But for this Face the Work had clearely gone For old smooth Qvarles himself and not his Sonne Who sighing how KINGS fell and Subjects rose Scornes to mis-spend one single Teare in Prose This Book 's his shadowe Hee 's his Fathers Shade QVARLES is a Poet as well Borne as Made T M W. Marshall Fecit FONS LACHRYMARUM OR A Fountayne of TEARES London Printed for Nathaniel Brookes and sold at his shop at the Angel in Corn-hill Fons Lachrymarum OR A FOUNTAIN OF TEARS From whence doth flow Englands Complaint Jeremiah's Lamentations PARAPHRAS'D WITH Divine Meditations AND AN ELEGY Upon that Son of Valor Sir CHARLS LVCAS Written by JOHN QUARLES London Printed for Nathaniel Brooks at the Angel in Cornhill 1649. TO THE illustrious Prince CHARLS PRINCE of WALES Sir IF the Current of my affections force me against the Rocks of presumption J humbly crave the assistance of Your gracious pardon The extent of my ambition is to prostitute at Your Highnesses feet the first fruits of an Orchard which J planted in Flaunders during the time of my banishment and now have brought them into England to be press'd for growing in a strange Country J confess the fruit is green and sowre and cannot ripen till it feel the Sun-shine of Your Princely eye nor sweeten till Your approbation shall be pleased to afford them a liking and that liking honor them with a free acceptance There is nothing that can make me esteem my self unhappy but that the severity of these times will not permit me to tender Your Highness that service which my heart is ambitious to perform and my duty binds me to acknowledg J have nothing that J can stile my own but a fidelious heart which shall always pray for Your prosperity and that Your successes may like waves ride in one upon the back of another and that at last You may like the Sunne break through the Clouds of Opposition and once more shine in your proper Hemisphere Heaven season Your Royal Heart with the Principles of Wisdom and grant that You may not Hide Your Counsels in the Bosoms of them that honour You with their Lips when their Hearts are far from You. These are the serious and fervent Prayers of him that desires to live no longer then he is willing to devote himself to Your Highnesses Commands and is Your Highnesses most obliged Servant JOHN QUARLES TO THE READER Kind Reader I Here present to thy view a Fountain from which doth flow Complaints Lamentations and Meditations three Necessaries for these Times Never were Complaints more frequent then they are in this age of obduracy and oppression Nor Lamentations more requisite then in these Lachrymable Times Nor Meditations more commendable then in these days of uncertainty Reader I shall desire thee to pass by the errors of the Press which are now too late to correct Had not the perversness of these times debarred me from coming to the Press the Printers Mistakes had not been so numerous For my own part I have nothing to boast of but this that I am confident the judicious Reader will pardon the weakness of my endeavors and know that the tallest Cedars were but twigs at first Reader Farewel TO My dear Friend the AVTHOR THe Son begins to rise the Father 's set Heav'n took away one light and pleas'd to let Another rise Quarles thy Light 's divine And it shall teach Darkness it self to shine Each word revives thy Fathers name his art Is well imprinted in thy noble heart I 've read thy pleasing lines wherein I find The rare Endeavors of a modest mind Proceed as well as thou hast well begun That we may see the Father by the Son R.L. TO My much esteemed Friend the AVTHOR On his Book intituled Fons Lachrymarum THou prov'st Prophetick in thy doleful Muse Whilst it the Prophets mournful tears renews Yet e're thy tears be spent may England stand In her first glory rais'd by Charls his hand Then may each drop to add unto her grace Turn solid pearl and beautifie her face There whilest in native brightness fix'd they be Their radiant lustre shall reflect on thee Rich. Quiney Englands Complaint EXperience tells us those that are in pain Need neither Act nor Ord'naence to complain Griefs have their priviledg whose passions break All Laws and Losers claim a power to speak If passion be too rude Reader excuse Grief knows no manners sorrow needs no Muse But stay my hasty quill forbear I know Thou art too young too tender yet to go Without a guide a guide that may direct Thy staggering feet A guide that may protect Thy Infant years Do not too much endeavor A fall at first will make thee lame for ever Invoke the Nine and if they do deny To give thee ayd complain to Mercury Tell him thou art a babe and dost desire To warm thy genius by the Muses fire Where are Apollo's off-springs are they ty'd In sorrows chains e're since Mecaenas dy'd Or are their Helleconian waters spent Or do they stay t' expect a Complement I wonder what they mean to be thus slow In former times they 'd run they 'l now scarce go My heedless Muse dost