hand that strikes the kayes O Lord from me the sweetest musicke raise If thou don't strike at all how can I speake Thy worthy prayses if too hard I breake Strike mildly Lord strike soft and then I le sing And charoll out the glory of my King A Meditation on an Apes love WHen once the foolish Ape hath fild her nest With little brats there 's one among the rest Shee most affects to shelter this from harmes Shee alwayes hugges it in her wanton armes Vntill at length shee squeezeth out the breath Of this her fondling Loves the cause of death The Worlds this wanton Ape that still delights In hugging some peculiar favourites Of those that are thus dandled by this Ape There doth not one among a thousand scape On contempt of the World A Loft O Soule soare up doe not turmoyle Thy selfe by grabbling on a dunghill soyle Tosse up thy wings and make thy soaring plumes Outreach the loathsome stench and noysome fumes That spring from sordid earth come come and see Thy birth and learne to know thy pedigree What wast thou made of Clay or dost thou owe Homage to earth say is thy blisse below Dost know thy beauty dost thou not excell Can the Creation yeeld a parallel The world can't give a glasse to represent Thy shape and shall a durty element Bewitch thee thinke is not thy birth most high Blowne from the mouth of all the trinity The breath of all-creating Iove the best Of all his workes yea thee of all the rest He chose to be his Picture where can I But in thy selfe see Immortality 'Mong all his earthly creatures Thou art chiefe Of all his workes and shall the world turne theefe And steale away thy love wert not for thee The heav'n aspiring mountaine should not bee The heavens should have no glistring starre no light No Sunne to rule the day no Moone the night The Globe had bin 'twas not the makers will To make it for it selfe a Chaos still Thou art Ioves priestly Aaron to present The creatures service while they give assent By serving thee why then 's the world thy rest 'T is but thy servants servant at the best It gives attendance to refined mire That Iove hath wrapt thee in as thy attire For what 's the body but a lumpe of clay Carv'd neatly out in which the soule beares sway T is servant to the soule what limbe can stirre Nay darst to quatch if once shee make demurre See how the captiv'd members trembling stand Wondrous submissive to her dire command O how the legs doe runne with eager flight To overtake the object of delight See how the armes doe graspe as if they 'd rent To hold the thing that gives the soule content Why what 's the body when the soule 's away Nought but a stincking carkasse made of clay What 's heav'n without a God or what 's the skye If once bright Phoebus close his radiant eye The world was for our bodies they for none But for our soules our soules for God alone What madnesse then for men of such a birth To nuzell all their dayes on dunghill earth Still hunting after with an eager sent An object which can never give content For what contentment in the world can lye That 's onely constant in inconstancy It ebbes and flowes each minuie thou maist brag This day of thousands and to morrow bâ—g The greatest wealth is subject for to reele The globe is plac'd on Fortunes tottering wheele As when the gladding sunne begins to show And scatter all his golden beames below A churlish cloud soone meetes him in the way And sads the beauty of the smiling day Or as a stately ship a while behaves Her selfe most bravely on the slumbring waves And like a Swanne sailes nimbly in her pride The helpefull windes concording with the tide To mend her pace but by and by the wind The fretfull Seas the heav'ns and all combin'd Against this bragging barke O how they fling Her corkey sides to heaven and then they bring Her backe shee that ere while did sayle so brave Cutting the floods now 's tost with every wave Iust so the waving world gives joy and sorrow This day a Croesus and a Iob to morrow How often have I seene the miser blesse Himselfe in wealth and count it for no lesse Then his adored God straight comes a frowne Flying from unhappy fate and whirleth downe Him and his heapes of gold and all that prize Is lost which he but now did Idolize But grant the world as never 't will to be A thing most sure most full of constancy What is thy wealth unlesse thy God doth blesse Thy store and turne it to a happinesse What though thy Table be