Selected quad for the lemma: love_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
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A17461
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Saint Marie Magdalens conuersion
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I. C., fl. 1603.
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1603
(1603)
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STC 4282; ESTC S118867
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10,918
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28
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SAINT MARIE MAGDALENS CONVERSION ✚ IHS Printed with Licence THE AVTHOR TO THE READER This smale poeme Gentle Reader was composed for the pleasure of some priuate freinds and intended to haue bin presented for a Newe-yeres gift the first of this mounth But interuention of other affaires delaied the finishing therof vntill the last I made choyce of this subiect as most fitting this time of death the stile being correspondant plaine and passionate much like a morning garment fitting both the time and the matter Graue enough for sobrest wittes and not se harshe but may content the nicest eares The reading whereof I doubt not will proue both pleasant and profitable which is as much as I can wish or thou desire Farewell this last of Ianuarie 1603. Thyne I. C. TO THE DEVOVT AND VERTVOVS MISTRIS F. B. I. C. PRESENTES THIS HIS WORTHELES LABOVR for a Newe-yeares gifte THis day the eight'h from his Natiuitie The glorious Sonne of the Omnipotent Was Circumcis'de bearinge mans frailetie T' appease the wrath of the Magnificent This day the Sonne of blessed MARY shed His first deare bloud to make vs liue b'inge dead In memorie whereof this custome takes That on the first day of the newe-borne yeare Eache freind vnto his freind some present makes Louer to Louer husband to his pheare But I poore I that haue no gifte to bringe Out of my home-bred Muse these verses singe SAINT MARY MAGDALENS CONVERSION OF Romes great conquest in the elder age When she the worlde made subiect to her thrall Of louers giddy fancies and the rage Wherwith that passion is possest withall When ielousie with loue doth share apart And breedes a ciuill warre within the harte Of Helens rape and Troyes beseiged Towne Of Troylus faith and Cressids falsitie Of Rychards stratagems for the english crowne Of Tarquins lust and lucrece chastitie Of these of none of these my muse nowe treates Of greater conquests warres and loues she speakes A womans conquest of her one affects A womans warre with her selfe-appetite A womans loue breeding such effects As th'age before nor since nere brought to light Of these and such as these my muse is prest To spend the idle houres of her rest Thou blessed Saint whose life doth teach to liue Intreate that louing and best loued Lord of thine That he vouchsafe such liuely grace to giue Vnto these dull and liueles rimes of mine That such as read this good though ill told story May be like thee for their offences sorry When first the worlds Creator our dread Lord Did with his presence blesse Iudeae land And to all sortes of people did afforde His gratious fauour and all helping hand Restoring by his power Omnipotent The lazar deafe blind lame and impotent Amongst the daughters of the sonnes of men Shee that did most his gratious mercy proue Was Mary Marthas sister Magdalen Who loued most and had most cause to loue Her wounded soule he cur'de with sinnes opprest Natures deffects in others he redrest Shee needed not the ritch mans golden ring That all desires seldome well gott good Shee needed not the Herauldes deif'ing To make her gentle of vngentle bloud Shee needed not the painters white and red Nature those colors in her face had shed Her eyes vnto their Mistres yeelded light All though her selfe within herselfe were blind Shee was nor lame nor deafe nor lazar-like Perfecc'ous store to each lime was asin'de With natures gifts she plent'iously was graced But sinne those ornamentes had all defaced Sinne made her want in middest of her store Sinne made her seruile in her libertye Of all good graces sinne did make her poore And ritch in nothing but in misery Her soule was subiect to a thousand euilles Her body combred with as many Diuilles But her dear Lord through his life-giuing grace This many-headed Monster draue away And those foule fendes who did his workes deface His blessed presence from her did affray He thought not meete that such vnseemely gest Should in so faire an Arbour build their nest After her foes were thus disperst and gone Her captiue soule b'inge franchis'de from their thrall And shee transformed by that mighty one From her life best ' all to celestiall Her Lord affirmed that her loue was such That shee deserued to bee pardoned much Her Lawles lustes shee chaing'de to lawfull loue Her many pleasures to one chiefe delighte All other ioyes shee did from her remoue And only ioyed in his blessed sighte Who best deserued to bee loued most Sauinge her soule from death by sinne b'inge lost Shee hateth nowe what shee had lou'de before Shee loueth him to whome all loue was due Her former mispent life shee doth deplore And nowe endeauors for to lyue anewe Herselfe vnto herselfe did hatefull growe When thus enlight'ned shee her-selfe did knowe This Holy hatred did true loue encrease Shee lou'de the more in that shee hated soe This Holy hatred did her false loues cease And howe to loue arighte to her did showe O Hatred thow are only good in this In all thinges else thow doest worke amisse Like to a monster to her selfe shee seem'ed And of her selfe her selfe was now afraide Shee sawe 't was otherwyse then shee had deem'ed And loth'de to see how fondly shee had straied Shee now perceaues the errors of her life Which makes her with her selfe to be in strife O how haue I deceaued beene quoth shee With the false shew of counterfeyt delight Were these the pleasures this the vanities Which now so much my gilty soule affright Haue I incurr'd the losse of life and fame To purchase sorrow and repentant shame Did I for this my fathers house forsake Leauing my carefull sister sisterles Did I for this of frendes me frendles make Shaming my kindred through my sinnefullnes Did I for this leaue sister frends and all And from the seruice of my maker fall O sinne thou art a serpent full of fleyght Thy face seem'de not so fowle as now I see Thou dost bewitch vs with a strong deceipte Of seeming good though full of miserye Our soules thou woundest with thy poysonus dart And we as senceles neuer feele the smart Thou art the losse of heauen and hels best frend How many like a Syren here thee sing How many by in chantment dost thou send To Plutoes Kingdome ere they feele thy sting But why doe I exclaime against thee so When I was partner in my ouer throw I gaue consent that thou shoul'dst worke my fall I pleased was with what thou did'st suggest I was attendant to ech seruill call And basely subiect to thy foule be-hest I grew a cunning Artist in thy trade And with thy Charmes haue many soules insnar'de O sinne of sinnes and the worst of euills To poyson others with thy stinking breath No meruaile though I was a lodge for Deuilles And worthely became a hell on earth Wast not enoughe that thou thy selfe did'st sinne But that thou others to the same must winne O my lost