CHRIST'S VICTORY, AND TRIumph in Heaven, and Earth, over, and after death.  

A te principium, tibi desinet, accipe iussis  
Carmina caepta tuis, atque hanc sine tempora circum  
Inter victrices hederam tibi serpere lauros.   
CONFIDO IN DOMINO  
CAMBRIDGE Printed by C. LEGGE. 1610.   

To the Reader.  
There are but few of many that can rightly judge of Poetry, and yet there at many of those few, that carry so left-handed an opinion of it, as some of them think it half sacrilege for profane Poetry to deal with divine and heavenly matters, as though David wear to be sentenced by them, for vtte●…ng his grave matter upon the harp: others something more ●…olent in their censure, but sure less reasonable (as though ●…oetrie corrupted all good wits, when, indeed, bad wits cor●…pt Poetry) banish it with Plato out of all well-ordered Commonwealths. Both theas I will strive rather to satisfy, ●…en refute.  
And of the first I would gladly know, whither they suppose it fitter, that the sacred songs in the Scripture of those heroical Saints, Moses, Deborah, jeremy, Mary, Simeon, Da●id, Solomon, (the wisest Scholeman, and wittiest Poet) should ●ee ejected from the canon, for want of gravity, or rather this ●rroure eraced out of their minds, for want of truth. But, it may be, they will give the Spirit of God leave to breath through what pipe it please, & will confess, because they must ●eeds, that all the songs dittied by him, must needs be, as their Fountain is, most holy: but their common clamour is, who may compare with 〈◊〉, & yet as none may compare without presum●… all may imitat, and not without commendation: which made Nazianzen, on of the Stars of 〈◊〉 Greek Church, that now shines as bright in heaven, as 〈◊〉 did then on earth, write so many divine Poems of the Ge●… alogie, Miracles, Parables, Passion of Christ, called by him h●… 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which when Basil, the Prince of the Fathen●… and his Chamberfellowe, had seen, his opinion of them was, that he could have devised nothing either more fruitful to others: because it kindly wooed them to Religion, or more honourable to himself, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, because by imitating the singing Angels in heaven, himself became, though before his time, an earthly Angel. What should I speak of juvencus, Prosper, & the wise Prudentius? the last of which living in Hieroms time twelve hundred years ago, brought forth in his declining age, so many, & so religious poems, straightly charging his soul, not to let pass so much as one either night or day without some divine song, Hymnis continuet dies, Nec nox ulla vacet, quin Dominum canat. And as sedulous Prudentius, so prudent Sedulius was famous in this poetical divinity, the coetan of Bernard, who sung the history of Christ with as much devotion in himself, as admitation to others; all which wear followed by the choicest wits of Christendom: Nonnius translating all Saint john's Ghosipel into Greek verse, Sanazar, the late-living Image, and happy imitator of Virgil, bestowing ten-yeares upon a song, only to celebrat that one day when Christ was borne unto us on earth, & we (a happy change) unto God in heaven: thrice-honoured Bartas, & our (I know no other name more glorious than his own) Mr. Edmund Spencer (two blessed Souls) not thinking ten years enough, layeing out their whole lives upon this one study: Nay I may justly say, that the Princely Father of our Country (though in my conscience, God hath made him of all the learned Princes that ever wear the most religious, and of all the religious Princes, the most learned, that so, by the one, he might oppose him against the Pope, the pest of all Religion, and by the other, against Bellarmine the abuser of all good Learning) is yet so far enamoured with this celestial Muse, that it shall never repent me— calamo trivisse labellum, whensoever I shall remember Hac eadem ut sciret quid non faciebat Amyntas? To name no more in such plenty, where I may find how to begin, sooner than to end, Saint Paul, by the Example of Christ, that went singing to mount Olivet, with his Disciples, after his last supper, exciteth the Christians to solace themselves with ●ymnes, and Psalms, and spiritual songs; and thearefore, by their leaves, be it an error for Poets to be Divines, I had rather ●…rr with the Scripture, then be rectified by them: I had rather ●dore the steps of Nazianzen, Prudentius, Sedulius, then follow their steps, to be misguided: I had rather be the devout Admirer of Nonnius, Bartas, my sacred Sovereign, and others, the miracles of our latter age, than the false sectatie of these, that have nothing at all to follow, but their own naked opinions: To conclude, I had rather with my Lord, and his most divine Apostle sing (though I sing sorrily) the love of heaven and earth, than praise God (as they do) with the worthy gift of silence, and sitting still, or think I dispraised him with this poetical discourse. It seems they have either not read, or clean forgot, that it is the duty of the Muses (if we may believe ●indare, and Hesiod) to set always under the throne of jupiter, ●ius & laudes, & beneficia 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which made a very worthy Germane writer conclude it Certò statuimus, proprium atque pe●uliare poetarum munus esse, Christi gloriam illustrare, being good reason that the heavenly infusion of such Poetry, should ●nde in his glory, that had beginning from his goodness, fit orator, nascitur Poeta.  
For the second sort therefore, that eliminat Poets out of ●heir city gates; as though they wear now grown so bad, as ●hey could neither grow worse, nor better, though it be somewhat hard for those to be the only men should want cities, that wear the only causers of the building of them, and somewhat inhuman to thrust them into the woods, to live among the beasts, who wear the first that called men out of the woods, from their beastly, and wild life, yet since they will needs shoulder them out for the only firebrands to inflame lust (the fault of earthly men, not heavenly Poetry) I would gladly learn, what kind of professions theas men would be entreated to entertain, that so deride and disaffect Poesy: would they admit of Philosophers, that after they have burnt out the whole candle of their life in the circular study of Sciences, cry out at length, Se nihil prorsus seire? or should musicans be welcome to them, that Dant sine mente sonum— bring delight with them indeed, could they aswell express with their instruments a voice, as they can a sound? or would they most approve of Soldiers that defend the life of their countrymen either by the death of themselves, or their enemies? If Philosophers please them, who is it, that knows not, that all the lights of Example, to clear their precepts, are borrowed by Philosophers from Poets; that without Homer's examples, Aristotle would be as blind as Homer: If they retain musicans, who ever doubted, but that Poets infused the very soul into the inarticulate sounds of music; that without Pindar, & Horace the Lyriques had been silenced for ever: If they must needs entertain Soldiers, who can but confess, that Poets restore again that life to soldiers, which they before lost for the safety of their country; that without Virgil, Aeneas had never been so much as heard of. How then can they for shame deny commonwealths to them, who wear the first Authors of them; how can they deny the blind Philosopher, that teaches them, his light; the empty physician that delights them, his soul; the dying Soldier, that defends their life, immortality, after his own death; let Philosophy, let Ethiques▪ let all the Arts bestow upon us this gift, that we be no● thought deadmen, whilst we remain among the living: it is only Poetry that can make us be thought living men, when we lie among the dead, and therefore I think it unequal to thrust them out of our cities, that call us out of our graves, to think so hardly of them, that make us to be so well thought of, to deny them to live a while among us, that make us live for ever among our Posterity.  
So being now weary in persuading those that hate, I commend myself to those that love such Poets, as Plato speaks of, that sing divine and heroical matters. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, recommending theas my idle hours, not idly spent, to good scholars, and good Christians, that have overcome their ignorance with ●eason, and their reason, with religion.   


