and were buried together TO these whom Death again did Wed This Grave 's the second Marriage-Bed For though the hand of Fate could force 'Twixt Soul and Body a divorce It could not sever Man and Wife Because they both liv'd but one Life Peace good Reader do not weep Peace the Lovers are asleep They sweet Turtles folded lye In the â—…st knot that Love could tye Let them sleep let them sleep on Till this stormy night be gone And the Eternal Morrow dawn Then the urtains will be drawn And they wake into a Light Whose Day shall never dye in Night An Epitaph upon Doctor Brook A Brook whose Stream so Great so Good Was Lov'd was Honour'd as a Flood Whose Banks the Muses dwelt upon More then their own Helicon Here at length hath gladly found A quiet passage under ground Mean while his loved Banks now dry The Muses with their Tears supply Upon Mr. Staninough's Death DEar Relicks of a dislodg'd soul whose lack Makes many a mourning Paper put on black O stay a while e're thou draw in thy Head And wind thy self up close in thy cold Bed Stay but a little while until I câ—…ll A summons worthy of thy Funeral Come then Youth Beauty and Blood all ye soft Power Whose silken Flatteries swell a few fond hours Into a false Eternity come Man Hyperbolized nothing know thy span Take thine own Measure here down down and bow Before thy self in thy Idaea thou Huge emptiness contract thy Bulk and shrink All thy wild Circle to a point O sink Lower and lower yet till thy small size Call Heaven to look on thee with narrow Eyes Lesser and lesser yet till thou begin To show a Face fit to confess thy Kin Thy Neighbour-hood to nothing here put on Thy self in this unfeign'd refexion Here gallant Ladies this impartial Glass Through all your painting shows you your own face These Death-scal'd Lips are they dare give the lye To the proud hopes of poor Mortality These Curtain'd Windows this self-prison'd Eye Out-stares the Lids of large-lookt Tyranny This posture is the brave one this that lies Thus low stands up me thinks thus and defies The World All daring Dust and Ashes onely you Of all Interpreters read Nature true Upon the Duke of York's Birth A Panegyrick BRitain the Mighty Ocean's lovely Bride Now stretch thy self fair Isle and grow spread wide Thy Bosome and make room thou art opprest With thine own Glories and art strangely Blest Beyond thy self for lo the God 's the Gods Come fast upon the and those Glorious ods Swell thy full Glories to a pitch so high As sits above thy best Capacity Are they not Ods and Glorious that to thee Those mighty Genii throng which well might be Each one an Ages labour that thy days Are Guilded with the Union of those Rays Whose each divided Beam would be a Sun To glad the Sphear of any Nation O if for these thou meanst to find a seat Th' ast need O Britain to be truly Great And so thou art their presence makes thee so They are thy Greatness Gods where e're they go Bring their Heaven with them their great footsteps place An everlasting smile upon the face Of the
triumphi Et satis ah nostri causa doloris erat Causa doloris erat Carolus sospes licet esset Anglia quod saltem discere posset Abest Et satis est nostri Carolus nunc causa triumphi Dicere quod saltem possumus Ille redit Ad Principem nondum natum NAscere nunc O nunc quid enim puer alme moraris Nulla tibi dederit dulcior hora diem Ergone tot tardos O lente morabere menses Rex redit Ipse veni dic bone Gratus ades Nam quid Ave nostrum quid nostri verba triumphi Vagitu melius dixeris ista tuo At maneas tamen nobis nova causa triumphi Sic demum fueris nec nova causa tamen Nam quoties Carolo novus aut nova nascitur infans Revera toties Carolus ipse redit CARMEN DEO NOSTRO Te Decet HYMNUS SACRED POEMS COLLECTED CORRECTED AUGMENTED Most Humbly PRESENTED TO MY LADY THE COUNTESSE OF DENBIGH By her Most devoted Servant RICH. CRASHAW In hearty acknowledgement of his immortal Obligation to her Goodness and Charity CRASHAWE THE ANAGRAM HE WAS CAR. WAs Car then Crashaw or was Crashaw Car Since both within one name combined are Yes Car's Crashaw he Car 't is Love alone Which melts two hearts of both composing one So Crashaw's still the same so much desired By strongest Wits so honor'd so admired Car Was but He that enter'd as a friend With whom he shar'd his thoughts and did commend While yet he liv'd this Work they lov'd each other Sweet Crashaw was his friend he Crashaws Brother So Car hath Title then 't was his intent That what his Riches pen'd poor Car should Print Nor fears he check praising that happy one Who was belov'd by all disprais'd by none To wit being pleas'd with all things he pleas'd all Nor would he give nor take offence befal What Might he would possess himself and live As dead devoid of interest t' all might give Disease t' his well composed mind forestall'd With Heavenly Riches which had wholly call'd His thoughts from Earth to live above in th' Air A very Bird of Paradise No care Had he of earthly trash What might suffice To fit his soul to Heavenly exercise Sufficed him and may we guess his hart By what his Lips bring forth his onely part Is God and Godly thoughts Leaves doubt to none But that to whom one God is all all 's one What he might eat or wear he took no thought His needful food he rather found then sought He seeks no Downs no Sheets his Bed's still made If he can find a Chair or Stool he 's laid When day peeps in he quits his restless rest And still poor soul before he 's up he 's drest Thus dying did he live yet liv'd to dye In th' Virgins Lap to whom he did ayply His Virgin thoughts and words and thence was styl'd By foes the Chaplain of the Virgin mild While yet he liv'd without his Modesty Imparted this to some and they to me Live happy then dear soul injoy thy rest Eternally by pains thou purchasedst While Car must live in Care who was thy friend Nor cares he how he live so in the end He may injoy his dearest Lord and thee And sit and sing more skilful songs Eternally THOMAS CAR. TO THE Noblest and best of LADIES THE COUNTESSE OF DENBIGH Perswading her to Resolution in Religion and to render her self without further delay ino the Communion of the Catholick Church WHat Heaven-intreated Heart is this Stands trembling at the Gate of Bliss Holds fast the door yet dares not venture Fairly to open it and enter Whose Definition is a doubt 'Twixt Life and Death 'twixt in and out Say lingring fair why comes the birth Of your brave Soul so slowly forth Plead your pretences O you strong In weakness why you choose so long In labor of your self to lie Nor daring quite to live nor die Ah linger not lov'd Soul a slow And late consent was a long no Who grants at last long time try'd And did his best to have deny'd What Magick bolts what Mystick Barrs Maintain the Will in these strange Warrs What fatal what fantastick Bands Keep the free Heart from its own Hands So when the year takes cold we see Poor Waters their own Prisoners be Fetter'd and lock d up fast they ly In a sad self-captiâ—…ity Th' astonisht Nymphs their floods strange fate deplore To see themselves their own severer shore Thou that alone canst thaw this cold And fetch the Heart from its strong Hold Almighty Love end this long War And of a Meteor make a Star O fix this fair Indefinite And mongst thy shafts of Soveraign light Choose out that sure decisive Dart Which has the Key of this close Heart Knows all the corners of 't and can controul The self-shut Cabinet of an unsearcht soul. O let it be at last Love s hour Raise this tall Trophee of thy Pow'r Come once the conquering way not to confute But kill this Rebel-word Irresolute That so in spight of all this peevish strength Of weakness she may write Resolv'd at Length Unfold at length unfold fair Flow'r And use the season of Love's show'r Meet his well-meaning wounds wise Heart And haste to drink the wholsome Dart That Healing shaft which Heav'n till now Has in Loves Quiver hid for you O Dart of Love Arrow of Light O happy you if it hit right It must not fall in vain it must Not mark the dry regardless dust Fair one it is your Fate and brings Eternal Words upon its Wings Meet it with wide-spread Arms and see It 's seat your soul 's just center be Disband dull fears give faith the day To save your life kill your delay It is Loves Siege and sure to be Your triumph though his Victory 'T is cowardise that keeps this Field And want of Courage not to yield Yield then O yield that Love may win The Fort at last and let Life in Yield quickly lest perhaps you prove Death's prey before the prize of Love This Fort of your fair self if 't be not won He is repulst indeed but you 'r undone To the Name above every Name the Name of JESUS A Hymn I Sing the Name which none can say But touch't with an interiour Ray The name of our new Peace our Good Our Blisse and supernatural Blood The name of all our Lives and Loves Hearken and help ye Holy Doves The high-born Brood of Day you bright Candidates of blissful Light The Heirs Elect of Love whose Names belong Unto the everlasting life of Song All ye wise souls who in the wealthy Brest Of this unbounded Name build your warm Nest. Awake my Glory Soul if such thou be And that fair Word at all refer to thee Awake and Sing And be all Wing Bring hither thy whole Self and let me see What of thy Parent Heav'n yet speaks in Thee O thou art Poor Of Noble Pow'rs I see And full of
they by the seasonable fright Of an unseasonable night Loosing it once again stumble on true Light 2 And as before his too-bright eye Was their more blind idolatry So his officious blindness now shall be Their black but faithful perspective of thee 3 His new prodigious night Their new and admirable light The supernatural Dawn of thy pure day While wondring they The happy converts now of him Whom they compell'd before to be their sin Shall henceforth see To kiss him only as their rod Whom they so long courted as God Cho. And their best use of him they worship't be To learn of him at lest to worship thee 2 It was their Weakness woo'd his Beauty But it shall be Their wisdom now as well as duty T' injoy his Blot and as a large black Letter Use it to spel thy Beauties Better And make the night it self their torch to thee 2 By the oblique ambush of this close night Couch't in that conscious shade The right ey'd Areopagite Shall with a vigorous guess invade And catch thy quick reflex and sharply see On this dark Ground To descant thee 3 O price of the rich Spirit with that fierce chase Of this strong Soul shall he Leap at thy lofty Face And seize the swift flash in rebound From this obsequious Cloud Once call'd a Sun Till dearly thus undone Cho. Till thus triumphantly tam'd O ye two Twin-Suns and taught now to negotiate you 1 Thus shall that reverend Child of light 2 By being Scholar first of that new night Come forth Great Master of the mistick day 3 And teach obscure Mankind a more close way By the frugal negative Light Of a most wise and well-abused Night To read more legible thine original Ray Cho. And make our darkness serve thy day Maintaining 'twixt thy World and ours A commerce of contrary pow'rs A mutual Trade 'Twixt Sun and Shade By confederate Black and White Borrowing Day and lending Night 1 Thus we who when with all the Noble powr's That at thy cost are call'd not vainly ours We vow to make brave way Upwards and press on for the pure intelligential prey 2 At lest to play The amorous spies And peep and proffer at thy sparkling Throne 3 Instead of bringing in the blissful Prize And fastning on thine Eyes Forfeit our own And nothing gain But more ambitious loss at lest of brain Cho. Now by abased Lids shall learn to be Eagles and shut our Eyes that we may see The Close Therefore to thee and thine auspicious ray Dread sweet lo thus At lest by us The delegated Eye of Day Does first his Scepter then himself in solemn Tribute pay Thus he undresses His sacred unshorn Tresses At thy adored Feet thus he lays down 1 His gorgeous tire Of Flame and Fire 2 His glittering Robe 3 His sparkling Crown 3 His Gold 2 His Mirrh 3. His Frankincence Cho. To which he now has no pretence For being show'd by this days light how far He is from Sun enough to make thy Star His best ambition now is but to be Somthing a brighter shadow Sweet of thee Or on Heav'ns azure forehead high to stand Thy Golden Index with a duteous Hand Pointing us home to our own Sun The World's and his Hyperion To the Queen's Majesty on Twelfth-day MADAM 'Mongst those long rows of Crowns that guild your Race These Royal sages sue for decent place The day-break of the Nations their first ray When the dark World dawn'd into Christian day And smil'd i' th Babes bright face the purpling Bud And Rosy dawn of the right Royal Blood Fair first-fruits of the Lamb sure Kings in this They took a Kingdom while they gave a kiss But the World's Homage scarce in these well blown We read in you Rare Queen ripe and full grown For from this day 's rich seed of Diadems Does rise a radiant crop of Royal stems A Golden Harvest of Crown'd heads that meet And crowd for kisses from the Lambs white feet In this illustrious throng your lofty floud Swels high fair confluence of all highborn Bloud With your bright head whose groves of Scepters bend Their wealthy tops and for these feet contend So swore the Lambs dread Sire and so we see 't Crowns and the Heads they kiss must court these Feet Fix here fair Majesty may your heart ne'r miss To reap new Crowns and Kingdoms from that kiss Nor may we miss the joy to meet in you The aged honors of this day still new May the great time in you still greater be While all the year is your Epiphany While your each day's Devotion duly brings Three Kingdoms to supply this days three Kings The Office of the Holy Cross For the hour of Matins The Versicle Lord by thy sweet and saving Sign The Responsory Defend us from our Foes and Thine Ver. Thou shalt open my Lips O Lord. Res. And my mouth shall declare thy praise Ver. O God make speed to save me Res. O Lord make haste to help me Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Ghost As it was in the beginning is now and ever shall be world without end Amen THE HYMN THe wakeful Matines haste to sing The unknown sorrows of our King The Father's Word and Wisdome made Man for Man by Man's betraid The world's price set to sale and by the bold Merchants of Death and Sin is bought and sold Of his best Friends yea of himself forsaken By his worst foes because he would besieg'd and taken The Antiphon All hail fair Tree Whose Fruit we be What Song shall raise Thy seemly praise Who broughtst to light Life out of Death Day out of night The Versicle Lo we adore thee Dread Lamb and bow thus low before thee The Responsor 'Cause by the Covenant of thy Cross Thou hast sav'd at once the whole World's loss The Prayer O My Lord Jesu Christ Son of the living God! interpose I pray thee thine own pretious death thy Cross and Passion betwixt my Soul and thy Judgement now and in the hour of my death And vouchsafe to grant me thy Grace and Mercy to the living and dead remission and rest to thy Church peace and concord to us sinners life and glory everlasting Who livest and reignest with the Father in the Unity of the Holy Ghost one God world without end Amen For the hour of Prime The Versicle Lord by thy sweet and saving Sign The Responsor Defend us from our foes and thine Ver. Thou shalt open my Lips O Lord. Res. And my mouth shall declare thy praise Ver. O God make speed to save me Res. O Lord make haste to help me Glory be to c. As it was in c. THE HYMN THe early Prime blushes to say She could not rise so soon as they Call'd Pilate up to try if he Could lend them any Cruelty Their Hands with lashes arm'd their Tongues with lyes And loathsome Spittle blot those beauteous Eyes The blissful springs of Joy from whose