thou not understand They 're all distracted and dispers'd the Land Only Melpomene who now appears Like Nioby a monument of tears Knowst thou not this rash Muse then how canst thou Implore a help from them that know not how To help themselves Nay Pegasus is made A poor Dragoon his friends are all betraid Though all distracted and thus routed be Yet helpless Muse there 's Heav'n to succour thee Then hear me Heaven O hear me now I sue Th' art my Apollo be Mecaenas too And great Conductor of my Soul inspire My frozen heart with thy celestial fire Light thou my Candle O then I shall see By thy own light how to discover thee Inflame my frozen senses with thy Spirit That I may learn to live and live t' inherit The glory of thy Kingdom and to rest Where joys are greater then can be exprest And so go on but stay rash quill and know What 't is to be engag'd before you go Too far Be careful these bad times unless Your rash adventure want a good success Be wary what you do these are no times To please fond fancies with lascivious Rhymes Be circumspect Let every word you write Be Truth and then let every word invite A tear each tear a sigh that every Eye That reads may melt into an Elegie And curs'd be that dull eye that will not lend A tear or two to see poor England spend Weeks months years in sighs in sobs in groans In tears in pray'rs and wilt not move the stones Vollies of tears discharged from her eyes Shake Heaven and Earth and penetrate the skies With sad coÌ„plainâ— heav'n mourns at her condition And weeps down showrs of tears at her Petiâ—ion Then rouze ye Britains from your flattering sleep Hear Englands groans thus she begins to
still fear the Rod Of his Correction yet appear I must Sure sure he 's merciful as well as just Cheer up dejected Soul and thou shalt see His mercy's greater then thy sins can be MEDITAT. 9. Can Heav'n forget himself or can he say That thing o're night he cannot do next day Can friends forget their children or deny Their dearest blood or can a mountain fly Heav'n says he 'l be a Father till the end Then he 's a fool that doubts so true a friend MEDITAT. 10. A friend indeed but how can I expect To purchase friendship by my own neglect For ah how often hath Heav'n pleas'd to say Ye that are heavy loaden come away And I will give you ease Alas but I Thought sin no burthen neither thought to dye MEDITAT. 11. But now I see the frailty of my mind I thought I was imprison'd when confin'd Only one hour to goodness nay that hour I thought a year until I had the power To free my self when freed I had forgot What goodness was as though I 'd heard it not MEDITAT. 12. And should I strive to reckon up my sins How can he make an end that still begins The sands upon the Seas nay and the hair Upon my head are Cyphers in compare Of my excessive sins yet Heav'n can call Me as he did the spend-thrift Prodigal MEDITAT. 13. I know my sins are great and do increase Within my Sion and disturb my Peace O what am I dear Heav'n I am thy creature My sins are great but yet thy mercy 's greater Pardon blest Heav'n forgive what I have done Thou art my Father own me as thy Son MEDITAT. 14. It is a happiness to scorn the mirth Of this confused transitory Earth And he who is ambitious to create A happiness must make the world his hate Then if self-love appear we know for what We love our selves in truly hating that MEDITAT. 15. Life is the lifes preparative and Death The deprivation of unconstant breath A well directed life shall always find Society in Death a glorious mind Shall have a glorious a celestial friend To guard his glory to a glorious end MEDITAT. 16. But can a mind enammel'd with the glory Of Heav'n have end or else is Death a story Death is the end of Life and yet we see Life is deriv'd from Deaths soveraigntie 'T is quickly known the Death of Sin must give The para'ned Soul a priviledg to live MEDITAT. 17. Heav'n is the seat of Happiness and Hell The place of fury where the Furies dwell Then mount my Soul upon the spreading wings Of lofty Faith fly towards the King of Kings Whilest here thou shalt inhabit learn to know That Heav'n's too high for them that fly too low MEDITAT. 18. I am but sordid earth that 's dayly plow'd With grief and care and sorrows hourly croud Into my weak dominions and remain Like greedy Tenants thirsting after gain My eyes are always open to behold New woes for I am form'd in sorrows mould MEDITAT. 19. I am a reeling Pinnace and I sail From Port to Port sometimes a humble gale Salutes my spreading sails and by and by The waves contemning my prosperity Spit in my face being hurried by their tydes They seem to crawl into my sweating sides MEDITAT. 20. I am a clouded day I promise rain Sometimes I 'm stormy and then clear again Sometimes the Sun of Pence begins t' appear But cannot shine in sorrows Hemisphere Saddest of thoughts needs must he be distrest That finds unconstant weather in his brest MEDITAT. 