which went before And waited for thee at the Door Shall own thee there and all in one Weave a Constellation Of Crowns with which the King thy spouse Shall build up thy triumphant Brows All thy old Woes shall now smile on thee And thy pains set bright upon thee All thy sorrows here shall shine And thy sufferings be Divine Tears shall take Comfort and turn Gems And wrongs repent to Diadems Even thy deaths shall live and new Dress the soul which late they slew Thy wounds shall blush to such bright scarrs As keep account of the Lambs wars Those rare Works where thou shalt leave Writ Loves Noble History with Wit Taught thee by none but him while here They seed our souls shall cloath thine there Each Heavenly Word by whose hid flame Our hard hearts shall strike fire the same Shall flourish on thy Brows and be Both Fire to us and Flame to thee Whose Light shall live bright in thy face By Glory in our Hearts by Grace Thou shalt look round about and see Thousands of crown'd Souls throng to be Themselves thy Crown Sons of thy Nows The Virgin Births with which thy Spouse Made fruitful thy fair soul Go now And with them all about thee bow To him put on he 'l say put on My Rosy Love that thy rich Zone Sparkling with the sacred Flames Of thousand souls whose happy names Heaven keeps upon thy score thy bright Life brought them first to kiss the Light That kindled them to starrs and so Thou with the Lamb thy Lord shall 't goe And where so e'r he sits his white Steps walk with him those ways of Light Which who in death would live to see Must learn in life to dye like thee An Apology for the precedent Hymn as having been writ when the Author was yet a Protestant THus have I back again to thy bright name Fair sea of Holy fires transfus'd the Flame 〈◊〉 took from reading thee 't is to thy wrong 〈◊〉 know that in my weak and worthless song Thou here art set to shine where thy full day â—…carce dawns O pardon if I dare to say â—…hine own dear Books are guilty for from thence 〈◊〉 Learnt to know that Love is Eloquence â—…hat Heavenly Maxim gave me heart to try 〈◊〉 what to other Tongues is Tun'd so high â—…hy praise might not speak English too forbid By all thy Mysteries that there lye hid â—…orbid it Mighty Love let no fond hate â—…f Names and Words so far prejudicate â—…uls are not Spaniards too one friendly Flood â—…f Baptisme blends them all into one Blood â—…hrists Faith makes but one body of all souls â—…nd loves that Bodies Soul no Law controuls â—…ur free Trafick for Heaven we may maintain â—…eace sure with Piety though it dwell in Spain â—…hat Soul soever in any Language can â—…eak Heav'n like hers is my Souls countrey-man O 'T is not Spanish but 't is Heaven she speaks 'T is Heaven that lies in Ambush there and breaks From thence into the wondring Readers Brest Who finds his warm heart hatch into a nest Of little Eagles and young Loves whose high Flights scorn the Lazie Dust and things that dye There are enow whose Draughts as deep as Hell Drink up all Spain in Sack let my Soul swell With thee strong Wine of Love let others swim In puddles we will pledge this Seraphim Bowls full of richer Blood then blush of Grape Was ever guilty of change we our shape My soul some drink from Men to Beasts O then Drink we till we prove more not less then Men And turn not Beasts but Angels Let the King Me ever into these his Cellars bring Where flows such Wine as we can have of none But him who trode the Wine-press all alone Wine of Youths life and the sweet deaths of Love Wine of immortal mixture which can prove Its Tincture from the Rosie Nectar Wine That can exalt weak Earth and so refine Our Dust that in one Draught Mortality May drink it self up and forget to dye On a Treatise of Charity RIse then immortal Maid Religion rise Put on thy self in thine own looks t' our Eyes Be what thy Beauties not our blots have made thee Such as e'r our dark sins to Dust betray'd thee Heav'n set thee down new drest when thy bright Birth Shot thee like Lightning to th' astonisht Earth From th' dawn of thy fair Eye-lids wipe away Dull Mists and melancholly Clouds take day And thine own Beams about thee bring the best Of whatsoe'r persum'd thy Eastern Nest. Girt all thy Glories to thee then sit down Open this Book fair Queen and take thy Crown These learned Leaves shall vindicate to thee Thy Holiest Humblest Handmaid Charity She 'l dress thee like thy self set thee on high Where thou shalt reach all hearts command each Eye Lo where I see thy offrings wake and rise From the pale Dust of that strange Sacrifice which they themselves were each one putting on A Majesty that may beseem thy Throne The Holy Youth of Heav'n whose Golden Rings Girt round thy awful Altars with bright wings Fanning thy fair Locks which the World believes As much as sees shall with these sacred Leaves Trick their tall Plumes and in that garb shall go If not more glorious more conspicuous tho Be it enacted then By the fair Laws of thy firm-pointed Pen Gods services no longer shall put on A sluttishness for pure Religion No longer shall our Churches frighted stones Lie scatter'd like the Burnt and Martyr'd bones Of dead Devotion nor faint Marbles weep â—…n their sad Ruines nor Religion keep A melancholly Mansion in those cold â—…rns Like Gods Sanctuaries they lookt of old Now seem they Temples consecrate to none Or to a new God Desolation No more the Hypocrite shall th' upright be Because he 's stiff and will confess no Knee While others bend their Knee no more shalt thou Disdainful Dust and Ashes bend thy Brow Nor on Gods Altar cast two scorching Eyes Bak't in hot scorn for a burnt Sacrifice But for a Lamb thy tame and tender Heart New struck by Love still trembling on his Dart Or for two Turtle Doves it shall suffice To bring a pair of meek and humble Eyes This shall from henceforth be the Masculine Theme Pulpits and Pens shall sweat in to redeem Vertue to Action that Life-feeding flame That keeps Religion warm not swell a name Of faith a Mountain word made up of Air With those dear spoils that wont to dress the Fair And fruitful Charities full Breasts of old Turning her out to tremble in the cold What can the Poor hope from us when we be Uncharitable ev'n to Charity On the Glorious Assumption of the Blessed Virgin HArk she is call'd the parting hour is come take thy farwel poor world heaven must go home A piece of Heavenly Light purer and brighter Then the chast stars whose choice Lamps come to ligâ—… 〈◊〉 While through the Christal Orbs clearer then they She climbs and makes a