FOnd lads, that spend so fast your posting time,  
(Too posting time, that spends your time as fast)  
To chant light toys, or frame some wanton time,  
Where idle boys may glut their lustful taste,  
Or else with praise to clothe some fleshly shine  
With virgin's roses, and fair lilies chaste:  
While itching bloods, and youthful ears adore it,  
But wiser men, and once yourselves will most abhor it.   

But thou (most near, most dear) in this of thine  
Hast proved the Muses not to Venus bound,  
Such as thy matter, such thy muse, divine.  
Or thou such grace with Merci's self hast found,  
That she herself deign's in thy leaves to shine:  
Or stolen from heaven, thou brings this verse to ground,  
Which frights the numbed soul with fearful thunder,  
And soon with honeyed dews melts it twixt joy, and wonder.   

Then do not thou malicious tongues esteem,  
The glass, through which an envious eye doth gaze,  
Can easily make a molehill mountains seem;  
His praise dispraises, his dispraises, praise.  
Enough if best men best thy labours deem,  
And to the highest pitch thy merit raise,  
While all the Muses to thy song decree  
Victorious Triumph, Triumphant Victory.   
Phin. Fletcher Regal.   

TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPULL, AND REVEREND Mr. Doctor NEVILE, Deane of CANTERBURY, and the Master of TRINITY College in CAMBRIDGE.  
RIght worthy, and reverend Sir: As I have always thought the place wherein I live, after heaven, principally to be desired, both because I most want, and it most abounds with wisdom, which is fled by some with as much delight, as it is obtained by others, and aught to be followed by all: so I cannot but next unto God, for ever acknowledge myself most bound unto the hand of God, (I mean yourself) that reached down, as it were out of heaven, unto me, a be●…fit of that nature, and price, than which, I could wish none, (one●… heaven itself excepted) either more fruitful, and contenting ●…r the time that is now present, or more comfortable, and encouraging for the time that is already past, or more hopeful, and ●…omising for the time that is yet to come.  
For as in all men's judgements (that have any judgement) Eu●…pe is worthily deemed the Queen of the world, that Garland both of Learning, and pure Religion being now become her crown, and blossoming upon her head, that hath long since lain withered in Greece and Palestine; so my opinion of this Island hath always been, that it is the very face, and beauty of all Europe, in which both true Religion is faithfully professed without superstition, and (if on earth) true Learning sweetly flourishes without ostentation: and what are the two eyes of this Land, but the two Universities; which cannot but prosper in the time of such a Prince, that is a Prince of Learning, aswell as of People: and truly I should forget myself, if I should not call Cambridge the right eye: and I think (King Henry the 8. being the uniter, Edward the 3. the Founder, and yourself the Repairer of this College, wherein I live) none will blame me, if I esteem the same, since your polishing of it, the fairest sight in Cambridge: in which being placed by your only favour, most freely, without either any means from other, or any desert in myself, being not able to do more, I could do no less, then acknowledge that debt, which I shall never be able to pay, and with old Silenus, in the Poet (upon whom the boys — injiciunt ipsis ex vincula sertis, making his garland, his fetters) finding myself bound unto you by so many benefits, that were given by yourself for ornaments, but are to me as so many golden chains, to hold me fast in a kind of desired bondage, seek (as he doth) my freedom with a song, the matter whereof is as worthy the sweetest Singer, as myself, the miserable Singer, unworthy so divine a subject: but the same favour, that before rewarded no desert knows now as well how to pardon all faults, than which indulgence, when I regard myself, I can wish no more; when I remember you, I can hope no less.  
So commending these few broken lines unto yours, and yourself into the hands of the best Physician, JESUS CHRIST with whom, the most ill affected man, in the midst of his sickness, is in good health, and without whoms, the most lusty body, in his greatest jollity, is but a languishing carcase, I humbly take my leave, ending with the same wish, that your devoted Observer, ●…nd my approved Friend doth, in his verses presently sequent, that your passage to heaven may be slow to us, that shall want ●…ou here, but to yourself, that cannot want us there, most secure ●nd certain.  
Your Worships, in all duty, and service G. FLETCHER.   

THOMAS NEVYLE. MOST HEAVENLY.  

