destroy'd his Congregation The Lord hath caus'd the solemne Feasts to cease And all her Sabbaths ah what little peace Can mourning Sion see in any thing When God despiseth both her Priest and King 7 The Lord hath quite refus'd his holy place Where the high Priest did offer to his Grace Their rich Oblations as they dayly do His Sanctuary he abhorreth too The strength and fortresse of the pleasant Land Is given up into the Enemies hand Who with unhallowed mouths make harmony As in the day of high solemnity 8 The Lord long since hath threatened to destroy The Land of Israel and eclipse her joy And now her earthly right she must resigne Againe to him that gave it for a Line Is streacht about our Borders and we doubt How long this Line of woe is measured out The earth laments the walls do seeke redresse The Land does mourne in woe and heavinesse 9 Her Gates are sunke her mighty Barres destroyd The Citie 's open how can we avoyd The fury of the Foe her Princes gone Among the Gentiles we are left alone The Law is blotted out and none can lend A word of comfort when our miseries end The Lord speakes not by vision not by dreame To tell a period of our dismall Theame 10 The Elders they whose knowledge could confute Great learned Oratours are still and mute They hide their heads in dust their aged eye Is taught to weep and sometimes wish to dye Their loyns in sackcloath they have guirded round And silently they mourne upon the ground The amorous Virgins mourn their cloaths are rent Their beauty is like sorrows monument 11 Oh how mine eyes are blinded with my teares Pumpt from my sorrowes I am big with feares My Liver 's powred out upon the ground For our Lands losse and Kingdomes deadly wound The tender Infants in the streets do lye Imploring bread a little to supply Their hungry soules but yet they with vain moanes At last do dye with oft repeated groanes 12 A little bread the hungry Children cry Most dearest mother ere we quickly dye The mother weeps as fast she faine would give Her life for food that so her Child may live But as the dying Souldiers heart doth pant Labouring for life even so the Infants faint For lack of food the pretty Infant he Sleepes with deaths Lullaby on his mothers knee 13 What need I call a witnesse for thy woe To what shall I compare thy sorrowes oh Most glorious Iudah who is like to thee Blasted so soone so soone in misery How shall I comfort thee O fairest Land Alas thy ruines are beyond the hand Of Art to limne or draw thy breaches be Like mighty surges in the unruly Sea 14 Thy Prophets did delude thee whilst that they With Lyes fore-told thee of a Sun-shine day Their lying lips would not declare thy Lust Nor tell thee Earthly Glory soone would rust Then might thy Times to prosp'rous State been turn'd Thy Land not ruin'd nor thy Citie burn'd But now 't is levell'd even by their Lies Destruction posted on false Prophesies 15 And as the foraine Traveller doth passe He shakes his head and sighes woe and alas His wondring eyes admiring at the Land Which once was glorify'd with Heav'ns high hand Is this the Citie then the Traveller cryes Whose fame invited all the Nations eyes To looke upon her beautie This the Towne Call'd Earths perfection and her high Renowne 16 Even thus the Lord hath done his will on us The face of Sion is most leperous Her hideous Crimes are in her fore-head read The Lord hath done what he determined For he hath turn'd her Regall Glory downe The Heathen sway the Scepter weare the Crowne Our Foes on Earth doe flourish they doe rise It prospers well with Sions Enemies 17 Why goest thou weeping then oh Sion why Art thou thus troubled heaven cannot lye Though thou thy selfe art false what he commands Is finisht by his unresisted hands Thy horrid sins first furrowed up his brow With angry frownes and there 's no pitty now Dwells in his royall bosome but the foe He makes to glory at thy overthrow 18 And now our sinking soules begin to call Unto the Lord oh batter'd ruin'd wall Of dismall Sion once like shining beames Of heavens glory Let teares run like streames Along thy lovely cheeks both day and night Take they no rest but let thy conscience fright Thy soule from slumber lest thy darkned eye Be lull'd asleep in sad securitie 19 Arise and cry the first approaching houre Of silent night and let thy floudgates powre Forth streams of brackish teares mixt with a groan Lift up thy hands before the lofty Throne Of high eternity for the famisht Child Whose Parent 's dead and so the Babes exil'd From their deare mothers armes their lingring breath Longeth and waiteth for a welcome death 20 Behold O Lord our God to whom to whom Hast thou sent forth this heavy sudden doome Oh whom hast thou thus lashed shall we eate Our dearest Children up for want of meate Those pretty new-born Babes whose harmlesse eye Nere knew a sin must such sweet Infants dye And are our Priests and Prophets mangled heare Oh that mine eyes were drowned in