these wage still their wars And bring home on thy Brest more thankless scars 57. Why did I spend my Life and spill my Blood That thy firm hand for ever might sustain A well-pois'd Scepter does it now seem good Thy Brothers blood be-spilt life spent in vain 'Gainst thy own Sons and Brothers thou hast stood In Arms when lesser cause was to complain And now cross Fates a watch about thee keep Can'st thou be careless now now can'st thou sleep 58. Where art thou Man what cowardly mistake Of thy great self hath stoln King Herod from thee O call thy self home to thy self wake wake And fence the hanging sword Heav'n throws upon thee Redeem a worthy wrath rouse thee and shake Thy self into a shape that may become thee Be Herod and thou shalt not miss from me Immortall stings to thy great Thoughts and thee 59. So said her richest Snake which to her Wrist For a beseeming Bracelet she had ty'd A special Worm it was as ever kist The foamy Lips of Cerberus she apply'd To the Kings Heart the Snake no sooner hist But Vertue heard it and away she hy'd Dire Flames diffuse themselves through every vein This done home to her Hell she hy'd amain 60. He wakes and with him ne'r to sleep new fears His Sweat-bedewed Bed had now betrai'd him To a vast field of Thorns ten thousand Spears All pointed in his Heart seem'd to invade him So mighty were th' amazing Characters With which his feeling Dream had thus dismai'd him He his own fancy-framed Foes defies In Rage My Arms give me my Arms he crys 61. As when a Pile of Food-preparing fire The Breath of artificial Lungs embraves The Caldron-prison'd waters streight conspire And beat the hot Brass with rebellious waves He murmures and rebukes their bold desire Th' impatient Liquor frets and foams and raves Till his o'rflowing pride suppress the Flame Whence all his high spirits and hot courage came 62. So boils the fired Herod's blood-swoln Brest Not to be siak'd but by a Sea of Blood His faithless Crown he feels loose on his Crest Which on false Tyrants Head ne'r firmly stood The Worm of jealous Envy and unrest To which his gnaw'd heart is the growing Food Makes him impatient of the lingring Light Hate the sweet peace of all-composing Night 63. A Thousand Prophecies that talk strange things Had sown of old these doubts in his deep Brest And now of late came Tributary Kings Bringing him nothing but new Fears from th' East More deep suspicions and more deadly stings With which his Feav'rous Cares their cold increast And now his dream hells firebrand still more bright Shew'd him his fears and kill'd him with the sight 64. No sooner therefore shall the morning see Night hangs yet heavy on the Lids of day But all his Counsellours must summon'd be To meet their troubled Lord without delay Heralds and Messengers immediately Are sent about who poasting every way To th' Heads and Officers of every Band Declare who sends and what is his Command 65. Why art thou troubled Herod what vain fear Thy Blood-revolving Brest to Rage doth move Heav'ns King who doffs himself weak flesh to wear Comes not to rule in Wrath but serve in Love Nor would he this thy fear'd Crown from thee Tear But give thee a better with himself above Poor jealousie why should he wish to prey Upon thy Crown who gives his own away 66. Make to thy reason Man and mock thy doubts Look how below thy Fears their Causes are Thou art a soldier Herod send thy Scouts See how he 's furnish't for so fear'd a War What Armour does he wear a few thin Clouts His Trumpets tender crys his men to dare So much rude Shepheards What his Steeds alas Poor Beasts a slow Oxe and a simple Asse Il fine del Libro primo On a Prayer Book sent to Mrs. M. R. LO here a little Volume but great Book Fear it not sweet It is no Hypocrit Much larger in it self then in its look It is in one rich Handful Heaven and all Heavens Royal Hosts incampt thus small To prove that true Schools use to tell A thousand Angels in one point can dwell It is Loves great Artillery Which here contracts it self and comes to lye Close coucht in your white Bosome and from thence As from a snowy Fortress of defence Against the ghostly Foe to take your part And fortify the Hold of your chaste heart It is the Armory of Light Let constant Use but keep it bright You 'l find it yields To Holy Hands and Humble Hearts More Swords and Shields Then Sin hath Snares or Hell hath Darts Only be sure The Hands be pure That hold these Weapons and the Eyes Those of Turtles Chaste and True Wakeful and Wise. Here is a Friend shall fight for you Hold but this Book before your Heart Let Prayer alone to play his part But O' the Heart That studies this high Art Must be a sure House-keeper And yet no sleeper Dear Soul be strong Mercy will come e'r long And bring her Bosome full of Blessings Flowers of never fading Graces To make immortal dressings For worthy Souls whose wise embraces Store up themselves for him who is alone The spouse of Virgins and the Virgins Son But if the Noble Bridegroom when he comes Shall find the wandring heart from home Leaving her Chaste abode To gad abroad Amongst the gay Mates of the god of Flies To take her pleasures and to play And keep the Devils Holy day To dance in the Sun-shine of some smiling but beguiling Spear of Sweet and Sugered Lies Some slipery pair Of False perhaps as Fair Flattering but â—…orswearing Eyes Doubtless some other Heart Will get the start And stepping in before Will take possession of the Sacred store Of hidden Sweets and holy Joyes Words which are not heard with Ears These tumultous shops of noise Effectual whispers whose still voice The Soul it self more feels then hears Amorous Languishments Luminous Trances Sights which are not seen with Eyes Spiritual and Soul piercing Glances Whose Pure and Subtle Lightning flies Home to the Heart and sets the House on fire And melts it down in sweet desire Yet doth not stay To ask the Windows leave to pass that way Delicious Deaths soft Exhalations Of Soul Dear and Divine annihilations A thousand unknown Rites Of Joys and rarified Delights An hundred thousand Loves and Graces And many a mistick thing Which the Divine embraces Of the dear spouse of Spirits with them will bring For which it is no shame That dull Mortality must not know a Name Of all this hidden store Of Blessings and ten thousand more If when he come He find the Heart from home Doubtless he will unload Himself some otherwhere And pour abroad His precious Sweets On the fair Soul whom first he meets O fair O fortunate O rich O dear O happy and thrice happy she Dear Silver-brested Dove Who ere she be Whose early Love With