compleatly spread With farre-fetcht dainties and the purest bread That fruitfull earth can yeeld all this may bee If thou no stomacke hast what 's all to thee What though thy habitation should excell In beauty and were Edens parallel Thou being pesterd with some dire disease How can thy stately dwelling give thee ease Thy joyes will turne thy griefe thy freedome thrall Vnlesse thy God above doth sweeten all When thou poore soule liest ready to depart And hear'st thy Conscience snarling at thine heart Though heapes of gold should in thy coffers lye And all thy worthlesse friends stand whining by 'T is none 't is none of these can give thee health But thou must languish in the midst of wealth Then cease thou mad man and pursue no more The world and know shee 's but a painted whore Thou catchest shadowes labourst in thy dreames And thirst's amongst th' imaginary streames A Meditation on a meane LOrd in excesse I see there often lies Great dangers and in wants great miseries Send me a meane doe thou my wayes preserve For I may surfet Lord as well as starve On Sathans tempting Eve ARt thou turn'd Fencer Sathan prethee say Surely thou art not active at thy play Challenge a Woman fie thou art to blame Suppose thou getst the day thou getst no fame But prethee speake hast any cause to prate Thou bruis'd her heele what though shee broke thy pate On a Spunge THe Spunge it selfe drinkes water till it swell it But never empties till some strength expell it Lord of our selves we 're apt to soake in sinne But thou art faine to squeeze it out agin A Meditation on a chime of Bells HArke what harmonious Musicke fils mine eare What pleasant raptures yet me thinkes I heare Each Bell that 's rung to beare a various sound Had all one note how quickely t would confound The tune a discord in the bels arise And yet they disagreeing sympathize T is not the greatest makes the sweetest noyse No but the skilfull Ringer still imployes The small as well as great t is every bell Together rung that makes them sound so well Thus t is in Common-weale if every man Kept time and place proportiond to him than How sweetly would our musicke sound t would
whore I will deride Her and her pride For Christ is this and more What though insinuating pleasure Preferres me to her chiefest treasure And every day and every night Doth feede me with a new delight And slumbers me with lullaby Dandling me on her whorish thigh What though with her sublime pretences Shee strives t' imprison all my senses Yet shee shant be A trap to me Her freedome is but thrall Her greatest coy Will but annoy Till Christ doth sweeten all Or what though profit with her Charmes Grasping the world within her armes Vnlades her selfe and bids me see What paines shee takes and all for me And then invites me to her bower Filling my coffers every houre What though shee thus inlarge my store With every day a thousand more Yet let her packe And turne her backe Her purest gold 's but drosse Her greatest paines Produce no gaines Till Christ come all is losse Or what though Fortune should present Her high Olympicke regiment And never my Ambition checke But still be pliant to my becke What though she lends me wings to flie Vnto the top of Dignity And make proud Monarches with her wheele Vncrowne their heads to Crowne my heele I le not depend On such a friend T is Christ is all my stay Shee can revoke The highest spoke Her wheeles turnd every day Let none of these in me take place Fond Venus hath a Vulcans face And so till heaven be pleasd to smile Poore earth sits barren all the while The world that 's apt to winne a foole It is my burden not my stoole Nor pleasure shall enchant my mind Shee s smooth before but stings behind I will disdaine Their greatest gaine And fortun 's but a feather T is none of these Can give me ease But Christ's the same for ever Lord why hidest thou thy face from me WHat drowsie weather 's this the angry skies Doe threaten stormes and heav'n it selfe denies Her lovely visage ah these darkned dayes Doe make my vitals drowsie and decayes My soules delight good God can I controule Or drive these pensive humours from my soule Ah no I can't my lively spirits keepe Such drowsie weather 's fit for nought but sleepe O thou eternall light that hast the sway In Ioves broad wals thou scepter of the day Thou heav'ns bright torch thou glistring worlds bright eye Why dost thou hide and so obscurely lye