AS when the Captain of the heavenly host,  
Or else that glorious army doth appear  
In waters drowned, with surging billows tossed,  
We know they are not, where we see they are;  
We see them in the deep, we see them move,  
We know they fixed are in heaven above:   

So did the Sun of righteousness come down  
Clouded in flesh, and seemed be in the deep:  
So do the many waters seem to drown  
The stars his Saints, and they on earth to keep,  
And yet this Sun from heaven never fell,  
And yet these earthly stars in heaven dwell.   

What if their souls be into prison cast  
In earthly bodies? yet they long for heaven:  
What if this worldly Sea they have not past?  
Yet fain they would be brought into their haven.  
They are not here, and yet we hear them see,  
For every man is there, where he would be.   

Long may you wish, and yet long wish in vain,  
Hence to depart, and yet that wish obtain.  
Long may you here in heaven on earth remain,  
And yet a heaven in heaven hereafter gain.  
Go you to heaven, but yet O make no haste,  
Go slowly slowly, but yet go at last.   

But when the Nightingale so near doth sit,  
Silence the Titmouse better may befit.   
F. Nethersole.   


QVid ô, quid Veneres, Cupidinesque,  
Turturesque, iocosque, passeresque  
Lascivi canitis greges, poëtae?  
Ettam languidulos amantum ocellos,  
Et mox turgidulas sinu papillas,  
jam risus teneros, lachrymulasque,  
Mox suspiria, morsiunculasque,  
mill basia; mill, mill nugas?  
Et vultus pueri, puellululaeve  
(Heu fusci pueri, puellulaeque)  
Pingitis nivibus, rosunculisque,  
(Mentitis nivibus, rosunculisque)  
Quae vel primo hyemis rigore torpent,  
Vel Phaebi intuitu statim relanguent.  
Heu stulti nimiùm greges poëtae!  
Vt, quas sic nimis, ah nimis stupetis,  
(Nives candidulae, & rosae pudentes)  
Sic vobis pereunt statim labores:  
Et solem fugiunt severiorem,  
Vel solem gelidà rigent senectâ:   

At tu qui clypeo, haud inane nomen  
(Minervae clypeo jovisque) sumens  
Victrices resonas dei Triumphos,  
Triumphos lachrymis, metuque plenos,  
Plenos laetitiae, & spei triumphos,  
Dum rem carmine, Pieroque dignam  
Aggrederis, tibi res decora rebus  
Praebet carmina, Pieroque digna.  
Quin ille ipse tuos legens triumphos,  
Pleno● militia, labore plenos,  
Tuo propitius parat labori  
Plenos laetitiae, & spec triumphos.   
Phin. Fletcher Regal.   

〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  

BEatissima virginum Maria,  
Sed materque simul beata, per quam  
Qui semper fuit ille coepit esse:  
Quae Vitae dederisque inire vitam:  
Et Luci dederis videre lucem:  
Quae fastidia, morsiunculasque  
Passa es quas gravidae solent, nec unquam  
Audebas propier viro venire,)  
Dum clusus penetralibus latebat  
Matricis tunicâ undique involutus,  
Quem se posse negant tenere coeli.  
Quae non virgineas premi papillas  
Passa, virgineas tamen dedisti  
Lactandas puero tuo papillas.  
Eia, dic age, dic beata virgo,  
Cur piam abstineas manum, timesque  
Sancta tangere, Sanctuariumque  
Insolens fugias? an inquinari  
Contactu metuis tuo sacrata?  
Contactu metuit suo sacrata  
Pollui pia, cernis en ferentem,  
Lenimenta Dei furentis, illa  
Foedatas sibi ferre quae iubebat.  
Sis felix nova virgo-mater opto,  
Quae mollire Deum paras amicum.  
Quin hic dona licet licet relinquas,  
Agnellumque repone, turturemque,  
Audax ingrediare inanis aedes  
Dei, tange Deo sacrata, tange.  
Quae non concubitu coinquinata  
Agnellum peperitque, Turturemque  
Exclusit, facili Deo litabit  
Agno cum Deus insit, & columbae.    


NOr can I so much say as much I ought,  
Nor yet so little can I say as nought,  
●raise of this thy work, so heavenly penned,  
●at sure the sacred Dove a quill did lend  
●…m her high-soaring wing: certes I know  
〈◊〉 other plumes, that makes man seem so low  
●…his own eyes, who to all others sight  
〈◊〉 mounted to the highest pitch of height:  
●here if thou seem to any of small price,  
●…e fault is not in thee, but in his eyes:  
●…t what do I thy flood of wit restrain  
●…ithin the narrow banks of my poor vain?  
●…re I could say, and would, but that to praise  
●…y verses, is to keep them from their praise.  
〈◊〉 them who reads, and doth them not advance,  
〈◊〉 envy doth it, or of ignorance.  
F. Nethersole.    

CHRIST'S VICTORY in Heaven.  

1  
THe birth of him that no beginning knew, 
The Argument propounded in general: Our redemption by Christ.   
Yet gives beginning to all that are borne,  
And how the Infinite far greater grew,  
By growing less, and how the rising Morn,  
●hat shot from heaven, did back to heaven return,  
The obsequies of him that could not die,  
And death of life, end of eternity,  
●ow worthily he died, that died unworthily;   

2  
●ow God, and Man did both embrace each other,  
●et in one person, heaven, and earth did kiss,  
●nd how a Virgin did become a Mother,  
●nd bare that Son, who the world's Father is,  
●nd Maker of his mother, and how Bliss  
Descended from the bosom of the High,  
To clothe himself in naked misery,  
●yling at length to heaven, in earth, triumphantly,   

3  
〈◊〉 the first flame, wherewith my whiter Muse  
●oth burn in heavenly love, such love to tell. 
The Author's Invocation, for the better handling of it.   
〈◊〉 thou that didst this holy fire infuse,  
●nd taught'st this breast, but late the grave of hell,  
Wherein a blind, and dead heart lived, to swell  
With better thoughts, send down those lights that len●  
Knowledge, how to begin, and how to end  
The love, that never was, nor ever can be penned.   