winged Vowes Makes haste to meet her morning Spouse And close with his immortal kisses Happy Soul who never misses To improve that precious hour And every day Seize her sweet Prey All fresh and fragrant as he rises Dropping with a Balmy showr A delicious dew of Spices O let that happy Soul hold fast Her Heavenly Armful she shall taste At once ten thousand Paradises She shall have power To Rifle and Deflower The rich and roseal Spring of those rare sweets Which with a swelling Bosome there she meets Boundless and infinite bottomless Treasures Of pure inebriating pleasures Happy soul she shall discover What joy what bliss How many Heavens at once it is To have a God become her Lover On Mr G. Herbert's Book entituled The Temple of Sacred Poems sent to a Gentlewoman KNow you Fair on what you look Divinest Love lies in this Book Expecting Fire from your Eyes To kindle this his Sacrifice When your Hands unty these strings Think you 've an Angel by the wings One that gladly will be nigh To wait upon each morning sigh To flutter in the balmy Air Of your well perfumed Prayer These white Plumes of his Hee 'l lend you Which every day to Heaven will send you To take acquaintance of the Sphear And all the smooth-fac'd kindred there And though Herberts Name do owe These Devotions fairest know That while I lay them on the shrine Of your white Hand they are mine A Hymn to the Name and Honour of the Admirable Saint TERESA Foundress of the Reformation of the Discalced Carmelites both Men and Women a Woman for Angelical heighth of speculation for Masculine courage of performance more then a Woman who yet a Child out ran Maturity and durst plot a Martyrdom LOve thou art absolute sole Lord Of Life and Death To prove the Word â—…e need to go to none of all â—…hose thy old soldiers stout and tall â—…ipe and full grown that could reach down â—…ith strong Arms their Triumphant Crown â—…ch as could with lusty breath â—…eak loud unto the face of Death â—…eir great Lords glorious Name to none â—…f those whose large Brests built a Throne â—…r Love their Lord glorious and great â—…e'll see him take a private seat â—…nd make his Mansion in the milde â—…d milky Soul of a soft Child Scarce had she learnt to Lisp a name Of Martyr yet she thinks it shame Life should so long play with that Breath Which spent can buy so brave a Death 〈◊〉 never undertook to know â—…at Death with â—…ove should have to doe Nor hath she e'r yet understood Why to show Love she should shed Blood Yet though she cannot tell you why She can Love and she can Dye Scarce had she Blood enough to make A guilty Sword blush for her sake Yet has she a heart dares hope to prove How much less strong is Death then Love Be love but there let poor six years Be pos'd with the maturest Fears Man trembles at we straight shall find Love knows no nonage nor the Mind 'T is Love not Years or Limbs that can Make the Martyr or the Man Love toucht her Heart and loe it beats High and burns with such brave heats Such thirst to die as dare drink up A thousand cold Deaths in one Cup Good reason for she breaths all fire Her weak Brest heaves with strong desire Of what she may with fruitless wishes Seek for amongst her Mothers Kisses Since 't is not to be had at home She 'll travel to a Martyrdome No home for her confesses she But where she may a Martyr be She 'll to the Moors and Trade with them For this unvalued Diadem She offers them her dearest Breath With Christs name in 't in change for Death She 'll bargain with them and will give Them God and teach them how to live In him or if they this denie For him she 'll teach them how to die So shall she leave amongst them sown Her Lords Blood or at least her own Farewel then all the World adieu Teresa is no more for you Farewel all pleasures sports and joyes Never till now esteemed toyes Farewell whatever dear may be Mothers Arms or Fathers Knee Farewel House and Farewel Home She 's for the Moors and Martyrdome Sweet not so fast Loe thy fair Spouse Whom thou seek'st with so swift vows Calls thee back and bids thee come T' embrace a milder Martyrdome Blest pow'rs forbid thy tender life Should bleed upon a barbarous knife Or some base hand have power to rase Thy Brests chaste Cabinet and uncase A Soul kept there so sweet O no Wise Heaven will never have it so Thou art Love's victim and must dye A death more mystical and high Into Loves hand thou shalt let fall A still surviving Funeral He is the Dart must make the death Whose stroke wall taste thy hallowed Breath A Dart thrice dipt in that rich flame Which writes thy Spouses radiant name Upon the roof of Heaven where ay It shines and with a Soveraign ray Beats bright upon the burning faces Of souls which in that names sweet graces Find everlasting smiles so Rare So Spiritual Pure and Fair Must be the immortal instrument Upon whose choice point shall be spent A life so lov'd and that there be Fit Executioners for thee The fairest and the first-born Loves of fire Blest Seraphims shall leave their Quire And turn Loves soldiers upon thee To exercise their Archery O how oft shalt thou complain Of a sweet and subtile pain Of intollerable joyes Of a death in which who dies Loves his death and dies again And would for ever so be slain And lives and dies and knows not why To live but that he still may dye How kindly will thy gentle Heart Kisse the sweetly killing Dart And close in his Embraces keep Those delicious wounds that weep Balsome to heal themselves with thus When these thy Deaths so numerous Shall all at once dye into one And melt thy souls sweet Mansion Like a soft Lump of Incense hasted By too hot a fire and wasted Into perfuming Clouds So fast Shalt thou exhale to Heaven at last In a dissolving sigh and then O what ask not the Tongues of men Angels cannot tell suffice Thy self shalt feel thine own full joyes And hold them fast for ever there So soon as thou shalt first appear The Moon of Maiden Stars thy white Mistress attended by such bright Souls as thy shining self shall come And in her first ranks make thee room Where 'mongst her snowy Family Immortal welcomes wait on thee O what delight when she shall stand And teach thy Lips Heaven with her hand On which thou now may'st to thy wishes Heap up thy consecrated Kisses What joy shall seize thy Soul when she â—…ending her Blessed Eyes on thee Those second smiles of Heaven shall dart Her mild Rays through thy melting heart Angels thy old friends there shall greet thee Glad at their own home now to meet thee All thy good Works