21. I am a vapor having not the power T' endure the fervor of one shining hour Vapors cannot withstand a mid-days heat Afflictions must be hot where sins are great 'T is not unlike a misty morning may Oft-times prove usher to a glorious day MEDITAT. 22. I am a trembling reed and every day The wind and I are subject to a fray I 'm bruis'd and shall be broken if some hand Sustain me not I shall forget to stand But stay my Soul and hear Jehovah speak I vow the bruised reed I will not break MEDITAT. 23. I am but earth corrupted with my deeds Which are but like unprofitable weeds My soil is rank and barren and it bears No grain at all no not so much as tears Wouldst thou increase my Soul I 'le teach thee how Sow but the seeds of Faith God speeds the plow MEDITAT. 24. Despair not when affliction plows the ground Doubt not increases if the seed be found Heav'n loves a fruitful harvest and his hand Is always active to manure the Land He takes the chiefest care the greatest pains He crowns the work 't is we that reap the gains MEDITAT. 25. Man's like a house whose outward beauty may Yield pleasure to the eye If we survey The inward rooms there we may find enough Of untrim'd natures sluttish houshold-stuff Wouldst thou be fair within O man and neat Turn but thy inside out thou 'lt be compleat MEDITAT. 26. Do greedy Ravens hunger do they cry For food and are they fed and must not I I beg I crave and yet am hungry still I pine I starve and Ravens have their fill I know great God I have offended thee Because thou seed'st the Ravens and not me MEDITAT. 27. Do Lillies flourish do they still remain Neatly adorn'd and yet they take no pain They neither spin nor card they take no care And yet they 're cloth'd and I poor I go bare I know great God I have offended thee Because thou cloth'st the Lillies and not me MEDITAT. 28. Why am I thus tormented with the Rod Of my afflictions Hath my angry God Forgot his creature Shall I never have A little ease but be affliction 's slave Forbear my grumbling Soul cheer up and be Mindful of him and he 'l remember thee MEDITAT. 29. And why does Heav'n afflict me but because He 'l make me know my self and learn his Laws Then why am I disquieted If he Intends my good shall I prove enemie Unto my self My Soul take care be still Vnless he turns that good into an ill MEDITAT. 30. Then learn my soul when Heav'n afflicts to know 'T is for thy sins he does it and to show The greatness of his mercy and to make Thee love affliction for the Afflictors sake Be wise and provident and thou shalt see 'T was good for David 't will be good for thee MEDITAT. 31. If thou wilt learn my Soul how to endure With patience thy afflictions be thou sure That when the hand of angry Heav'n shall smite Thou dost not grumble like the Israelite Strive thou for patience heav'n wil teach thee how To bear affliction with a cheerful brow MEDITAT. 32. What though the waves of thy afflictions rise And rage abundantly lift up thy eyes And cry to Heav'n let patience calm thy mind And know that purest gold must be refin'd And when affliction brings thee to the brink Of death remember Peter did not sink MEDITAT.
Throne Thus we Fond men expand our own infirmitie And thus our spend-thrift eyes profusely flow In lavish tears for him whose Soul we know Is far more happy then we can express Why do we then lament his happiness Then go sad Genius and advise all such That grieve to grieve because they grievd so much For him who Heav'n hath lately made a stranger To grief who rests above the reach of danger There let him rest in a most glorious sleep And if weak Nature urgeth us to weep Let 's weep nay weep indeed until our eyes Blinded with weeping weep for new supplies Let 's weep for sin let troops of sighs attend Our hasty tydes to their long journeys end Oh let 's deplore our most unhappy state Betimes for fear lest time-devouring fate Blocks up the narrow passage of our breath And so surprize us with a sudden Death And ah how soon the shadow-flying days Of man consumes how soon the troubled blaze Of his frail life expires and ah how soon He finds a night before he thinks 't is noon And how the pleasures of this sordid Earth Shadow his senses with a glimmering mirth And what 's this world 't is but a glass wherein Nothing appears but Heav'n-confronting sin Alas its painted beauty represents Nothing but folly crown'd with discontents There 's nothing here that truly may be stil'd A happiness here 's nothing but 's defil'd Alas alas in what a sad condition Is dust-composed man what expedition He daily makes to gain those things which gain'd Gnaw him like vipers thus are mortals stain'd And blur'd with vanities and thus they spend Their winged hours as if they could not end Fond Earths-consuming trash hath so combin'd Their hearts to worldly pleasures that they mind Nothing but profit basely gain'd which shall Mount them up here but after let them fall But where 's that man whose Soul contrives to be Imparadis'd