a teare 21 Oh that mine eyes with silent teares were drown'd The young and old lye groveling on the ground The warlike youngmen and the amorous face Of spotlesse Virgins death doth now displace And laies them in their monuments they bow Their weake mortallity to heavens fierce brow If these the ruines be of our sad day With flouds of teares I 'le weep my selfe away 22 Thou bring'st my foes about my naked wall Thou giv'st them cause to glory in my fall And they do doe it wherefore dost thou lay Woes to my soule as in a Solemne day Thy wrath was kindled few or none remaine To scape from killing it was counted vaine Those that I nourished with mine own Cup My raging Enemy hath swallowed up CONTEMPLATION II. THe lab'ring Watch is idle if the Spring Be not wound up and thus in ev'ry thing There is a Motion for the Soule doth trace The Lawes of Nature or the Rules of Grace Our hearts are cold and various like the Moone Each minute changing if the righteous Sunne Shine not upon us all the world may marke Our Motion standing and our Glory darke But when the high Creator shewes his face And clothes the Mortall with diviner Grace The brave Heroick heart aspires to shroud His Contemplation loftier then a Cloud What amorous beautie in the world can shine Like to the Graces of a Soule Divine No black Disaster here can ever maske That lovely Face no troubles stay her Taske No mists of miserie eclipse her motion Nor no delusion hinder her devotion The Soule is full of Raptures and her eyes Reacheth Eternitie above the Skyes Th' amorous Soule on Earth is wondrous coy Desiring nothing else but heavenly joy Yet can it be as this lamented story Makes evident that Heaven
and alas 'T is so indeed how came these things to passe Oh how mine eyes could send a floud of teares To wash this Paper while my deafened eares Are rouz'd with this allarum which is hurld By heavens appointment through the circled world But shall we thinke God is unjust in this To scourge his Children if they do amisse If the wide world had not some sufferings sure The lives of Nations would be too secure Yet heaven's not easily mov'd to send his Rod 'T was Israels sins offended Israels God But if the best of Saints so ill do fare Where shall the crue of damned Sinners share But in eternall darknesse whose black Tombe Shall scare the first but give the last their doome Go on then Sinners plunder kill and spoile Those harmelesse Lambes it is but for a while The time is wondrons short this Inch of time Thou mayst do much thy swelling heart may clime Unto the top of envy and it may Hazzard eternity in a short lived day Perhaps a yeare may finish up thy Course And then thou Son of Beliall death will force Thy soule to long eternity and thou must thither How will thy trembling knees then knock together When thou shalt know Death summons thee to dye With thoughts of torment in Eternity And last of all Is mourning Israels Land So soone subdued by heavens immediate hand Then let not England though the best of three Distempered Lands dreame of security The Nations who possest the aforesaid place Had greater measure of Celestiall grace And yet they were destroy'd can there be peace In Englands Borders unlesse sin doth cease Turne to thy God O England lest his hand Doth overturne the glory of the Land The black mouth'd Swearer he doth rend in sunder His Makers Name with Oaths like claps of thunder The proud mans scornefull eye does hate to see His beggered Neighbour falne in misery The lives of Harlots in their capring Schooles Are kept by young men Natures blinded Fooles The covetous muckworme he himselfe hath sold To live in service to the God of Gold A little after comes his Son and he Throwes all away in prodigality Wonder of wonders why 's not Englands glory As dim as Sion's made a bloudy Story For other Lands to read her downfall why Doth sin survive and yet not England dye Why is not London that was sometimes famous To the wide Universe now held as hainous As was poore Sion ah her sins abound Why dyed she not when she receiv'd a wound In the last fatall War why has this place So much of blessing and so little grace Why doth not fier range in every street Methinkes 'twere just that Sword and Famine meet While War did tumble all our Bulworkes down And strangers get the glory of the Crowne Indeed 't were just it should so while that we Are lull'd asleep in sad security The Prophet here laments his weeping eyes Are washt with teares because the miseries Of Sion was approaching often he Was bath'd in teares for their calamity But we so far from pittying of our Land Thus sunke in sin that with a mighty hand We adde unto her woe by sin and thinke The eye of heaven doth but sit and winke Oh glorious God who art that holy one Lovely in beauty whose most royall Throne Is borne by winged Cherubins most high Where mighty Angels praise thy Majestie What is this microcosmus what are we That thou O Lord shouldst take