Come wrap thy selfe in thy compleate attire Shew forth thy glory make my soule admire Thy splendor come and doe no longer stay But with thy glorious beames bestrow my way Extirpe these foggy mists from out mine eyes That I may plainly see where heaven lyes Then I le awake sweete Christ doe thou display Thy glittering beames send out a Summers day I 'le rub my slumbring eyes O then I 'le roame A life-time journey from my native home The soule will sleepe and can't hold up her eyes Vntill the sunne of righteousnesse arise Christs Resurrection COme Rise my heart thy Master 's risen Why slug'st thou in thy grave Dost thou not know he broke the prison Thou art no more a slave He rowled of the sealed stone That once so pondrous lay And left the watchmen all alone And bravely scapt away When flesh the world and Satan too Wont suffer thee to quatch Learne of thy Master what to doe And cozen all the watch Let not these clogging earthly things Make thee poore soule forsake him Goe ask of Faith she 'le lend thee wings Haste fly and overtake him But harke my soule I 'le tell thee where Thy Master sits in state Goe knocke at heavens dore for there He entred in of late If Peter now had kept the key Thou mightst get in with ease But Iustice onely beares the sway And le ts in whom shee please Shee 's wondrous sterne and suffers not A passenger to enter Without thy Masters ticket got Thou mayst not touch her Center But come my soule let me advise What needst thou to implore The Saints for ayde I know where lies For thee a private doore Dost not remember since the pride Of base perfidious men Did thrust thy Master through the side Wert not thou wounded then When Iustice is so sterne that thou Vnto a straight art driven Come hearke and I will tell thee now Creepe through that wound to heaven Sanctificat O My head alas my bones O my wounded joynts doe smart Flesh ere while as hard as stones Now it akes in every part Lord 't is thy Art All thy Iudgements could not scare Me nor make my soule to fly Now one angry looke can reare Me and make me pensive lye In misery Lord there where I tooke my rise There did I begin to reele Surfetted in Paradise And there I got a bruised heele Which now I feele Surely my disease was great Sicke and yet I felt no paine Hungry yet I could not eate Sore yet could I not complaine Yet all was gaine For good God thy care was such That thou gavest me much reliefe Yea thou lendedst me a Crutch And didst make me know my griefe Lord thou art chiefe Thou hast made the rocke to weepe And my stony heart to groane Thou hast rais'd me from my sleepe And dost smile to heare my tone And lov'st my mone But what need'st thou lend a Crutch Thou canst make me perfect whole Thou canst heale me with a touch By this thou know'st a woman stole Cure for her dole When leave I this halting pace When shall I most perfect be When thou shalt my glistring face In the land of glory see Lord perfect me A Meditation on a Mans shadow WHen as the Sunne flings downe his richest rayes And with his shining beames adornes my wayes See how my shadow trackes me where I goe I stop that stops I walke and that doth so I runne with winged flight and still I spye My waiting shadow runne as fast as I. But when a sable cloud doth disaray The Sunne and robs me of my smiling day My shadow leaves me helpelesse all alone And when I most neede comfort I have none Iust so it is let him that hath the hight Of outward pompe expect a parasite If thou art great thy honours will draw nigh These are the shadowes to prosperity O how the worldlings make pursuite to thee With cap in hand and with a bended knee But if disastrous fate should come betwixt Thee and thy Sunne thy splendor's all eclipst Thy friends forsake thee and thy shadow 's gone And thou poore sunne-lesse thou art left alone This is thy Soules estate the worldly gaine And greatest pompe in stormy times are vaine They are but shadowes when distresse comes nigh They are as nothing to a faithfull eye Yet here 's my comfort Lord if I can see My shadow I must needes a substance be O let me not with worldly shadowes clogge My selfe grant me more wit then Esops dogge A Meditation on Childrens rashnesse WHen Mothers are desirous for to play The
