me feare no harme What strange disaster caus'd this sudden change How wert thou once so neare and now so strange ELEG 20. VAnquisht by such as thirsted for my life And brought my soule into a legall strife How oft hast thou just GOD maintain'd my cause And crost the sentence of their bloudie lawes Be still my God be still that GOD thou wert Looke on thy mercy not on my desert Be thou my Iudge betwixt my foes and me The Advocate betwixt my soule Thee 'Gainst thee great Lord their arme they have advanc'd And dealt that blow to thee that thus hath glanc'd Vpon my soule smite those that have smit thee And for thy sake discharge their spleene at me ELEG 21. WHat squint-ey'd scorne what flout what wry-mouth'd scoffe That sullen pride e're tooke acquaintance of Hath scap'd the furie of my Foemans tongue To doe my simple Innocencie wrong What day what houre nay what shorter season Hath kept my soule secure from the treason Of their corrupted counsels which dispensed Dayes nights and houres to conspire my end My sorrowes are their songs and as slight fables Fill up the silence of their wanton tables Looke downe just God with thy powre divine Behold my Foes They be thy Foes and mine ELEG 22. YEt sleeps thy vengeance Can thy lustice be So slow to them and yet so sharpe to me Dismount just Iudge from thy Tribunall Throne And pay thy Foemen the deserved lone Of their unjust designes Make fierce thy hand And scourge thou theÌ„ as they have scourg'd my laÌ„d Breake thou their Adamantine hearts pound theÌ„ To dust and with thy finall curse confound them Let horror seize their soules O may they bee The scorne of Nations that have scorned thee O may they live distrest and die bereaven Of earth delights and of the joyes of Heaven Threnodia IIII. ELEG 1. ALas what alterations Ah how strange Amazement flowes from such an uncouth change Ambitious Ruine could thy razing hand Finde ne're a subject but the Holy Land Thou sacrilegious Ruine to attempt The house of God! was not heavens house exempt From thy accursed Rape Ah me Behold Sion whose pavement of refulgent gold So lately did reflect so bright so pure How dimme how drossie now ah how obscure Her sacred stones lie scatter'd in the street For stumbling blocks before the Levites feet ELEG 2. BEhold her Princes whose victorious browes Fame oft had crowned with her Laurell bowes See how they hide their shame-confounded crests And hang their heads upon their fainting brests Behold her Captaines and brave men at armes Whose spirits fired at warres loud alarmes Like worried sheepe how flee they from the noise Of Drummes and startle at the Trumpets voice They faint and like amazed Lyons show Their fearefull heeles if Chaunticleere but crow How are the pillars Sion of thy state Transform'd toâ—lay and burnisht gold so late ELEG 3. CAn furious Dragons heare their helplesse broode Cry out and fill their hungry lips with food Hath Nature taught fierce Tygers to apply The brest unto their younglings empty cry Have savage beasts time place and natures helps To feed and foster up their idle whelpes And shall the tender Babes of Sion cry And pine for food and yet their mothers by Dragons and Tygers and all savage beasts Can feed their young but Sion hath no breasts Distressed Sion more unhappie farre Than Dragons savage Beasts or Tygers are ELEG 4. DEath thou pursuest if from death thou flee Or if thou turnst thy flight Death followes thee Thy staffe of life is broke for want of bread Thy City pines and halfe thy Land is dead The son t' his father weepes makes fruitlesse moane The father weepes upon his weeping sonne The brother cals upon his pined brother And both come crying to their hungry mother The empty Babe in stead of milke drawes downe His Nurses teares well mingled with his owne Nor chaÌ„ge of place nor time with help supplys thee Abroad the Sword famine at home destroyes thee ELEG 5. EXcesse and Surfet now have left thy coast The lavish Guest now wants his greedie Host No wanton Cooke prepares his poynant meate To teach a saciate palate how to eate Now â—acchus pines and shakes his feeble knees And pamp'red Envie lookes as plumpe as Hee 's Discolour'd Ceres that was once so faire Hath lost her beauty â—indg'd her golden haire Thy Princes mourne in rags asham'd t' infold Their leaden spirits in a case of gold From place to place thy Statesmen wandring are On every dung-hill lies a man of warre ELEG 6. FOule Sodome and incestuous Gomorrow Had my destruction but ne're my sorrow Vengeance had mercy