all-chearing ray The fair Stars fill their wakeful fires the Sun himself drinks day The Antiphon Victorious Sign That now dost shine Transcrib'd above Into the Land of Light and Love O let us twine Our Roots with thine That we may rise Upon thy Wings and reach the Skies The Versicle Lo we adore thee Dread Lamb and fall Thus low before thee The Responsor 'Cause by the Covenant of thy Cross Thou hast sav'd at once the whole world's loss The Prayer O My Lord Jesu Christ Son of the living God! interpose I pray thee thine own pretious death thy Cross and Passion betwixt my Soul and thy Judgement now and in the hour of my death And vouchsafe to grant me thy Grace and Mercy to the living and dead remission and rest to thy Church peace and concord to us sinners life and glory everlasting Who livest and reignest with the Father in the unity of the Holy Ghost one God world without end Amen The Third The Versicle Lord by thy sweet and saving Sign The Responsor Defend us from our foes and thine Ver. Thou shalt open my Lips O Lord Res. And my mouth shall declare thy praise Ver. O God make speed to save me Res. O â—…ord make haste to help me Ver. Glory be to c. Res. As it was in the c. THE HYMN THe Third hour's deafen'd with the cry Of Crucify him Crucify So goes the vote nor ask them why Live Barabbas and let God dy But there is wit in wrath and they will try A Hall more cruel then their Crucify For while in sport he wears a spiteful Crown The serious show'rs along his decent Face run sadly down The Antiphon Christ when he dy'd Deceiv'd the Cross And on Death's side Threw all the loss The captive World awak't and found The Prisoner loose the Jaylor bound The Versicle Lo we adore thee Dread Lamb and fall Thus low before thee Tht Responsor 'Cause by the Covenant of thy Cross Thou hast sav'd at once the whole World's loss The Prayer O My Lord Jesu Christ Son of the living God! interpose I pray thee thine own precious death thy Cross and Passion betwixt my Soul and thy Judgement now and in the hour of my death And vouchsafe to grant me thy Grace and Mercy to the living and dead remission and rest to thy Church peace and concord to us sinners life and glory everlasting Who livest and reignest with the Father in the unity of the Holy Ghost one God world without end Amen The SIXTH The Versicle Lord by thy sweet and saving Sign The Responsor Defend us from our foes and thine Ver. Thou shalt open my lips O Lord Res. And my mouth shall declare thy praise Ver. O God make speed to save me Res. O Lord make haste to help me Ver. Glory be to c Res. As it was in c. The HYMN NOw is the Noon of sorrow's night High in his patience as their spight Lo the faint Lamb with weary Limb Bears that huge Tree which must bear him That fatal Plant so great of Fame For fruit of sorrow and of shame Shall swell with both for him and mix All woes into one Crucifix Is tortur'd Thirst it self too sweet a cup Gall and more bitter mocks shall make it up Are Nails blunt Pens of superficial smart Contempt and scorn can send sure wounds to search the inmost Heart The Antiphon O dear and sweet dispute 'Twixt death's and Love's far different Fruit Different as far As Antidotes and Poisons are By that first fatal Tree Both Life and Liberty Were sold and slain By this they both look up and live again The Versicle Lo we adore thee Dread Lamb and bow thus low before thee The Responsor 'Cause by the covenant of thy Cross. Thou hast sav'd the World from certain loss The Prayer O My Lord Jesu Christ son of the living God! interpose I pray thee thine own precious death thy Cross and Passion betwixt my soul and thy judgement now and in the hour of my death And vouchsafe to grant me thy grace and mercy to the living and dead remission and rest to thy church peace and concord to us sinners life and glory everlasting Who livest and reignest with the Father in the unity of the Holy Ghost one God world without end Amen The NINTH The Versicle Lord by thy sweet and saving Sign The Responsor Defend us from our foes and thine Ver. Thou shalt open my lips O Lord Res. And my mouth shall declare thy praise Ver. O God make speed to save me Res. O Lord make haste to help me Glory be to c. As it was in c. The HYMN THe Ninth with awful horror hark'ned to those groans Which taught attention even to Rocks and Stones Hear Father hear thy Lamb at last complains Of some more painful thing then all his pains Then bows his all-obedient head and dies His own Lov 's and our sin 's great Sacrifice The Sun saw that and would have seen no more The Center shook her useless veil th' inglorious Temple tore The Antiphon O strange mysterious strife Of open death and hidden life When on the cross my King did bleed Life seem'd to die Death dy'd indeed The Versicle Lo we adore thee Dread Lamb and fall thus low before thee The Responsor 'Cause by the covenant of thy Cross Thou hast sav'd at once the whole world's loss The Prayer O my Lord Jesu Christ son of the living God! interpose I pray thee thine own pretious death thy Cross â—…d Passion betwixt my soul and thy judgement now and in the hour of my death and vouchsafe to grant me thy grace and mercy to the living and dead remission and rest to thy Church peace and concord to us sinners life and glory everlasting who livest and reignest with the Father in the unity of the Holy Ghost one God world without end Amen Even-Song The Versicle Lord by thy sweet and saving Sign The Responsor Defend us from our foes and thine Ver. Thou shalt open my Lips O Lord Res. And my mouth shall declare thy praise Ver. O God make speed to save me Res. O Lord make haste to help me Ver. Gâ—…ory be to c. Res. As it was in c. The HYMN BUt there were Rocks would not relent at this Lo for their own hearts they rend His Their deadly hate lives still and hath A wild reserve of wanton wrath Superfluous Spear but there 's a Heart stands by Will look no wounds be lost no death shall dy Gather now thy grief 's ripe fruit Great Mother-maid Then sit thee down and sing thy Ev'n-song in the sad Trees shade The Antiphon O sad sweet Tree Woful and joyful we Both weep and sing in shade of thee When the dear Nails did lock And graft into thy gracious Stock The hope the health The worth the wealth Of all the ransom'd World thou hadst the power In that propitious hour To poise each precious Limb
And prove how light the World was when it weigh'd with Him Wide maist thou spred Thine Arms and with thy bright and blisful head O'r look all Libanus Thy lofty crown The King himself is thou his humble Throne Where yielding and yet conquering he Prov'd a new path of patient victory When wondring death by death was slain And our Captivity his Captive ta'ne The Versicle Lo we adore thee Dread Lamb and bow thus low before thee The Responsor Cause by the covenant of thy Cross Thou hast sav'd the World from certain loss The Prayer O My Lord Jesu Christ son of the living c. COMPLINE The Versicle Lord by thy sweet and saving Sign The Responsor Defend us from our foes and thine Ver. Thou shalt open my lips O Lord. Res. And my mouth shall declare thy praise Ver. O God make speed to save me Res. O Lord make haste to help me Ver. Glory be to c. Res. As it was in c. The HYMN THe Compline hour comes last to call Us to our own Live's funeral Ah hartless task yet hope takes head And lives in him that here lies dead Run Mary run bring hither all the Blest Arabia for thy Royal Phenix ' nest Pour on thy Noblest sweets which when they touch This sweeter Body shall indeed be such But must thy bed Lord be a borrow'd Grave Who lendst to all things all the life they have O rather use this Heart thus far a fitter Stone 'Cause though a hard and cold one yet it is thine own Amen The Antiphon O save us then Merciful King of men Since thou wouldst needs be thus A Saviour and at such a rate for us Save us O save us Lord. We now will own no shorter wish nor name a narrower word Thy blood bids us be bold Thy wounds give us fair hold Thy sorrows chide our shame â—…hy Cross thy Nature and thy Name Advance our claim And cry with one accord Save them O save them Lord. The Versicle Lo we adore thee Dread Lamb and bow thus low before thee The Responsor 'Cause by the covenant of thy Cross Thou hast sav'd the world from certain loss The Prayer O My Lord Jesu Christ Son of c. The RECOMMENDATION THese Hours and that which hovers o'r my end Into thy Hands and Heart Lord I commend Take both to thine account that I and mine In that hour and in these may be all thine That as I dedicate my devoutest Breath To make a kind of Life for my Lords Death So from his living and life-giving Death My dying Life may draw a new and never-fleeting Breath VEXILLA REGIS The Hymn of the Holy Cross. 1. LOok up languishing soul Lo where the fair Badge of thy Faith calls back thy care And bids thee ne'r forget Thy Life is one long Debt Of Love to Him who on this painful Tree Paid back the Flesh he took for thee 2. Lo how the streams of Life from that full Nest Of Loves thy Lord 's too liberal Brest Flow in an amorous Floud Of Water wedding Bloud With these he wash't thy stain transfer'd thy smart And took it home to his own heart 3. But though great Love greedy of such sad gain Usurp't the portion of thy pain And from the Nails and Spear Turn'd the steel point of Fear Their use is chang'd not lost and now they move Not stings of Wrath but wounds of Love 4. Tall Tree of Life thy Truth makes good What was till now ne'r understood Though the prophetick King Struck loud his faithful string It was thy wood he meant should make the Throne For a more then Salomon 5. Large throne of Love Royally spred With purple of too rich a Red. Thy crime is too much duty Thy burthen too much Beauty Glorious or grievous more thus to make good Thy costly Excellence with thy Kings own Blood 6. Even ballance of both Worlds our World of sin And that of Grace Heav'n weigh'd in Him Us with our price thou weighedst Our price for us thou payedst Soon as the right-hand scale rejoyc't to prove How much Death weigh'd more light then Love 7. Hail our alone Hope let thy fair Head shoot Aloft and fill the Nations with thy Noble fruit The while our hearts and we Thus graft our selves on thee Grow thou and they and be thy fair increase The sinner's pardon and the just man's peace Live O for ever Live and Reign The Lamb whom his own Love has slain And let thy lost sheep live t' inherit That Kingdom which this Cross did merit Amen Charitas Nimia Or the dear Bargain LOrd what is Man why should he cost thee So dear what had his ruine lost thee Lord what is Man that thou hast over-bought So much a thing of nought Love is too kind I see and can Make but a simple Merchant man 'T was for such sorry Merchandise Bold Painters have put out his Eyes Alas sweet Lord what wer 't to thee If there were no such Worms as we Heav'n ne'rtheless still Heav'n would be Should Mankind dwell In the deep Hell What have his Woes to do with thee Let him go weep O'r his own wounds Seraphims will not sleep Nor Sphears let fall their fatihful rounds Still would the youthful Spirits sing And still thy spacious Palace ring Still would those beauteous Ministers of Light Burn all as bright And bow their flaming heads before thee Still Thrones and Dominations would adore thee Still would those ever-wakeful sons of fire Keep warm thy praise Both nights and days And teach thy lov'd name to their Noble Lyre Let froward Dust then do its kind And give it self for sport to the proud wind Why should a piece of peevish Clay plead shares In the Eternity of thy old cares Why shouldst thou bow thy awful Brest to see What mine own madnesses have done with me Should not the King still keep his Throne Because some desperate Fool 's undone Or will the World 's illustrious Eyes Weep for every Worm that dies Will the gallant Sun E'r the less Glorious run Will he hang down his Golden head Or e'r the sooner seek his Western bed Because some foolish Fly Grows wanton and will dye If I were lost in misery What was it to thy Heav'n and thee What was it to thy precious blood If my soul Heart call'd for a floud What if my faithless soul and I Would needs fall in With guilt and sin What did the Lamb that he should dye What did the Lamb that he should need When the Wolf sins himself to bleed If my base Lust Bargain'd with Death and well-beseeming Dust Why should the white Lamb's bosome write The purple name Of my sin's shame Why should his unstain'd Brest make good My blushes with his own heart-blood O my Saviour make me see How dearly thou hast paid for me That lost again my Life may prove As then in Death so now in Love Sancta Maria dolorum Or the Mother of sorrows
fallacy of fire That is a Seraphim they say And this the great Teresia Readers be rul'd by me and make Here a well-plac't and wise mistake You must transpose the picture quite And spell it wrong to read it right Read Him for Her and Her for Him And call the Saint the Seraphim Painter what didst thou understand To put her Dart into his hand See even the years and size of him Shows this the Mother Seraphim This is the Mistress flame and duteous he Her happy fire-works here comes down to see O most poor-spirited of men Had thy cold Pencil kist her Pen Thou couldst not so unkindly err To show us this faint shade for her Why Man this speaks pure mortal frame And mocks with female Frost Love's manly flame One would suspect thou meanst to print Some weak inferiour Woman Saint But had thy pale-fac't purple took Fire from the burning checks of that bright Book Thou wouldst on her have heapt up all That could be found Seraphical What e'r this youth of fire wears fair Rosie Fingers Radiant Hair Glowing Cheek and glistring Wings All those fair and flagrant things But before all that fiery Dart Had fill'd the Hand of this great Heart Do then as equal right requires Since his the blushes be and her 's the fires Resume and rectify thy rude design Undress thy Seraphim into Mine Redeem this injury of thy Art Give him the Vail give her the Dart. Give him the vail that he may cover The red Cheeks of a rivall'd Lover Asham'd that our worl'd now can show Nests of new Seraphims here below Give her the Dart for it is she Fair youth shoots both thy shaft and Thee Say all ye wise and well-pierc'd hearts That live and dy amidst her Darts What is 't your tastful spirits do prove In that rare life of her and Love Say and bear witness Sends she not A Seraphim at every shot What Magazins of immortal Arms there shine Heav'ns great Artillery in each'love-spun line Give then the Dart to her who gives the flame Give him the veil who gives the shame But if it be the frequent fate Of worst faults to be fortunate If all 's prescription and proud wrong Hearkens not to an humble song For all the gallantry of him Give me the suffring Seraphim His be the bravery of all those bright things The glowing Cheeks the glistering wings The Rosie hand the radiant Dart Leave her alone the Flaming Heart Leave her that and thou shalt leave her Not one loose shaft but Love's whole Quiver For in Love's Field was never found A Nobler weapon then a wound Love's Passives are his Activ'st part The wounded is the wounding heart O Heart the equal poise of Love 's both parts Big alike with Wounds and Darts Live in these conquering Leave 's Live all the same And walk through all Tongues one Triumphant flame Live here great Heart and love and dye and kill And bleed and wound and yield and conquer still Let this immortal Life where e'r it comes Walk in a croud of Loves and Martyrdomes Let mystick Deaths wait on 't and wise souls be The Love-slain witnesses of this life of thee O sweet incendiary shew here thy Art Upon this Carcass of a hard cold Heart Let all thy scatter'd shafts of Light that play Among the Leaves of thy large Books of day Combin'd against this Brest at once break in And take away from me my self and sin This Gracious Robbery shall thy bounty be And my best fortunes such fair spoils of me O thou undaunted Daughter of Desires By all thy Dow'r of Lights and Fires By all the Eagle in thee all the Dove By all thy Lives and Deaths of Love By thy large draughts of intellectual day And by thy thirsts of Love more large then they By all thy brim-fill'd Bowls of fierce desire By thy last mornings draught of liquid Fire By the full Kingdom of that final kiss That seiz'd thy parting Soul and seal'd thee his By all the Heav'ns thou hast in him Fair Sister of the Seraphim By all of Him we have in Thee Leave nothing of my Self in me Let me so read thy life that I Unto all life of mine may dy A Song LOrd when the sense of thy sweet Grace Sends up my Soul to seek thy Face Thy Blessed Eyes breed such desire I dye in Love's delicious Fire O Love I am thy Sacrifice Be still Triumphant Blessed Eyes Still shine on me fair Suns that I Still may behold though still I dye Second part Though still I dye I live again Still longing so to be still slain So gainful is such loss of breath I dye even in desire of death Still live in me this loving strife Of living Death and dying Life For while thou sweetly slayest me Dead to my self I live in thee To Mistrses M. R. Councel concerning her Choise DEar Heav'n-designed Soul Amongst the rest Of Suiters that besiege your Maiden brest Why may not I My fortune try And venture to speak one good word Not for my self alas but for my dearer Lord You 'ave seen already in this lower sphear Of Froth and Bubbles what to look for here Say gentle Soul what can you find But painted shapes Peacocks and Apes Illustrious Flies Guilded Dunghils Glorious Lyes Goodly surmises And deep disguises Oaths of Water Words of Wind Truth bids me say 't is time you cease to Trust Your Soul to any son of Dust. 