DIVINE RAPTVRES OR PIETY IN POESIE Digested Into a Queint Diversity of sacred FANCIES Composed by Tho. Iordan Gent. Demost Plus â—lâ—i quam vini mihi consumptum est LONDON Printed by Authoritie for the use of the Author 1646. The Preface YOV wanton Lads that spend your winged time And chant your eares in reading lustfull rime Who like transform'd Acteon range about And beate the woods to finde Diana out I' st this you 'ld have then hence here 's no content For you my Muse ne're knew what Venus meant But stay I may subvert your rude conceit And every verse may proove a heavenly baite O that ye were such captives then you ld be Thrice happy such as these are onely free Leave leave your wanton toyes and let alone Apollo sporting at his Helicon Let Vulcan deale with Venus what 's to thee Although shee dandle Cupids on her knee Be not inchanted with her wanton charmes Let her not hugge thee in her whorish armes But wisely doe as Neptune did in spite Of all spue out the Lady Aphrodite Come come fond lad what would'st thou faine espye A glorious object for thy wandring eye And glut thy sight with beauty would'st behold A visage that will make thy Venus cold If this be all I le give thy eye delight Come see that face that lendes the Sunne his light Come see that face that makes the heavens to shine Come see that glorious face that lends thee thine Come and behold that face which if thou see Aright t' will make the earth a heaven to thee Come see that glistring face from which arise Such glorious beames that dazels Angels eyes What canst have more but dost thou thinke that such A comely visage will not let thee touch Or dost thou thinke a Sunne that shines so cleare Will scorne to let a lesser Orbe come neere No thou mistak'st say dost thou tâ—uely thirst For him I dare avouch hee lov'd thee first Be not dismaid It needes no more dispute Come give this glorious face a kinde salute THE WORLDES METAMORPHOSIS BEfore all time when every thing did lye Wrapt in a Chaos of deformity When all things nothing were and could present No comely frame no heaven no element No earth no water fire or ayre alone But all as t were compounded all in one Then with a word our Tri-une Iove did bring This nothing Chaos into every thing Yea then our great Iehovah did present A severall region to each element Then Time his houres began to measure out And he most nimbly garison'd about This new created Orbe he tooke his flight And hurried restlesse on both day and night His motion was so quicke that scarce t was ey'd He for ten thousand worlds won't squint aside Nor once turne backe his head by chance I viewd His flight his wings I thought were then renewd Yea his unwearied feathers did so soare Swiftly as if they never flew before As when the Thracians from their snaky bow Did make there featherd darts so swiftly goe That they out ranne all sight so time did flie As if he strove with winged Mercurie No weapon all this while for his defence He bore he dealt with none but innocence And now those feggy mists that so did lye Cloyster'd together from eternity Were all dispersd yea now t was very bright And darkenesse was unfetter'd from the light When this was done our great Iehovah lent The world as yet scarce made a firmament He separated waters wondrous well Then Seas with surging billowes ganne to swell And tossed to and fro with every wave As if the fretfull region would out brave Her owne Creator they were not content With their but now appointed regiment Their watry mountaines did so oft aspire To Heaven as if they would be placed higher But now great Iove lookt on they did not dare Surpasse their stations nay nor once impaire Their bounds he quickly queld their lusty prankes And causd the waves to crouch within their bankes When he had conquerd this unruly stran Within two dayes he crownes Leviathan King of the liquid region and doth give Ten thousand thousand more with him to live Then fruitfull earth which is the Ocean barres 〈…〉 and heavens bespangled all with starres The â—unne begins 〈…〉 And proudly danceth up the Orient He nor his horses can no longer sleepe But gallop from the orientall deepe He rid so fast that in few houres was spide All bravely wrapt in his meridian pride But when he clamber'd to the highest brinke He view'd the fabricke then began to sinke And all the way as hee did homewards goe He laughed to see so brave a frame below Still whipping on his Iades untill his head Was safely laid into his Westerne bed Silver Lucina as yet did not enter But lay immured within the reeking center Whilst he had mounted