there Her hand did send A sharpe beginning but a sudden end Iustice was milde and with her hastie flashes They fell and sweetly slept in peacefull Ashes They felt no rage of an insulting Foe Nor Famins piching furie as I doe They had no sacred Temple to defile Or if they had they would have helpt to spoile They dy'd but once but I poore wretched I Die many deaths and yet have more to die ELEG 7. GOld from the Mint Milke from the uberous Cow Was ne're so pure in substance nor in show As were my Nazarites whose inward graces Adorn'd the outward lustre of their faces Their faces robb'd the Lilly and the Rose Of red and white more faire more sweet then those Their bodies were the magazines of perfection Their skins vnblemisht were of pure complexion Through which their Saphire-colour'd veines descride The Azure beauty of their naked pride The flaming Carbuncle was not so bright Nor yet the rare discolour'd Chrysolite ELEG 8. HOw are my sacred Nazarites that were The blazing Planets of my glorious Sphaere Obscur'd and darkned in Afflictions cloud Astonisht at their owne disguize they shrowd Their foule transformed shapes in the dull shade Of sullen darknesse of themselves afraid See how the brother gazes on the brother And both affrighted start and flie each other Blacke as their Fates they cross the streets unkend The Sire his Son The friend disclaimes his frend They they that were the flowers of my Land Like withered Weeds and blasted Hemlocke stand ELEG 9. IMpetuous Famine Sister to the Sword Left hand of Death Childe of th' infernall Lord Thou Tort'rer of Mankind that with one stroake Subject'st the world to thy imperious yoake What pleasure tak'st thou in the tedious breath Of pined Mortals or their lingring death The Sword thy generous brother 's not so cruell He kills but once fights in a noble Duell But thou malicious Furie dost extend Thy spleene to all whose death can find no end Alas my haplesse weale can want no woe That feeles the rage of Sword and famine too ELEG 10. KInde is that death whose weapons do but kill But we are often slaine yet dying still Our torments are too gentle yet too rough They gripe too hard because not hard enough My people teare their trembling flesh for food
and the painfull prize Of their sweet labour in the hollow Chest Of the dead Lyon whose unbowell'd brest Became their plenteous storehouse where they laid The blest encrease of their laborious Trade The fleshly Hive was fill'd with curious Combes Within whose dainty waxe-divided roomes Were shops of honey whose delicious taste Did sweetly recompence th'adjourned haste Of lingring Samson who does now repay The time he borrow'd from his better way And with renewed speed and pleasure flies Where all his soule-delighting treasure lies He goes to Timnah where his heart doth finde A greater sweetnesse than he left behinde His hasty hands invites her gladder eyes To see and lips to taste that obvious prize His interrupted stay had lately tooke And as shee tasted his fixt eyes would looke Vpon her varnisht lips and there discover A sweeter sweetnesse to content a Lover And now the busie Virgins are preparing Their costly Iewels for the next dayes wearing Each lappe is sill'd with Flowers to compose The nuptiall Girland for the Brides faire browes The costâ—neglecting Cookes have now encreast Their pastry dainties to adorne the feast Each willing hand is labring to provide The needfull ornaments to deck the Bride But now the crafty Philistins for feare Lest Samsons strength which startled every eare With dread and wâ—nder under that pretence Should gaine the meanes to offer violence And through the shew of nuptiall devotion Should take advantages to breed commotion Or lest his popular power by coaction Or faire entreats may gather to his faction Some loose and discontented men of theirs And so betray them to supected feares They therefore to prevent ensuing harmes Gave strict command that thirty men of armes Vnder the maâ—ke of Bridemen should attend Vntill the nuptiall ceremonies end Meditat. 