'T is time you listen to a braver Love Which from above Calls you up higher And bids you come And choose your room Among his own fair sons of fire Where you among The Golden throng That watches at his Palace doors May pass along And follow those fair Stars of yours Stars much too fair and pure to wait upon The false smiles of a sublunary Sun Sweet let me Prophesie that at last 't will prove Your wary Love Lays up his purer and more precious vows And means them for a far more worthy Spouse Then this world of Lies can give you Ev'n for him with whom nor cost Nor love nor labour can be lost Him who never will deceive you Let not my Lord the Mighty Lover Of souls disdain that I discover The hidden Art Of his high stratagem to win your heart It was his Heav'nly Art Kindly to cross you In your mistaken Love That at the next remove Thence he might toss you And strike your troubled heart Home to himself to hide it in his Brest The bright ambrosial Nest Of Love of Life and everlasting Rest. Happy mistake That thus shall wake Your wise soul never to be won Now with a love below the Sun Your first choice fails O when you choose agen May it not be among the sons of men ALEXIAS The Complaint of the forsaken wife of Saint Alexis The First ELEGY I Late the Roman Youth 's lov'd praise and pride Whom long none could obtain though thousands try'd Lo here am left alas For my lost
Give to Cesar and to God p. 19 But now they have seen and heard p. 20 Upon the crown of Thorns taken from our blessed Lords head all bloody p. 20 She began to wash his feet with Tears and wipe them with the hairs of her head p. 20 On St Peter cutting off Malchus his ear p. 21 But men loved darkness rather then light p. 21 I am ready not only to be bound but to dye p. 21 On St Peter's casting away his Nets at our Saviour's call p. 21 Our Lord in his Circumcision to his Father p. 22 On the wounds of our crucified Lord. p. 22 On our crucified Lord naked and bloody p. 23 Easter day p. 23 On the bleeding wounds of our crucified Saviour p. 24 Sampson to Dalilah p. 26 Psalm 23. p. 26 Psalm 137. p. 28 A Hymn on the Nativity sung by the Shepherds p. 29 Sospetto d'Herode p. 33 On a Prayer book sent to Mistris M. R. p. 56 On Mr. G. Herbert's Book intituled The Temple of sacred Poems sent to a Gentlewoman p. 60 A Hymn to the Name and Honour of St. Teresa that sought an early Martyrdom p. 61 An Apology for the precedent Hymn p. 67 On a Treatise of Charity p. 68 On the Glorious Assumption of the Blessed Virgin p 70 A Hymn on the Circumcision of our Lord. p. 72 On Hope by way of Question and Answer between A. Cowley and R. Crashaw p. 74 Musick 's Duel p. 81 Upon the death of a Gentleman p. 86 Upon the death of Mr. Herris p. 87 Another on the same p. 89 Another p. 91 His Epitaph p. 93 An Epitaph upon Husband and Wife who died and were buried together p. 95 An Epitaph upon Dr. 〈◊〉 p. 95 Upon Mr. Staninough's death p. 96 Upon the Duke of York's birth a Penegyrick p. 97 Upon Ford's Two Tragedies p. 100 On a foul morning being then to take a journey p. 101 Upon the fair Aethiopian sent to a Gentlewoman p. 102 On Marriage p. 102 To the morning satisfaction for sleep p. 102 Loves Horoscope p. 104 Out of Virgil in praise of the Spring p. 106 With a picture sent to a friend p. 107 In praise of Lessius his rule of Health p. 108 The beginning of Heliodorus p. 109 Out of the Greek Cupid's Cryer p. 110 On Nanus p. 112 Upon Venus putting on Mars his Arms. p. 115 Upon the same p. 115 Upon Bishop Andrew's Picture before his Sermons p. 115 Out of Martial p. 116 Out of Italian a Song p. 117 Another out of Italian p. 119 Another p. 119 On the Frontispiece of Isaacson's Chronologie p. 120 Another p. 121 An Epitaph upon Mr. Ashton a Conformable Citizen p. 122 Wishes to his supposed Mistress p. 124 In Picturam reverendissimi Episcopi D. Andrews p 129 Epitaphium in Dominum Herrisium p. 129 Principi recens natae omen Maternae Indolis p. 131 In Reginae partum hyemalem p. 133 Ad Reginam p. 134 In faciem Regis a morbillis Integram p. 135 Rex Redux p. 136 Ad Principem nondum natum p. 137 Crashaw the Anagram He Was Car. p. 141 To the Countess of Denbigh perswading her to resolution c. p. 143 To the Name above every name the Name Jesus a Hymn p. 146. A Hymn on the Epiphany sung as by the Three Kings p. 153 To the Queen upon Twelft-day p. 161 The Office of the Holy Crâ—…h p. 162 For the hour of Prime p. 164 The Third p. 165 The Sixth p. 167 The Ninth p. 169 Even-song p. 170 Compline p. 172 The Recommendation p. 173 Vexilla Regis The Hymn of the Holy Cross. p. 174 Charitas Nimia Or the dear Bargain p. 176 Sancta Maria dolorosa or The Mother of sorrows p. 178 The Hymn of St Thomas in Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament p. 183 The Hymn Lauda Sion c. p. 187 The Hymn in meditation of the day of judgement p. 191 The Hymn O Gloriosa Domina p. 194 The Flaming heart upon the Book and Picture of St. Teresa p. 196 A Song p. 197 Second part p. 197 To Mistress M. R. Councel concerning her Choise p. 198 Alexias The complaint of the forsaken wife of Saint Alexis The First Elegy p. 200 The Second Elegy p. 201 The Third Elegy p. 202 Description of a Religious House and condition of Life c. p. 204 Deaths Lecture the Funeral of a young Gentleman p. 206 Temperance or the cheap Physitian upon the Translation of Lessius p. 207 The Weeper 1 HAil Sister Springs Parents of Silver-forded rills Ever bubling things Thawing Christal Snowy Hills Still spending never spent I mean Thy fair Eyes sweet Magdalene 2 Heavens thy fair Eyes be Heavens of ever-falling stars T is seed-time still with thee And Stars thou sow'st whose Harvest dares Promise the earth to countershine What ever makes Heavens fore-head fine 3 But we 're deceived all Stars they 're indeed too true For they but seem to fall As Heavens other spangles do It is not for our Earth and us To shine in things so pretious 4 Upwards thou dost weep Heavens bosome drinks the gentle stream Where th' Milky Rivers meet Thine Crawls above and is the Cream Heaven of such fair Floods as this Heaven the Christal Ocean is 5 Every morn from hence A brisk Cherub something sips Whose soft influence Adds sweetness to his sweetest Lips Then to his Musick and his Song Tastes of this breakfast all day long 6 When some new bright guest Takes up among the stars a room And Heaven will make a Feast Angels with their Bottles come And draw from these full Eyes of thine Their Masters Water their own Wine 7 The Dew no more will weep The Primroses pale Cheek to deck The Dew no more will sleep Nuzzel'd in the Lillies Neck Much rather would it Tremble here And leave them both to be thy Tear 8 Not the soft Gold which Steals from the Amber-weeping Tree Makes Sorrow half so Rich As the drops distill'd from thee Sorrows best Jewels lie in these Caskets of which Heaven keeps the Keys 9 When Sorrow would be seen In her brightest Majesty For she is a Queen Then is she drest by none but thee Then and only then she wears Her richest Pearls I mean thy Tears 10 Not in the Evenings Eyes When they red with weeping are For the Sun that dies Sits Sorrow with a Face so fair No where but here did ever meet Sweetness so sad sadness so sweet 11 Sadness all the while She sits in such a Throne as this Can do nought but smile Nor believes she sadness is Gladness it self would be more glad To be made so sweetly sad 12 There is no need at all That the Balsome-sweating bough So coyly should let fall His med'cinable â—…ears for now Nature hath learn't t'extract a Dew More Soveraign and Sweet from you 13 Yet let the poor drops weep Weeping is the case of Woe Softly let them creep Sad that they are vanquish't so They though to others no relief
the storm that mocks Your selves you are the Rocks Of your own doubt Besides this fear of danger there 's no danger here And he that here fears Danger does deserve his Fear On the blessed Virgins bashfulness THat on her Lap she casts her humble Eye 'T is the sweet pride of her Humility The fair Star is well fixt for where O where Could she have fixt it on a fairer Sphear 'T is Heav'n 't is Heav'n she sees Heav'ns God there lies She can see Heaven and ne'r lift up her Eyes This new Guest to her Eyes new Laws hath given 'T was once look up 'T is now look down to Heaven Upon Lazarus his Tears RIch Lazarus richer in those Gems thy Tears Then Dives in the Robes he wears He scorns them now but O they 'l sute full well With th' Purple he must wear in Hell Two went up into the Temple to Pray TWo went to pray O rather say One went to brag th' other to pray One stands up close and treads on high Where th' other dares not lend his Eye One neerer to Gods Altar trod The other to the Altar's God Upon the Asse that bore our Saviour HAth onely Anger an Omnipotence In Eloquence Within the Lips of Love and Joy doth dwell No Miracle Why else had Balaams Asseâ—…a Tongue to chide His Masters Pride And thou Heaven-burthen'd Beast hast ne'r a word To praise thy Lord That he should find a Tongue and vocal Thunder Was a great wonder But O me-thinks 't is a far greater one That thou find'st none Matt. 8. I am not worthy that thou should'st come under my Roof THy God was making haste into thy Roof Thy humble Faith and Fear keeps him aloof He 'l be thy Guest because he may not be He 'l come into thy house no into thee Upon the Powder-day HOw fit our well-rank'd Feasts do follow All mischief comes after All-Hallow I am the Door ANd now th' art set wide ope the Spear's sad Art Lo hath unlockt thee at the very Heart He to himself I fear the worst And his own hope Hath shut these Doors of Heaven that durst Thus set them ope Matt. 10. The Blind Cured by the word of our Saviour THou speak'st the Word thy Word 's a Law Thou Spak'st and streight the blind man saw To speak and make the Blind man See Was never man Lord spake like Thee To speak thus was to speak say I Not to his Ear but to his Eye Matthew 27. And he answered them nothing O Mighty Nothing unto thee Nothing we owe all things that be God spake once when he all things made He sav'd All when he Nothing said The World was made of Nothing then 'T is made by Nothing now again To our Lord upon the Water made Wine THou Water turn'st to Wine fair Friend of Life Thy Foe to cross the sweet Arts of thy Reign Distils from thence the Tears of Wrath and Strife And so turns Wine to Water back again Matthew 22. Neither durst any man from that Day ask him any more Questions MIdst all the dark and knotty Snares Black Wit or Malice can or dares Thy Glorious Wisdom breaks the Nets And treads with uncontrouled steps Thy quel'd Foes are not only now Thy Triumphs but thy Trophies too They both at once thy Conquests be And thy Conquests Memory Stony Amazement makes them stand Waiting on thy Victorious hand Like Statues fixed to the Fame Of thy renown and their own shame As if they only meant to breath To be the Life of their own Death 'T was time to hold their Peace when they Had ne'r another word to say Yet is their silence unto thee The full sound of thy Victory Their silence speaks aloud and is Thy well pronounc'd Panegyris While they speak nothing they speak all Their share in thy Memorial While they speak nothing they proclaim Thee with the shrillest Trump of Fame To hold their peace is all the ways These Wretches have to speak thy Praise Upon our Saviours Tomb wherein never man was laid HOw Life and Death in Thee Agree Thou had'st a Virgin Womb And Tomb. A Joseph did betroth Them both It is better to go into Heaven with one Eye c. ONe Eye a Thousand rather and a Thousand more To fix those full-fac't Glories O he 's poor Of Eyes that has but Argus store Yet if thou l't fill one poor Eye with thy Heaven and Thee O grant sweet Goodness that one Eye may be All and every whit of me Luke 11. Upon the dumb Devil cast out and the slanderous Jews put to silence TWo Devils at one blow thou hast laid flat A Speaking Devil this a Dumb one that Wa' st thy full Victories fairer increase That th' one spake or that thâ—… other held his peace Luk. 10. And a certain Priest comming that way looked on him and passed by Why dost thou wound my wounds O thou that passest by Handling turning them with an unwounded eye The calm that cools thine eye does shipwrack mine for O! Unmov'd to see one wretched is to make him so Luk. 11. Blessed be the Paps which Thou hast sucked SUppose he had been Tabled at thy Teats Thy Hunger feels not what he Eats He 'l have his Teat e'r long a bloody one The Mother then must suck the Son To Pontius washing his Blood-stained hands IS Murther no sin or a sin so cheap That thou need'st heap A Rape upon 't till thy Adult'rous touch Taught her these sulled Cheeks this blubber'd Face â—…he was a Nimph the Meadows knew none such Of honest Parentage of unstain'd Race The Daughter of a fair and well-fam'd Fountain As ever Silver tipt the side of shady Mountain See how she weeps and weeps that she appears Nothing but Tears Each drop's a Tear that weeps for her own wast Hark how at every touch she does complain her Hark how she bids her frighted Drops make haste And with sad Murmurs chides the hands that stain her Leave leave for shame or else Good judge decree What water shal wash this when this hath washed thee Matthew 23. Ye build the Sepulchres of the Prophets THou trim'st a Prophet's Tomb and dost bequeath The Life thou took'st from him unto his Death Vain Man the stones that on his Tomb do lie Keep but the score of them that made him die Upon the Infant Martyrs TO see both blended in one Flood The Mothers Milk the Childrens Blood Makes me doubt if Heaven will gather Roses hence or Lillies rather Joh. 16. Verily I say unto you ye shall weep and lament WElcome my Grief my Joy how dear's â—…o me my Legacy of Tears I 'll weep and weep and will therefore Weep 'cause I can weep no more Thou thou Dear Lord even thou alone Giv'st joy even when thou givest none Joh. 15. Upon our Lords last comfortable Discourse with his Disciples ALl Hybla's Honey all that sweetness can Flows in thy Song O fair O dying Swan Yet is the joy I take