Nature her own Physitian be Wouldst see a man all his own Wealth His own Physick his own Health A Man whose sober Soul can tell How to wear her Garments well Her Garmetts that upon her sit As Garments should do close and sit A well-cloath'd soul that 's not opprest Nor choakt with what she should be drest A Soul sheath'd in a Chrystal shrine Through which all her bright Features shine As when a piece of wanton Lawn A thin aereal Vail is drawn O'r Beauties Face seeming to hide More sweetly shows the blushing Bride A Soul whose intellectual Beams No Mists do Mask no lazy steams A happy soul that all the way To Heaven hath a Summers day Would'st thou see a Man whose well warm'd blood Bathes him in a genuine flood A Man whose Tuned humours be A set of rarest Harmony Wouldst see blith Looks fresh Cheeks beguile Age wouldst see December smile Wouldst see a nest of Roses grow In a bed of reverend Snow Warm Thoughts free Spirits flattering Winters self into a Spring In summe wouldst see a Man that can Live to be old and still a Man The beginning of Heliodorus THe smiling Morn had newly wak't the Day And tipt the Mountains in a tender Ray When on a Hill whose high Imperious Brow Looks down and sees the humble Nile below Lick his proud feet and haste into the seas Through the great Mouth that 's nam'd from Hercules A band of men rough as the Arms they wore Look't round first to the Sea then to the Shore The Shore that shewed them what the Sea deny'd Hope of a Prey There to the main Land ty'd A ship they saw no men she had yet prest Appear'd with other lading for her Brest Deep in the groaning waters wallowed Up to the third Ring o'r the shore was spread Death's purple Triumph on the blushing ground Lifes late forsaken Houses all lay drown'd In their own Bloods dear deluge some new dead Some panting in their yet warm ruines bled While their affrighted souls now wing'd for flight Lent them the last flash of her glimmering Light Those yet fresh streams which crawled every where Shew'd that stern warre had newly bath'd him there Nor did the face of this disaster show Marks of a fight alone but feasting too A miserable and a monstrous Feast Where hungry War had made himself a Guest And coming late had eat up Guests and all Who prov'd the Feast to their own Funeral c. Out of the Greek Cupid's Cryer LOve is lost nor can his Mother Her little fugitive discover She seeks she sighs but no no where spies him Love is lost and thus she crys him O yes if any happy Eye This roaving wanton shall descry Let the Finder surely know Mine is the Wagg 't is I that own The winged wand'rer and that none May think his Labour vainly gone The glad descryer shall not miss To taste the Nectar of a Kiss From Venus Lips but as for him That brings him to me he shall swim In riper joys more shall be his Venus assures him then a kiss But lest your Eye discerning slide These marks may be your judgements guide His Skin as with a Fiery blushing High-colour'd is His Eyes still flushing With nimble Flames and though his Mind Be ne'r so curst his Tongue is kind For never were his Words in ought Found the pure issue of his thought The working Bees soft melting Gold That which their waxen Mines enfold Flow not so sweet as do the Tones Of his I un'd Accents but if once His anger kindle presently It boils out into cruelty And fraud he makes poor mortals hurts The objects of his cruel sports With dainty Curles his froward face Is Crown'd about but O what place What farthest nook of lowest Hell Feels not the strength the reaching spell Of his small hand yet not so small As 't is powerful therewithal Though bare his Skin his Mind he covers And like a saucy Bird he hovers With wanton Wing now here now there 'Bout Men and Women nor will spare Till at length he perching rest In the Closet of their Brest His weapon is a little Bow Yet such a one as Jove knows how Ne'r suffred yet his little Arrow Of Heav'ns high'st Arches to fall narrow The Gold that on his Quiver smiles Deceives mens fears with flattering wiles But O too well my wounds can tell With bitter shafs 't is sauc't too well He is all cruel cruel all His Torch imperious though but small Makes the Sun of Flames the Sire Worse then Sun-burnt in his Fire Wheresoe'r you chance to find him Seize him bring him but first bind him Pitty not him but fear thy self Though thou see the crafty Else Tell down his Silver drops unto thee They 'r counterfeit and will undoe thee With baited smiles if he display His fawning Cheeks look not that way If he offer sugred Kisses Start and say the Serpent hisses Draw him drag him though he pray Wooe intreat and crying say Prethee sweet now let me go Here 's my Quiver Shafts and Bow I 'le give thee all take all take heed Lest his kindness make thee bleed What e'r it be Love offers still presume That though it shines 't is Fire and will consume HIgh mounted on an Ant Nanus the tall Was thrown alas and got a deadly fall Under th' unruly Beasts proud feet he lies All torn with much adoe yet e'r he dies He strains these words Bâ—…se Envy doe laugh on Thus did I fall and thus fell Phaethon Upon Venus putting on Mars his Arms. WHat Mars his sword fair Cytherea say Why art thou Arm'd so desperately to day Mars thou hast beaten naked and O then What needst thou put on Arms against poor men Uupon the same PAllas saw Venus arm'd and streight she cry'd Come if thou dar'st thus thus let us be try'd Why fool says Venus thus provok'st thou me That being nak't thou know'st could conquer thee Upon Bishop Andrews his Picture before his Sermons THis Reverend shadow cast that setting Sun Whose Glorious course through our Horizon run Left the dimme Face of this dull Hemisphaere All one great Eye all drown'd in one great Tear Whose fair illustrious Soul led his free Thought Through Learnings Universe and vainly sought Room for her spacious self until at length She found the way home with an Holy strength Snatch't her self hence to Heaven fill'd a bright place Mongst those immortal Fires and on the Face Of her great Maker fixt her flaming Eye There still to read true pure Divinity And now that grave Aspect hath deign'd to shrink Into this less appearance if you think 'T is but a dead face Art doth here bequeath Look on the following Leaves and see him breath Out of Martial FOur Teeth thou hadst that rank'd in goodly state Kept thy Mouths Gate The first blast of thy Cough left two alone The second none This last Cough Aelia Cought out all thy fear Th' hast left the third