on his flaming seate And viewd a glorious orbe wondrous compleate With that the purple Lady straight prepares Attended with ten thousand thousand starres Shee clambers up in this her rich aray And viewes the goodly building all the way Sweete smiles shee cast from her admiring eye Whilst all her little babes stood twinkling by Playing the wantons by their mothers side As if they were inamour'd with the pride Of such a Fabricke to expresse their mirth Some shot from heaven as though they 'd live on Earth This done sweete Phoebe soone beganne to drop Her borrowed beames into her brothers lap And ever since to see this glorious sight One laughes at day the other smiles at night And can you blame them earth is spread with bowres And trees and proudly deckt with sundry flowers Shee that ere while in dunghill Chaos lay Is now with Vi'lets purp'ld every day And damaskt all with Roses yea shee s clad With sweeter herbes then ever Ceres had Her fruitfull wombe brings forth most dainty cates And lovely fruites these are her comely brattes No rusticke Plowman now doth take the paines To peirce her entrailes or to squeeze her veines But heaven and shee unites they scorne to see A bastard weede disgrace their pedigree Shee 's overspread with pinkes and Daffadillies Carnations Roses and the whitest Lilies Those fondlings lolling in her armes doe lye Shaking their heads and in her bosome dye These in their mothers sides doe take their rest Till they doe drop their leaves into her brest And now the little birds doe every day Sit singing in the boughs and chirpe and play The Phesant and the Partridge slowly flye Vndaunted even before the Faulcons eye Now comes Behemoth with his Lordly gate Gazing as if he stood admiring at So rich a frame first having fixt his sight On glorious earth he alwayes tooke delight In viewing that and would not looke on high Nay all the glorious spangles of the skye Could not entice him ever from his birth He spent his time in looking on the earth All other beasts their greedy eyes did fling On lovely earth as did their
soules as if that piercing sight That viewes all secrets in the darkest night That tries the thoughts of every heart and stares Into each soule is now as blind as theirs Thus was he basely us'd but all 's not done The hell-invented fury is to come By vulgar slaves the very Sonne of God Is falsely scourg'd and forc'd to kisse the rod Yea he whose nostrils able are to cast Out flame and burne the world at every blast Whose mighty breath is able for to fanne Ten thousand worlds and puffe out every man Like chaffe and make the flanting world to tosse Like waves is now compeld to beare his crosse Whereon his body in a vulgar streete Hung naked pierc'd with nayles both hands and feete The well of water he that gave the first To all his creatures now 's himselfe a thirst Yea he to whom all thirsty creatures call For drinke must now drinke vinegar with gall They pierc'd his side from whence came watry blood More soveraigne farre then all Bethesda's flood These tyrants thus though to themselves denide Did make a way to heaven through his side Alas my muse for sighes can scarce prolong The fatall tuning of so dire a song To see heavens faire Idea seeme so foule Sobbing and sighing out his burdned soule Those eyes which now seeme dim were once so bright From hence it was that Phoebus begd his light Those armes which now hang weake did from their birth Support the tottring vaults of heaven and earth That tongue that now lyes speechlesse in his head A word of that would soone revive the dead One touch of those Pale fingers would suffice To heale the sicke and make the dead man rise Those legges which now are peircd by abject slaves were kindly entertaind amongst the waves The coate whose warmth did give his sides reliefe The hem the very hem could cure a griefe But now strength 's weake th'omnipotent's a crying For aid health's sicke and life it selfe 's a dying His head hangs drooping and his eyes are fixt His weakned armes growne pale the sunne's eclipst O boundlesse love thus thus thou didst expose Thy selfe no damned paines to save thy foes Hell fought against him heaven began to frowne And justice soone sent vengeance posting downe Who clad with fury being angry shakes Her ugly head whose haire doth nurture snakes Shee layes about her greedy of her prey Quencheth hâ—r tâ—irst with blood and so away And mercy