9. HOw high unutterable how profound Whose depth the line of knowledge cannot sound Are the deerces of the Eternall God! How secret are his wayes and how untrod By mans conceipt so deeply charg'd with doubt How are his Counsels past our finding out O how unscrutable are his designes How deepe and how unsearchable are the Mines Of his abundant Wisdome how obscure And his eternall Iudgements and how sure Lists he to strike the very Stones shall flie From their unmov'd Foundations and destroy Lists he to punish Things that have no sense Shall vindicate his Quarrell on th' Offence Lists he to send a plague The winters heate And summers damp shall make his will compleate Lists he to send the Sword Occasion brings New Iealousies betwixt the hearts of Kings Wills he a famine Heaven shall turne to brasse And earth to Iron till it come to passe Both stocks and stones and plants and beasts fulfil The secret Counsell of his sacred will Man onely wretched Man is disagreeing To doe that thing for which he had his being Samson must downe to Timnah in the way Must meet a Lyon whom his hands must slay The Lyons putrid Carkas must enclose A swarme of Bees and from the Bees arose A Riddle and that Riddle must be read And by the reading Choller must be bred And that must bring to passe Gods just designes Vpon the death of the false Philistines Behold the progresse and the royall Gests Of Heavens high vengeance how it never rests Till by appointed courses it fulfill The secret pleasure of his sacred will Great Savior of the world Thou Lambe of Sion That hides our sinnes That art the wounded Lyon O in thy dying body we have found A world of hony whence we may propound Such sacred Riddles as shall underneath Our feet subdue the power of Hell and Death Such Mysteries as none but he that plough'd With thy sweet Hayfer's able to uncloud Such sacred Mysteries whose eternall praise Shall make both Angels and Archangels raise Their louder voyces and in triumph sing All Glory and Honour to our highest King And to the Lambe that sits upon the throne Worthy of power and praise is he alone Whose glory hath advanc'd our key of mirth Glory to God on high and peace on Earth THE ARGVMENT The Bridegroome at his nuptiall Feast to the Philistians doth propound A Riddle which they all addrest themselves in counsell to expound Sect. 10. NOw when the glory of the next dayes light Had chas'd the shadowes of the tedious night 〈◊〉 coupling Hymen with his nuptiall bands 〈◊〉 gâ—lden Fetters had conjoyn'd their hands 〈◊〉 jolly welcome had to every Guest â—â—pos'd the bounty of the mariage Feast 〈◊〉 now appeased stomacks did enlarge 〈◊〉 captive tongues with power to discharge 〈◊〉 quit their Table-duty and disburse 〈◊〉 store of enterchangeable discourse 〈◊〉 â—â—genious Bridegroome turn'd his rolling eyes 〈◊〉 his guard of Bridemen and applies â—â—â—peech to them And whil'st that every man 〈◊〉 his attentive eare he thus began My tâ—ngue's in labour and my thoughts abound 〈◊〉 a doubtfull Riddle to propound 〈◊〉 if your joyned wisdomes can discover 〈◊〉 our seven dayes feasting be past over 〈◊〉 thirty Sheets and thirty new supplies â—â—â—â—â—â—ment shall be your deserved prize 〈◊〉 be seven dayes feast shall be dissolv'd 〈◊〉 darkned Riddle be resolv'd Ye shall be all engaged to resigne The like to me the vict'rie being mine So said the Bridemen whose exchanged eyes Found secret hopes of conquest thus replies Propound thy Riddle Let thy tongue dispatch Her cloudy errand We accept the match With that the hopefull Challenger convai'd His Riddle to their hearkning eares and said The Riddle Our food in plenty doth proceed from him that us'd to eate And he whose custome was to feed does now afford as meate A thing that I did lately meet as I did passe along Afforded me a dainty sweet yet was both sharpe and strong The doubtful Riddle being thus propounded They muse the more they mus'd the more coÌ„founded One rounds his whispring neighbour in the eare Whose lab'ring lips deny him leave to heare Another trusting rather to his owne Conceit sits musing by himselfe alone Here two are closely whispring till a third Comes in nor to the purpose speakes a word There sits two more and they cannot agree How rich the clothes how fine the Sheets must be Yonder stands one that musing smiles no doubt But he is neere it if not found it out To whom another rudely rushes in And puts him quite beside his thought agin 〈◊〉 three are Whispring and a fourths intrusion Spoiles all and puts them all into confusion â—â—re sits another in a Chaire so deepe 〈◊〉 thought that he is nodding fast asleepe The more their busie fancie doe endever The more they erre Now farther off than ever 〈◊〉 when their wits spur'd on with sharpe desire Had lost their breath and now began to tire They ceas'd to tempt conceit beyond her strength And weary of their thoughts their thoughts at length Present a new exploit Craft must supply Defects of wit Their hopes must now rely Vpon the frailty of the tender Bride She must be mov'd Perswasions may attaine If not