triumphi Et satis ah nostri causa doloris erat Causa doloris erat Carolus sospes licet esset Anglia quod saltem discere posset Abest Et satis est nostri Carolus nunc causa triumphi Dicere quod saltem possumus Ille redit Ad Principem nondum natum NAscere nunc O nunc quid enim puer alme moraris Nulla tibi dederit dulcior hora diem Ergone tot tardos O lente morabere menses Rex redit Ipse veni dic bone Gratus ades Nam quid Ave nostrum quid nostri verba triumphi Vagitu melius dixeris ista tuo At maneas tamen nobis nova causa triumphi Sic demum fueris nec nova causa tamen Nam quoties Carolo novus aut nova nascitur infans Revera toties Carolus ipse redit CARMEN DEO NOSTRO Te Decet HYMNUS SACRED POEMS COLLECTED CORRECTED AUGMENTED Most Humbly PRESENTED TO MY LADY THE COUNTESSE OF DENBIGH By her Most devoted Servant RICH. CRASHAW In hearty acknowledgement of his immortal Obligation to her Goodness and Charity CRASHAWE THE ANAGRAM HE WAS CAR. WAs Car then Crashaw or was Crashaw Car Since both within one name combined are Yes Car's Crashaw he Car 't is Love alone Which melts two hearts of both composing one So Crashaw's still the same so much desired By strongest Wits so honor'd so admired Car Was but He that enter'd as a friend With whom he shar'd his thoughts and did commend While yet he liv'd this Work they lov'd each other Sweet Crashaw was his friend he Crashaws Brother So Car hath Title then 't was his intent That what his Riches pen'd poor Car should Print Nor fears he check praising that happy one Who was belov'd by all disprais'd by none To wit being pleas'd with all things he pleas'd all Nor would he give nor take offence befal What Might he would possess himself and live As dead devoid of interest t' all might give Disease t' his well composed mind forestall'd With Heavenly Riches which had wholly call'd His thoughts from Earth to live above in th' Air A very Bird of Paradise No care Had he of earthly trash What might suffice To fit his soul to Heavenly exercise Sufficed him and may we guess his hart By what his Lips bring forth his onely part Is God and Godly thoughts Leaves doubt to none But that to whom one God is all all 's one What he might eat or wear he took no thought His needful food he rather found then sought He seeks no Downs no Sheets his Bed's still made If he can find a Chair or Stool he 's laid When day peeps in he quits his restless rest And still poor soul before he 's up he 's drest Thus dying did he live yet liv'd to dye In th' Virgins Lap to whom he did ayply His Virgin thoughts and words and thence was styl'd By foes the Chaplain of the Virgin mild While yet he liv'd without his Modesty Imparted this to some and they to me Live happy then dear soul injoy thy rest Eternally by pains thou purchasedst While Car must live in Care who was thy friend Nor cares he how he live so in the end He may injoy his dearest Lord and thee And sit and sing more skilful songs Eternally THOMAS CAR. TO THE Noblest and best of LADIES THE COUNTESSE OF DENBIGH Perswading her to Resolution in Religion and to render her self without further delay ino the Communion of the Catholick Church WHat Heaven-intreated Heart is this Stands trembling at the Gate of Bliss Holds fast the door yet dares not venture Fairly to open it and enter Whose Definition is a doubt 'Twixt Life and Death 'twixt in and out Say lingring fair why comes the birth Of your brave Soul so slowly forth Plead your pretences O you strong In weakness why you choose so long In labor of your self to lie Nor daring quite to live nor die Ah linger not lov'd Soul a slow And late consent was a long no Who grants at last long time try'd And did his best to have deny'd What Magick bolts what Mystick Barrs Maintain the Will in these strange Warrs What fatal what fantastick Bands Keep the free Heart from its own Hands So when the year takes cold we see Poor Waters their own Prisoners be Fetter'd and lock d up fast they ly In a sad self-captiâ—…ity Th' astonisht Nymphs their floods strange fate deplore To see themselves their own severer shore Thou that alone canst thaw this cold And fetch the Heart from its strong Hold Almighty Love end this long War And of a Meteor make a Star O fix this fair Indefinite And mongst thy shafts of Soveraign light Choose out that sure decisive Dart Which has the Key of this close Heart Knows all the corners of 't and can controul The self-shut Cabinet of an unsearcht soul. O let it be at last Love s hour Raise this tall Trophee of thy Pow'r Come once the conquering way not to confute But kill this Rebel-word Irresolute That so in spight of all this peevish strength Of weakness she may write Resolv'd at Length Unfold at length unfold fair Flow'r And use the season of Love's show'r Meet his well-meaning wounds wise Heart And haste to drink the wholsome Dart That Healing shaft which Heav'n till now Has in Loves Quiver hid for you O Dart of Love Arrow of Light O happy you if it hit right It must not fall in vain it must Not mark the dry regardless dust Fair one it is your Fate and brings Eternal Words upon its Wings Meet it with wide-spread Arms and see It 's seat your soul 's just center be Disband dull fears give faith the day To save your life kill your delay It is Loves Siege and sure to be Your triumph though his Victory 'T is cowardise that keeps this Field And want of Courage not to yield Yield then O yield that Love may win The Fort at last and let Life in Yield quickly lest perhaps you prove Death's prey before the prize of Love This Fort of your fair self if 't be not won He is repulst indeed but you 'r undone To the Name above every Name the Name of JESUS A Hymn I Sing the Name which none can say But touch't with an interiour Ray The name of our new Peace our Good Our Blisse and supernatural Blood The name of all our Lives and Loves Hearken and help ye Holy Doves The high-born Brood of Day you bright Candidates of blissful Light The Heirs Elect of Love whose Names belong Unto the everlasting life of Song All ye wise souls who in the wealthy Brest Of this unbounded Name build your warm Nest. Awake my Glory Soul if such thou be And that fair Word at all refer to thee Awake and Sing And be all Wing Bring hither thy whole Self and let me see What of thy Parent Heav'n yet speaks in Thee O thou art Poor Of Noble Pow'rs I see And full of
