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
hollow-hearted therefore is forsaken And in the dust doth Sions honour lye To be a Proverb for the passers by Who is more slighted and who more revil'd Then the bad Servant or the stubborne Child If Heavens Children disobedient be Their sure reward is Earths indignitie 46 The looks of Envie and the mouth of Fame Act both their hatefull Parts to wound and shame Our Soules Oh this unwelcome howre Why is our glory in th' enemies powre And what can we expect from these our foes But wry-mouth'd slander slaverie and blowes Oh Lord deliver us from th' enemies hand And blast their malice with a counter-mand 47 May not the first suffice Feare and a Snare Alas it is enough what mortall dare Challenge a single Duel with these here Feare brings a Snare and Snares begetteth Feare The next is Hate and Ruine and these be The foure Contrivers of our Tragedie Lord strike the Epilogue and change the Stage And make a Golden of our Iron Age. 48 As when Apollo doth his glory shroud Behind the Curtaine of some darkned Cloud The Ayre lamenting Phoebus absence poures Upon the Earth some drops of weeping showres Thus doth our Sunne set and our sorrowes rise Darkning the light of our benighted eyes And makes our floud-gates send forth showrie streames For the sad losse of Heav'ns illustrious beames 49 Will not the Heavens cleare and will the Day Ne'r break these chaines of Night and come away Why doth this Cypresse Girdle often bind The circled world Ah are we still confin'd To sit in these darke shadowes Must our teares Be still as constant as our nightly feares Our eyes are springs whose streams can never stay Rise sweet-fac'd Phoebus rise and bring the Day 50 Although my heavie heart be thus opprest Although my tott'ring soule be kept from rest Although mine eyes with looking up are blind Although my miserie hath o'rwhelm'd my mind Yet Lord cast but a splendour from thy Throne My heart shall cease to grieve my soule to groane Mine heart my mind my tongue and memorie Shall all in one set forth thy Majestie 51 The eye is but the prospect of the heart A little member yet it doth take part Of ev'ry sorrow and our inward griefe The eye relenting doth implore beliefe The heart is hid so are our secret feares But the eye shewes them with its gushing teares What my still troubles are mine eyes doe speake And were it not for teares my heart would breake 52 Run not so fast O ye my following Foes Let me a little breathe betweene your blowes Strike not so thick on my disarmed head Let not your cruell hate so farre be led To bring me as a Bird into Deaths snare Let me have freedome howsoe'r I fare Let me but serve my God in his high Hill And doe your worst my Foes doe what you will 53 Pride and Presumption did me once commit To the low Dungeon where my soule did sit Inveloped in darknesse and cold clay Not making diff'rence 'twixt the night and day And on the mouth of which they cast a stone To keepe me sure or fearing that my mone Should reach the eares of Heaven thus their doome Interr'd and layd me in Earths hollow'd wombe 54 Th' aspiring surges of the swelling Ocean That sometimes kisse the Clouds whose motion Is backt with Thunder Ship and men First tost up toward Heaven then agen They come as swiftly downeward to the brinke Sometimes they soare aloft and sometimes sinke Sometimes my Faith did blow a pleasant gale Till I was sinking then my Faith did faile 55 Out of the bowels of Earths hollow'd Wombe I sometimes whisper'd Ah is this my Tombe Am I interr'd in Earth and am I sent To lye for ever in this Monument Ah hath the Lord forgot his grace and why Doth wrath so long lodge in th' Almighties eye Breathe joy to my sad Soule dear Lord thy breath Gives light in darknesse and a life in death 56 How unbelieving is the heart of man How base and fearefull and how vaine who can Know the delusions that are lodged there How farre from Faith how full of slavish feare My Soule can witnesse Lord thou hear'st my crie What need I then use this tautologie But that it strengthneth Faith which would decay The more thou promisest the more wee 'l pray 57 Love Power and Feare did all at once agree In a low heart to make a harmonie First Love doth cloath the Soule with sweetnesse and Heav'n gives base Earth a pow'rfull countermand And therefore riseth as a Lion strong And thus proclaimes Who dares to offer wrong To this most am'rous