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
should hide Glory From such an honoured Soule which even 〈◊〉 Hath glorify'd from all eternitie And doth he give the Enemie his owne Place Hath God like Janus got a double face Doth the base Enemie so high aspire Whom oft he threatneth with consuming fire Yea and their prosp'rous State does oft redowne To magnifie the honour of Heavens Crowne The Usurer whose back beares all the Curses Of his poore neighbour could he fill his Purses By being godly he would venture too To pray to Heaven as the godly doo And could the base Adulterer bring to passe His filthy ends and meet a hand-smooth Lasse Each Sabbath day at Church this fellow he Would be an ugly hearer constantly The proud man he would make an ugly face And pray and heare if this would give a place Of gaine and honour to his high Ambition Thus holy Writ should serve each base condition But now the glorious Soule which Heaven aspires His heart is warmed by Diviner fires His life is circumspect his blushing face Weares the high ornaments of heavenly Grace This Soule is nobly righteous and it leanes On its Creator in the most extreames If sinne assaults the Soule it soone will flie To the high mansion of Eternitie For its protection there with trembling feares She bathes her bosome with repenting teares The lovely Heaven borne Soule has no false ends The feare of Enemies nor the love of friends Shall ne'r ensnare her from those Joyes above For why th' amorous Soule hath fixt her love Upon her glorious Saviour neverthelesse She oft may sit in woe and heavinesse And be in many an earthly contemplation When Heav'n brings War and Ruine on a Nation Then earthly reasonings may whisper loud When Heaven is cov'red with a sable Cloud Of bloudie War and Famine when they poure Those dismall drops in such a dreadfull Showre On one distracted Kingdome then what way When darknesse does eclipse the light of day Is there for soules to wander when its eyes Are bloudshot to behold those villanies Which bloudy Actors play when War shall reigne In height of envy numerous bodies slaine Imbracing gentle earth when death shall vaile Man in mortality all faces pall Because of hungry famine when the Child For want of friend and food is far exil'd From present necessaries and therefore lies With deaths pale Image in his tender eyes And when heavens darts shall flye like Sim Jim The soule is sad her funerall lights burne dimme When life is turn'd to death and food to feare She sometimes weeps as did the Prophets here Yet with a laden heart and watry eye The soule doth sometimes mutter this reply Unconstant state of earth shall any he That is but dust direct eternitie By his vaine babling can mortall man Guide the Celestiall Orbs by wisdome can He rule the earth by power can he stay The Steeds of Phoebus and tye up the day Nay can he rule himselfe or guid his mind Are not his waies as wavering as the wind And wilt thou teach thy Maker since thy birth What hast thou been thou peece of moving earth What hath thy tottring soule no faith at all Or is thy love to heaven so wondrous small Hath all this Un verse so little rest To give a tired heart and yet possest With love of this low earth my Saviour dy'd That through his death I might be glorified And shall I now resuse to dye for him Hath fin made these darke eyes so quickly dimme No let this earthly man through fire be try'd My soule shall live with him for whom I dy'd Where in the Canopy of his beauteous breast I shall sleep safe with undisturbed rest Have I so little power to controule The assaults of sin and death Alas poore soule Be gone my numerous feares away away After a tempest comes a shining day See see what dazling glory is behind You darkned cloud looke up my muzzled mind Flie on the wings of contemplation see Thy journies end is high Eternity And this deare Reader does most oft redowne To heavens honour when earths troubles drowne The Saints sometimes in sorrow earth 's a toy And this disjunction fits the soule for joy When on the other side if heaven should give A royall Legacie that Saints might live On earth most long and happy then might vice Count heaven a paine and earth a Paradise And if the world should often heare or see That Saints did live in high prosperity Each wretch would turne a Saint for his owne end Looking for earth by making heaven his friend But now go on brave soule do thou contemne All wordly pompe a royall Diadem Shall crowne thy arched browes thy present paine Thou wilt not reckon when thou com'st to raigne Heaven shal receive thee earth shall raise thy name In spight of sinners or their blasted fame And as thy body rests in deaths darke tent This verse shall stand upon thy monument This valiant mortall by a second birth Enjoy'd a Crowne in heaven conquer'd earth CHAP. III. Verse 1. WHerefore should Mortals labour thus to shroud Their publike Sorrow in a darkned Cloud Of Silence Why should Blacknesse cover all The mourning March of Sions Funerall I am the Man of Sorrow and Heavens Marke I am the chasened Bird the