nothing else but empty Me Narrow and low and infinitely less Then this great Mornings mighty business One little World or two Alas will never do We must have store Go Soul out of thy self and seek for More Go and request Great Nature for the Key of her huge Chest Of Heav'ns the self-involving Set of Sphears Which dull Mortality more feels then hears Then rouse the nest Of nimble Art and traverse round The Airy shop of Soul-appeasing sound And beat a summons in the same All-Soveraign Name To warn each several kind And shape of sweetness be they such As sigh with supple wind Or answer Artful touch That they convene and come away To wait at the Love-Crowned Doors of that Illustrious Day Shall we dare this my Soul we 'l do 't and bring No other Note for 't but the Name we sing Wake Lute and Harp And every sweet-lipp'd thing That talks with Tuneful string Start into life and leap with me Into a hasty fit-tun'd harmony Nor must you think it much T' obey my bolder touch I have authority in Love's Name to take you And to the work of Love this morning wake you Wake in the Name Of Him who never sleeps all things that are Or what 's the same Are Musical Answer my Call And come along Help me to meditate mine immortal Song Come ye soft Ministers of sweet sad mirth Bring all your Houshold-stuff of Heav'n on Earth O you my Soulâ—…s most certain Wings Complaining Pipes and pratling strings Bring all the store Of Sweets you have and murmur that you have no more Come ne'r to part Nature and Art Come and come strong To the conspiracy of our spacious song Bring all the Pow'rs of Praise Your Provinces of well-united Worlds can raise Bring all your Lutes and Harps of Heav'n and Earth What e'r cooperates to the common mirth Vessels of vocal joys Or you more Noble Architects of intellectual noise Cymballs of Heav'n or Humane sphears Solliciters of Souls or Ears And when you are come with all That you can bring or we can call O may you fix For ever here and mix Your selves into the long And everlasting series of a deathless Song Mix all your many Worlds above And loose them into One of Love Chear thee my Heart For thou too hast thy part And place in the great Throng Of this unbounded all-imbracing Song Pow'rs of my Soul be proud And speak loud To all the dear-bought Nations this Redeeming Name And in the wealth of one rich Word proclaim New Similes to Nature May it be no wrong Blest Heav'ns to you and your Superior song That we dark Sons of Dust and Sorrow A while dare borrow The name of your Delights and our Desires And fit it to so farr inferior Lyres Our Murmurs have their Musick too Ye Mighty Orbs as well as you Nor yields the Noblest nest Of warbling Seraphim to the ears of Love A choicer Lesson then the joyful Brest Of a poor panting Turtle-Dove And we low Worms have leave to do The same bright business ye third Heav'ns with you Gentle Spirits do not complain We will have care To keep it fair And send it back to you again Come lovely Name appear from forth the bright Regions of peaceful Light Look from thine own illustrious home Fair King of Names and come Leave all thy Native Glories in their gorgeous Nest And give thy self a while the gracious Guest Of humble Souls that seek to find The hidden Sweets Which man's heart meets When thou art Master of the Mind Come Lovely Name life of our hope Lo we hold our Hearts wide ope Unlock thy Cabinet of Day Dearest Sweet and come away Lo how the thirsty Lands Gasp for thy golden showrs with long stretch't hands Lo how the laboring Earth That hopes to be All Heaven by Thee Leaps at thy Birth Th' attending World to wait thy Rise First turn'd to Eyes And then not knowing what to do Turn'd them to Tears and spent them too Come Royal Name and pay th' expence Of all this precious patience O come away And kill the Death of this Delay O see so many Worlds of barren years Melted and Measur'd out in Seas of Tears O see the weary Lids of wakeful Hope Love's Eastern windows all wide ope With Curtains drawn To catch the Day-break of thy Dawn O dawn at last long-look't for day Take thine own wings and come away Lo where aloft it comes It comes among The conduct of adoring Spirits that throng Like diligent Bees and swarm about it O they are wise And know what Sweets are suck't from out it It is the Hive By which they thrive Where all their hoard of Honey lies Lo where it comes upon the snowy Doves Soft back and brings a bosome big with Loves Welcome to our dark World thou Womb of Day Unfold thy fair Conceptions and display The Birth of our bright joys O thou compacted Body of Blessings Spirit of Souls extracted O dissipate thy spicy Powr's Cloud of condensed sweets and break upon us In balmy showrs O fill our senses and take from us All force of so prophane a Fallacy To think ought sweet but that which smells of thee Fair Flowry Name in none but thee And thy Nectareal fragrancy Hourly there meets An universal Synod of all Sweets By whom it is defined Thus That no Perfume For ever shall presume To pass for oderiferous But such alone whose sacred Pedigree Can prove it self some kin sweet name to Thee Sweet Name in thy each Syllable A thousand Blest Arabias dwell A Thousand Hills of Frankincense Mountains of myrrh and Beds of Spices And Ten thousand Paradises The Soul that tasts thee takes from thence How many unknown Worlds there are Of Comforts which thou hast in keeping How many thousand Mercies there In Pity 's soft Lap lie a sleeping Happy he who has the Art To awake them And to take them Home and lodge them in his Heart O that it were as it was wont to be When thy old friends of fire all full of thee Fought against frowns with smiles gave Glorious chase To persecutions and against the Face Of Death and fiercest dangers durst with brave And sober pace march on to meet a Grave On their bold Brests about the World they bore thee And to the Teeth of Hell stood up to teach thee In Center of their inmost souls they wore thee Where Racks and Torments striv'd in vain to reach thee Little alas thought they Who tore the fair Brests of thy Friends Their Fury but made way For thee and serv'd them in thy Glorious ends What did their weapons but with wider pores Inlarge thy flaming brested Lovers More freely to transpire That impatient fire The heart that hides thee hardly covers What did their weapons but set wide the doors I or thee fair purple Doors of Love's devising The Ruby windows which inrich't the East Of thy so oft repeated Rising Each wound of theirs was thy new