felicity In weake and feeble man whose borrowed breath Doth every minute journey to his death Why shouldst thou labour with this peece of earth Thus to protect him whose abortive birth Doth but begin his woe yet sleeps secure The Sun the Moone and Starres are too impure In thy most glorious eyes then what is man But a deserver of black Hellican Yet oh our God which art the King of Kings Lord of earths Territories our pleasant things Did all come downe from thee England did flourish When thy Almighty Arme so long did nourish And did so long protect us death and feare Were strangers to our Borders we were deare In thy beloved eyes but ah our woe Was our rebelion and our overthrow Is from our selves our blasted Land had been Counted earths Paradise but that for sin Yet Lord unite the Kingdomes let them be No more a Stage for that dull Tragedie We feare is yet to play Let it once cease And sound us now a harmony of peace One Act is past along oh let thy hand Give to the rest a powerfull countermand And let us now be lead by truth and love Those amorous Sisters which do dwell above And in the Lawes of love let Englands face Be drest with ornaments of blushing grace And then the last of our harmonious Sceanes Shall tell the world what 't is the Gospell meanes Those faithfull labourers in this Vineyard shall Advance the worke with hearts heroicall The Epilogue is joy which ends the Play The Church begins to see a happy day Her steps are lovely sorrowes have their date For love doth conquer envy governe hate CHAP. II. Verse 1. HOw soon is glory dimme the Lord doth shrowd The face of Sion with a darkened cloud His anger darkneth Iudahs borrowed light And her bright glory is as black as night Her beauty is deformed and that eye Where sat enthroned Princely Majesty It quite extinguish'd and the angry hand Or heaven hath spoyl'd the pleasant promis'd Land 2 The Lord hath mixed gall in Iudahs cup And in his fury he hath swallowed up The strength of Sion and her famous City Is turn'd to ashes for he had no pity Upon poore Sion all her holds are humble To his high hand her high battlements tumble To Prince and People folly is imputed And the proud Enemy has the Land polluted 3 The Lord hath cut Ierusalems strength and horne And all the treasure that did once adorne The royall Land of Israel's batter'd downe His countenance he masked with a frowne He hath withdrawne his warlike hand whereby The Campe of Israel made their Enemies flie But now his anger burneth round about The Land of Iacob who can put it out 4 And as an Archer bends his angry Bow To do some ruine suddenly even so He scattereth his Arrows which do vary His right hand threatneth as an Adversary And ev'ry thing on which the curious eye Did take a prospect did by Famine dye The house wherein they call'd upon his name Is levell'd even by a surious flame 5 What wrong can Mortalls do their fury high Is a weake blast but ah mine Enemy Is my offended Lord his wrathfull cup Is powred out and he hath swallowed up My Pallaces and holds are levelled he Hath brought my glory into misery He hath increast my sorrows oh mine eyes Pumpe flouds of teares with silent nightly cries 6 And as a flowred Garden barren made So is his Tabernacle quite decay'd And we are now even as a desolate Nation The Lord hath quite
teare bedewed eyes Laments and sighs the maidens Lover dyes And now poore Sion must her boddy dresse In darke in dismall mournfull heavines 5 Her thundring Foes are lofty they are high That are the Actors of her Tragedy Her Pride and Insolence first brought this Rod Nor is it more then just that Israels God Should sometimes lash his owne since their owne Crimes Spurr'd on their ruine to these dismall Times The Fathers sins have wrought the Childrens woe The Childrens griefe the Fathers overthrow 6 That lovely beauty which did often shine More glorious than the day with grace divine Those amorous glances once which had the art To blind the Lovers eye and steale his heart Are now deformed and the ashy hand Of death hath spoyl'd the glory of the Land The Royall Princes which possest the Throne Of Kingly Majesty are fled and gone 7 Now sad Jerusalem sits and calls to mind All her Rebellion Ah she was unkind To sin against her Lord who checked Kings For Sions sake and gave her pleasant things Had she but clave to him as he was just Shee had not laid her honour in the dust Nor been a scorne for fooles which sometimes say What gained Israell by the Sabbath day 8 And wonder not Jerusalem is so mockt Of all that hate her for her sins have rockt Her senses to a slumber none do show The sad approaching of her overthrow The lovely City now they much despise Who sometimes honoured her their lofty eyes Looke scornefull one her in her misery thus That face is loath'd that was so amorous 9 Her shame lies hid to none both foe and friend Yet she remembred not her latter end Therefore her fall was wondrous sudden oh Why went poore