Soule while Heav'n is here Blest is the heart where dwels Love Powre and Feare 58 The valiant Champion whose deeds may claime A share of Honour and the breath of Fame His Truth and Valour hath no other Lawes For the desending of the weaker Cause But love to Faith and Vertue even thus Heav'n makes his Name on Earth most glorious By blowing of our dangers and our harme With power and wonder from his Warlike Arme. 59 My Lord I 'm wrong'd th' accused Prisoner cryes Th'Indictment's false th' envious Witnesse lyes You know my Lord the man tells nothing true I will appeale to Heaven and to you Yet may the blinded Judge against the Lawes Hang the poore Prisoner and condemne his Cause But Lord thou art a Witnesse of our state Our Judge our Father Friend and Advocate 60 Rocks cannot save thee nor high mountaines hide thee Seas will not have thee nor the Earth abide thee Day not adorne thee darknesse not protect thee Thy foes will scorne thee and thy friends reject thee Night cannot hide thy black-mouth'd malice nay Thy mistie mid-night's like the midst of day And if the glorious day shall shew my wrong It is not long to day it is not long 61 And as the dazling beames of Heav'ns bright eye Rising aloft in his high Majestie Discov'reth all disasters which are hurld With shades of darknesse in the mantled world Ev'n so my God thy piercing eye thine care Is quick in seeing and most swift to heare Thou seest their consultations judge my Cause By the true tenor of thy righteous Lawes 62 Ah foolish enemie why dost thou wrong Thy silly selfe I know thy envious tongue Would poyson those whose actions God doth love But they this piece of hatred are above Thy plots or black complyance O thou Drone What needst thou whisper when thy heart is knowne But yet goe on thou shalt not lose thy hire In th' infernall Lake of furious fire 63 Doth mirth become a foole it is not fit They should be merry that have got no wit Did I say wit 't is wisdome that I meane There may be wit where wisdome ne'r was seene If wisdome were with wit their Songs would be Not drest with Lines of non-sence Poetrie Sing on vaine Drunkards laugh your merry jeeres I doubt will change there is a time for teares 64 Reward
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
destroy'd his Congregation The Lord hath caus'd the solemne Feasts to cease And all her Sabbaths ah what little peace Can mourning Sion see in any thing When God despiseth both her Priest and King 7 The Lord hath quite refus'd his holy place Where the high Priest did offer to his Grace Their rich Oblations as they dayly do His Sanctuary he abhorreth too The strength and fortresse of the pleasant Land Is given up into the Enemies hand Who with unhallowed mouths make harmony As in the day of high solemnity 8 The Lord long since hath threatened to destroy The Land of Israel and eclipse her joy And now her earthly right she must resigne Againe to him that gave it for a Line Is streacht about our Borders and we doubt How long this Line of woe is measured out The earth laments the walls do seeke redresse The Land does mourne in woe and heavinesse 9 Her Gates are sunke her mighty Barres destroyd The Citie 's open how can we avoyd The fury of the Foe her Princes gone Among the Gentiles we are left alone The Law is blotted out and none can lend A word of comfort when our miseries end The Lord speakes not by vision not by dreame To tell a period of our dismall Theame 10 The Elders they whose knowledge could confute Great learned Oratours are still and mute They hide their heads in dust their aged eye Is taught to weep and sometimes wish to dye Their loyns in sackcloath they have guirded round And silently they mourne upon the ground The amorous Virgins mourn their cloaths are rent Their beauty is like sorrows monument 11 Oh how mine eyes are blinded with my teares Pumpt from my sorrowes I am big with feares My Liver 's powred out upon the ground For our Lands losse and Kingdomes deadly wound The tender Infants in the streets do lye Imploring bread a little to supply Their hungry soules but yet they with vain moanes At last do dye with oft repeated groanes 12 A little bread the hungry Children cry Most dearest mother ere we quickly dye The mother weeps as fast she faine would give Her life for food that so her Child may live But as the dying Souldiers heart doth pant Labouring for life even so the Infants faint For lack of food the