fallacy of fire That is a Seraphim they say And this the great Teresia Readers be rul'd by me and make Here a well-plac't and wise mistake You must transpose the picture quite And spell it wrong to read it right Read Him for Her and Her for Him And call the Saint the Seraphim Painter what didst thou understand To put her Dart into his hand See even the years and size of him Shows this the Mother Seraphim This is the Mistress flame and duteous he Her happy fire-works here comes down to see O most poor-spirited of men Had thy cold Pencil kist her Pen Thou couldst not so unkindly err To show us this faint shade for her Why Man this speaks pure mortal frame And mocks with female Frost Love's manly flame One would suspect thou meanst to print Some weak inferiour Woman Saint But had thy pale-fac't purple took Fire from the burning checks of that bright Book Thou wouldst on her have heapt up all That could be found Seraphical What e'r this youth of fire wears fair Rosie Fingers Radiant Hair Glowing Cheek and glistring Wings All those fair and flagrant things But before all that fiery Dart Had fill'd the Hand of this great Heart Do then as equal right requires Since his the blushes be and her 's the fires Resume and rectify thy rude design Undress thy Seraphim into Mine Redeem this injury of thy Art Give him the Vail give her the Dart. Give him the vail that he may cover The red Cheeks of a rivall'd Lover Asham'd that our worl'd now can show Nests of new Seraphims here below Give her the Dart for it is she Fair youth shoots both thy shaft and Thee Say all ye wise and well-pierc'd hearts That live and dy amidst her Darts What is 't your tastful spirits do prove In that rare life of her and Love Say and bear witness Sends she not A Seraphim at every shot What Magazins of immortal Arms there shine Heav'ns great Artillery in each'love-spun line Give then the Dart to her who gives the flame Give him the veil who gives the shame But if it be the frequent fate Of worst faults to be fortunate If all 's prescription and proud wrong Hearkens not to an humble song For all the gallantry of him Give me the suffring Seraphim His be the bravery of all those bright things The glowing Cheeks the glistering wings The Rosie hand the radiant Dart Leave her alone the Flaming Heart Leave her that and thou shalt leave her Not one loose shaft but Love's whole Quiver For in Love's Field was never found A Nobler weapon then a wound Love's Passives are his Activ'st part The wounded is the wounding heart O Heart the equal poise of Love 's both parts Big alike with Wounds and Darts Live in these conquering Leave 's Live all the same And walk through all Tongues one Triumphant flame Live here great Heart and love and dye and kill And bleed and wound and yield and conquer still Let this immortal Life where e'r it comes Walk in a croud of Loves and Martyrdomes Let mystick Deaths wait on 't and wise souls be The Love-slain witnesses of this life of thee O sweet incendiary shew here thy Art Upon this Carcass of a hard cold Heart Let all thy scatter'd shafts of Light that play Among the Leaves of thy large Books of day Combin'd against this Brest at once break in And take away from me my self and sin This Gracious Robbery shall thy bounty be And my best fortunes such fair spoils of me O thou undaunted Daughter of Desires By all thy Dow'r of Lights and Fires By all the Eagle in thee all the Dove By all thy Lives and Deaths of Love By thy large draughts of intellectual day And by thy thirsts of Love more large then they By all thy brim-fill'd Bowls of fierce desire By thy last mornings draught of liquid Fire By the full Kingdom of that final kiss That seiz'd thy parting Soul and seal'd thee his By all the Heav'ns thou hast in him Fair Sister of the Seraphim By all of Him we have in Thee Leave nothing of my Self in me Let me so read thy life that I Unto all life of mine may dy A Song LOrd when the sense of thy sweet Grace Sends up my Soul to seek thy Face Thy Blessed Eyes breed such desire I dye in Love's delicious Fire O Love I am thy Sacrifice Be still Triumphant Blessed Eyes Still shine on me fair Suns that I Still may behold though still I dye Second part Though still I dye I live again Still longing so to be still slain So gainful is such loss of breath I dye even in desire of death Still live in me this loving strife Of living Death and dying Life For while thou sweetly slayest me Dead to my self I live in thee To Mistrses M. R. Councel concerning her Choise DEar Heav'n-designed Soul Amongst the rest Of Suiters that besiege your Maiden brest Why may not I My fortune try And venture to speak one good word Not for my self alas but for my dearer Lord You 'ave seen already in this lower sphear Of Froth and Bubbles what to look for here Say gentle Soul what can you find But painted shapes Peacocks and Apes Illustrious Flies Guilded Dunghils Glorious Lyes Goodly surmises And deep disguises Oaths of Water Words of Wind Truth bids me say 't is time you cease to Trust Your Soul to any son of Dust. 'T is time you listen to a braver Love Which from above Calls you up higher And bids you come And choose your room Among his own fair sons of fire Where you among The Golden throng That watches at his Palace doors May pass along And follow those fair Stars of yours Stars much too fair and pure to wait upon The false smiles of a sublunary Sun Sweet let me Prophesie that at last 't will prove Your wary Love Lays up his purer and more precious vows And means them for a far more worthy Spouse Then this world of Lies can give you Ev'n for him with whom nor cost Nor love nor labour can be lost Him who never will deceive you Let not my Lord the Mighty Lover Of souls disdain that I discover The hidden Art Of his high stratagem to win your heart It was his Heav'nly Art Kindly to cross you In your mistaken Love That at the next remove Thence he might toss you And strike your troubled heart Home to himself to hide it in his Brest The bright ambrosial Nest Of Love of Life and everlasting Rest. Happy mistake That thus shall wake Your wise soul never to be won Now with a love below the Sun Your first choice fails O when you choose agen May it not be among the sons of men ALEXIAS The Complaint of the forsaken wife of Saint Alexis The First ELEGY I Late the Roman Youth 's lov'd praise and pride Whom long none could obtain though thousands try'd Lo here am left alas For my lost