4  
Ye sacred writings in whose antic leaves  
The memories of heaven entreasured lie,  
Say, what might be the cause that Mercy heaves  
The dust of sin above th'industrious sky;  
And lets it not to dust, and ashes fly?  
Could justice be of sin so over-wooed,  
Or so great ill be cause of so great good,  
That bloody man to save, man's Saviour shed his blood?   

5  
Or did the lips of Mercy drop soft speech 
The Argument, Man's redemption, expounded from the cause. Mercy   
For traitorous man, when at th'eternals throne  
Incensed Nemesis did heaven beseech  
With thundering voice, that justice might be shown  
Against the Rebels, that from God were flown;  
O say, say how could Mercy plead for those  
That scarcely made, against their Maker rose?  
Will any slay his friend, that he may spare his foes?   

6  
There is a place beyond that flaming hill  
From whence the stars their thin appearance shed, 
Dwelling in heaven   
A place, beyond all place, where never ill,  
Nor impure thought was ever harboured,  
But Sainctly Heroes are for ever said  
To keep an everlasting Sabbaoths rest,  
Still wishing that, of what they're still possessed,  
Enjoying but one joy, but one of all joys best.   

7  
●ere, when the ruin of that beauteous frame, 
And pleading for man now guild.   
Whose golden building shined with every star  
●f excellence, deformed with age became,  
MERCY, remembering peace in midst of war,  
●●ft up the music of her voice, to bar  
Eternal fate, lest it should quite erace  
That from the world, which was the first world's grace,  
●●d all again into their, nothing, Chaos chase.   

8  
〈◊〉 what had all this All, which Man in one  
●…d not unite; the earth, air, water, fire,  
●…e, sense, and spirit, nay the powerful throne  
〈◊〉 the divinest Essence, did retire,  
●…d his own Image into clay inspire:  
So that this Creature well might called be  
Of the great world, the small epitome,  
〈◊〉 the dead world, the live, and quick anatomy.   

9  
●…t justice had no sooner Mercy seen 
with justice, described   
●…oothing the wrinkles of her Father's brow,  
〈◊〉 up she starts, and ●●rowes herself between.  
〈◊〉 when a vapour, from a moory slough,  
●…eting with fresh Eous, that but now  
Opened the world, which all in darkness lay,  
Doth heavens bright face of his rays disarray,  
●…d sads the smiling orient of the springing day.   

10  
〈◊〉 was a Virgin of austere regard, 
by her qualities.   
●…t as the world esteems her, deaf, and blind,  
●…t as the Eagle, that hath oft compared  
〈◊〉 eye with heavens, so, and more brightly shined  
Her lamping sight: for she the same could wind  
Into the solid heart, and with her ears,  
The silence of the thought loud speaking hears,  
And in one hand a pair of even scoals she wears.   

11  
No riot of affection revel kept  
Within her breast, but a still apathy  
Possessed all her soul, which softly slept,  
Securely, without tempest, no sad cry  
Awakes her pity, but wronged poverty,  
Sending his eyes to heaven swimming in tears,  
With hideous clamours ever struck her ears,  
Whetting the blazing sword, that in her hand she bears.   

12  
The winged Lightning is her Mercury,  
And round about her mighty thunder's sound: 
Her Retinue.   
Impatient of himself lies pining by  
Pale Sickness, with his kerchered head upwound,  
And thousand noisome plagues attend her round,  
But if her cloudy brow but once grow foul,  
The flints do melt, and rocks to water roll,  
And airy mountains shake, and frighted shadows how●…   

13  
Famine, and bloodless Care, and bloody War,  
Want, and the Want of knowledge how to use  
Abundance, Age, and Fear, that runs afar  
Before his fellow Grief, that aye pursues  
His winged steps; for who would not refuse  
Griefs company, a dull, and raweboned sprite,  
That lankes the cheeks, and pales the freshest sight,  
Vnbosoming the cheerful breast of all delight;   

14  
Before this cursed throng, goes Ignorance,  
That needs will lead the way he cannot see:  
And after all, Death doth his flag advance,  
And in the midst, Strife still would roaguing be,  
Whose ragged flesh, and clothes did well agree:  
And round about, amazed Horror flies,  
And over all, Shame veils his guilty eyes,  
And underneath, Hell's hungry throat still yawning lies.   

15  
Upon two stony tables, spread before her,  
She leaned her bosom, more than stony hard,  
There slept th'unpartial judge, and strict restorer 
Her Subject.   
Of wrong, or right, with pain, or with reward,  
There hung the score of all our debts, the card  
Where good, and bad, and life, and death were painted:  
Was never heart of mortal so untainted,  
But when that scroll was read, with thousand terrors fainted.   

16  
Witness the thunder that mount Sinai heard,  
When 〈◊〉 hill with fiery clouds did flame,  
And 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Israel, with the sight afeard,  
Blinded 〈◊〉 seeing, durst not touch the same,  
But like a wood of shaking leaves became.  
On this dead justice, she, the Living Law,  
Bowing herself with a majestic awe,  
All heaven, to hear her speech, did into silence draw.   

17  
Dread Lord of Spirits, well thou didst devise  
To fling the world's rude dunghill, and the dross 
Her accusation of Man's sin.   
Of the old Chaos, farthest from the skies,  
And thine own seat, that hear the child of loss,  
Of all the lower heaven the curse, and cross,  
That wretch, beast, caitiff, monster Man, might spend,  
(Proud of the mire, in which his soul is penned)  
Clodded in lumps of clay, his weary life to end.   

18  
His body dust: where grew such cause of pride?  
His soul thy Image: what could he envy? 
And 1. of Adam's first sin.   
Himself most happy: if he so would bide:  
Now grown most wretched, who can remedy?  
He slew himself, himself the enemy.  
That his own soul would her own murder wreak,  
If I were silent, heaven and earth would speak,  
And if all failed, these stones would into clamours break.   