pretty Infant he Sleepes with deaths Lullaby on his mothers knee 13 What need I call a witnesse for thy woe To what shall I compare thy sorrowes oh Most glorious Iudah who is like to thee Blasted so soone so soone in misery How shall I comfort thee O fairest Land Alas thy ruines are beyond the hand Of Art to limne or draw thy breaches be Like mighty surges in the unruly Sea 14 Thy Prophets did delude thee whilst that they With Lyes fore-told thee of a Sun-shine day Their lying lips would not declare thy Lust Nor tell thee Earthly Glory soone would rust Then might thy Times to prosp'rous State been turn'd Thy Land not ruin'd nor thy Citie burn'd But now 't is levell'd even by their Lies Destruction posted on false Prophesies 15 And as the foraine Traveller doth passe He shakes his head and sighes woe and alas His wondring eyes admiring at the Land Which once was glorify'd with Heav'ns high hand Is this the Citie then the Traveller cryes Whose fame invited all the Nations eyes To looke upon her beautie This the Towne Call'd Earths perfection and her high Renowne 16 Even thus the Lord hath done his will on us The face of Sion is most leperous Her hideous Crimes are in her fore-head read The Lord hath done what he determined For he hath turn'd her Regall Glory downe The Heathen sway the Scepter weare the Crowne Our Foes on Earth doe flourish they doe rise It prospers well with Sions Enemies 17 Why goest thou weeping then oh Sion why Art thou thus troubled heaven cannot lye Though thou thy selfe art false what he commands Is finisht by his unresisted hands Thy horrid sins first furrowed up his brow With angry frownes and there 's no pitty now Dwells in his royall bosome but the foe He makes to glory at thy overthrow 18 And now our sinking soules begin to call Unto the Lord oh batter'd ruin'd wall Of dismall Sion once like shining beames Of heavens glory Let teares run like streames Along thy lovely cheeks both day and night Take they no rest but let thy conscience fright Thy soule from slumber lest thy darkned eye Be lull'd asleep in sad securitie 19 Arise and cry the first approaching houre Of silent night and let thy floudgates powre Forth streams of brackish teares mixt with a groan Lift up thy hands before the lofty Throne Of high eternity for the famisht Child Whose Parent 's dead and so the Babes exil'd From their deare mothers armes their lingring breath Longeth and waiteth for a welcome death 20 Behold O Lord our God to whom to whom Hast thou sent forth this heavy sudden doome Oh whom hast thou thus lashed shall we eate Our dearest Children up for want of meate Those pretty new-born Babes whose harmlesse eye Nere knew a sin must such sweet Infants dye And are our Priests and Prophets mangled heare Oh that mine eyes were drowned in a teare 21 Oh that mine eyes with silent teares were drown'd The young and old lye groveling on the ground The warlike youngmen and the amorous face Of spotlesse Virgins death doth now displace And laies them in their monuments they bow Their weake mortallity to heavens fierce brow If these the ruines be of our sad day With flouds of teares I 'le weep my selfe away 22 Thou bring'st my foes about my naked wall Thou giv'st them cause to glory in my fall And they do doe it wherefore dost thou lay Woes to my soule as in a Solemne day Thy wrath was kindled few or none remaine To scape from killing it was counted vaine Those that I nourished with mine own Cup My raging Enemy hath swallowed up CONTEMPLATION II. THe lab'ring Watch is idle if the Spring Be not wound up and thus in ev'ry thing There is a Motion for the Soule doth trace The Lawes of Nature or the Rules of Grace Our hearts are cold and various like the Moone Each minute changing if the righteous Sunne Shine not upon us all the world may marke Our Motion standing and our Glory darke But when the high Creator shewes his face And clothes the Mortall with diviner Grace The brave Heroick heart aspires to shroud His Contemplation loftier then a Cloud What amorous beautie in the world can shine Like to the Graces of a Soule Divine No black Disaster here can ever maske That lovely Face no troubles stay her Taske No mists of miserie eclipse her motion Nor no delusion hinder her devotion The Soule is full of Raptures and her eyes Reacheth Eternitie above the Skyes Th' amorous Soule on Earth is wondrous coy Desiring nothing else but heavenly joy Yet can it be as this lamented story Makes evident that Heaven