and crown'd with dignitie With Hallelujahs Angels which controul The Family of Heav'n who still inroul In their sublimer thoughts how great how just Their Maker is before whose throne all must Appear with spotless Souls and fly from hence With downy wings of Dove-like innocence But stay my quill have I thus soon forgot My bosom friend as if I lov'd him not No no though he be dead he cannot dye Death cannot drive him from my memory Where he shall rest till time shall recommend My friend-bereaved Soul unto my friend For whilest he liv'd my sympathizing heart Was truly his and truly bore a part In what he suffer'd Ah but now he 's fled And left me here to say my friend is dead Poor soul and why poor soul rash tongue call back That fond abortive word how can he lack That dayly feeds upon delicious dyet In Heav'ns great store house and knows no disquiet This was an Error that my hasty quill Too rashly stept into against my will I hope 't is venial Reason may afford A pardon for a grief-relapsed word When passion rules the fancy men become Vainly Pragmatick or extreamly dumb But why rash death why didst thou send thy dart To take possession of his willing heart And gave no longer warning was there none Could please thy pallate only him alone 'T was quickly ended and as soon begun Believe me death 't was but unfriendly done But why do I fond man expostulate With thee that art an all-consuming fate Th' ast done a happy deed I dare not blame Thy power because I know from whence it came Shall I because he was my friend repine At his departure was he Heav'ns or mine I yield him Heav'ns not mine but yet I might Claim him as finite Heav'n as infinite He was but lent me for a time that I And others by his life might learn to dye Whilest he enjoy'd the fulness of his breath His life was a preparative for death His whole delight and study was to pry Into the bosom of Divinity From whence he suck'd such wholesom streams that those Which heard him gave a plaudit to his close His dayly practice was how to fulfil And prosecute his great Redeemers will Heav'n was his Meditation and he gave A reverent respect unto his grave Faith Hope and Charity did sweetly rest Within the Counsel-chamber of his brest And in a word the graces did agree To make one happy Soul and this was he As for his moral duties they were such That should I strive I could not speak too much His civil carriage towards all men might claim A perfect right to a beloved name His actions were so just that they may tell He liv'd uprightly and he dy'd as well His love his sweet society might call Ten thousand tears t' attend his funeral And to conclude in him all men might find A real heart and a most noble mind But now he 's gone his winged Soul 's aspir'd To Heav'ns high Palace where he sits attir'd With glorious immortality and sings Melodious Anthems to the King of Kings There there his melting Soul ravish'd to see The Sun-bright throne of splendent Majestie Adores his wel-pleas'd maker who makes known He 's pleas'd to crown and keep him for his own Oh there he rests free from the rubs of Earth Hugging no shadow but a real mirth Oh there 's no grief no sorrow found to vex His peaceful Soul no trouble to perplex Or blast his new-bred joys there is no woe No care no pain no misery no foe That dare presume to interrupt him all Must stand aloof and not appear nor shall Incroaching bold-fac'd grief nor pale-fac'd spight Dare interpose t' eclipse one blaze of light Oh there methink I hear him sweetly sing Grave where 's thy power Oh Death where 's thy sting Methinks I hear his warbling tongue declare How good his works how great his wonders are Methinks I see a great united Band Of glitt'ring Angels how prepar'd they stand To welcom him Methinks I hear them say March on blest Soul thou need'st not doubt the way Oh glorious sight In what triumphing state They guard his Soul to Heav'ns refulgent gate Where when he comes disrob'd of all his sin The gates fly open and his Soul flies in Methinks my ravish'd ears are fill'd and blest With such harmonious raptures and possest With such varieties that even I Were sin absolved would resolve to dye Methinks I hear within Heav'ns Ecchoing Grove The quavering Angels chant as if they strove T' excel themselves Methinks that every breath Is a sweet Invitation unto death But oh what rare or what profound invention Beatifi'd with a strong apprehension Can sound the depth of those delights which he Shall swim and bathe in to Eternitie There rest dear Soul having thus conquer'd fate Thy pleasures never shall expire their date There there the Alpha of thy joys shall never Know an Omega but be blest for ever With Alpha and Omega who shall crown Thy throne-approaching Soul with true renown Whilest we confused mortals here below Gulp up the dregs of sorrow and bestow Curses in stead of prayers upon each other And dayly labour to confuse and smother Our serene happiness and turn those joys Which Heav'n allow'd us to neglected toys And thus our deviating Souls befool Themselves and practise in the common School Of Errors Thus erroneously we bend Our flexive minds to folly and commend Non-sence for wisdom Reason being dead Repose my Muse discretion calls to bed FINIS