in 't small or none It is too sweet to be a long-liv'd one Luk. 16. Dives asking a drop A Drop one drop how sweetly one fair drop Would tremble on my Pearl-tipt fingers top My Wealth is gone O go it where it will Spare this one Jewel I 'll be Dives still Mark 12. Give to Caesar And to God ALl we have is God's and yet Caesar challenges a Debt Nor hath God a thinner share What ever Caesar's payments are All is God's and yet 't is true All we have is Caesar's too All is Caesar's and what odds So long as Caesar's self is Gods But now they have seen and hated SEen and yet hated Thee they did not see They saw Thee not that saw and hated Thee No no they saw thee not O Life O Love Who saw ought in Thee that their Hate could move Upon the Crown of Thorns taken from our Blessed Lords Head all bloody KNow'st thou this Soldier 't is a much chang'd Plant which yet Thy Self didst set 'T is chang'd indeed did Autumn e'r such Beautys bring To shame his Spring O! who so hard an Husbandman could ever find A Soyl so kind Is not the Soil a kind one think ye that returns Roses for Thorns She began to wash his Feet with Tears and wipe them with the Hairs of her Head HEr Eyes Flood licks his Feets fair stain Her Hairs Flame licks up that again This Flame thus quench't hath brighter Beams This Flood thus stained fairer Streams On St. Peter cutting off Malchus his Ear. WEll Peter dost thou wield thy active Sword Well for thy self I mean not for thy Lord. To strike at Ears is to take heed there be No witness Peter of thy Perjury Joh. 3. But Men loved Darkness rather than Light THe Worlds Light shines shine as it will The World will love its Darkness still I doubt though when the World 's in Hell It will not love its darkness half so well Act. 21. I am ready not onely to be Bound but to Dye COme death come bands nor do you shrink my ears At those hard words Mans Cowardise calls Fears Save those of Fear no other Bands fear I Nor other Death then this the fear to Die On St. Peter casting away his Nets at our Saviours Call THou hast the Art on 't Peter and canst tell To cast thy Nets on all occasions well When Christ calls and thy Nets would have thee stay To cast them Well's to cast them quite away Our Lord in his Circumcision to his Father TO thee these First Fruits of my growing Death For what else is my life lo I bequeath Taste this and as thou lik'st this lesser flood Expect a Sea my heart shall make it good Thy wrath that wades here now e'r long shall swim The Flood-gate shall be set wide ope for him Then let him drink and drink and do his worst To drown the wantonness of his wild Thirst. Now 's but the Nonage of my Pains my Fears Are yet both in their hopes not come to years The Day of my dark Woes is yet but Morn My Tears but tender and my Death new-born Yet may these unfledg'd griefs give fate some guess These Cradle-torments have their towardness These Purple buds of blooming Death may be Erst the full Stature of a fatal Tree And till my riper Woes to Age are come This Knife may be the Spears Praeludium On the wounds of our crucified Lord. O These wakeful Wounds of thine Are they Mouths or are they Eyes Be they Mouthes or be they Eyn Each bleeding part some one supplies Lo a Mouth whose full-bloom'd Lips At too dear a rate are Roses Lo a blood-shot Eye that weeps And many a cruel Tear discloses O thou that on this Foot hast laid Many a Kiss and many a Tear Now thou shalt have all repaid Whatsoe'r thy Charges were This Foot hath got a Mouth and Lips To pay the sweet summe of thy Kisses To pay thy Tears an Eye that weeps Instead of Tears such Gems as this is The difference onely this appears Nor can the change offend The Debt is paid in Ruby-Tears Which thou in Pearls didst lend On our crucified Lord Naked and Bloody TH' have left thee Naked Lord O that they had This Garment too I would they had deny'd Thee with thy self they have too richly clad Opening the Purple Wardrobe of thy Side O never could be found Garments too good For thee to wear but these of thine own Blood Easter-day RIse Heir of fresh Eternity From thy Virgin-Tomb Rise Mighty man of Wonders and thy world with thee Thy Tomb the universal East Natures new Womb Thy Tomb fair Immortalities perfumed Nest Of all the Glories make Noon gay This is the Morn This Rock buds forth the fountain of the streams of day In Joyes white Annals live this hour When life was born No Cloud scoul on his radiant Lids no Tempest lowre Life by this Light 's Nativity All Creatures have Death onely by this days just Doom is forc't to dye Nor is Death forc't for may he lye Thron'd in thy Grave Death will on this condition be content to dye On the bleeding Wounds of our crucified Lord. JEsu no more it is full Tide From thy Hands and from thy Feet From thy Head and from thy Side All thy Purple Rivers meet Thy restless Feet they cannot go For us and our Eternal good As they are wont what though They Swim alas in their own Flood Thy Hand to give thou canst not lift Yet will thy Hand still giving be It gives but O itself 's the Gift It drops though bound though bound 't is free But Oh thy Side thy deep dig'd Side That hath a double Nilus going Nor ever was the 〈◊〉 Tide Half so Fruitful half so Flowing What need thy fair Head bear a 〈◊〉 In Tears as if thine Eyes had none What need they help to drown thine Heart That strives in Torrents of its own Water'd by the showres they bring The Thorns that thy Blest Brows encloses A cruel and a costly Spring Conceive proud hopes of proving Roses Not a Hair but pays his River To this Red Sea of thy Blood Their little Channels â—…an deliver Something to the general Flood But while I speak whither are run All the Rivers nam'd before I counted wrong there is but one But O that one is one all o're Rain-swoln Rivers may rise proud Threatning all to overflow But when indeed all 's overflow'd They themselves are drowned too This thy Bloods deluge a dire chance Dear Lord to thee to us is found A deluge of deliverance A Deluge lest we should be drown'd Ne'r was 't thou in a Sence so sadly True The Well of living Waters Lord till now Sampson to his Dalilah COuld not once blinding me Cruel suffice When first I look't on thee I lost mine Eyes Psalm 23. HAppy me O haypy Sheep Whom my God vouchsafes to keep Even my God even he it is That points me to these ways of
Bliss On whose Pastures cheerful Spring All the year doth sit and Sing And rejoycing smiles to see Their Green Backs wear his Livery Pleasure sings my Soul to rest Plenty wears me at her Brest Whose sweet Temper teaches me Nor wanton nor in want to be At my Feet the blub'ring Mountain Weeping melts into a Fountain Whose soft silver-sweating Streams Make high Noon forget his Beams When my waiward Breath is flying He calls home my soul from dying Strokes and tames my rabid Grief And does woo me into life When my simple weakness strays Tangled in forbidden ways He my Shepheard is my guide He 's before me on my side And behind me he beguiles Craft in all her knotty wiles He expounds the giddy wonder Of my weary steps and under Spreads a Path clear as the Day Where no churlish rub says nay To my joy-conducted Feet Whilst they gladly go to meet Grace and Peace to meet new laies Tun'd to my great Sheapheards praise Come now all ye Terrors Sally Muster forth into the Valley Where Triumphant darkness hovers With a sable Wing that covers Brooding Horror Come thou Death Let the damps of thy dull Breath Overshadow even the shade And make darkness self-afraid There my Feet even there shall find Way for a resolved mind Still my Shepheard still my God Thou art with me Still thy Rod And thy Staff whose influence Gives direction gives defence At the whisper of thy Word Crown'd abundance spreads my Board While I Feast my Foes do feed Their rank Malice not their Need So that with the self-same Bread They are Starv'd and I am Fed. How my Head in Ointment swims How my Cup o're-looks her brims So even so still may I move By the Line of thy dear Love Still may thy sweet Mercy spread 〈◊〉 shady Arm above my Head About my Paths so shall I find The fair Center of my mind Thy Temple and those Lovely walls Bright ever with a Beam that falls Fresh from the pure glance of thine Eye Lighting to Eternity There I 'le dwell for ever there Will I find a purer Air. To feed my Life with there I 'le sup Balme and Nectar in my Cup And thence my ripe Soul will I breath Warm into the Arms of Death Psalm 137. ON the proud Banks of great Euphrates Flood There we sate and there we wept Our Harps that now no Musick understood Nodding on the Willows slept While unhappy captiv'd we Lovely Sion thought on thee They they that snatcht us from our Countreys Bresâ—… Would have a Song carv'd to their Ears In Hebrew numbers then O cruel Jest When Harps and Hearts were drown'd in Tears Come they cry'd come Sing and Play One of Sions Songs to day Sing Play to whom ah shall we Sing or Play If not Jerusalem to thee Ah thee Jerusalem ah sooner may This Hand forget the Mastery Of Musicks dainty touch then I The Musick of thy Memory Which when I lose O may at once my Tongue Lose this same busie speaking Art Unpearcht her vocal Arteries unstrung No more acquainted with my Heart On my dry Pallats roof to rest A wither'd Leaf an idle Guest No no thy good Sion alone must Crown The head of all my hope-nurst Joyes But Edom cruel thou thou cry'dst down down Sink Sion down and never rise Her falling thou didst urge and thrust And haste to dash her into Dust. Dost laugh proud Babels Daughter do laugh on Till thy ruine teach thee Tears Even such as these laugh till a venging throng Of woes too late doe rouze thy fears Laugh till thy Childrens bleeding Bones Weep precious Tears upon the stones Quem vidistis Pastores c. A Hymn of the Nativity sung by the Shepheards Chorus COme we Shepheards who have seen Days King deposed by Nights Queen Come lift we up our lofty Song To wake the Sun that sleeps too long He in this ouâ—… general Joy Slept and Dreamt of no such thing While we found out the fair-ey'd Boy And kist the Cradle of our King Tell him he rises now too late To shew us ought worth looking at Tell him we now can shew him more Then he e'r shew'd to Mortal sight Then he himself e'r saw before Which to be seen needs not his Light Tell him Tityrus where th' hast been Tell him Thyrsis what th' hast seen Tityrus Gloomy Night embrac't the place Where the Noble Infant lay The Babe lookt up and shew'd his Face In spight of Darkness it was Day It was thy Day Sweet and did rise Not from the East but from thy Eyes Thyrsis Winter chid the World and sent The angry North to wage his Wars The North forgot his fierce intent And left Perfumes instead of Scars By those sweet Eyes persuasive Powers Where he meant Frosts he scattered Flowers Bâ—…th We saw thee in thy Balmy-Nest Bright Dawn of our Eternal Day We saw thine Eyes break from the East And chase the trembling Shades away We saw thee and we blest the sight We saw thee by thine own sweet Light Tityrus I saw the curl'd Drops soft and slow Come hovering o'r the places head Offring their whitest sheets of Snow To furnish the fair Infants Bed Forbear said I be not too bold Your Fleece is white but 't is too cold Thyrsis I saw th' Officious Angels bring The Down that their soft Brests did strow For well they now can spare their Wings When Heaven it self lies here below Fair Youth said I be not too rough Your Down though soft's not soft enough Tityrus The Babe no sooner 'gan to seek Where to lay his Lovely Head But streight his Eyes advis'd his Cheek 'Twixt Mothers Brests to goe to Bed Sweet choise said I no way but so Not to lie cold yet sleep in Snow All. Welcome to our wondring sight Eternity shut in a Span Summer in Winter Day in Night Chorus Heaven in Earth and God in Man Great little one whose Glorious Birth Lifts Earth to Heaven stoops Heaven to Earth Welcome though not to Gold nor Silk To more then Cesar's Birth-right is Two Sister-Seas of Virgins Milk With many a rarely-temper'd Kiss That Breaths at once both Maid and Mother Warms in the one cools in the other She sings thy Tears asleep and dips Her Kisses in thy weeping Eye She spreads the red Leaves of thy Lips That in their Buds yet Blushing lye She 'gainst those Mother Diamonds tryes The points of her young Eagles Eyes Welcome though not to those gay Flies Gilded i' th' Beams of Earthly Kings Slippery Souls in smiling Eyes But to poor Shepheards simple things That use no Varnish no oyl'd Arts But life clean Hands full of cleer Hearts Yet when young Aprils Husband Showers Shall Bless the fruitful Maiâ—…'s Bed We 'll bring the first-born of her Flowers To Kiss thy Feet and Crown thy Head To thee Dread Lamb whose Love must keep The Shepheards while they feed their Sheep To thee meek Majesty soft King Of simple Graces and sweet Loves Each
of us his Lamb will bring Each his pair of Silver Doves At last in fire of thy fair Eyes We 'l burn our own best Sacrifice Sospetto d' Herode Libro Primo Argomento Casting the times with their strong signes Death's Master his own his own death Divines Strugling for Help his best Hope is Herod's suspition may heal his Therefore he sends a Fiend to wake The sleeping Tyrants fond mistake Who fears in vain that he whose Birth Mean's Heav'n should meddle with his Earth 1 MUse now the servant of soft Loves no more Hate is thy Theame and Herod whose unblest Hand so what dares not jealous Greatness tore A thousand sweet Babes from their Mothers Brest The Blooms of Martydome O be a Door Of Language to my Infant Lips ye best Of Confessors whose Throats answering his swords Gave forth your Blood for Breath spoke Souls for Words 2 Great Anthony Spains well-beseeming pride Thou Mighty Branch of Emperours and Kings The Beauties of whose dawn what Eye may bide Which with the Sun himself weighs equal Wings Mapp of Heroick worth whom far and wide To the beleeving World Fame boldly sings Deign thou to wear this humble Wreath that bowes To be the sacred Honour of thy Brows 3. Nor needs my Muse a Blush or these bright Flow'rs Other then what their own blest Beauties bring They were the smiling Sons of those sweet Bow'rs That drink the Dew of Life whose deathless Spring Nor Sirian Flame nor Borean Frost deflow'rs From whence Heav'n-labouring Bees with busie wing Suck hidden Sweets which well digested proves Immortal Honey for the Hive of Loves 4. Thou whose strong Hand with so transcendent worth Holds high the Rein of fair Parthenope That neither Rome nor Athens can bring forth A Name in Noble Deeds Rival to thee Thy Fames full noise makes proud the patient Earth Far more then Matter for my Muse and me The Tyrrhâ—…ne Seas and Shores sound all the same And in their Murmures keep thy Mighty Name 5. Below the bottom of the great Abysse There where one Center reconciles all things The Worlds profound Heart pants there placed is Mischiefs old Master close about him clings A curl'd knot of embracing Snakes that kiss His correspondent Cheeks these loathsome Strings Hold the perverse Prince in Eternal Ties Fast bound since first he forfeited the Skies 6. The Judge of Torments and the King of Tears He fills a burnisht Throne of quenchless fire And for his old fair Robes of Light he wears A gloomy Mantle of dark Flames the Tire That Crowns his hated head on high appears Where seav'n tall Horns his Empires pride aspire And to make up Hells Majesty each Horn Seav'n Crested Hydra's horribly adorn 7. His Eyes the sullen Dens of Death and Night Startle the dull Air with a dismal Red Such his fell Glances as the fatal Light Of staring Comets that look Kingdoms dead From his black Nostrils and blew Lips in spight Of Hells own stink a worser stench is spread His Breath Hells Lightning is and each deep groan Disdains to think that Heav'n Thunders alone 8. His Flaming Eyes dire exhalation Unto a dreadful Pile gives fiery Breath Whose unconsum'd Consumption preys upon The never-dying Life of a long death In this sad House of slow Destruction His shop of Flames he fries himself beneath A mass of Woes his Teeth for Torment gnash While his Steel sides sound with with his Tails strong lash 9. Three Rigorous Virgins waiting still behind Assist the Throne of th'Iron-Sceptered King With whips of Thorns and knotty Vipers twin'd They rouse him when his rank Thoughts need a sting Their Locks are Beds of uncomb'd Snakes that wind About their shady Brows in wanton Rings Thus Reigns the wrathful King and while he Reigns His Scepter and himself both he disdains 10. Disdainful wretch how hath one bold Sin cost Thee all the Beauties of thy once bright Eyes How hath one black Eclipse cancell'd and crost The Glories that did Guild thee in thy Rise Proud Morning of a perverse Day how lost Are thou unto thy self thou too self-wise Narcissus foolish Phaeton who for all Thy high-aim'd hopes gain'dst but a Flaming fall 11. From Death's sad shades to the Life-breathing Air This mortal Enemy to Mankinds good Lifts his malignant Eyes wasted with care To become Beautiful in humane Blood Where Jordan melts his Chrystal to make fair The Fields of Palestine with so pure a Flood There does he fix his Eyes and there Detect New matter to make good his great suspect 12. He calls to mind th' old quarrel and what spark Set the contending Sons of Heav'n on fire Oft in his deep Thought he revolves the Dark Sibills Divining Leaves he does enquire Into th' old Prophesies trembling to mark How many present Prodigies conspire To Crown their past Predictions both he lays Together in his pondrous mind both weighs 13. Heavens Golden-winged Herald late he saw To a poor Galilean Virgin sent How low the Bright Youth bow'd and with what awe Immortal Flow'rs to her fair Hand present He saw th' old Hebrews womb neglect the Law Of Age and Barrenness and her Babe prevent His Birth by his Devotion who began Betimes to be a Saint before a Man 14. He saw Rich Nectar Thaws release the Rigor Of th' Icy North from Frost-bound Atlas hands His Adamantine Fetters fall green Vigor Gladding the Scythian Rocks and Libian Sands He saw a vernal smile sweetly disfigure Winters sad Face and through the flowry Lands Of fair Engaddi Honey-sweating Fountains With Manna Milk and Balm new broach the Mountains 15. He saw how in that Blest Day-bearing Night The Heav'n rebuked shades made haste away How bright a Dawn of Angels with new Light Amaz'd the midnight World and made a Day Of which the Morning knew not Mad with Spight He markt how the poor Shepheards ran to pay Their simple Tribute to the Babe whose Birth Was the great Business both of Heav'n and Earth 16. He saw a threefold Sun with rich encrease Make proud the Ruby Portals of the East He saw the Temple Sacred to sweet Peace Adore her Princes Birth flat on her Brest He saw the falling Idols all confess A coming Deity He saw the Nest Of pois'nous and unnatural Loves Earth-nurst Toucht with the Worlds true Antidote to burst 17. He saw Heav'n Blossome with a new-born Light On which as on a Glorious stranger gaz'd The Golden Eyes of Night whose Beam made Bright The way to Beth'lem and as boldly blaz'd Nor askt leave of the Sun by Day as Night By whom as Heav'ns illustrious Hand-maid rais'd Three Kings or what is more three Wise men went Westward to find the Worlds true Orient 18. Struck with these great concurrences of things Symptomes so deadly unto Death and him Fain would he have forgot what fatal Strings Eternally bind each rebellious Limb. He shook himself and spread his spatious Wings Which like two bosom'd Sails embrace the dimme Air with a dismal