this journey made To seeke a shelter in this pleasant shade What greater portion on the Earth then this And in the Heavens what higher Paradise Mortals y' are cousen'd worldly Wit and Strength Pride and Vaine-glory failes poore man at length Where then is sure protection from all harmes I le tell thee where 't is in th' Almighties armes 27 The Warlick Horse whom Nature doth bedeek With strength and vigour and his thundring neck Is drest with youth and fortitude his eye Sends furious summons to the enemie While strength is in his loynes his courage can Breathe out defiance to the armed man 'T is good in youth to taste afflictions losse He that wil weare the Crown must bear the Crosse 28 Canst thou be silent when thy God is neere Canst thou be sad and hast no cause of feare Canst thou be dazled with thy sinnes reflection Canst thou be fearfull when thou hast protection Why dost thou mourne for Sions miserie Pride was the Prologue to her Tragedie Rather then murmure for deserved ill Close thy lips ever Soule be silent still 29 A Child of Heaven early doth begin To honour vertue and to trample sin Under his carelesse feet his scornefull eye Takes but slight notice of Earths vanitie Sweet-fac'd Humilitie is Honours Mother He that hath one will quickly have the other They both are matcht with Glory happy he That comes to Honour by Humilitie 30 Is it such honour to be humble then Are mourning mortals most the happiest men Where lyes their glory sayes the world for we See no such honour in humilitie Th' are ' tyr'd with rags and they are fed with feares Reproaches scandals and the peoples jeeres And is this honour yea and this story Is the Saints evidence for highest glory 31 Time darkeneth the Skyes Time brings the Day Time glads the eyes Time puffes all joy away Time builds a Kingdome Time o'rthrows a Nation Time writes a storie of their desolation Time hath a time when Time shall be no more Time makes some rich and Time makes rich men poore Time is when God will be his Churches friend When Times eternitie shall never end 32 For though fond man thou taste afflictions sorrow This gloomie ev'ning joy will come to morrow Indeed a night or two thy sorrowes may Eclipse thy glory but a shining day Will soone appeare to glad thy longing eyes Like shining Phoebus in the blushing Skyes Man shall finde mercie sinners may intrude To rest their soules in mercies multitude 33 The chafing Horse breaks through th'armed Ranks With his proud Rider and his bleeding flanks Are witnesses of haste his courage brave At last is cool'd and measureth out his grave Upon the bloudie earth thus we begin Rid by vain-glory and spurr'd on with sin To break Heav'ns high Command so Death is just Our pride and honour lyeth in the dust 34 And yet his blessings are farre more then blowes Men use to trample downe their conquer'd foes Under their Horses fetlocks few will give Their wounded enemie an houre to live Yet Israels God whose high victorious hand Can crush the sinfull pris'ners of the Land Into a piece of nothing still his strife Is but to give dead man eternall life 35 Have we a Right to these Terrestriall Toyes And yet a Title to Celestiall Joyes This is on Earth and that above the Skies The first the Promise and the last the Prize He that hath this will quickly have the last Glory comes posting when our griese is past If God denie us not this Earthly Ball He 'll give us Heaven which is best of all 36 He takes no pleasure when he doth subvert The Cause of man nor doth it glad his heart To over-turne a mortall in his pride He takes no glory for to blow aside The prosp'rous state of man it is his badnesse That brings him miserie when he may have gladnesse If sinne brings sorrow then and blindnesse blowes Blame thy bad deeds O man they are thy foes 37 What King can clip the flying wings of Time With all his Majestie Although he climbe Unto the top of Honour can his Power Stay swift-foot Phoebus chafing Steeds an houre To wait upon him Or what Prince can say I le bring to passe my purpose the next day Unlesse the Lord command these earthly things The least is higher then the reach of Kings 38 The world shall passe away and all therein Shall be no more as if they had not bin As if they never were they all shall fade They all were moving since they first were made Each word of God is good and there 's no Clause Of threatning ruine