express Their grief Ah Sion's fill'd with bitterness Her chiefest people are her chiefest foes Just Heav'n with these innumerable woes Plagues her transgressions and the enemy Drives her dear Children to Captivity And that rare beauty which adorn'd and grac'd Sions dear daughter is of late defac'd Her Princes fly and ransack all about Like hungry Harts to finde a pasture out They all are fled and flying can procure No strength t' oppose the merciless pursuer But when Jerusalem was thus confin'd T' afflictions lawless bounds she call'd to minde Her by past pleasures and those days which she For now her crying sins are grown so great That Heav'n hath thrown her from his mercies seat All those that lov'd her yea and highly priz'd her Seeing her shameful nakedness despis'd her She sighs turns her back as though she 'd borrow A private breath t' express a publique sorrow For being fill'd with wickedness Her end She never thought of neither had she friend To comfort her O Lord my God behold My great afflictions Ah my foe grows bold And magnifies himself His stretch'd-out hand Hath spoyld the pleasures of my fruitful Land The very Heathen whom thou didst deny Thy Congregation do contemn defie Thy just commands and with unseemly paces Inforce an entrance to thy holy places Her bread-desiring people fill'd with grief Give their chief treasures for a small relief Behold O Lord consider my distress For I am vile and fill'd with wickedness Oh stop your hasty feet ye that pass by And look upon my new-bred misery Sum up the totals of all grief then borrow A million more 'T is nothing to that sorrow Which I support wherewith the angry power Hath pleas'd t' afflict me in His wrathful hour For he from his all-ruling throne hath sent Into my bones a fiery Government Yea and his ever-active hand hath set And I am desolate and fainting lie Being turn'd from him am turn'd to misery Fast to my servile neck He hath bound on The wreathed yoke of my transgression Impair'd my strength and by His just commands I 'm thrown into my persecutors hands Where I remorsless I must still remain Voyd of all hope to be enlarg'd again His unresisted strength hath broke the bones And made a footstool of my Mighty Ones A great Assembly He hath call'd that may Punish my youngmen that will not obey And Judahs fairest Virgin Daughter 's trod As in a winepress by th' Almighty God And O these sorrows O these miseries Stir up a tempest in my clouded eyes Mine eyes mine eyes run o're I dayly spend More tears then any brain can apprehend My foes prevail my children all are led Into Captivity my hopes are fled Sion spreads forth her feeble arms t' express She seeks for comfort but is comfortless The Lord of hoasts commands that Jacobs eyes Shall round about him see his enemies And poor despis'd distrest Jerusalem Is as a menstruous woman amongst them My God is just yet I rebellious I Transgrest against his glorious Majesty O hear my people let your ears but borrow A minutes time from Time to hear my sorrow My Virgins and my young men all are fled Into Captivity my Priests are dead My Friends refuse to hear me when I call For want of food my hungry Elders fall O Lord behold see how I am opprest My heart thumps at the portals of my brest Oh I have sinned and my sins indite me Abroad the Sword at home grim Death affrights me My friends have heard my groaning and my grief Is known to them But I know no relief My foes with clamorous voyces fill the Earth And make my grief the subject of their mirth But Heav'n hath nam'd a day when these my foes Shall be Co-partners in my mock'd at woes O God let not their faults be hid from thee But deal with them as thou hast dealt with me My heart is faint my struggling sighs are many My griefs too great to be exprest by any Meditatio in Capitulum IF thou wouldst know my Soul what harâ—s attend A sinners progress to his journeys end Here here thou mayst if with impartial eyes Thou wilt observe the unsatiate miseries Of poor Jerusalem whose tedious groans Whose sighs and sobs and tears the world bemoans Observe her heedless steps and thou shalt know Sin was the Author of her self-will'd Wo. 