Sion slumbring to her woe And who shall comfort poore Jerusalem now O glorious God looke on my miseries thou Art alsufficient thou canst blow aside The hopes of Mortalls in their height of pride 10 And now the furious Foe hath stretcht his hand On her rich Ornaments and pleasant Land And ' cause he thought this not enough to do Thy Sanctuary is polluted too Although O Lord thou once didst give command That no false stranger in a forreigne Land Should dare to come with his unhallowed eyes Where thine Annointed offer Sacrifice 11 Ah me who shall relieve me with some bread Our hearts are faint with hunger feare and dread Hath fill'd my tottering soule where shall I flye That Famine finde me not and so I dye My Garments Jewels Bracelets and my Rings Houses and Vineyards all my pleasant things I give for bread unto the angry foe Thou seest O Lord our soules are wondrous low 12 Looke backe ye travellers O cast your eye Ye wandring strangers that are passing by If you have any pitty come and see If any Nation were so low as me What sorrow is like mine what sufferings can Compare with Sions that befalleth man While the displeasure of my angry God Sweeps off my glory with his lashing Rod 13 The burning fury of the high Jehove Makes faint my heart his jealousie above Prevailes against me and I sit in doubt How to get in his favour or how out Of his displeasure ah there is a net Spread for my feet a scorching furnace her To burne me from my drosse that I may be Refin'd from sin and Sathans Empery 14 All my transgressious as a heavy yoake Are fastened by his arme and every stroake Is laid upon my neck my heart is weake Since my accused soule those Lawes did breako Which I was bound to keep the Almighty hand Of Israels God hath wasted Israels Land My glory is departed and mine eyes Behold no meanes for ever to arise 15 Those mighty Warriers which did shelter round The Gates of Sion whose brave deeds redound To Israels glory and their Enemies wonder Lie bleeding on the ground and trodden under The Lord hath call'd a counsell to consound All Iudah's glory on the Crimson ground The bleeding bodies of the young men joyne He trod them under as they tread the Vine 16 For these things do I weepe mine eye mine eye Doth wash my Cheeckes oh what felicity Can sad Ierusalem have in these diasters nay Those that should comfort me arefar away My Land is desolate all my friends are laine In strong Captivity and my Children slaine My God hath left me to the Enemies power Ah who will caseme in this troubled houre 17 Now lovely Sion sits with silent moanes She would implore some help by her deep groanes Alas but there is none the furious Foe Desireth nothing but her overthrow The Lord hath lay'd a mighty siege about The Tents of Iacob and she sits in doubt Of her deliverance while her Foes deride And loath her Actions as a wanton Bride 18 And yet our God is just and righteous too Though sad Ierusalem knowes not what to do The Royall City dow does mourne because She oft rebell'd against his righteous Lawes Ye neighbouring Nations that Spectatours be That sometimes looke upon my Tragedy Behold my Virgins and my young men go To long Captivity and ling ring woe 19 My dearest lovers which should have reliev'd me As sometimes Lovers do they quite deceiv'd me The Priest and Elders both for hunger faile Their lookes are wan their countenance is pale Their bodies weake and giddy is their head Their strength does faile their wills for lack of bread They seeke for food and find their labour vaine Famine and Death doth in the Kingdome raigne 20 Yet O my Lord how do my bowells yearne For mourning Israel the Foes are stearne My bowels swell my heart is turned too With woe and griefe what shall poore Sion do How can Jerusalems sorrowes but possesse My troubled soule with woe and heavinesse At home the Famine reignes the people dye Abroad the Sword doth compleat misery 21 Ierusalem knowes I dayly fit and weep Ah had security nere lull'd asleep This glorious Nation earths admired prize We should not then have drencht our watry eyes In teares for Israels woe nor been so sad But now our Enemies skoffe our Foes are glad Our Nation once was high and glorious But now are poore Lord make our Enemies thus 22 Oh Lord let all their sins come up to thee And do to them as thou hast done to me Puffe all their glory out and let them dye Like to false joy in midst of miserie And let us be delivered by thy Will Though we have sin'd and oft done wondrous ill O heare my sighs do not forget my moanes My â—eart is faint with oft repeated groanes CONTEMPLATION ANd is it so hath Israels God forsaken The Tents of Jacob Is their Citie taken And all their young men slaine does the most high From his owne Israel turne back his eye Does he withdraw himselfe and let the Foe To glory in poore Israels overthrow Is Iudah spoyl'd and do the Enemies swell While their black Actions often prosper well Does sweet-fac'd Sion mourne woe