in those righteous Lawes To him that keeps those blest Commands for he Reward shall have unto eternitie 39 Why weep'st thou then O man why doth thine eyes Implore reliefe with watrie obsequies Why dost thou teach thy heavie heart to mourne In silent corners why dost thou adorne Thy Soule in sable weeds why dost thou dresse Thy selfe in sorrow woe and heavinesse Oh why complainest thou it is thy sin Barres out thy joy and bringeth judgements in 40 Search ev'ry corner of thy selfe sad Soule Trie all thy actions let not darknesse roule Thee in her lulling armes but now imbrace The glorious purchase of Heavens proffred grace Yet mourning Soule returne yet sinner wake From thy securitie goe hie thee take Thy well-prepared vension Heaven will stay And double blesse thee ere he part away 41 The Sunne being set all mortals goe to rest Our sorrow rises then each soule 's possest With feare and horror and each man complaines Of mightie losses and of little gaines We lift our hands to Heaven sometimes for aid We cast our eyes up when we are afraid But when doe Hearts and Hands and Eyes agree With Faith and Love Truth and Sinceritie 42 Oh Sinne my fatall Foe how bad is gaine Contracted from thee pleasure is but paine How false is sinners joy their Mines are mosse Their worke is toylesome yet their labour's losse Their blossome's blasted with a minutes breath Their light is darknesse and their life is death Sinne doth destroy the glorious Soule for why The Soule that sinneth shall be sure to die 43 Ah me how quickly doth this house of man Decay his wayes are like a feathred fan Which wav'reth with the wind his strength prime Is wondrous weake and his swift-posting time Is very short though sometimes he be high Like a tall Cedar which doth dare the Skie And swelleth in his pride a little Rub Of ficknesse makes the Cedar but a Shrub 44 Where shall we hide us is there ne'r a mountaine To o'r-shadow us or a pleasant fountaine For tyred Soules to bathe in while the Cloud Of Thunder is blowne over may we shroud Our Soules in no protection while our teares Shall wash our bosomes and invite the eares Of Heav'n to listen that our cryes may be Lodg'd in the Palace of Eternitie 45 Th'glory is departed Israels Land is taken Judah's
heavie like a stone And our bath'd bosomes Monuments of moane Or Brazen Epitaphs if such there be Which keepe the dead in lasting memorie Leave me a while my teares bid me adue Mine eyes ere long shall doe as much for you 18 Because of the high mountaines which surround The faire Jerusalem my head is drown'd With my tormenting teares that loftie Hill From which the Traveller might looke his fill About the promis'd Land when mid-day Sunne Survey'd the circled word now Foxes runne Upon those ruin'd Territories which is In spight of Envie the worlds Paradise 19 But ah why doe we murmure what shall he That is but Dust dispose Eternitie To his fond reasoning Lord thou shalt remaine Although mortalitie be counted vaine And soone shall vanish yet thou art for aye Thou art not mortall as the sonnes of Day And if thy Throne before all Time begun Then thou shalt rule when Times swift race is run 20 Wherefore so soone dost thou forget us then Or why so long are we poore sonnes of men Forgotten of thee wherefore didst thou make us A pleasant Paradise and then forsake us Can Soules stay here on Earth when Death bereaves them Can Bodies live when once the Soule doth leave them Can Mortals prosper then when God doth dresse His face with anger and forgetfulnesse 21 Turne us O Lord and we shall turne indeed And if thou turne us not our Land may bleed In after-Ages since no pow'r at all Is in fond man since man at first did fall Renue those ancient dayes that prosp'rous time When Sion once was seated in the prime Of Princely Royaltie why hast thou hurl'd Deformitie on the glory of the world 22 But ah what solace can poore Isr'el spie Within this darkned Orb when Heav'ns bright eye Is furrow'd up with frownes if thou reject us What Land can save us or what Arme protect us Oh dearest Lord how doth thine anger paine Our fainting Soules oh how exceeding vaine Is the worlds dignitie alas our yeares Begun with troubles and must end with teares CONTEMPLATION V. OUr lab'ring sands are run yet Reader stay There is an Epilogue to the Tragick Play And it shall not be tedious yet what he That dips his Pen in Divine Poetrie And on so rare a Subject but must spend