'T was sweet at first but sowre in th' event That little word assumes a large extent Where Sin predominates there we may find The inconvenience of a troubl'd mind For when the mind 's perplex'd then we begin Either to fall to or to fall from Sin For like the restless Sea she 's active still And always agitating good or ill If well imploy'd she builds a wall about The Soul to keep approaching dangers out But if she spends her thriftless hours in Evil She makes a banquet to invite the Devil Who with his subtle and misguiding force Will re-invite her to a second course And then let Christians judg how much disquiet That Soul sustains that loves the Devils dyet Ah then my Soul if thou desir'st to be Exempted from the lot of miserie Make Heav'n thy refuge there thou mayst be sure To find contentment and repose secure Thou needst not fear there is no poys'nous thing Can wound that Soul that truly loves his King Nor all the malice mortals can invent Shall add to thee one mite of discontent There is no sorrow no calamity T' oppress thy thoughts No wry-look'd enemy T' upbraid thy actions then my Soul advise How much it profits to be heav'nly wise Ah had Jerusalem whose grief no pen Can e're engrave into the hearts of men Been wisely wary she had never known Those late reap'd sorrows which her sins had sown Had she but search'd her bosom and contriv'd Her actions well her glory had surviv'd Had she with Davids tears in time repented Those uncorrected sins her heart lamented She had not felt those judgments which did wait Vpon the ruines of her falling State But whilst her eyes were muffl'd and deluded Folly came in where Reason was excluded Needs must that Kingdom unto ruine run Where Folly sets and rises with the Sun Like as the body that 's oppress'd with grief Can neither hope for nor obtain relief Till the disease be known there 's none can tell The rage of sickness that was always well Even so Jerusalem because that she Judg'd not the Reason of her Miserie Till she was past recovery could never Have health restor'd her but was sick for ever Alas alas that Kingdom needs must fall That has a grief so Epidemical Had she but like the Ninevites in time Stop'd those distemp'ring humors which did climb Above her strength her grief had quickly ended And Heav'n revok'd those judgments he intended Med'cines are vain things when apply'd too late And through delay a grief grows desperate He that is Sin-sick is in bad condition Except Heav'n please to be his Souls
the splendor of this glorious Sun See how he wrastles with the gloomy clouds Of our transgressions See how he unshrouds Himself On see what pains he undergoes To prove himself our friend that were his foes Methinks I hear a throng of people cry Let Barabbas be freed let 's crucifie This Jewish King let 's lead him to his death 'T is pity he should draw a minutes breath Methinks I see how his weak hands are bound With twisted cords Methinks I see him crown'd with sharpned thorns Methinks I see them how They worship him with a dissembled bow Methinks I see the gazing people run To see the glorious setting of this Sun Methinks I see his gentle feet divide Their measur'd paces to be crucify'd Methinks I see how his delightful face Seems to receive an honor by disgrace Methinks I see how his Heav'n-fixed eyes Do overlook his raging enemies Methinks I see his spear-inviting brest Willingly ready to receive the rest Of their intended malice How his palms Like one that gives and not receives an alms Are spread abroad which truly verifies With what a chearful willingness he dyes Methinks I see how his connexed feet Salute the Cross as if they joy'd to meet With so so fast a friend Methinks I see With what a Heav'n-infus'd reluctancie He entertains their blows as if he found A lively comfort in each deadly wound Methinks I see his bubbling veins how they Swell up a little and then shrink away And hide themselves as if they had exprest For the departure of so warm a guest A secret grief till conquering death exil'd Life from the body of that Lamb that Child That Son of God in whom true joys reside Who lives by dying and by living dy'd Quis miserior quà m qui suam nescit miseriam DO I not dayly see that nothing can Be so unstable as the state of man Do I not see how fortune can correct Misfortune and as suddenly neglect Poor helpless man Sometimes his thoughts are crown'd With golden joys and sometimes kiss the ground Somtimes he 's fil'd with laughter somtims weeps Sometimes he walks in state and somtimes creeps A morning joy proves sometimes grief at night For fortunes dyal goes not always right 'T is vain 't is vain and ah that I could weep My self into a deluge and so steep My cheeks in tears Oh that I could imbark My naked Soul and swim like Noah's Ark In that grand Ocean which my flowing eyes Have made and overlook my miseries Distemp'red thoughts why do you thus torment My yeelding Soul why does my Soul relent Why am I thus afflicted why doth sorrow Take an advantage of my Soul and borrow Quotidian plagues and study how to make My heart its Theater How shall I shake These coupling fetters from my captiv'd heart How shall I bid adue to grief and part Where shall I run and labor to unsnare My breasts inhabitant Oh how or where Shall I retire my self In what sad place Shall I deplore my miserable case Could I but find a place where I might dwell And only see the Sun I 'd bid farewel To all false pleasures For now my Soul