And froÌ„ their ragged wounds they suck forth blood The father dies and leaves his pined Coarse T' inrich his Heire with meat The hungry Nurse Broyles her starv'd suckling on the hastie coales Devoures one halfe and hides the rest in holes O Tyrant Famine that compell'st the Mother To kill one hungry Childe to feed another ELEG 11. LAment O sad Ierusalem lament O weepe if all thy teares be yet unspent Weepe wasted Iudâ—h let no drop be kept Vnshed let not one teare be left unwept For angry heaven hath nothing left undone To bring thy ruines to perfection No curse no plague the fierce Almighty hath Kept backe to summe the totall of his wrath Thy Citie burnes thy Sion is dispoyld Thy Wives are ravisht and thy Maides defil'd Famine at home the Sword abroad destroyes thee Thou cry'st to heav'n heav'n his â—are denies thee ELEG 12. MAy thy dull senses O unhappy Nation Possest with nothing now but desolation Collect their scatter'd forces and behold Thy novell fortunes ballanc'd with the old Couldst thou ô could thy prosp'rous heart coÌ„ceive That mortall powre or art of State could reive Thy ' illustrious Empire of her sacred glory And make her ruines the Threnâ—dian story Of these sad times and ages yet to be Envie could pine but never hope to see Thy buildings crusht and all that glory ended Which Man so fortifyde and Heav'n defended ELEG 13. NE're had the splendor of thy bright renowne Beene thus extinguisht ludah Thy fast Crowne Had ne're beene spurn'd from thy Imperiall brow Plenty had nurs'd thy soule thy peacefull plough Had fill'd thy fruitfull Quarters with encrease Hadst thou but knowne thy selfe and loved peace But thou hast broke that sacred truce concluded Betwixt thy God and thee vainly deluded Thy selfe with thine own strength with deadly feud Thy furious Priests and Prophets have pursude The mourning Saints of Sion and did sâ—ay All such as were more just more pure then they ELEG 14. O How the Priests of Sion whose pure light Should shine to such as grope in Errors night And blaze like Lampâ— before the darkned eye Of Ignorance to raise up those that lie In dull despaire and guide those feet that strey Ay me How blinde how darke how dull are they Fierce rage fury drives them through the street And like to mad men stabbe at all they meet They weare the purple Livery of Death And live themselves by drawing others breath Say wasted Sion could Revenge behold So foule an acted Scene as this and hold ELEG 15. PRophets and sacred Priests whose tongues whilere Did often whisper in th'Eternalls eare Disclos'd his Oracles found ready passage Twixt God and Man to carry heavens Embassage Are now the subjects of deserved scorne Of God forsaken and of man forlorne Accursed Gentiles are asham'd to know What Sions Priests are not asham'd to doe They see and blush and blushing flee away Fearing to touch things so defil'd as they They hate the filth of their abomination And chace them forth from their new conquer'd nation ELEG 16. QVite banisht from the joyes of earth and smiles Of heaven and deeply buried in her spoiles Poore Iudah lies unpitied disrespected Exil'd the World of God of Man rejected Like blasted eares among the fruitfull wheat She roames disperst and hath no certaine seat Her servile neck 's subjected to the yoake Of bondage open to th' impartiall stroake Of conquering Gentiles whose afflicting hand Smites every nooke of her disguised Land Of Youth respectlesse nor regarding Yeeres Nor Sex nor Tribe like scourging Prince Peers ELEG 17. REnt and deposed from Imperiall state â—y heavens high hand on heaven we must await To him that struck our sorrowes must appeale Where heaven hath smitâ— no hand of man can heale In vaine our wounds expected mans reliefe For disappointed hopes renew a griefe Aegypt opprest us in our fathers loynes What hope 's in Aegypt Nay if Aegypt joynes Her force with Iudah our united powres Could nere prevaile 'gainst such a foe as our's Aegypt that once did feele heavens scourge for grieving His flock would now refinde it for reliving ELEG 18. SO the quick-sented Beagles in a view O're hill and dale the fleeing Chase pursue As swift-foot Death and Ruine follow me That flees afraid yet knowes not where to flee Flee to the fields There with the sword I meet And like a Watch Death stands in every street No covert hides from death no Shade no Cells So darke wherein not Death and Horror dwells Our dayes are numbred