Execution But chiefly there do's she delight to be Where Hells capacious Cauldron is set on And while the black souls boil in their own gore To hold them down and look that none seeth o're 38. Thrice howl'd the Caves of Night and thrice the sound Thundring upon the Banks of those black Lakes Rung through the hollow vaults of Hell profound At last her listning Ears the noise o'rtakes She lifts her sooty Lamps and looking round A gen'ral hiss from the whole Tire of Snakes Rebounding through Hells inmost Caverns came In answer to her formidable Name 39. 'Mongst all the Palaces in Hells Command No one so merciless as this of hers The Adamantine Doors for ever stand Impenetrable both to Pray'rs and Tears The Walls inexorable Steel no hand Of Time or Teeth of hungry Ruine fears Their ugly Ornaments are the bloody stains Of ragged Limbs torn Sculls and dasht out Brains 40. There has the Purple Vengeance a proud seat Whose ever-brandisht Sword is sheath'd in blood About her Hate Wrath Warre and Slaughter sweaâ—… Bathing their hot Limbs in Life's precious Flood There rude impetuous Rage do's storm and fret And there as Master of this murd'ring brood Swinging a huge Sith stands impartial Death With endless business almost out of Breath 41. For Hangings and for Curtains all along The Walls abominable Ornaments Are Tools of Wrath Anvils of Torments hung Fell Executioners of foul intents Nails Hammers Hatchets sharp and Halters strong Swords Spears with all the fatal instruments Of Sin and Death twice dipt in the direstains Of Brothers mutual Blood and Fathers Brains 42. The Tables furnisht with a cursed Feast Which Harpyes with lean Famine feed upon Uufill'd for ever Here among the rest â—…nhumane Erisicthon too makes one Tantalus Atreus Progne here are Guests Wolvish Lycaon here a place hath won The Cup they drink in is Medusa's Scull Which mixt with Gall and Blood they quaff brim full 43. The foul Queen's most abhorred Maids of Honour Medaea Jezabel many a meagre Witch With Circe Scylla stand to wait upon her But her best Huswives are the Parcae which Still work for her and have their Wages from her They prick a bleeding Heart at every stitch Her cruel Clothes of costly Threds they Weave Which short-cut Lives of murdered infants Leave 44. The House is hers'd about with a black Wood Which nods with many a heavy headed Tree Each Flower 's a Pregnant poyson try'd and good Each Herb a Plague The Winds sighs timed be By a black Fount which weeps into a Flood Through the thick shades obscurely might you see Minotaures Cyclopses with a dark drove Of Dragons Hydraes Sphinxes fill the Grove 45. Here Diomed's Horses Phereus Dogs appear With the fierce Lyons of Therodamas Busiris ha's his bloody Altar here Here Sylla his severest prison has The Lestrigonians here their Table rear Here strong Procrustes plants his Bed of Brass Here cruel Scyron boasts his bloody Rocks And hateful Schinas his so feared Oaks 46. What ever Schemes of Blood fantastick frames Of Death Mezentius or Geryon drew Phalaris Ochus Ezelinus names Mighty in Mischief with dread Nero too Here are they all here all the Swords or Flames Assyrian Tyrants or Egyptian knew Such was the House so furnisht was the Hall Whence the fourth Fury answer'd Pluto's call 47. Scarce to this Monster could the shady King The horrid summe of his intentions tell But she swift as the momentary wing Of Lightning or the words he spoke left Hell â—…he rose and with her to our World did bring Pale proof of her fell presence th' Air too well With a chang'd Countenance witness'd the Fight And poor Fowls intercepted in their Flight 48. Heav'n saw her rise and saw Hell in the sight The Fields fair Eyes saw her and saw no more But shut their flowry Lids for ever Night And Winter strow her way yea such a sore Is she to Nature that a general fright An universal Palsie spreading o're The face of things from her dire Eyes had run Had not her thick Snakes hid them from the Sun 49. Now had the Nights Companion from her Den Where all the busie day she close doth lye With her soft wing wip't from the brows of men Day 's sweat and by a gentle Tyranny And sweet oppression kindly cheating them Of all their Cares tam'd the rebellious Eye Of sorrow with asoft and Downy hand Sealing all Brests ina Lethaean band 50. When the Erynâ—…s her black Pineons spread And came to Bethlem where the cruel King Had now retir'd himself and borrowed His Brest a while from care 's unquiet sting Such as at Thebes dire Feast she shew'd her head Her Sulphur-breathed Torches brandishing Such to the frighted Palace now she comes And with soft feet searches the silent Rooms 51. By Herod now was born The Scepter which of old great David swaid Whose Right by David's linage so long worn Himself a stranger to his own had made And from the head of Judahs house quite torn The Crown for which upon their necks he laid A sad yoak under which they sigh'd in vain And looking on their lost state sigh'd again 52. Up through the spacious Palace passed she To where the Kings proudly-reposed head If any can be soft to Tyranny And self-tormenting sin had a soft bed She thinks not fit such he her face should see As it is seen by Hell and seen with dread To change her face's stile she doth devise And in a pale Ghost's shape to spare his Eyes 53. Her self a while she lays aside and makes Ready to personate a mortal part Joseph the King 's dead Brother's shape she takes What he by Nature was is she by Art She comes to th' King and with her cold hand slakes His Spirits the sparks of Life and chills his Heart Lifes forge fain'd is her voice and false too be Her words Sleep'st thou fond man Sleep'st thou said she 54. So sleeps a Pilot whose poor Bark is prest With many a mercyless o'r-mastring Wave For whom as dead the wrathful Winds contest Which of them deep'st shall dig her watry Grave Why dost thou let thy brave soul lie supprest In Death-like slumbers while thy dangers crave A waking Eye and Hand look up and see The Fates ripe in their great Conspiracy 55. Know'st thou not how of th' Hebrew 's Royal stemme That old dry stock a despair'd Branch is sprung A most strange Babe 〈◊〉 who here conceal'd by them In a neglected Stable lies among Beasts and base Straw already is the stream Quite turn'd th' ingrateful Rebels this their young Master with voice free as the Trump of Fame Their new King and thy Successor proclaim 56. What busie Motions what wild Engines stand On tiptoe in their giddy Brains th' have fire Already in their Bosomes and their hand Already reaches at a sword they hire Poysons to speed thee yet through all the Land What one comes to reveal what they conspire Go now make much of
these wage still their wars And bring home on thy Brest more thankless scars 57. Why did I spend my Life and spill my Blood That thy firm hand for ever might sustain A well-pois'd Scepter does it now seem good Thy Brothers blood be-spilt life spent in vain 'Gainst thy own Sons and Brothers thou hast stood In Arms when lesser cause was to complain And now cross Fates a watch about thee keep Can'st thou be careless now now can'st thou sleep 58. Where art thou Man what cowardly mistake Of thy great self hath stoln King Herod from thee O call thy self home to thy self wake wake And fence the hanging sword Heav'n throws upon thee Redeem a worthy wrath rouse thee and shake Thy self into a shape that may become thee Be Herod and thou shalt not miss from me Immortall stings to thy great Thoughts and thee 59. So said her richest Snake which to her Wrist For a beseeming Bracelet she had ty'd A special Worm it was as ever kist The foamy Lips of Cerberus she apply'd To the Kings Heart the Snake no sooner hist But Vertue heard it and away she hy'd Dire Flames diffuse themselves through every vein This done home to her Hell she hy'd amain 60. He wakes and with him ne'r to sleep new fears His Sweat-bedewed Bed had now betrai'd him To a vast field of Thorns ten thousand Spears All pointed in his Heart seem'd to invade him So mighty were th' amazing Characters With which his feeling Dream had thus dismai'd him He his own fancy-framed Foes defies In Rage My Arms give me my Arms he crys 61. As when a Pile of Food-preparing fire The Breath of artificial Lungs embraves The Caldron-prison'd waters streight conspire And beat the hot Brass with rebellious waves He murmures and rebukes their bold desire Th' impatient Liquor frets and foams and raves Till his o'rflowing pride suppress the Flame Whence all his high spirits and hot courage came 62. So boils the fired Herod's blood-swoln Brest Not to be siak'd but by a Sea of Blood His faithless Crown he feels loose on his Crest Which on false Tyrants Head ne'r firmly stood The Worm of jealous Envy and unrest To which his gnaw'd heart is the growing Food Makes him impatient of the lingring Light Hate the sweet peace of all-composing Night 63. A Thousand Prophecies that talk strange things Had sown of old these doubts in his deep Brest And now of late came Tributary Kings Bringing him nothing but new Fears from th' East More deep suspicions and more deadly stings With which his Feav'rous Cares their cold increast And now his dream hells firebrand still more bright Shew'd him his fears and kill'd him with the sight 64. No sooner therefore shall the morning see Night hangs yet heavy on the Lids of day But all his Counsellours must summon'd be To meet their troubled Lord without delay Heralds and Messengers immediately Are sent about who poasting every way To th' Heads and Officers of every Band Declare who sends and what is his Command 65. Why art thou troubled Herod what vain fear Thy Blood-revolving Brest to Rage doth move Heav'ns King who doffs himself weak flesh to wear Comes not to rule in Wrath but serve in Love Nor would he this thy fear'd Crown from thee Tear But give thee a better with himself above Poor jealousie why should he wish to prey Upon thy Crown who gives his own away 66. Make to thy reason Man and mock thy doubts Look how below thy Fears their Causes are Thou art a soldier Herod send thy Scouts See how he 's furnish't for so fear'd a War What Armour does he wear a few thin Clouts His Trumpets tender crys his men to dare So much rude Shepheards What his Steeds alas Poor Beasts a slow Oxe and a simple Asse Il fine del Libro primo On a Prayer Book sent to Mrs. M. R. LO here a little Volume but great Book Fear it not sweet It is no Hypocrit Much larger in it self then in its look It is in one rich Handful Heaven and all Heavens Royal Hosts incampt thus small To prove that true Schools use to tell A thousand Angels in one point can dwell It is Loves great Artillery Which here contracts it self and comes to lye Close coucht in your white Bosome and from thence As from a snowy Fortress of defence Against the ghostly Foe to take your part And fortify the Hold of your chaste heart It is the Armory of Light Let constant Use but keep it bright You 'l find it yields To Holy Hands and Humble Hearts More Swords and Shields Then Sin hath Snares or Hell hath Darts Only be sure The Hands be pure That hold these Weapons and the Eyes Those of Turtles Chaste and True Wakeful and Wise. Here is a Friend shall fight for you Hold but this Book before your Heart Let Prayer alone to play his part But O' the Heart That studies this high Art Must be a sure House-keeper And yet no sleeper Dear Soul be strong Mercy will come e'r long And bring her Bosome full of Blessings Flowers of never fading Graces To make immortal dressings For worthy Souls whose wise embraces Store up themselves for him who is alone The spouse of Virgins and the Virgins Son But if the Noble Bridegroom when he comes Shall find the wandring heart from home Leaving her Chaste abode To gad abroad Amongst the gay Mates of the god of Flies To take her pleasures and to play And keep the Devils Holy day To dance in the Sun-shine of some smiling but beguiling Spear of Sweet and Sugered Lies Some slipery pair Of False perhaps as Fair Flattering but â—…orswearing Eyes Doubtless some other Heart Will get the start And stepping in before Will take possession of the Sacred store Of hidden Sweets and holy Joyes Words which are not heard with Ears These tumultous shops of noise Effectual whispers whose still voice The Soul it self more feels then hears Amorous Languishments Luminous Trances Sights which are not seen with Eyes Spiritual and Soul piercing Glances Whose Pure and Subtle Lightning flies Home to the Heart and sets the House on fire And melts it down in sweet desire Yet doth not stay To ask the Windows leave to pass that way Delicious Deaths soft Exhalations Of Soul Dear and Divine annihilations A thousand unknown Rites Of Joys and rarified Delights An hundred thousand Loves and Graces And many a mistick thing Which the Divine embraces Of the dear spouse of Spirits with them will bring For which it is no shame That dull Mortality must not know a Name Of all this hidden store Of Blessings and ten thousand more If when he come He find the Heart from home Doubtless he will unload Himself some otherwhere And pour abroad His precious Sweets On the fair Soul whom first he meets O fair O fortunate O rich O dear O happy and thrice happy she Dear Silver-brested Dove Who ere she be Whose early Love With