19  
How many darts made furrows in his side,  
When she, that out of his own side was made,  
Gave feathers to their flight? where was the pride  
Of their new knowledge; whither did it fade,  
When, running from thy voice into the shade,  
He fled thy sight, himself of sight bereaved;  
And for his shield a levy armour weaved,  
With which, vain man, he thought God's eyes to 〈…〉   

20  
And well he might delude those eyes, that see,  
And judge by colours: for who ever saw  
A man of leaves, a reasonable tree?  
But those that from this stock their life did draw, 
Then of his posterities, in all kind of Idolatry.   
Soon made their Father godly, and by law  
Proclaimed Trees almighty: Gods of wood,  
Of stocks, and stones with crowns of laurel stood  
Templed, and fed by fathers with their children's blood.   

21  
The sparkling fanes, that burn in beaten gold,  
And, like the stars of heaven in midst of night,  
●lacke Egypt, as her mirrhours, doth behold,  
●re but the dens where idoll-snakes delight  
again to cover Satan from their sight:  
Yet these are all their gods, to whom they vie  
The Crocodile, the Cock, the Rat, the Flie.  
〈◊〉 gods, indeed, for such men to be served by.   

22  
●…e Fire, the wind, the sea, the sun, and moon,  
●…e flitting Air, and the swift-winged Hours,  
●…d all the watchmen, that so nimbly run,  
●…d centinel about the walled towers  
〈◊〉 the world's city, in their heavenly bowrs.  
And, lest their pleasant gods should want delight,  
Neptune spews out the Lady Aphrodite,  
●…d but in heaven proud junos' peacocks scorn to light.   

23  
●…e senseless Earth, the Serpent, dog, and cat,  
●…d worse than all these, Man, and worst of men  
●…rping jove, and swilling Bacchus' fat,  
●…d drunk with the vines purple blood, and then  
●…e Fiend himself they conjure from his den,  
Because he only yet remained to be  
Worse than the worst of men, they fly from thee,  
●…d wear his altar-stones out with their pliant knee.   

24  
〈◊〉 that he speaks (and all he speaks are lies)  
●…e oracles, 'tis he (that wounded all)  
●…res all their wounds, he (that put out their eyes)  
●…at gives them light, he (that death first did call  
Into the world) that with his orizall,  
Inspirits earth: he heavens all-seeing eye,  
He earth's great Prophet, he, whom rest doth fly,  
That on salt billows doth, as pillows, sleeping lie.   

25  
But let him in his cabin restless rest,  
The dungeon of dark flames, and freezing fire, 
How hopeless any patronage of 〈◊〉.   
justice in heaven against man makes request  
To God, and of his Angels doth require  
sins punishment: if what I did desire,  
Or who, or against whom, or why, or where,  
Of, or before whom ignorant I wear,  
Then should my speech their sands of sins to mountains ●ea●   

26  
Wear not the heavens pure, in whose courts I sue,  
The judge, to whom I sue, just to requite him,  
The cause for sin, the punishment most due,  
justice herself the plaintiff to indite him,  
The Angels holy, before whom I cite him,  
He against whom, wicked, unjust, impure;  
Then might he sinful live, and die secure,  
Or trial might escape, of trial might endure,   

27  
The judge might partial be, and over-pray'd,  
The place appealed from, in whose courts he sues,  
The fault excused, or punishment delayed,  
The party's self accused, that did accuse,  
Angels for pardon might their prayers use:  
But now no star can shine, no hope be got.  
Most wretched creature, if he knew his lot,  
And yet more wretched far, because he knows it not.   

28  
What should I tell how barren earth is grown, 
All the Creatures having disleagued themselves with him   
●…ll for to starve her children, didst not thou  
●…ater with heavenly showers her womb unsowne,  
●…nd drop down clouds of flowers, didst not thou bow  
●…ine easy ear unto the ploughman's vow,  
Long might he look, and look, and long in vain  
Might load his harvest in an empty wain,  
●…d beat the woods, to find the poor oaks hungry grain.   

29  
●…he swelling sea seethes in his angry waves,  
●…d smites the earth, that dares the traitors nourish,  
●…t oft his thunder their light cork outbraves,  
●…owing the mountains, on whose temples flourish  
●…hole woods of garlands, and, their pride to cherish,  
Plough through the seas green fields, and nets display  
To catch the flying winds, and steal away,  
●…oozning the greedy sea, prisning their nimble prey.   

30  
●…w often have I seen the waving pine,  
●…st on a watery mountain, knock his head  
〈◊〉 heavens too patient gates, and with salt brine  
●…ench the moons burning horns, and safely fled  
●…m heavens revenge, her passengers, all dead  
With stiff astonishment, tumble to hell?  
How oft the sea all earth would overswell,  
●…d not thy sandy girdle bind the mighty well?   

31  
●…ould not the air be filled with steams of death,  
〈◊〉 poison the quick rivers of their blood,  
●…d not thy winds fan, with their panting breath,  
●…e flitting region? would not the hasty flood  
Empty itself into the seas wide wood,  
Didst not thou lead it wandering from his way,  
To give men drink, and make his waters stray,  
To fresh the flowery meadows, through whose fields they play●…   

32  
Who makes the sources of the silver fountains  
From the flints mouth, and rocky valleys slide,  
Thickening the airy bowels of the mountains?  
Who hath the wild herds of the forest tie  
In their cold dens, making them hungry bide  
Till man to rest be laid? can beastly he,  
That should have most sense, only senseless be,  
And all things else, beside himself, so awful see?   