still hovers to and fro From places to place sometimes it flies too low Sometimes with more aspiring wings it flies And envies at impossibilities Then back again and with a seeming mirth Surveys the center of this flattering Earth And thus my Soul being left in this sad being Agrees in nothing else but disagreeing My ways are pav'd with thorns I take my diet From sorrows table furnish'd with disquiet I am the principle of grief my eyes Like windows open to all miseries My head 's a fountain and from thence doth flow The headlong rivers of unbridled woe My sighs like sudden storms disturb my rest As if I had a Boreas in my brest Needs must I be molested in my dreams My heart 's the receptacle of all streams Then blame me not if sorrow makes me cry Sum all misfortune up and that am I But stay my thoughts post not away too fast Extreams are dangerous and cannot last A sudden thought hath made me to confess I may be happy in unhappiness And what 's a thought 't is but a sudden puff Yet many may confound when one's enough Come let 's repose and make a little stay Our Sun 's sufficient to adorn a day Why should I wander in the darksom shades Of my own errors whilest a grief invades My naked senses 'T is in vain to strive Against the power of God who can contrive What pleases him Why shall I then repine At what he sends Can wretched I confine His will to mine Oh no He suffers well Whose suffrings tell him there 's no other Hell But in this world Who would not then endure Terrestrial torment that he may procure Celestial pleasures Sorrow brings no loss To him whose patience can sustain a cross Hereafter I will labor to prevent A little Sorrow by a great Content Surgit post nubila Phoebus WHen gloomy clouds surround the lofty skie It is an argument a storm is nigh But when the Sun 's eclipsed from our sight We must not judg an everlasting night Will then ensue 'T is danger to distrust A God that is so merciful so just The greatest sin that Satan can declare Against a guilty Soul is sad despair What though the clouds of Earth shall interpose Betwixt a Soul and Heaven the wind blows Not always in one place one happy hour May breed a calm and qualifie a showre Some greedy Lawyers when their Clyents stoek Is almost spent rewards him with a mock The Counsellor of Heav'n gives more content To a poor sinner when his breath is spent Accepts the will although his tongue be mute He seldom keeps him seven years in a suite He 's free in mercy and he takes delight To end a suite when sorrow makes it right God is not like to them that take a pride In others griefs when tears begin to slide His mercy falls he cannot brook delay But meets a sinners language half the way His ears are always open to let in A sinners prayers when he lets out his sin What thogh I have transgrest what tho my crime Appear like mountains mountains oftentimes Sink lower nay and God can pardon all As well as one for be they great or small They all are sins shrubs grow as well as trees Gods mercy will admit of no degrees He that distrusts his God shall always find A clouded conscience and a stormy mind Seven days had run before God had attyr'd The World with order yet he was not tyr'd And shall we then expect to climb so high As Heav'n in half an hour or else deny So blest a labour No perhaps to day We keep the road to morrow lose the way Contenta vita est summa foelicitas WHat is this world A looking-glass wherein We see the body nay the face of Sin What 's Wealth what 's Honor
was 't not a shameful strife To send a Death after a promis'd Life If this be Mercy Heav'n protect us all From such a Mercy so tyrannical If this be Justice may such Justice have A Hell to act in or at least a Cave What had he acted that could contradict The Laws of Justice Search and be as strict As policy can make you all ye can Impute was this he was a valiant man Who lov'd his King and undertooke to play A noble Game wherein his honor lay At stake what would you have a Gamester do Should he surrender up a game to you Without contending Such a high-bred shame Had left a blur within his spotless name I tremble at my thoughts I cannot hold My quill must run ye can but term me bold As ye are tyrannous In former times Boldness in truths were pardonable crimes How could ye chuse but tremble when ye nam'd His death whom honor and the world had fam'd Such deeds as these we needs must discommend Y 'ave murther'd your own honors and our friend How could ye chuse but blush to see him stand Undaunted at your tragical command How could ye chuse but fly when he was fled T' imbrace his death and dye when he was dead How could your will-obeying slaves let fly A bullet at his brest and they not dye Why dy'd they not when as they went about To make those holes whereat his Soul flew out Mars frown'd when he observ'd what ye had done And perpetrated on his dearest Son And thus declares If any mortal shall Dare to intitle or presume to call Such