Some wearie houres ere his Worke will end But ah how dull is my dark Genius in this story I doe but veile sweet Loves Celestiall Glory With a black Curtaine while the holy Writ Is drest with Lines of my unworthy wit Oh I could rayle aloud at my dull Muse For this her ignorance I could accuse My dulled Pen my hand that ere I tooke Such heav'nly Oracles to make a Booke Of such poore valuation and oft times In anger I could rend these idle Rimes In thousand pieces for my Glasse is run And I must end before I have begun For should I now my Subject here define Each line 's a sentence and each word a line In these high Oracles but I doe wrong The Reader much to keepe him off so long From the last Contemplation which may smell Like costly Odours some may like it well Then pray good Reader that it may be blest Something He shew thee studie out the rest It was a Custome when th' Arcadian Kings Would aske an Oracle for weightie things Of god Apollo they durst not presume Without a Cloud of Smoake and rich Perfume To smother their Oblations with their Crie To urge the eares of the deafe Deitie These blinded Heathens have out-stript us they Although they knew no God would sometimes pray When imminent dangers were ev'n at the dore Each cry'd unto his god each did implore Some help from unknown Powers they would cast Their bodies on their knees they 'd mourn and fast And yet could have no answer all their paine Was labour lost their gods themselves were vaine But oh deluded England though thy knee Hath rockt dull man into a lethargie Of sensuall pleasures and hast glut his sence In a fooles paradise of Earths evidence Though we have slept in thy imbracing armes Dreaming of Heaven till these numerous swarmes Of feares did come and wake us yet we know We have a God that with one finall blow Can turne this spacious Universe aside And blast Hells Princes in their height of pride Yet doe but marke how farre we are behinde The Heathen world that were both deaf and blinde Yea dead in ignorance we all can say That prayer is prevalent yet few doe pray And fewer pray aright few that can tell The truest way few doe this dutie well And those that doe it best how slack they be Where is the man that prayeth constantly Yet what more comely then this sweet devotion Prayer is the wings that gives the Soule a motion To high eternitie it is the hand That reacheth Clusters from the promised Land Of sweet illustrious glory it is the Armes Thaâ—â—he Soule weares against insuing harmes Prayer backt with Faith is of farre greater force Then Warlike footmen o're the trampling Horse It conquers mightie Armies wins the field Strengthens the weake and makes the mightie yield Gives feet unto the lame eyes to the blinde Courage to Cowards vertue to the minde And honour for disgrace Credit for shame In stead of bad reports a righteous Name It gives us food when Famine doth commence It blunts the Sword and stops the Pestilence It gives the sick recov'rie of his health And sends the poore man unexpected wealth And what is more desired who can tell It open'th Heaven and it conquers Hell It makes the Furies tremble makes them flee To that low Vault of black eternitie With all their Plots of mischiefe which the Arts Of Fiends contriv'd it blunts the firie darts Of Satan and it gaines a Royall Crowne Of endlesse glory and unmatcht renowne And when the Earth is drie like parched Graine It flyes to Heaven and it fetcheth Raine And if the Corne be drown'd in water then Prayer Jocks up those stormie showers againe It calmes the swelling Ocean and it tames The burning Fornace and the firie flames It stayes the Lyons force without a wound It layes the sonnes of Anak on the ground It gives the tyred Soule a little breath Gaines immortalitie and conquers Death And is 〈◊〉 Then for our troubled Times Here is a Copie of Prophetick Rimes That tells the world there is a Death at hand Unto the foes of Heaven and our Land Mistake not Reader if at all thou lack The sence hereof this is no Almanack I doe not speake an end of Englands Warres By the strange motion of the wandring Starres Though it be plaine it would not be so well To write Predictions or to paralell The wondrous course of Heaven and each Starre No no good Reader 't is no Kalender For they may sometimes lye but even you Whom it concernes shall finde this Booke is true The holy Prophet with inspired skill Fore-told your Doome he never us'd