early Larke His furious Rod hath seized upon me On me the Monument of Miserie 2 Who ever saw this glorious Eye of Day Eclips'd in Darknesse And this Ball of Clay Wrapt in a Sable Mantle like black Night Covering the world with Mists whose Terrors fright All Mortals in their slumbers Thus mine eyes Dim'd with their teares doe weepe whole Elegies Of Lamentations while his hand hath drest My Soule in Troubles banisht from her Rest 3 My Soule is sad enough I need no more Such change of Torments then I had before I need no other Foe to come and slay My dying selfe and why then all the day Does my incensed Lord against me stand Why at a Mortall doth he turne his hand What will he fight with Earth Alas before Much time is spent we shall be seene no more 4 How soone is Beautie lost and Natures Booke Quite blotted out and with an earthly looke Departs this troubled world soone broke as Glasse The fleshes Glory is but withering Grasse Sinne brings in Sorrow Griefe makes Beautie old The Drosse is intermingled with the Gold The least of Heavens displeasure if he frowne It is enough to bring Earths Glory downe 5 Dull piece of feeble Earth and mortall Man A shew of something yet art nothing can Th' Almightie not consume thee lest he shall Build up a Worke against a tott'ring wall What meanes th' Almightie hand of the most high Thus to surround us whose mortalitie Will bring us soone to Dust each day we fall Insnar'd with Sorrow Bitternesse and Gall. 6 Times black hair'd daughter night that locks all eies And hearts in silent slumbring lullabies This swarthy nurse with darke and horrid theames That frights
of good is glory and the hire Of Satans instruments is endlesse fire His worke being done on Earth he shall commence In never dying flames Hels recompence Strike them with dreadfull thunder Lord and flashes Of fearefull Lightning lay on thy lashes Upon their naked shoulders let them see Thy wrath pursues them to eternitie 65 And since they would thy Precepts disannull Lord make them stupid let their braines be dull Let them not see where Truth and Error lyes Give them a deafned care and blinded eyes Give them a sinking soule that may soone faint Make it erroneous hard and obstinant O make their memory loath'd when they shall vade From the worlds prospect like an evening shade 66 Three Acts are past along our bloudie Stage And there is two to come our mournfull Age Is a sad president to all eyes O may Our enemies fall fill up the following Play Now let our enemies act their dismall part Let each foe strike his fellow to the heart So let them dye Lord blast them let them be The Epilogue of our sad Tragedie CONTEMPLATION III. WHat meanes the Joy that Worldlings take on Earth Triumphing in false Glory and vaine Mirth Why are their faces drest with flourisht smiles Of joviall merriment and yet the whiles Their soules doe sinke with sorrow Can they beare The checks of Conscience with so little care What is the Soule asleepe while mortals act Their merry Comedies while they contract Guilt on th' accused Conscience while they lye Rockt in securitie with this Lullaby What meanes the prosp'rous pompe of such a Blade Whose earthly honour may a while perswade The world there is no God the sinners state Doth alway flourish and is fortunate Hee 's deckt with antick Robes of the best fashion He blasphemes Heav'n in each Recreation Looke on the wretch he hath all earthly glories Brave Buildings stately Works Heroick Stories Wrought with laborious Needles where the hand Of curious Art doth give a countermand To the worlds ignorance while Natures eye In looking prayseth Ingenuitie He hath both wealth and wit a warlike arme That 's strong and valiant oft in offring harme High honour great advancement prayse of men And love of Ladies which are offred when The man is full of Money thus he walkes In his vain-glory and he alwayes talkes Of great affaires his Honour doth defie To tell the Truth and yet he hates the Lie Should be returned on him while his face Is a red embleme of sinnes black disgrace Vile wretch how safe thou art while Conscience she Doth lye intombed in obscuritie There is a time for flames or else for feares A time for torments or a time for teares Retire into thy Closet take thy Pen Goe muse on the mortalitie of men Write the disasters that attend the Crowne Of earthly Royaltie goe thou wretch sit downe In thy retired Chamber halfe a day Let Conscience speak and Conscience thus wil say Ah man obdurate man why wast thou borne Into the world or why did Heav'n adorne Thy Soule with immortalitie why did Love Whose rare transcendencie is farre above The worlds desert or reason ever stretch Those sweet imbraces to so vile a wretch To so deform'd a wretch as thou O piece of Clay Didst thou deserve it blinded sinner say What canst thou answer me proud mortall why Thou shouldst not have thy judgement now to die What art thou feeble Earth a little dust What 's Beauties blossome it will quickly rust What is this spacious Universe but a Theame What is mans dignitie but an idle Dreame What is thy wealth