33  
Wear he not wilder than the savage beast,  
Prouder than haughty hills, harder than rocks,  
Colder than fountains, from their springs released,  
Lighter than air, blinder than senseless stocks,  
More changing then the rivers curling locks,  
If reason would not, sense would soon reprove him,  
And unto shame, if not to sorrow, move him, 
For his extreme ungratefulness.   
To see cold floods, wild beasts, dull stocks, hard stones out-l●…   

34  
Under the weight of sin the earth did fall,  
And swallowed Dathan; and the raging wind,  
And stormy sea, and gaping Whale, did call  
For jonas; and the air did bullets find,  
And shot from heaven a stony shower, to grind  
The five proud Kings, that for their idols fought,  
The Sun itself stood still to fight it out,  
And fire from heaven slew down, when sin to heaven did 〈◊〉   

35  
●…hould any to himself for safety fly? 
So that being destitute of all hope, or any remedy.   
The way to save himself, if any were,  
●ear to fly from himself: should he rely  
Upon the promise of his wife? but there,  
●hat can he see, but that he most may fear,  
A Siren, sweet to death: upon his friends?  
Who that he needs, or that he hath not lends?  
●…r wanting aid himself, aid to another sends?   

36  
●is strength? but duft: his pleasure? cause of pain:  
●s hope? false courtier: youth, or beauty? brittle:  
●…treatie? fond: repentance? late, and vain:  
●…st recompense? the world wear all too little:  
●…y love? he hath no title to a tittle:  
Hell's force? in vain her fury's hell shall gather:  
His Servants, Kinsmen, or his children rather?  
●…is child, if good, shall judge, if bad, shall curse his father.   

37  
●is life? that brings him to his end, and leaves him:  
●is end? that leaves him to begin his woe:  
●s goods? what good in that, that so deceives him?  
●s gods of wood? their feet, alas, are slow  
〈◊〉 go to help, that must be helped to go:  
Honour, great worth? ah, little worth they be  
Unto their owners: wit? that makes him see  
〈◊〉 wanted wit, that thought he had it, wanting thee.   

38  
●e sea to drink him quick? that casts his dead:  
angels to spare? they punish: night to hide?  
●e world shall burn in light: the heavens to spread  
●heir wings to save him? heaven itself shall slide,  
And roll away like melting stars, that glide  
Along their oily threads: his mind pursues him:  
His house to shroud, or hills to fall, and bruise him?  
As Seargeants both attach, and witnesses accuse him:   

39  
What need I urge, what they must needs confess?  
Sentence on them, condemned by their own lust;  
I crave no more, and thou canst give no less, 
He can look for nothing, but a fearful sentence.   
Then death to dead men, justice to unjust;  
Shame to most shameful, and most shameless dust:  
But if thy Mercy needs will spare her friends,  
Let Mercy there begin, where justice ends.  
'tis cruel Mercy, that the wrong from right defends.   

40  
She ended, and the heavenly Hierarchies, 
The effect of justice her speech: the inflammation of the heavenly Powers,   
Burning in zeal, thickly imbranded wear:  
Like to an army, that alarum cries,  
And every one shakes his ydraded spear,  
And the Almighty's self, as he would tear  
The earth, and her firm basis quite in sunder,  
Flamed all in just revenge, and mighty thunder,  
Heaven stole itself from earth by clouds that moisterd vnd●…   

41  
As when the cheerful Sun, elamping wide, 
Appeased by Mercy, who is described by her cheerfulness to defend man..   
Glads all the world with his uprising ray,  
And woos the widowed earth afresh to pride,  
And paint her bosom with the flowery may,  
His silent sister steals him quite away,  
Wrapped in a sable cloud, from mortal eyes,  
The hasty stars at noon begin to rise,  
And headlong to his early roost the sparrow flies.   

42  
But soon as he again dishadowed ●is,  
Restoring the blind world his blemished sight,  
As though another day wear newly ris,  
The cooz'ned birds busily take their flight,  
And wonder at the shortness of the night:  
So Mercy once again herself displays,  
Out from her sister's cloud, and open lays  
Those sunshine looks, whose beams would dim a thousand days.   

43  
How may a worm, that crawls along the dust,  
Clamber the azure mountains, thrown so high, 
Our inability to describe her.   
And fetch from thence they fair Idea just,  
That in those sunny courts doth hidden lie,  
Clothed with such light, as blinds the Angel's eye;  
How may weak mortal ever hope to file  
His unsmooth tongue, and his deprostrate style?  
〈◊〉 raise thou from his corpse, thy now entombed exile.   

44  
One touch would rouse me from my sluggish hearse,  
One word would call me to my wished home,  
One look would polish my afflicted verse,  
One thought would steal my soul from her thick lome,  
And force it wandering up to heaven to come,  
There to importune, and to beg apace  
One happy favour of thy sacred grace,  
To see, (what though it lose her eyes?) to see thy face. 
Her beauty, resembled by the creatures, which are all frail shadows of her essential perfection.    

45  
If any ask why roses please the sight,  
Because their leaves upon thy cheel●es do bower;  
If any ask why lilies are so white,  
Because their blossoms in thy hand do flower:  
Or why sweet plants so grateful odours shower;  
It is because thy breath so like they be:  
Or why the Orient Sun so bright we see;  
What reason can we give, but from thine eyes, and thee?   

46  
Rosed all in lively crimson are thy cheeks,  
Where beauties indeflourishing abide,  
And, as to pass his fellow either seeks,  
Seems both do blush at one another's pride:  
And on thine eyelids, waiting thee beside,  
Ten thousand Graces sit, and when they move  
To earth their amorous belgards from above, 
Her Attendants.   
They fly from heaven, and on their wings convey thy love.   

47  
All of discoloured plumes their wings a● made,  
And with so wondrous art the quills a● wrought,  
That whensoe'er they cut the airy glade,  
The wind into their hollow pipes is caught:  
As seems the spheres with them they down have brought:  
Like to the sevenfold reed of Arcady,  
Which Pan of Syriux made, when she did fly  
To Ladon sands, and at his sighs sung m●…ly.   