Rabshecha's his Sons that they shall be All voted Traytors to his Majestie The Muses they complain and are agreed To vindicate his death and ever feed Upon his virtues and will never more Smile on your actions but will still deplore Their lost-love Lucas and the Earth shall ring With Ecchoes of his praise that lov'd his King Apollo weeps and says ye have forgot To cherish virtue or ye love it not And to the world he 'l fully make it known In his destruction ye have overthrown Your home-bred honors Now my Muse retire And gather breath 't is wisdom to enquire Which way to take our progress we must know Whither to go as well as how to go The paths of death are darksom and we may Plead an excuse if we have gone astray Errors in grief are incident to all That truly solemnize a funeral But stay my quill 't is not my task to crave Excuses but to treat upon a grave A grave within whose sullen bosom lies A Jem contemn'd by those that could not prize So rare a piece within whom was repos'd Virtue and honor for he was compos'd Of both Kind Reader know that Lucas had A Magazin of worth his Soul was clad With robes of innocency and his heart So sworn to honor that it could not start From noble Exercises though attended With troops of dangers dangers that portended A thousand deaths his wisdom could descry Both life and death with a contented eye Life was his Jewel yet he did not prize That life at such a rate as to despise A noble Death he labor'd to express To both a very equal willingness He knew his life was lent him to maintain The rights of Majesty and to regain Those just prerogatives which do belong To CHARLS who patiently sustains the wrong His Soul was undivided and could never Ramble from Loyalty his whole endeavor Was to advance that Cause wherein he stood Engag'd and dy'd it with his crimson blood Since thus he liv'd since thus he dy'd oh then Let 's imitate so good a life and when We hear the sad relation of his Death Let 's learn to dye Let them that live by breath Examine his brave actions and they 'l find He had a rare militia in his mind But stoutest Lions are at last o'rethrown By Natures Laws for Nature needs must own Her principles our earthen vessels must At last dissolve and turn themselves to dust Live we a thousand years we do but run In debt to Nature and when those days are done We are but mortal subject to decay And youth and age must go the self-same way Reader as often as report shall send Unto thy ears the death of any friend Wonder not that he 's dead that 's too much wrong But rather wonder that he liv'd so long For Life 's but like a Canâ—le every wind May puff it out and leave a snuff behind But whither runs my pen Does sorrow mean To make of this an everlasting scean Lucas made Sorrow lovely Death a pleasure And Life a trifle Misery a treasure And now let no audacious tongue deny That he taught Death to live and Life to dye Now gentle Soul go take thy sweet repose In Heav'ns eternal bed where none but those Shall sleep that in their life-times study'd how To dye there rest dear Soul I 'le leave thee now My heart begins to quake that word has bred A palsie in my hand and grief has spred A vail upon my Senses and Confusion Steps in and leads me to a sad Conclusion Shall I begin or end I know not whether Oh that I could begin and end together Begin what 's that but to renew a grief To end what 's that but to implore relief What shall I do when as I strive to end I still forget to do what I intend When I begin methinks I am content Never to end Distraction is th' event Of Sorrow Reader pardon this last error For I began with grief and end with terror AN EPITAPH Come gentle eyes and take a view Here rests a Jewel was as true As Truth it self see how he lies Renown'd and crown'd a Sacrifice Lay your hands upon your hearts Each eye must weep before it parts Sigh and sob let each sigh call Love to attend his Funeral Vnderstand that this was he Conquer'd Death and Tyrannie And when your eyes begin to run Say ye 'ave gaz'd upon a Sun AN ELEGIE Upon the Death of my dear Friend Mr ROBERT REASON Who quitted this life the 13. NOVEMBER 1646. Sic voluêre Fata By J.Q. AH whence proceed those swelling floods that rise Like restles waves froÌ„ my tempestuous eys The surges beat provok'd by stormy passion My weather-beaten senses out of fashion But ah forbear distemp'ring grief surcease Those storms which rage against the shore of peace Forbear superfluous blasts be not too brief To dash my Soul against the rocks of grief But stop a time sad Genius here 's a stile Invites a rest Let 's meditate a while Can tears express a perfect grief Or can Excess of language re-inlarge a man From Death-benumming shades Can blubber'd eyes Invite him back Can integrating cries Enforce a life in spight of death Can all The doleful sighings in this world recall Revolted breath Oh no 'T is therefore vain To think that tears can call him back again From Heav'ns immortalizing