a weather-cock of woe And what is honour but mans overthrow And what are all thy friends they passe away Like short-liv'd Actors in a Tragick Play Friends wealth wit honour beautie have no power To save thee from the King of feares one houre Bid now farewell unto those houres whose strife With thriftlesse joy hath spun a wearie life A life of vanitie whose very name Masketh the ornaments of Vertues fame Yet dearest soule returne yet hearke to me Yet be thou mindfull of eternitie Yet heare poore Conscience speak since time almost Hath run his swift-foot houres and thou art lost Did I say lost Ah Soule th' rt happie then If Earth could hide thee in her darkned Den If thou wert lost indeed from Heav'ns bright eye If Death could shade thee in obscuritie If Earth and Sea and Hell and Death should winde thee In their dark shadows yet thy Judge would finde thee And then Oh then the sinner being found How will the eyes of the Almightie wound Thy now condemned Soule while thou before The high Tribunall howling shalt implore Some Rock to over-shadow thee yet deny'd That slender shelter how wilt thou abide Before the dreadfull Throne from whence shall come Thy damned Sentence of eternall Doome And is this all No then thou shalt retire To never-quenched flames of furious fire Whose everlasting fuell shall extend To all eternitie and never end In Hells darke hideous and hollow Vaule Where soules converse with fiends for ev'ry fault There is a sev'rall plague Gluttons are fed With scalding Lead and Brimstone and the dead Besotted Drunkard as he ev'ry day Drunke Healths to Hell to passe the time away So in eternall torment endlesse toyle His throat is washt with quaffes of burning oyle The stubborn Child the wrathfull Furies hold with long-tormenting lashes Th'Usurer drinks whole Draughts of molten Gold And there the cruell Murtherer doth lye Alwayes a stabbing yet can never dye There lyes the Wanton who Loves fire did feele Stretcht upon tort'ring racks of burning Steele Heat by eternall flames blowne with the breaths Of thousand thousands never-dying deaths Then dearest Soule repent 't is not too late To beg for mercie that most glorious Gate Is seldome shut come spend thy after-yeares If thou hast any in repenting teares In true repenting teares bathe oft thy brest Let not thy slumber lull thee to thy rest Till thou hast got a pardon dost thou know How highly glorious is th' overthrow Of Sinne and Death and Hell what royall favour Is in the lovely eyes of such a Saviour What chast imbraces and what sweet communion What rare discoveries what ravisht union What present providence from Earths annoyes What after-evidence of endlesse joyes What wise directions through threatning harmes What safe protections in th' Almightie Armes Of such a blessed Saviour whose sweet b … Gives health in sicknesse and a life in death And this would change thee sinner this ev'n this Would turne thy Closet to a Paradise This sweet Repentance would adorne thy face With Heavens amours and with blushing grace For thy fore-past Rebellion this would give A learned President how thou mightst live To reigne in endlesse glory this would trie If thou dost live before thou com'st to die Reade this third Chapter mark but who they be That Heaven exposeth to calamitie The Prophet here cryes out I am the man Whose back is gall'd with
pitch of Pride And end oh sad Divisions end beside Your selves Earths Power Device and all The helpe of Hell can never worke our fall Come sweet-fac'd Vertue come and banish Vice Come Union make our Land Earths Paradise Come Loves triumphant Lawes and you shall be The Presidents of our Tranquilitie You orient glitt'ring Pearles that Earth count Toyes Shew us some glances of Celestiall joyes By Vertues raritie Truth Peace and Love You are those Sisters which doe dwell above Archt in the highest Glory are no lesse Then Royall Twins in matchlesse blessednesse Oh if our blacknesse may not blast your bloome Or if our stamm'ring words may finde a roome In your most sacred eares let Truth expell Those damned Errors that arise from Hell And let harmonious Peace heale up our Skarre And give a counter-mand to threatning Warre And then the last and loveliest of the three â—et Beautie looke upon Deformitie And make us like to you oh let our shame Love your blest memorie in immortall fame And as you move in your harmonious Spheares So guide our earthly bodies let our teares Wash off Deformitie which did annoy Make us an embleme of Loves highest joy Or else we shall if not by you thus blest â—ine out those dayes we number to our rest CHAP. V. Verse 1. REmember Lord our evils let them be Character'd in Gold in thy blest Memorie That lasting Register that righteous Scroule Conscience Vice-royall to th' immortall Soule Shall stand to witnesse while the sinner cryes To some vast mountaine to eclipse his eyes From the Tribunall Throne then Lord make roome For Furie let th' enemie have his doome 2 Our faire Inheritance like a short Song Is done and gone and thus we passe along Like Times benighted Shadowes so are