now lies cover'd in a cloud And will not heare although his sighes are loud Although his cries are such that cause a stone To heare yet sinne makes heav'n forget her owne Heav'n frownes as if shee had her owne forgot Mercy lookes off as if shee knew him not He suffred paines that hell it selfe devisd So much that justice cride I am suffic'd His tortures were so high so great so sore That hell cride out I can inflict no more Which done the heavens closd up their lamping light And turn'd the day into a dismall night Bright Phoebus vaild his face and would not see Wormes actors of so bloody treachery And quivering earth her wonted rigour lackt And straight stood trembling at so dire a fact The buri'd Saints arose to see betwixt Two dusky clouds their glorious Sunne eclipst Thus heav'n it selfe with the terrestriall Ball Doth joyne to celebrate his funerall The Landlord of the globe who first did raise Earths fabricke was a tenant for three dayes But when once Christ did cease to be turmoyld Heaven and he was gladly reconcil'd Mercy came dancing from the angry denne Tost off her cloudy mantle smild againe Pearch'd on her brightest throne and makes a vow To smooth the wrinckled furrowes of her brow And grim fac'd vengeance shee that 's onely fed With poyson dares nor shew her snaky head For feare all angers banisht cleane away Sterne justice now hath not a word to say And now the Fathers anger being done Double imbraces entertaine the Sonne As when a tender mother sometime beates Her wanton boy for his unruly feates Shee wipes his blubberd face and by and by Presents a thousand gugoyes to his eye Shee angry with her selfe beginnes to seeke His former love teares trickling downe her cheeke Quickly forgetting what was done amisse Ending her anger in a lovely kisse Doubtlesse her fondling burnes the rod and then Come peace my babe kisse and be friends agen Iust so when God inflicted on his Sonne His bittrest wrath the anger being done O then how soone he doubled his renowne Adorn'd his Temple with a richer Crowne Angry with those that would not heare his moane Ready to fling grim vengeance from his throne And chide with mercy shee that once did runne To hide her selfe from this his dying Sonne And for this fact would surely overthrow The fabricke did not Iustice hold the blow Thus heaven was friends againe but sordid man Poore mortall dust whose dayes are but a span Doth strive against his God like dogges that storme And barke and brawle and fome at Phoebes horne Ah Lord why are they so extreame to thee What is the cause thou madst their blindmen see Or why didst thou their fury thus inrage Because thou didst revive their dead mens age Me thinkes t is strange good God thou shouldst enflame Their anger by restoring legges too lame How is it Lord thou sowedst glorious seedes And loe a harvest all compact of weedes Thou gavest them life and spentst thy dearest breath For them and now thou art repaid with death What griefe was ere like thine would not thy mone Quickly dissolve an adamantine stone Wold not those sighs which could not peirce their eares Have turnd a rocke into a sea of teares Would not those wrongs thou bor'st without reliefe Make every cave to echo out thy griefe For greedy Lions are more kind then men They entertaind thy limbe within their denne Forget their wonted humours and became As carefull shepherdes to thy tender Lambe The croking raven shee whose natures wilde Became a tender nurse unto thy Childe And to obey thy voice the stony rocke Became a springing fountaine to thy flocke Yea rather then thy babes shall live in thrall The very sea it selfe provides a wall The flames forget their force through thy constraint Lose heate and know not how to burne a Saint Yea when thy souldiers wanted day to fight The Sun stood still and lent them longer light When boistrous seas did shew their lusty prancks Scorning to be imprison'd in their banckes And with their billowes vaulted up so high As if they meant to scale the starry sky And boundlesse Boreas from his frozen Cave Rusht out and proudly challeng'd every wave One nod of thine did quell those seas agen And sent proud Boreas to his sullen denne Thus thou the senselesse creatures oft did'st checke And mad'st the proudest pliant to thy becke For devils trembled and that breath of thine Made them seeke shelter in a heard of swine They knew thy greatnesse and confest thy