far more Milky way She 's call'd again hark how th' immortal Dove Sighs to his Silver Mate rise up my Love Rise up my fair my spotless one The Winter 's past the Rain is gone The Spring is come the Flowers appear No Sweets since thou art wanting here Come away my Love Come away my Dove cast off delay The Court of Heav'n is come To wait upon thee home Come away come away She 's cal'd again and will she goe When Heaven bids come who can say no Heav'n calls her and she must away Heaven will not and she cannot stay Goe then goe Glorious on the Golden wings Of the bright youth of Heav'n that sings Under so sweet a burden go Since thy great Son will have it so And while thou go'st our song and we Will as we may reach after thee Hail Holy Queen of humble Hearts We in thy praise will have our parts And though thy dearest looks must now be light To none but the blest Heavens whose bright Beholders lost in sweet delight Feed for ever their fair sight With those Divinest Eyes which we And our dark World no more shall see Though our poor joys are parted so Yet shall our Lips never let go Thy Gracious Name but to the last Our loving Song shall hold it fast Thy sacred Name shall be Thy self to us and we With Holy cares will keep it by us We to the last Will hold it fast And no Assumptiyn shall deny us All the sweetest Showers Of our fairest Flowers Will we strow upon it Though our sweetness cannot make It sweeter they may take Themselves new sweetness from it Maria Men and Angels sing Maria Mother of our King Live rarest Princess and may the bright Crown of a most incomparable Light Embrace thy radiant Brows O may the best Of everlasting joys bath thy white Brest Live our chaste Love the Holy Mirth Of Heaven and Humble Pride of Earth Live Crown of Women Queen of Men Live Mistress of our Song and when Our weak desires have done their best Sweet Angels come and sing the rest An Hymn on the Circumcision of our Lord. RIse thou best and brightest morning Rosie with a double Red With thine own Blush thy Cheeks adorning And the dear Drops this day were shed All the Purple pride of Laces The crimson Curtains of thy Bed Guild thee not with so sweet Graces Nor sets thee in so rich a Red. Of all the fair Cheekt-Flowers that fill thee None so fair thy Bosom strows As this modest Maiden Lilly Our Sins have sham'd into a Rose Bid the Golden God the Sun Burnisht in his Glorious Beams Put all his Red eyed Rubies on These Rubies shall put out his eyes Let him make poor the Purple East Rob the rich Store her Cabinets keep The pure birth of each sparkling nest That flaming in their fair Bed sleep Let him embrace his own bright Tresses With a new morning made of Gems And wear in them his wealthy dresses Another day of Diadems When he hath done all he may To make himself Rich in his rise All will be darkness to the day That breaks from one of these fair eyes And soon the sweet Truth shall appear Dear Babe e'r many days be done The Moon shall come to meet thee here And leave the long adored Sun Thy Nobler Beauty shall bereave him Of all his Eastern Paramours His Persian Lovers all shall leave him And swear Faith to thy sweeter powers Nor while they leave him shall they lose the Sun But in thy fairest Eyes find two for one On Hope By way of Question and Answer between A. Cowley and R. Crashaw Cowley HOpe whose weak being ruin'd is Alike if it succeed and if it miss Whom Ill and Good doth equally confound And both the horns of Fate 's dilemma wound Vain shadow that doth vanish quite Both at full Noon and perfect Night The Fates have not a possibility Of Blessing thee If things then from their ends we happy call 'T is Hope is the most hopeless thing of all Crashaw Dear Hope Earth's Dowry and Heaven's Debt The Entity of things that are not yet Subt'lest but surest Being Thou by whom Our Nothing hath a Definition Fair cloud of Fire both Shade and Light Our Life in Death our Day in Night Fates cannot find out a capacity Of hurting thee From thee their thinn Dilemma with blunt Horn Shrinks like the sick Moon at the wholsome morn Cowley Hope thou bold taster of Delight Who instead of doing so devour'st it quite Thou bring'st us an Estate yet leav'st us poor By clogging it with Legacies before The joys which we intire should wed Come deflour'd Virgins to our Bed Good Fortunes without Gain imported be So mighty Custome's paid to thee For Joy like Wine kept close doth better taste If it take Air before its spirits waste Crashaw Thou art Loves Legacy under Lock Of Faith the Steward of our growing stock Our Crown-Lands lie above yet each Meal brings A seemly Portion for the Sons of Kings Nor will the Virgin-joys we wed Come less unbroken to our Bed Because that from the Bridal Cheek of Bliss Thou thus steal'st down a distant Kiss Hopes chaste Kiss wrongs no more joys Maidenhead Then Spousal Rites prejudge the Marriage-bed Cowley Hope Fortunes cheating Lottery Where for one Prize an hundred Blanks there be Fond Archer Hope who tak'st thine aim so farre That still or short or wide thine Arrows are Thine empty Cloud the Eye it self deceives With shapes that our own Fancy gives A Cloud which Gilt and Painted now appears But must drop presently in Tears When thy false Beams o'r Reasons light prevail By ignes fatui not North Stars we sail Crashaw Fair Hope our earlier Heaven by thee Young Time is taster to Eternity The generous Wine with Age grows strong not sower Nor need we kill thy Fruit to smell thy Flower Thy Golden Head never hangs down Till in the Lap of Loves full noon It falls and dyes oh no it melts away As doth the dawn into the day As lumps of Sugar lose themselves and twine Their subtle Essence with the soul of Wine Cowley Brother of Fear more gaily clad The merrier fool o' th' two yet quite as mad Sire of Repentance Shield of fond desire That blows the Chymicks and the Lovers fire Still leading them insensibly on With the strange Witchcraft of Anon Bythee the one doth changing Nature through Her endless Labyrinths pursue And th' other chases woman while she goes More ways and turns then hunted Nature knows Crashaw Fortune alas above the Worlds Law wars Hope kicks the curl'd Heads of conspiring Stars Her Keel cuts not the Waves where our winds stirre And Fate 's whole Lottery is one blank to her Her shafts and she fly farre above And forrage in the Fields of Light and Love Sweet Hope kind Cheat fair Fallacy by thee We are not where or what we be But what and where we would thus art thou Our absent
the World thus do they vary Each string his Note as if they meant to carry Their Masters blest soul snatcht out at his Ears â—…y a strong Extasy through all the Sphears Of Musicks Heaven and seat it there on high â—…th ' Empyraeum of pure Harmony At length after so long so loud a strife Of all the strings still breathing the best life Of blest variety attending on His Fingers fairest Revolution In many a sweet Rise many as sweet a fall A full-mouth'd Diapason swallows all This done he lists what she would say to this And she although her Breath's late exercise Had dealt too roughly with her tender Throat Yet summons all her sweet powers for a Note Alas in vain for while sweet soul she tries To measure all those wild diversities Of chatt'ring strings by the small size of one Poor simple voice rais'd in a Natural Tone She fails and failing grieves and grieving dies She dies and leaves her life the Victor's prize Falling upon his 〈◊〉 O fit to have That liv'd so sweetly dead so sweet a Grave Upon the Death of a Gentleman FAithless and fond Mortality Who will ever credit thee Fond and faithless thing that thus In our best hopes beguilest us What a reckoning hast thou made Of the hopes in him we laid For Life by Volumes lengthened A Line or two to speak him dead For the Laurel in his Verse The sullen Cypresse o'r his Herse For a silver-crowned Head A durty Pillow in Death's Bed For so dear so deep a Trust Sad requital thus much Dust Now though the blow that snatcht him hence Stopt the Mouth of Eloquence Though she be dumb e'r since his Death Not us'd to speak but in his Breath Yet if at least she not denies The sad Language of our Eyes We are contented for then this Language none more fluent is Nothing speaks our Grief so well As to speak nothing Come then tell Thy mind in Tears who e'r thou be That ow'st a Name to Misery Eyes are Vocal Tears have Tongues And there be words not made with Lungs Sententious showers O let them fall Their cadence is Rhetorical Here 's a Theme will drink th' expence Of all thy watry Eloquence Weep then onely be exprest Thus much He 's Dead and Weep the rest Upon the Death of Mr. Herrys A Plant of Noble stemme forward and fair As ever whisper'd to the Morning Air Thriv'd in these happy Grounds the Earths just pride Whose rising Glories made such haste to hide His Head in Clouds as if in him alone Impatient Nature had taught Motion To start from Time and chearfully to fly Before and seize upon Maturity Thus grew this gracious Plant in whose sweet shade The Sun himself oft wisht to sit and made The morning Muses perch like Birds and sing Among his Branches yea and vow'd to bring His own delicious Phoenix from the Blest Arabia there to build her Virgin Nest To hatch her self in 'mongst his Leaves the Day Fresh from the Rosie East rejoyc't to play To them she gave the first and fairest Beam That waited on her Birth she gave to them The purest Pearls that wept her Evening Death The balmy Zephirus got so sweet a Breath By often kissing them and now begun Glad time to ripen expectation The timerous Maiden-Blossomes on each Bough Peept forth from their first blushes so that now A Thousand ruddy hopes smil'd in each Bud And flatter'd every greedy Eye that stood Fixt in Delight as if already there Those rare Fruits dangled whence the Golden year His Crown expected when O Fate O Time That seldom lett'st a blushing youthful Prime Hide his hot Beams in shade of silver Age So rare is hoary vertue the dire Rage Of a mad storm these bloomy joyes all tore Ravisht the Maiden Blossomes and down bore The Trunk yet in this Ground his precious Root Still lives which when weak Time shall be pour'd out Into Eternity and circular joys Dance in an endless round again shall rise The fair Son of an ever-youthful Spring To be a shade for Angels while they sing Mean while who e'r thou art that passest here O do thou water it with one kind Tear Upon the Death of the most desired Mr. Herrys DEath what dost O hold thy blow What thou dost thou dost not know Death thou must not here be cruel This is Natures choicest Jewel This is he in whose rare frame Nature labour'd for a Name And meant to leave his precious Feature The pattern of a perfect Creature Joy of Goodness Love of Art Vertue wears him next her Heart Him the Muses love to follow Him they call their Vice Apollo Apollo Golden though thou be Th' art not fairer then is he Nor more lovely lift'st thy head Blushing from thine Eastern Bed The Glories of thy Youth ne'r knew Brighter hopes then he can shew Why then should it e'r be seen That his should Fade while thine is Green And wilt Thou O cruel boast Put poor Nature to such cost O 't will undoe our common Mother To be at charge of such another What think we to no other end Gracious Heavens do use to send Earth her best perfection But to vanish and be gone Therefore only give to day To morrow to be snatcht away I 've seen indeed the hopeful Bud Of a ruddy Rose that stood Blushing to behold the Ray Of the new saluted Day His tender Top not fully spread The sweet dash of a shower now shed Invited him no more to hide Within himself the Purple pride Of his forward Hower when lo While he sweetly 'gan to show His swelling Glories Auster spide him Cruel Auster thither hy'd him And with the rush of one rude blast Sham'd not spitefully to wast All his Leaves so fresh so sweet And lay them trembling at his feet I 've seen the Mornings lovely Ray Hover o'r the new-born Day With Rosie wings so richly Bright As if he scorn'd to think of Night When a ruddy storm whose scoul Made Heavens radiant face look foul Call'd for an untimely Night To blot the newly blossom'd Light But were the Roses blush so rare Were the Mornings smile so fair As is he nor Cloud nor Wind But would be courteous would be kind Spare him Death O spare him then Spare the sweetest among men Let not pitty with her Tears Keep such distance from thine Ears But O thou wilt not canst not spare Haste hath never time to hear Therefore if he needs must go And the Fates will have it so Softly may he be possest Of his monumental Rest. Safe thou dark home of the dead Safe O hide his loved head For Pitties sake O hide him quite From his Mother Natures sight Lest for the Grief his loss may move All her Births Abortive prove Another IF ever Pitty were acquainted With sterne Death if e're he fainted Or forgot the cruell vigor Of an Adamantine rigour Here o here we should have known it Here or no where he 'd have
Nature her own Physitian be Wouldst see a man all his own Wealth His own Physick his own Health A Man whose sober Soul can tell How to wear her Garments well Her Garmetts that upon her sit As Garments should do close and sit A well-cloath'd soul that 's not opprest Nor choakt with what she should be drest A Soul sheath'd in a Chrystal shrine Through which all her bright Features shine As when a piece of wanton Lawn A thin aereal Vail is drawn O'r Beauties Face seeming to hide More sweetly shows the blushing Bride A Soul whose intellectual Beams No Mists do Mask no lazy steams A happy soul that all the way To Heaven hath a Summers day Would'st thou see a Man whose well warm'd blood Bathes him in a genuine flood A Man whose Tuned humours be A set of rarest Harmony Wouldst see blith Looks fresh Cheeks beguile Age wouldst see December smile Wouldst see a nest of Roses grow In a bed of reverend Snow Warm Thoughts free Spirits flattering Winters self into a Spring In summe wouldst see a Man that can Live to be old and still a Man The beginning of Heliodorus THe smiling Morn had newly wak't the Day And tipt the Mountains in a tender Ray When on a Hill whose high Imperious Brow Looks down and sees the humble Nile below Lick his proud feet and haste into the seas Through the great Mouth that 's nam'd from Hercules A band of men rough as the Arms they wore Look't round first to the Sea then to the Shore The Shore that shewed them what the Sea deny'd Hope of a Prey There to the main Land ty'd A ship they saw no men she had yet prest Appear'd with other lading for her Brest Deep in the groaning waters wallowed Up to the third Ring o'r the shore was spread Death's purple Triumph on the blushing ground Lifes late forsaken Houses all lay drown'd In their own Bloods dear deluge some new dead Some panting in their yet warm ruines bled While their affrighted souls now wing'd for flight Lent them the last flash of her glimmering Light Those yet fresh streams which crawled every where Shew'd that stern warre had newly bath'd him there Nor did the face of this disaster show Marks of a fight alone but feasting too A miserable and a monstrous Feast Where hungry War had made himself a Guest And coming late had eat up Guests and all Who prov'd the Feast to their own Funeral c. Out of the Greek Cupid's Cryer LOve is lost nor can his Mother Her little fugitive discover She seeks she sighs but no no where spies him Love is lost and thus she crys him O yes if any happy Eye This roaving wanton shall descry Let the Finder surely know Mine is the Wagg 't is I that own The winged wand'rer and that none May think his Labour vainly gone The glad descryer shall not miss To taste the Nectar of a Kiss From Venus Lips but as for him That brings him to me he shall swim In riper joys more shall be his Venus assures him then a kiss But lest your Eye discerning slide These marks may be your judgements guide His Skin as with a Fiery blushing High-colour'd is His Eyes still flushing With nimble Flames and though his Mind Be ne'r so curst his Tongue is kind For never were his Words in ought Found the pure issue of his thought The working Bees soft melting Gold That which their waxen Mines enfold Flow not so sweet as do the Tones Of his I un'd Accents but if once His anger kindle presently It boils out into cruelty And fraud he makes poor mortals hurts The objects of his cruel sports With dainty Curles his froward face Is Crown'd about but O what place What farthest nook of lowest Hell Feels not the strength the reaching spell Of his small hand yet not so small As 't is powerful therewithal Though bare his Skin his Mind he covers And like a saucy Bird he hovers With wanton Wing now here now there 'Bout Men and Women nor will spare Till at length