mate T' embrace my Tears and kiss an unkind Fate Sure in my early woe Stars were at strife And try'd to make a Widow e'r a Wife Nor can I tell and this new Tears doth breed In what strange path my Lord 's fair footsteps bleed O knew I where he wander'd I should see Some solace in my sorrow's certainty I 'd send my woes in words should weep for me Who knows how powrful well-writ pray'rs would be Sending's too slow a word my self would fly Who knows my own heart's woes so well as I But how shall I steal hence Alexis thou Ah thou thy self alas has taught me how Love too that leads thee would lend thee the wings To bear me harmless through the hardest things And where Love lends the wing and leads the way What dangers can there be dare say me nay If I be shipwrackâ—…t Love shall teach to swim If drown'd sweet is the death indur'd for him The noted sea shall change his name with me I 'mongst the blest Stars a new name shall be And sure where Lovers make their watry Graves The weeping Mariner will augment the waves For who so hard but passing by that way Will take acquaintance of my woes and say Here 't was the Roman Maid found a hard fate While through the world she sought her wandring Mate Here perisht she poor heart Heav'ns be my vows As true to me as she was to her Spouse O live so rare a love live and in thee The too frail life of femal constancy Farewel and shine fair soul shine there above Firm in thy Crown as here fast in thy Love There thy lost fugitive thou hast found at last Be happy and for ever hold him fast The Second ELEGY THough all the Joys I had fled hence with thee Unkind yet are my Tears still true to me I 'm wedded o'r again since thou art gone Nor couldst thou cruel leave me quite alone Alexis's Widdow now is sorrow's wife With him shall I weep out my weary life Welcome my sad sweet Mate Now have I got At last a constant Love that leaves me not Firm he as thou art false nor need my crys Thus vex the Earth and tear the Skies For him alas ne'r shall I need to be Troublesome to the World thus as for thee For thee I talk to Trees with silent Groves Expostulate my woes and much-wrong'd loves Hills and relentless Rocks or if there be Things that in hardness more allude to thee To these I talk in Tears and tell my pain And answer too for them in Tears again How oft have I wept out the weary Sun My watry hour-Glass hath old time out-run O I am Learned grown poor Love and I Have studied over all Astrology I 'm perfect in Heav'ns state with every Star My skilful grief is grown familiar Rise fairest of those fires what e'r thou be Whose Rosie beam shall point my Sun to me Such as the Sacred Light that er'st did bring The Eastern Princes to their infant King O rise pure Lamp and lend thy Golden ray That wary Love at last may find his way The Third ELEGY RIch churlish Land that hid'st so long in thee My Treasures rich alas by robbing me Needs must my Miseries owe that man a spite Who e'r he be was the first wandring Knight O had he ne'r been at that cruel cost Nature's Virginity had ne'r been lost Seas had not been rebuk't by saucy Oars But lain lock't up safe in their sacred shores Men had not spurn'd at Mountains nor made wars With Rocks nor bold hands struck the World's strong bars Nor lost in too large bounds our little Rome Full sweetly with it self had dwelt at home My poor Alexis then in peaceful life Had under some low roof lov'd his plain wife But now ah me from where he has no foes He flies and into wilful exile goes Cruel return or tell the reason why Thy dearest Parents have deserv'd to dye And I what is my crime I cannot tell Unless it be a crime t' have lov'd too well If Heats of Holier Love and high Desire Make big thy fair Brest with immortal Fire What needs my virgin Lord fly thus from me Who only wish his virgin Wife to be Witness chaste Heav'ns no happier vows I know Then to a virgin Grave untouch't to goe Love's truest knot by Venus is not ty'd Nor do embraces only make a Bride The Queen of Angels and men chaste as you Was Maiden-Wife and Maiden-Mother too Cecilia Glory of her Name and Blood With happy gain her Maiden vows made good The lusty Bridegroom made appoach young man Take heed said she take heed Valerian My bosome Guard a Spirit great and strong Stands arm'd to shield me from all wanton wrong My Chastity is Sacred and my Sleep Wakeful her dear vows undefil'd to keep Pallas bears Arms forsooth and should there be No fortress built for true Virginity No gapâ—… Gorgon this none like the rest Of your learn'd Lyes here you 'l find no such jest I 'm yours O were my God my Christ so too I 'd know no name of Love on Earth but you He yields and straight Baptiz'd obtains the Grace To gaze on the fair souldier 's Glorious face Both mixt at last their Blood in one rich Bed Of Rosie Martydome twice Married O burn our Hymen bright in such high Flame Thy Torch terrestrial Love has here no name How sweet the mutual yoke of Man and Wife When Holy fires maintain Love's Heav'nly life But I so help me Heav'n my hopes to see When Thousands sought my Love lov'd none but Thee Still as their vain Tears my firm vows did try Alexis he alone is mine said I Half true alas half false proves that poor Line Alexis is alone but is not mine Description of a Religious House and condition of Life Out of BARCLAY NO roofs of Gold o'r riotous Tables shining Whole Days and Suns devour'd with endless Dining No Sails of Tyrian Silk proud pavements sweeping Nor ivory couches costlyer slumbers keeping False Lights of flâ—…iring Gemms tumultuous joys Halls full of flattering Men and frisking Boys Whate'r false shows of short and slippery good Mix the mad sons of Men in mutual blood But Walks and unshorn Woods and Souls just so Unforc't and genuine but not shady tho Our Lodgings hard and homely as our Fare That Chaste and Cheap as the few Clothes we wear Those course and negligent as the natural Locks Of these loose Groves rough as th' unpolisht Rocks A hasty portion of prescribed sleep Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep And Sing and Sigh and Work and Sleep again Still rowling a round Sphear of still-returning pain Hands full of hearty labours do much that more they may And work for work not wages let to morrows New drops wash off the sweat of this days sorrows A long and daily dying-life which breaths A respiration of reviving deaths But neither are there those ignoble stings That nip the bosome