and our number 's done The empty Houre-glasse of our glorie 's run Our sins are summ'd and so extreame 's the score That heauen could not doe lesse nor hell do more ELEG 19. TO what a downfall are our fortunes come Subjected to the suffrance of a doome Whose lingring torments Hell could not conspire More sharp than which hell needs no other fire How nimble are our Foemen to betray Our soules Eagles are not so swift as they Where shall we flee Or where shall sorrow finde A place for harbour Ah what prosp'rous winde Will lend a gale whose bounty ne're shall cease Till we be landed on the I le of peace My foes more fierce than empty Lions are For hungry Lions woo'd with teares will spare ELEG 20. VSurping Gentiles rudely have engrost Into their hands those fortunes we have lost Devoure the fruits that purer hands did plant Are plump and pampred with that bread we want And what is worse than death a Tyrant treads Vpon our Throne Pagans adorne their heads With our lost crowns their powers have dis-jointed The Members of our State and Heavens Anointed Their hands have crusht ravisht from his throne And made a Slave for Slaves to tread upon Needs must that flock be scattred and accurst where wolves have dar'd to seize the Shepherd first ELEG 21. WAxe fat with laughing Edom with glad eies Behold the fulnesse of our miseries Triumph thou Type of Antichrist and feed Thy soule with joy to see thy brothers â—eed Ruin'd and rent and rooted from the earth Make haste and solace thee with early mirth But there 's a time shall teachâ—thee how to weepe As many teares as I thy lips as deepe Shall drinke in sorrowes Cup as mine have done Till then cheere up thy spirits and laugh on Offended Iustice often strikes by turnes Edom â—eware for thy next neighbour burnes ELEG 22. YE drooping sonnes of Sion O arise And shut the flood-gates of your flowing eyes Surcease your sorrowes and your joyes attend For heaven hath spoke it and your griefes â—â—al end Beleeve it Sion seeke no curious signe And wait heav'ns pleasure as heav'n waited thine And thou triumphing Edâ—m that dost lye In beds of Roses thou whose prosp'rous eye Did smile to see the Gates of Sion fall Shalt be subjected to the selfe-fame thrall Sion that weepes shall smile and Edoms eye That smiles so fast as fast shall shortly cry The Prophet Ieremie his
Prayer for the distressed people of Ierusalem and Sion GReat God before whose all-discerning eye The secret corners of mans heart doe lye As open as his actions which no Clowd Of secresie can shade no shade can shrowd Behold the Teares O hearken to the Cryes Of thy poore Sion Wipe her weeping eyes Binde up her bleeding wounds ô thou that art The best Chirurgeon for a broken heart See how the barb'rous Gentiles have intruded Into the Land of promise and excluded Those rightfull Owners from their just possessions That wander now full laden with oppressions Our Fathers ah their savage hands have slaine Whose deaths our Widdow-mothers weepe in vaine Our Springs whose Christall plenty once disburst Their bounteous favours to quench every thirst Our liberall Woods whose palsie-shaken tops To every stranger bow'd their yeelding lops Are sold to us that have no price to pay But sweat and toyle the sorrowes of the day Oppressors trample on our servile necks We never cease to groane nor they to vexe Famine and Dearth haue taught our hands t' extend To Ashur and our feeble knees to bend To churlish Pharoe Want of bread compells Thy servants to begge Almes of Infidels Our wretched Fathers sinn'd and yet they sleepe In peace and have left us their sonnes to weepe We we extracted from their sinfull loynes Are guilty of their sinnes Their Ossa joynes To our high Pelion Ah! their crimes doe stand More firmly ' entailed to us than our Land We are the slaves of servants and the scorne Of slaves of all forsaken and forlorne Hunger hath forc'd us to acquire our food With deepest danger of our dearest blood Our skins are wrinckled and the fruitlesse ploughs Of want have fallow'd up our barren browes Within that Sion which thy hands did build Our Wives were ravisht and our Maids defil'd Our savage Foe extends his barb'rous rage To all not sparing Sexe nor Youth nor Age They hang our Princes on the shamefull trees Of death respect no Persons no Degrees Our Elders are despised whose gray hayres Are but the Index of their doting yeares Our flowring youth are forced to fulfill Their painfull taskes in the laborious Mill Our children faint beneath their loads and