he perching rest In the Closet of their Brest His weapon is a little Bow Yet such a one as Jove knows how Ne'r suffred yet his little Arrow Of Heav'ns high'st Arches to fall narrow The Gold that on his Quiver smiles Deceives mens fears with flattering wiles But O too well my wounds can tell With bitter shafs 't is sauc't too well He is all cruel cruel all His Torch imperious though but small Makes the Sun of Flames the Sire Worse then Sun-burnt in his Fire Wheresoe'r you chance to find him Seize him bring him but first bind him Pitty not him but fear thy self Though thou see the crafty Else Tell down his Silver drops unto thee They 'r counterfeit and will undoe thee With baited smiles if he display His fawning Cheeks look not that way If he offer sugred Kisses Start and say the Serpent hisses Draw him drag him though he pray Wooe intreat and crying say Prethee sweet now let me go Here 's my Quiver Shafts and Bow I 'le give thee all take all take heed Lest his kindness make thee bleed What e'r it be Love offers still presume That though it shines 't is Fire and will consume HIgh mounted on an Ant Nanus the tall Was thrown alas and got a deadly fall Under th' unruly Beasts proud feet he lies All torn with much adoe yet e'r he dies He strains these words Bâ—…se Envy doe laugh on Thus did I fall and thus fell Phaethon Upon Venus putting on Mars his Arms. WHat Mars his sword fair Cytherea say Why art thou Arm'd so desperately to day Mars thou hast beaten naked and O then What needst thou put on Arms against poor men Uupon the same PAllas saw Venus arm'd and streight she cry'd Come if thou dar'st thus thus let us be try'd Why fool says Venus thus provok'st thou me That being nak't thou know'st could conquer thee Upon Bishop Andrews his Picture before his Sermons THis Reverend shadow cast that setting Sun Whose Glorious course through our Horizon run Left the dimme Face of this dull Hemisphaere All one great Eye all drown'd in one great Tear Whose fair illustrious Soul led his free Thought Through Learnings Universe and vainly sought Room for her spacious self until at length She found the way home with an Holy strength Snatch't her self hence to Heaven fill'd a bright place Mongst those immortal Fires and on the Face Of her great Maker fixt her flaming Eye There still to read true pure Divinity And now that grave Aspect hath deign'd to shrink Into this less appearance if you think 'T is but a dead face Art doth here bequeath Look on the following Leaves and see him breath Out of Martial FOur Teeth thou hadst that rank'd in goodly state Kept thy Mouths Gate The first blast of thy Cough left two alone The second none This last Cough Aelia Cought out all thy fear Th' hast left the third
Cough now no business here Out of Italian A Song TO thy Lover Deer discover That sweet blush of thine that shameth When those Roses It discloses All the Flowers that Nature nameth In free Air Flow thy Hair That no more Summers best dresses Be beholden For their Golden Locks to Phoebus Flaming Tresses O deliver Love his Quiver From thy Eyes he shoots his Arrows Where Apollo Cannot follow Featherd with his Mothers Sparrows O envy not That we dye not Those deer Lips whose Door encloses All the Graccs In their places Brother Pearls and Sister Roses From these Treasures Of ripe pleasures One bright smile to cleer the weather Earth and Heaven Thus made even Both will be good friends together The Air does 〈◊〉 thee Winds cling to thee Might a Word once fly from out thee Storm and Thunder Would fit under And keep silence round about Thee But if Natures Common Creatures So dear Glories dare not borrow Yet thy Beauty Owes a Duty To my loving lingring sorrow When to end me Death shall send me All his Terrors to affright me Thine Eyes Graces Guild their Faces And those Terrors shall delight me When my dying Life is flying Those sweet Airs that often slew me Shall revive me Or reprive me And to many Deaths renew me Out of the Italian LOve now no Fire hath left him We two betwixt us have divided it Your Eyes the Light hath reft him The Heat commanding in my Heart doth sit O! that poor Love be not for ever spoiled Let my Heat to your Light be reconciled So shall these Flames whose worth Now all obsoured lies Drest in those Beams start forth And dance before your Eyes Or else partake my Flames I care not whither And so in mutual Names O Love burn both together Out of the Italian WOuld any one the true cause find How Love came nak't a Boy and blind 'T is this listning one day too long To th' Syrens in my Mistress Song The extasie of a delight So much o'r-mastring all his might To that one Sense made all else thrall And so he lost his Clothes Eyes Heart and all On the Frontispiece of Isaacsons Chronologie explained IF with distinctive Eye and Mind you look Upon the Front you see more then one Book Creation is Gods Book wherein he writ Each Creature as a Letter filling it History is Creations Book which shows To what effects the Series of it goes Chronologie's the Book of History and bears The just account of Days of Moneths and Years But Resurrection in a Later Press And New Edition is the summe of these The Language of these Books had all been one Had not th' Aspiring Tow'r of Babylon Confus'd the Tongues and in a distance hurl'd As far the Speech as men o' th' new fill'd World Set then your Eyes in Method and behold Times Embleme Saturn who when store of Gold Coyn'd the first Age Devour'd that Birth he fear'd Till History Times eldest Child appear'd And Phaenix-like in spight of Saturns rage Forc'd from her Ashes Heires in every Age. From th' Rising Sun obtaining by just Suit A Springs Ingender and an Autumns Fruit. Who in those Volumes at her motion pen'd Unto Creations Alpha doth extend Again Ascend and view Chronology By Optick skill pulling far History Neerer whose Hand the piercing Eagles Eye Strengthens to bring remotest Objects nigh Under whose Feet you see the Setting Sun From the dark Gnomon o'r her Volumes run Drown'd in Eternal Night never to rise Till Resurrection show it to the Eyes Of Earth-worn men and her shril Trumpets sound Affright the Bones of Mortals from the ground The Columnes both are crown'd with either Sphere To show Chronology and History bear No other Culmen then the double Art Astronomy Geography impart Or Thus. LEt hoary Time's vast Bowels be the Grave To what his Bowels Birth and Being gave Let Nature die and Phaenix like from death Revived Nature take a second Breath If on Times right hand sit fair Historie If from the seed of empty Ruine she Can raise so fair an Harvest let her be Ne'r so far distant yet Chronology Sharp-sighted as the Eagles Eye that can Out-stare the broad-beam'd Days Meridian Will have a Perspicil to find her out And through the Night of error and dark doubt Discern the Dawn of Truth 's eternal Ray As when the Rosie Morn buds into Day Now that Time's Empire might be amply fill'd Babels bold Artists strive below to build Ruine a Temple on whose fruitful fall History rears her Pyramids more tall Then were th' Aegyptian by the life these give Th' Egyptian Pyramids themselves must live On these she lifts the World and on their base Shews the two Terms and Limits of Time's Race That the Creation is the Judgement this That the Worlds Morning this her Midnight is An Epitaph upon Mr. Ashton a Conformable Citizen THe modest front of this small floor Beleeve me Reader can say more Then many a braver Marble can Here lies a truly honest man One whose Conscience was a thing That troubled neither Church nor King One of those few that in this Town Honour all Preachers hear their own Sermons he heard yet not so many As left no time to practise any He heard them reverendly and then His practice preach'd them o'r agen His Parlour-Sermons rather were Those to the Eye then to the Ear. His Prayers took their price and strength Not from the loudness nor the length He was a Protestant at home Not onely in despight of Rome He lov'd his Father yet his Zeal Tore not off his Mothers Veil To th' Church he did allow her Dress True Beauty to true Holiness Peace which he lov'd in life did lend Her hand to bring him to his end When Age and Death call'd for the score No surfets were to reckon for Death tore not therefore but fans strife Gently untwin'd his thread of Life What remains then but that Thou Write these Lines Reader in thy Brow And by his fair Examples light Burn in thy imitation bright So while these Lines can but bequeath A Life perhaps unto his Death His better Epitaph shall be His Life still kept alive in Thee Out of Catullus COme and let us Live my Dear Let us Love and never Fear What the sowrest Fathers say Brightest Sol that dyes to day Lives again as blith to morrow But if we dark Sons of sorrow Set O then how long a Night Shuts the Eyes of our short Light Then let amorous Kisses dwell On our Lips begin and tell A Thousand and a Hundred score An Hundred and a Thousand more Till another Thousand smother That and that wipe of another Thus at last when we have numbred Many a Thousand many a Hundred We 'l confound the reckoning quite And lose our selves in wild delight While our joyes so multiply As shall mock the envious Eye Wishes to his supposed Mistress WHo e're she be That not impossible she That shall Command my Heart and me
nothing else but empty Me Narrow and low and infinitely less Then this great Mornings mighty business One little World or two Alas will never do We must have store Go Soul out of thy self and seek for More Go and request Great Nature for the Key of her huge Chest Of Heav'ns the self-involving Set of Sphears Which dull Mortality more feels then hears Then rouse the nest Of nimble Art and traverse round The Airy shop of Soul-appeasing sound And beat a summons in the same All-Soveraign Name To warn each several kind And shape of sweetness be they such As sigh with supple wind Or answer Artful touch That they convene and come away To wait at the Love-Crowned Doors of that Illustrious Day Shall we dare this my Soul we 'l do 't and bring No other Note for 't but the Name we sing Wake Lute and Harp And every sweet-lipp'd thing That talks with Tuneful string Start into life and leap with me Into a hasty fit-tun'd harmony Nor must you think it much T' obey my bolder touch I have authority in Love's Name to take you And to the work of Love this morning wake you Wake in the Name Of Him who never sleeps all things that are Or what 's the same Are Musical Answer my Call And come along Help me to meditate mine immortal Song Come ye soft Ministers of sweet sad mirth Bring all your Houshold-stuff of Heav'n on Earth O you my Soulâ—…s most certain Wings Complaining Pipes and pratling strings Bring all the store Of Sweets you have and murmur that you have no more Come ne'r to part Nature and Art Come and come strong To the conspiracy of our spacious song Bring all the Pow'rs of Praise Your Provinces of well-united Worlds can raise Bring all your Lutes and Harps of Heav'n and Earth What e'r cooperates to the common mirth Vessels of vocal joys Or you more Noble Architects of intellectual noise Cymballs of Heav'n or Humane sphears Solliciters of Souls or Ears And when you are come with all That you can bring or we can call O may you fix For ever here and mix Your selves into the long And everlasting series of a deathless Song Mix all your many Worlds above And loose them into One of Love Chear thee my Heart For thou too hast thy part And place in the great Throng Of this unbounded all-imbracing Song Pow'rs of my Soul be proud And speak loud To all the dear-bought Nations this Redeeming Name And in the wealth of one rich Word proclaim New Similes to Nature May it be no wrong Blest Heav'ns to you and your Superior song That we dark Sons of Dust and Sorrow A while dare borrow The name of your Delights and our Desires And fit it to so farr inferior Lyres Our Murmurs have their Musick too Ye Mighty Orbs as well as you Nor yields the Noblest nest Of warbling Seraphim to the ears of Love A choicer Lesson then the joyful Brest Of a poor panting Turtle-Dove And we low Worms have leave to do The same bright business ye third Heav'ns with you Gentle Spirits do not complain We will have care To keep it fair And send it back to you again Come lovely Name appear from forth the bright Regions of peaceful Light Look from thine own illustrious home Fair King of Names and come Leave all thy Native Glories in their gorgeous Nest And give thy self a while the gracious Guest Of humble Souls that seek to find The hidden Sweets Which man's heart meets When thou art Master of the Mind Come Lovely Name life of our hope Lo we hold our Hearts wide ope Unlock thy Cabinet of Day Dearest Sweet and come away Lo how the thirsty Lands Gasp for thy golden showrs with long stretch't hands Lo how the laboring Earth That hopes to be All Heaven by Thee Leaps at thy Birth Th' attending World to wait thy Rise First turn'd to Eyes And then not knowing what to do Turn'd them to Tears and spent them too Come Royal Name and pay th' expence Of all this precious patience O come away And kill the Death of this Delay O see so many Worlds of barren years Melted and Measur'd out in Seas of Tears O see the weary Lids of wakeful Hope Love's Eastern windows all wide ope With Curtains drawn To catch the Day-break of thy Dawn O dawn at last long-look't for day Take thine own wings and come away Lo where aloft it comes It comes among The conduct of adoring Spirits that throng Like diligent Bees and swarm about it O they are wise And know what Sweets are suck't from out it It is the Hive By which they thrive Where all their hoard of Honey lies Lo where it comes upon the snowy Doves Soft back and brings a bosome big with Loves Welcome to our dark World thou Womb of Day Unfold thy fair Conceptions and display The Birth of our bright joys O thou compacted Body of Blessings Spirit of Souls extracted O dissipate thy spicy Powr's Cloud of condensed sweets and break upon us In balmy showrs O fill our senses and take from us All force of so prophane a Fallacy To think ought sweet but that which smells of thee Fair Flowry Name in none but thee And thy Nectareal fragrancy Hourly there meets An universal Synod of all Sweets By whom it is defined Thus That no Perfume For ever shall presume To pass for oderiferous But such alone whose sacred Pedigree Can prove it self some kin sweet name to Thee Sweet Name in thy each Syllable A thousand Blest Arabias dwell A Thousand Hills of Frankincense Mountains of myrrh and Beds of Spices And Ten thousand Paradises The Soul that tasts thee takes from thence How many unknown Worlds there are Of Comforts which thou hast in keeping How many thousand Mercies there In Pity 's soft Lap lie a sleeping Happy he who has the Art To awake them And to take them Home and lodge them in his Heart O that it were as it was wont to be When thy old friends of fire all full of thee Fought against frowns with smiles gave Glorious chase To persecutions and against the Face Of Death and fiercest dangers durst with brave And sober pace march on to meet a Grave On their bold Brests about the World they bore thee And to the Teeth of Hell stood up to teach thee In Center of their inmost souls they wore thee Where Racks and Torments striv'd in vain to reach thee Little alas thought they Who tore the fair Brests of thy Friends Their Fury but made way For thee and serv'd them in thy Glorious ends What did their weapons but with wider pores Inlarge thy flaming brested Lovers More freely to transpire That impatient fire The heart that hides thee hardly covers What did their weapons but set wide the doors I or thee fair purple Doors of Love's devising The Ruby windows which inrich't the East Of thy so oft repeated Rising Each wound of theirs was thy new