we Tyred in pursuit of Earths Vanitie Yea Vanitie indeed were it not thus Why is the world so constant various Why should our Houses Vineyards and our paine Be our inraged enemies present gaine 3 Our dearest Fathers in their honoured Age By Death were summon'd from Earths troubled Stage And now they slumber now they rest and lye Rockt in Deaths Chariot with lost Lullaby Our tender Mothers having lost their Loves Mourne like th' amorous Widow'd Turele-Doves And we their sonnes who live in desolate Tents Are silent Ruines of their Monuments 4 The pleasant Rivers whose sweet erystall streames Refresht our soules with plentie like the beames Of orient Phoebus when he makes his way To cloathe all mortals with a Sun-shine day Yet these our Waters and our Wood is sold By weight and measure for the price of Gold Nay more then Gold our Bondage that may tell Coyne with affliction hath no paralell 5 The almost-tyred Horse would rest his Load From his gall'd shoulders in the dustie Road But for the Driver thus poore we would borrow An inch of respit for an age of sorrow We are as Horses to th'eitlemies yoakes Laden with burthens and pursu'd with stroakes Of our foes envie now we know how blest Is the rare royaltie of purchas'd Rest 6 What heapt-up Plentie had our flourisht Land Once for to glory in when her high hand Was stretcht to other Nations in reliefe For wealth and honour she was counted chiefe Among Earths Royall Princes now even she Of late inthroned in Earths Majestie Is sold to AEgypt and to Ashur so We earne our bread to linger out our woe 7 And it is just we should so while that we Live in knowne Folly and Iniquitie Our Fathers they have sinn'd we bear their Names And their Rebellion and why not their shames Our Fathers finn'd and dy'd and are we better Then our fore-fathers was not man a debter Since th' old words Creation by folly why Doth sinfull man then thinke so much to die 8 What in the world is more accounted vaine Then servants for to rule or fooles to raigne Over th'honour'd Age even such are we While we are captiv'd to Captivitie Thus Earth is various and mans renowne Is but a Dreame not worth the writing downe And if his glory be an idle Theame Who can expect realitie in a Dreame 9 Famine is feeble yet the hungry soule Is strong and valiant and he dares controule A thousand eminent dangers if that he May feed his hunger and necessitie Thus with the perill of our dearest breath We got our living in the spight of death In bondage slaverie labour toyle and paine While the Sword randevouz'd upon the plaine 10 Those Alabaster bodies whose rare faces Were drest with sweetnesse fit for th' imbraces Of undefiled Love now now alas Those flourishing flowers are but like the grasse The with'ring dying grasse parcht up with heat Black as the Oven thus for want of meat Poore Sion is deform'd with sinne and shame While Warre and Famine hath eclips'd our fame 11 Now wickednesse is ripe now sinne doth climbe Now Pride aspireth to the wings of Time Now fire is kindled in th'Adulterers eye With hideous flames whose wandring sparkles flye To catch at ev'ry object which he may Shewing black impudence in height of day Deflowring Maidens and defiling Wives They make their mem'rie stink like their loath'd lives 12 The valiant Prince whose Royaltie did shine Through Clouds of Envie now the foes combine By Death to dim his Glory and the head Of the wise Elder is dishonoured Base Earth these are thy gifts and therefore wee Dishonour Vertue by our honouring thee Let thine owne servants love thee which doe spend Time in vaine folly to an idle end 13 How is illustrious Sion now declin'd From her high Dignitie her young men grinde In the laborious Mill the flowred Age Whose strength and valour taught them to ingage In fields of bloudie Warre when the proud foe Could often witnesse their owne overthrow Though now we are in woe our Children crie Under their heavie burthens till they die 14 Those Lawes are cancell'd too which sometimes we Did memorize in immortall memorie The holy Elder sits not in the Gate With Heav'ns authoritie to predominate Our mirth is alcumiz'd to funerall Songs And like sad Elegies to tell our wrongs To other Nations while our following teares Feeds our sad eye-lids as our mirth the eares 15 The royall Tones which sometimes was afforded From the rare Instrument whose strings recorded A well-measur'd evennesse whose sweet story Emblem'd the harmonie of highest glory And Loves eternall joy now all is gone Our Dance is ended merriment is moane Our Musick metamorphos'd and our mirth Sings this sad Song oh false deluding Earth 16 Oh false deluding Earth honour and pow'r And all thy glory is as a swift-run howre Whose hastie minutes whose laborious sand Doth run to over-take the wandring hand Of Sols beshadow'd Dyall thus our Crowne Of Earthly Royaltie Time trampleth downe Woe to our soules that we have sinn'd for why Sinne makes up miserie with mortalitie 17 Therefore our hearts are sad therefore our sleepe Forsakes our eye-lids therefore doe we weepe Therefore our soules are