48  
As melting honey, dropping from the comb,  
So still the words, that spring between thy lips, 
Her persuasive power.   
Thy lips, where smiling sweetness keeps her home,  
And heavenly Eloquence pure manna sips,  
He that his pen but in that fountain dipps,  
How nimbly will the golden phrases fly,  
And shed forth streams of choicest rhetorie,  
Welling celestial torrents out of poesy?   

49  
Like as the thirsty land, in summer's heat,  
Calls to the clouds, and gapes at every shower,  
As though her hungry cliffs all heaven would eat,  
Which if high God into her bosom power,  
Though much refreshed, yet more she could devour:  
So hang the greedy ears of Angels sweet,  
And every breath a thousand cupids meet,  
Some flying in, some out, and all about her fleet.   

50  
Upon her breast, Delight doth softly sleep,  
And of eternal joy is brought a-bed,  
Those snowy mountelets, through which do creep  
The milky rivers, that are inly bred  
In silver cisterns, and themselves do shed  
To weary travailers, in heat of day,  
To quench their fiery thirst, and to allay  
With dropping nectar floods, the fury of their way.   

51  
If any wander, thou dost call him back, 
Her kind offices to man..   
If any be not forward thou incit'st him,  
Thou dost expect, if any should grow slack,  
If any seem but willing, thou invit'st him,  
Or if he do offend thee, thou acquit'st him,  
Thou findest the lost, and follow'st him that flies,  
Healing the sick, and quickening him that dies,  
Thou art the lame man's friendly staff, the blind man's eyes.   

52  
So fair thou art that all would thee behold,  
But none can thee behold, thou art so fair,  
Pardon, O pardon then thy Vassal bold,  
That with poor shadows strives thee to compare,  
And match the things, which he knows matchless are;  
O thou vive mirror of celestial grace,  
How can frail colours portrait out thy face,  
Or paint in flesh thy beauty, in such semblance base?   

53  
Her upper garment was a silken lawn,  
With needle-woorke richly embroidered, 
Her Garments, wrought by her own hands, wherewith she clothes herself, composed of all the Creatures,   
Which she herself with her own hand had drawn,  
And all the world therein had portrayed,  
With threads, so fresh, and lively coloured,  
That seemed the world she new created there,  
And the mistaken eye would rashly swear  
The silken trees did grow, and the beasts living wear.   

54  
Low at her feet the Earth was cast alone, 
The Earth,   
(As though to kiss her foot it did aspire,  
And gave itself for her to tread upon)  
With so unlike, and different attire,  
That every one that saw it, did admire  
What it might be, was of so various hew;  
For to itself it oft so diverse grew,  
That still it seemed the same, and still it seemed a new.   

55  
And here, and there few men she scattered,  
(That in their thought the world esteem but small,  
And themselves great) but she with one fine thread  
So short, and small, and slender wove them all,  
That like a sort of busy ants, that crawl  
About some molehill, so they wandered:  
And round about the waving Sea was shed, 
Sea,   
But, for the silver sands, small pearls were sprinkled.   

56  
So curiously the underworke did creep,  
And curling circlets so well shadowed lay,  
That afar off the waters seemed to sleep,  
But those that near the margin pearl did play,  
Hoarsely enwaved wear with hasty sway,  
As though they meant to rock the gentle ear,  
And hush the former that enslumbred wear,  
And here a dangerous rock the flying ships did fear.   

57  
High in the airy element there hung 
Air,   
Another cloudy sea, that did disdain  
(As though his purer waves from heaven sprung)  
To crawl on earth, as doth the sluggish main:  
But it the earth would water with his rain,  
That ebbed, and flowed, as wind, and season would,  
And oft the Sun would cleave the limber mould  
To alabaster rocks, that in the liquid rolled.   

58  
Beneath those sunny banks, a darker cloud,  
Dropping with thicker dew, did melt apace,  
And bent itself into a hollow shroud,  
On which, if Mercy did but cast her face,  
A thousand colours did the bowe-enchace,  
That wonder was to see the silk distained  
With the resplendance from her beauty gained,  
And Iris paint her locks with beams, so lively feigned.   

59  
About her head a cyprus heaven she wore, 
The celestial bodies,   
Spread like a veil, upheld with silver wire,  
In which the stars so burnt in golden ore,  
As seemed, the azure web was all on fire,  
But hastily, to quench their sparkling ire,  
A flood of milk came rolling up the shore,  
That on his curdled ●aue swift Argus bore,  
And the immortal swan, that did her life deplore.   

60  
Yet strange it was, so many stars to see  
Without a Sun, to give their tapers light:  
Yet strange it was not, that it so should be:  
For, where the Sun centres himself by right,  
Her face, and locks did flame, that at the sight,  
The heavenly veil, that else should nimbly move,  
Forgot his flight, and all incensed with love,  
With wonder, and amazement, did her beauty prove.   

61  
Over her hung a canopy of state, 
The third heaven.   
Not of rich tissue, nor of spangled gold,  
But of a substance, though not animate,  
Yet of a heavenly, and spiritual mould,  
That only eyes of Spirits might behold:  
Such light as from main rocks of diamond,  
Shooting their sparks at Phoebus, would rebound,  
And little Angels, holding hands, danced all around.   

62  
Seemed those little sprights, through nimbless bold,  
The stately canopy bore on their wings,  
But them itself, as pendants, did uphold,  
Besides the crowns of many famous kings,  
Among the rest, there David ever sings,  
And now, with years grown young, renews his laye●  
Unto his golden harp, and ditties plays,  
Psalming aloud in well tuned songs his Maker's praise.   

63  
Thou self-Idea of all joys to come,  
Whose love is such, would make the rudest speak,  
Whose love is such, would make the wisest dumb,  
O when wilt thou thy too long silence break,  
And overcome the strong to save the weak!  
If thou no weapons haste, thine eyes will wound  
Th' Almighty's self, that now stick on the ground,  
As though some blessed object there did them empound. 
Her Objects.    