bright day Shall hence for ever bear away 4. Lo the new Law of a new Lord With a new Lamb blesses the Board The aged Pascha pleads not years But spies Love's dawn and disappears Types yield to Truths shades shrink away And their Night dyes into out Day 5. But lest that dy too we are bid Ever to do what he once did And by a mindful mystick breath That we may live revive his Death With a well-blest Bread and Wine Transum'd and taught to turn Divine 6. The Heav'n-instructed house of Faith Here a Holy Dictate hath That they but lend their Form and Face Themselves with reverence leave their place Nature and Name to be made good By a Nobler Bread more needful Blood 7. Where Nature's Laws no leave will give Bold Faith takes heart and dares believe In different species name not things Himself to me my Saviour brings As Meat in that as Drink in this But still in both one Christ he is 8. The receiving Mouth here makes Nor wound nor breach in what he takes Let one or one Thousand be Here Dividers single he Bears home no less all they no more Nor leave they both less then before 9. Though in it self this Soveraign Feast Be all the same to every Guest Yet on the same life-meaning Bread The child of death eats himself dead Nor is 't Love's fault but Sins dire skill That thus from Life can Death distil 10. When the blest signs thou broke shal't see Hold but thy Faith intire as he Who howsoe'r clad cannot come Lesse then whole Christ in every crumme In broken forms a stable Faith Untouch't her precious Total hath 11. Lo the Life-food of Angels then Bow'd to the lowly mouths of men The Childrens Bread the Bridegroom's Wine Not to be cast to Dogs or Swine 12. Lo the full final Sacrifice On which all Figures fix't their Eyes The ransom'd Isack and his Ram The Manna and the Paschal Lamb. 13. Jesu Master Just and true Our Food and faithful Shepherd too O by thy self vouchsafe to keep As with thy self thou feedst thy sheep 14. O let that Love which thus makes thee Mix with our low Mortality Lift our lean Souls and let us up Convictors of thine own full cup. Coheirs of Saints that so all may Drink the same Wine and the same Way Nor change the Pasture but the Place To seed of Thee in thine own Face Amen The HYMN Dies irae dies illa In Meditation of the day of Judgment 1. HEars't thou my soul what serious things Both the Psalm and Sybil sings Of a sure Judge from whose sharp Ray The World in Flames shall fly away 2. O that fire before whose face Heav'n and Earth shall find no place O these Eyes whose angry light Must be the day of that dread Night 3. O that trump whose blast shall run An Even round with th' circling Sun And urge the murmuring graves to bring Pale mankind forth to meet his King 4. Horror of Nature Hell and Death When a deep groan from beneath Shall cry we come we come and all The Caves of Night answer one call 5. O that Book whose Leaves so bright Will set the World in severe Light O that Judge whose Hand whose Eye None can indure yet none can fly 6. Ah then poor Soul what wilt thou say And to what Patron chuse to pray When Stars themselves shall stagger and The most firm Foot no more then stand 7. But thou giv'st leave dread Lord that we Take shelter from thy self in Thee And with the wings of thine own Dove Fly to thy Scepter of soft Love 8. Dear remember in that day Who was the cause thou cam'st this way Thy sheep was stray'd and thou wouldst be Even lost thy self in seeking me 9. Shall all that labour all that cost Of Love and ev'n that loss be lost And this lov'd soul judg'd worth no less Then all that way and weariness 10. Just Mercy then thy reck'ning be With my price and not with me 'T was paid at first with too much pain To be paid twice or once in vain 11. Mercy my Judge Mercy I cry With blushing Cheek and bleeding Eye The conscious Colours of my sin Are Red without and pale within 12. O let thine own soft Bowells pay Thy self and so discharge that day If sin can sigh Love can forgive O say the word my Soul shall live 13. Those Mercies which thy Mary found Or who thy Cross confest and Crown'd Hope tells my heart the same Loves be Still alive and still for me 14. Though both my Pray'rs and Tears combine Both worthless are for they are mine But thou thy bounteous self still be And show thou art by saving me 15. O when thy last frown shall proclaim The flocks of goats to folds of flame And all thy lost sheep found shall be Let come ye Blessod then call me 16. When the dread Ite shall divide Those Limbs of death from thy left side Let those Life-speaking Lips command That I inherit thy right hand 17. O hear a suppliant heart all crush't And crumbled into contrite dust My hope my fear my Judge my Friend Take charge of me and of my end The HYMN O Gloriosa Domina HAil most High most humble one Above the World below thy Son Whose blush the Moon beauteously marres And stains the timerous light of Stars He that made all things had not done Till he had made himself thy Son The whole World's host would be thy guest And board himself at thy rich Brest O boundless Hospitality The Feast of all things feeds on thee The first Eve Mother of our Fall E'r she bore any one slew all Of her unkind gift might we have The inheritance of a hasty Grave Quick buried in the wanton Tomb Of one forbidden bit Had not a better Fruit forbidden it Had not thy healthful womb The Worlds new Eastern window been And given us Heav'n again in giving him Thine was the Rosy Dawn that sprung the Day Which renders all the Stars she stole away Let then the aged World be wise and all Prove Nobly here unnatural 'T is gratitude to forget that other And call the Maiden Eve their Mother Ye redeem'd Nations far and Near Applaud your happy selves in her All you to whom this Love belongs And keep 't alive with lasting songs Let Hearts and Lips speak loud and say Hail door of Life and sourse of Day The Door was shut the Fountain seal'd Yet Light was seen and Life reveal'd The Fountain seal'd yet Life found way Glory to thee great Virgin 's son In bosom of thy Fathers bliss The same to thee sweet Spirit be done As ever shall be was and is Amen The Flaming Heart upon the Book and Picture of the Seraphical Saint Teresa as she is usually expressed with a Seraphim beside her WEll meaning Readers you that come as friends And catch the precious name this piece pretends Make not too much haste t' admire That fair-cheek't
mate T' embrace my Tears and kiss an unkind Fate Sure in my early woe Stars were at strife And try'd to make a Widow e'r a Wife Nor can I tell and this new Tears doth breed In what strange path my Lord 's fair footsteps bleed O knew I where he wander'd I should see Some solace in my sorrow's certainty I 'd send my woes in words should weep for me Who knows how powrful well-writ pray'rs would be Sending's too slow a word my self would fly Who knows my own heart's woes so well as I But how shall I steal hence Alexis thou Ah thou thy self alas has taught me how Love too that leads thee would lend thee the wings To bear me harmless through the hardest things And where Love lends the wing and leads the way What dangers can there be dare say me nay If I be shipwrackâ—…t Love shall teach to swim If drown'd sweet is the death indur'd for him The noted sea shall change his name with me I 'mongst the blest Stars a new name shall be And sure where Lovers make their watry Graves The weeping Mariner will augment the waves For who so hard but passing by that way Will take acquaintance of my woes and say Here 't was the Roman Maid found a hard fate While through the world she sought her wandring Mate Here perisht she poor heart Heav'ns be my vows As true to me as she was to her Spouse O live so rare a love live and in thee The too frail life of femal constancy Farewel and shine fair soul shine there above Firm in thy Crown as here fast in thy Love There thy lost fugitive thou hast found at last Be happy and for ever hold him fast The Second ELEGY THough all the Joys I had fled hence with thee Unkind yet are my Tears still true to me I 'm wedded o'r again since thou art gone Nor couldst thou cruel leave me quite alone Alexis's Widdow now is sorrow's wife With him shall I weep out my weary life Welcome my sad sweet Mate Now have I got At last a constant Love that leaves me not Firm he as thou art false nor need my crys Thus vex the Earth and tear the Skies For him alas ne'r shall I need to be Troublesome to the World thus as for thee For thee I talk to Trees with silent Groves Expostulate my woes and much-wrong'd loves Hills and relentless Rocks or if there be Things that in hardness more allude to thee To these I talk in Tears and tell my pain And answer too for them in Tears again How oft have I wept out the weary Sun My watry hour-Glass hath old time out-run O I am Learned grown poor Love and I Have studied over all Astrology I 'm perfect in Heav'ns state with every Star My skilful grief is grown familiar Rise fairest of those fires what e'r thou be Whose Rosie beam shall point my Sun to me Such as the Sacred Light that er'st did bring The Eastern Princes to their infant King O rise pure Lamp and lend thy Golden ray That wary Love at last may find his way The Third ELEGY RIch churlish Land that hid'st so long in thee My Treasures rich alas by robbing me Needs must my Miseries owe that man a spite Who e'r he be was the first wandring Knight O had he ne'r been at that cruel cost Nature's Virginity had ne'r been lost Seas had not been rebuk't by saucy Oars But lain lock't up safe in their sacred shores Men had not spurn'd at Mountains nor made wars With Rocks nor bold hands struck the World's strong bars Nor lost in too large bounds our little Rome Full sweetly with it self had dwelt at home My poor Alexis then in peaceful life Had under some low roof lov'd his plain wife But now ah me from where he has no foes He flies and into wilful exile goes Cruel return or tell the reason why Thy dearest Parents have deserv'd to dye And I what is my crime I cannot tell Unless it be a crime t' have lov'd too well If Heats of Holier Love and high Desire Make big thy fair Brest with immortal Fire What needs my virgin Lord fly thus from me Who only wish his virgin Wife to be Witness chaste Heav'ns no happier vows I know Then to a virgin Grave untouch't to goe Love's truest knot by Venus is not ty'd Nor do embraces only make a Bride The Queen of Angels and men chaste as you Was Maiden-Wife and Maiden-Mother too Cecilia Glory of her Name and Blood With happy gain her Maiden vows made good The lusty Bridegroom made appoach young man Take heed said she take heed Valerian My bosome Guard a Spirit great and strong Stands arm'd to shield me from all wanton wrong My Chastity is Sacred and my Sleep Wakeful her dear vows undefil'd to keep Pallas bears Arms forsooth and should there be No fortress built for true Virginity No gapâ—… Gorgon this none like the rest Of your learn'd Lyes here you 'l find no such jest I 'm yours O were my God my Christ so too I 'd know no name of Love on Earth but you He yields and straight Baptiz'd obtains the Grace To gaze on the fair souldier 's Glorious face Both mixt at last their Blood in one rich Bed Of Rosie Martydome twice Married O burn our Hymen bright in such high Flame Thy Torch terrestrial Love has here no name How sweet the mutual yoke of Man and Wife When Holy fires maintain Love's Heav'nly life But I so help me Heav'n my hopes to see When Thousands sought my Love lov'd none but Thee Still as their vain Tears my firm vows did try Alexis he alone is mine said I Half true alas half false proves that poor Line Alexis is alone but is not mine Description of a Religious House and condition of Life Out of BARCLAY NO roofs of Gold o'r riotous Tables shining Whole Days and Suns devour'd with endless Dining No Sails of Tyrian Silk proud pavements sweeping Nor ivory couches costlyer slumbers keeping False Lights of flâ—…iring Gemms tumultuous joys Halls full of flattering Men and frisking Boys Whate'r false shows of short and slippery good Mix the mad sons of Men in mutual blood But Walks and unshorn Woods and Souls just so Unforc't and genuine but not shady tho Our Lodgings hard and homely as our Fare That Chaste and Cheap as the few Clothes we wear Those course and negligent as the natural Locks Of these loose Groves rough as th' unpolisht Rocks A hasty portion of prescribed sleep Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep And Sing and Sigh and Work and Sleep again Still rowling a round Sphear of still-returning pain Hands full of hearty labours do much that more they may And work for work not wages let to morrows New drops wash off the sweat of this days sorrows A long and daily dying-dying-life which breaths A respiration of reviving deaths But neither are there those ignoble stings That nip the bosome
of the World 's best things And lash Earth-laboring souls No cruel guard of diligent cares that keep Crown'd woes awake as things too wise for sleep But Reverent Discipline and Religious Fear And soft obedience find sweet biding here Silence and sacred Rest Peace and pure joys Kind Loves keep house lie close and make no noise And room enough for Monarchs while none swels Beyond the Kingdoms of contentful Cels. The self-remembring Soul sweetly recovers Her kindred with the Stars not basely hovers Below but meditates her immortal way Home to the original source of Light and intellectual Day Deaths Lecture the Funeral of a young Gentleman DEar Reliques of a dislodg'd Soul whose lack Makes many a mourning Paper put on black O stay a while e'r thou draw in thy head And wind thy self up close in thy cold bed Stay but a little while until I call A summons worthy of thy Funeral Come then Youth Beauty and Blood All the soft pow'rs Whose Silken flatteries swell a few fond hours Into a false Eternity Come man Hyperbolized Nothing know thy span Take thine own measure here down down and bow Before thy self in thine Idea thou Huge emptiness contract thy self and shrink All thy wild Circle to a point O sink Lower and lower yet till thy lean size Call Heav'n to look on thee with narrow Eyes Lesser and lesser yet till thou begin To show a Face sit to confess thy Kin Thy Neighbourhood to Nothing Proud Looks and lofty Eye-lids here put on Your selves in your unfaign'd reflexion Here gallant Ladies this unpartial Glass Though you be painted shows you your true face These death-seal'd Lips are they dare give the lye To the loud boasts of poor Mortality These Curtain'd windows this retired Eye Out-stares the Lids of large-look't Tiranny This posture is the brave one this that lies Thus low stands up methinks thus and defie The World all-daring Dust and Ashes only you Of all interpreters read Nature true Temperance or the cheap Physitian upon the Translation of Lessius GOe now and with some daring drug Bait thy disease and whilst they tug Thou to maintain their pretious strife Spend the dear Treasures of thy life Goe take Physick doat upon Some big-nam'd Composition Th' Oraculous Doctors mystick Bills Certain hard Words made into Pills And what at last shal't gain by these Only a costlier disease That which makes us have no need Of Physick that 's Physick indeed Hark hither Reader wilt thou see Nature her own Physitian be Wilt see a man all his own wealth His own Musick his own Health A man whose sober soul can tell How to wear her Garments well Her Garments that upon her sit As Garments should do close and fit A well-cloth'd soul that 's not opprest Nor choak't with what she should be drest A soul-sheath'd in a Christal shrine Through which all her bright features shine As when a piece of wanton Lawn A thin aerial veil is drawn O'r beauties face seeming to hide More sweetly shows the blushing bride A soul whose intellectual beams No Mists do Mask no Lazy steams A happy soul that all the way To Heav'n rides in a Summers day Would'st see a man whose well-warm'd Blood Baths him in a genuine Flood A man whose tuned humours be A seat of rarest harmony Would'st see blith looks fresh Cheeks beguile Age wouldst see December smile Would'st see Nests of new Roses grow In a bed of reverend Snow Warm Thoughts free Spirits flattering Winter's self into a Spring In summe would'st see a man that can Live to be old and still a man Whose latest and most leaden hours Fall with soft wings stuck with soft flowers And when Life 's sweet Fable ends Soul and Body part like friends No quarrels murmurs no delay A kiss a Sigh and so away This rare one Reader wouldst thou see Hark hither and thy self be he FINIS