cry Opprest with burdens under which they lie Sages are banisht foâ—â— Iudiciall Courts And youth takes no delight in youthfull sports Our joyes are gone and promise no returning Our pleasure 's turnd to paine our mirth to mourning Our hand hath lost her sword Our Head his Crowne Our Church her glory our Weale her high renowne Lord we have sinn'd and these our sins have brought This world of griefe O purchase dearely bought From hence our sorrowes and from hence our feares Proceed for this our eyes are blinde with teares But that aye that which my poore heart doth count Her sharpest torture is thy sacred Mount Sacred Mount Sion Sion that divine Seat of thy glory 's raz'd her tender Vine Laden with swelling Clusters is destroy'd And Foxes now what once thy Lambs enjoy'd But thou O thou eternall God whose Throne Is permanent whose glory 's ever one Vnapt for Change abiding still the same Though Earth consume Heaven dissolve her frame Why dost thou ah why dost thou thus absent Thy glorious face Oh wherefore hast thou rent Thy Mercy from us O! when wilt thou be Atton'd to them that have no trust but Thee Restore us Lord and let our soules possesse Our wonted peace O let thy Hand redresse Our wasted fortunes Let thine Eye behold Thy scattered Flock and drive them to their Fold Canst thou reject that people which thy Hand Hath chose and planted in the promis'd Land O thou the Spring of mercy wilt thou send No ease to our Afflictions no end The end AN ALPHABET OF ELEGIES VPON The much and truly lamented death of that famous for Learning Pietie and true Friendship Doctor AILMER A great favourer and fast friend to the Muses and late Arch-deacon of LONDON Imprinted in his Heart that ever loves his Memorie Written by FRA QVARLES Cum privilegio Amoris Doloris Dignum laude virum Musa vetat morâ— READERS GIve me leave to performe a necessary duty which my affection owes to the blesâ—ed memory of that reverend Prelate my much â—onoured Friend Doctor Ailmer Hee was one whose life and death made as full and perfect a Story of worth and goodnesse as earth would suffer and whose pregnant vertues deserve as faithfull a Register as earth can keepe In whose happy remembrance I have here â—â—usted these Elegies to Time and your favours Had he bin a Lampe to light me alone my priâ—ate griefes had beene sufficient but being a Sunne whose beames reflected on all all have 〈◊〉 interest in his memory To which end I recommend these memorialls to the publike in testimony of my undissembled affection and true pietie that I owe to so great an example of Vertue and Learning F. Q. FVNERALL ELEGIES ELEG 1. All you whose eies would learn to weepe draw neere And heare what none without full teares and hear Come marble eyes as marble as your hearts I 'le teach you how to weepe a teare in parts And you false eyes that never yet let fall A teare in earnest come and now ye shall Send forth salt fountaines of the truest griefe That ever sought to Language for reliefe But you you tender eyes that cannot beare An Elegie wept forth without a teare I warne you hence or at the most passe by Lest while you stay you soone dissolve and dye ELEG 2. BVt stay sad Genius How doe griefes transport Thy exil'd senses Is there no resort To forkt Parnassus sacred Mount No word No thought of Helicon No Muse implor'd I did invoke but there was none reply'd The nine were silent since Mâ—â—aenas dy'd They have forsaken their old Spring 't is said They haunt a new one which their tears have made Should I molest them with my losse 'T is knowne They finde enough to re-lament their owne I crave no ayde no Deity to infuse New matter Ah True sorrow needs no Muse. ELEG 3. CAll back bright Phoebus your sky-wandring steeds Your day is tedious and our sorrow needs No Sun When our sad soules have lost their light Why should our eyes not finde perpetuall night Goe to the nether world and let your rayes Shine there Bestow on them our share of dayes But say not Why lest when report shall show Such cause of griefe they fall a grieving too And pray the absence of your restlesse wayne Which then must be return'd on us againe Deare Phoebus graunt my suit if thou denie 't My teares shall blinde me and so make a night ELEG 4. DEath art thou growne so nice can nothing please Thy curious palate but such Cates as these Or hath thy ravenous stomach beene o'represt With common diet at thy last great feast 1625 Or hast thou fed so neere that there is none Now left but delicates to feed upon Or was this dish so