64  
Ah miserable Abject of disgrace, 
Repentance.   
What happiness is in thy misery?  
I both must pity, and envy thy case.  
For she, that is the glory of the sky,  
Leaves heaven blind, to fix on thee her eye.  
Yet her (though Mercies self esteems not small)  
The world despised ', they her Repentance call,  
And she herself despises, and the world, and all.   

65  
Deeply, alas empassioned she stood,  
To see a flaming brand, tossed up from hell,  
Boiling her heart in her own lustful blood,  
That oft for torment she would loudly yell,  
Now she would sighing sit, and now she fell  
Crouching upon the ground, in sackcloth trust,  
Early, and late she prayed, and fast she must,  
And all her hair hung full of ashes, and of dust.   

66  
Of all most hated, yet hated most of all  
Of her own self she was; disconsolat  
(As though her flesh did but infunerall  
Her buried ghost) she in an arbour sat  
Of thorny brier, weeping her cursed state,  
And her before a hasty river fled,  
Which her blind eyes with faithful penance fed,  
And all about, the grass with tears hung down his head.   

67  
Her eyes, though blind abroad, at home kept fast,  
Inwards they turned, and looked into her head,  
At which she often started, as aghast,  
To see so fearful spectacles of dread,  
And with one hand, her breast she martyred,  
Wounding her heart, the same to mortify,  
The other a fair damsel held her by, 
Faith.   
Which if but once let go, she sunk immediately.   

68  
But Faith was quick, and nimble as the heaven,  
As if of love, and life she all had been,  
And though of present sight her sense were reaven,  
Yet she could see the things could not be seen:  
Beyond the stars, as nothing wear between,  
She fixed her sight, disdaining things below,  
Into the sea she could a mountain throw,  
And make the Sun to stand, and waters backwards flow.   

69  
Such when as Mercy her beheld from high,  
In a dark valley, drowned with her own tears,  
One of her graces she sent hastily,  
Smiling Eirene, that a garland wears  
Of guilded olive, on her fairer hairs,  
To crown the fainting souls true sacrifice,  
Whom when as sad Repentance coming spies,  
The holy Desperado wiped her swollen eyes.   

70  
But Mercy felt a kind remorse to run 
Her deprecative speech for Man, in which   
Through her soft veins, and therefore, hying fast  
To give an end to silence, thus begun.  
Aye-honoured Father, if no joy thou hast  
But to reward desert, reward at last  
The devils voice, spoke with a serpent's tongue,  
Fit to hiss out the words so deadly stung,  
And let him die, deaths bitter charms so sweetly sung.   

71  
He was the father of that hopeless season, 
She translates the principal fault unto the Devil.   
That to serve other Gods, forgot their own,  
The reason was, thou wast above their reason:  
They would have any Gods, rather than none,  
A●beasily serpent, or a senseless stone:  
And these, as justice bats, so I deplore:  
But the up-plowed heart, all rent, and tore,  
Though wounded by itself, I gladly would restore.   

72  
He was but dust; Why feared he not to fall? 
And repeating justice her aggravation of man's sin.   
And being fallen, how can he hope to live?  
Cannot the hand destroy him, that made all?  
Could be not take away, aswell as give?  
Should man deprave, and should not God deprive?  
Was it not all the world's deceiving spirit,  
(That, bladdered up with pride of his own merit,  
Fell in his rise) that him of heaven did disinherit?   

73  
He was but dust: how could he stand before him? 
Mitigates it 〈◊〉. by a contrary inference.   
And being fallen, why should he fear to die?  
Cannot the hand that made him first, restore him?  
Depraved of sin, should he deprived lie  
Of grace? can he not hide infirmity  
That gave him strength? unworthy the forsaking,  
He is, who ever weighs, without mistaking,  
Or Maker of the man, or manner of his making.   

74  
Who shall thy temple incense any more;  
Or to thy altar crown the sacrifice;  
Or strew with idle flowers the hallowed flore;  
Or what should Prayer deck with herbs, and spice,  
Her vials, breathing orisons of price?  
If all must pay that which all cannot pay?  
O first begin with me, and Mercy slay, 
2 By interessing herself in the cause, and Christ.   
And thy thrice-honoured Son, that now beneath doth stray.   

75  
But if or he, or I may live, and speak,  
And heaven can joy to see a sinner weep,  
Oh let not justice iron sceptre break  
A heart already broke, that low doth creep,  
And with prone humblesse her feets dust doth sweep.  
Must all go by desert? is nothing free?  
Ah, if but those that only worthy be,  
None should thee ever see, none should thee ever see.   

76  
What hath man done, that man shall not undo,  
Since God to him is grown so near a kin? 
That is as sufficient to satisfy, as Man was impotent.   
Did his foe slay him? he shall slay his foe:  
Hath he lost all? he all again shall win;  
Is Sin his Master? he shall master sin:  
Too hardy soul, with sin the field to try:  
The only way to conquer, was to fly,  
But thus long death hath lived, and now death's self shall die.   

77  
He is a path, if any be misled,  
He is a rob, if any naked be,  
If any chance to hunger, he is bread,  
If any be a bondman, he is free,  
If any be but weak, how strong is he?  
To dead men life he is, to sick men health,  
To blind men sight, and to the needy wealth,  
A pleasure without loss, a treasure without stealth.   

78  
Who can forget, never to be forgot,  
The time, that all the world in slumber lies, 
Whom she celebrates from the time of his nativity.   
When, like the stars, the singing Angels shot  
To earth, and heaven awaked all his eyes,  
To see another Sun, at midnight rise,  
On earth? was never sight of pareil fame,  
For God before Man like himself did frame,  
But God himself now like a mortal man became.   

79  
〈◊〉 Child he was, and had not learned to speak, 
From the effects of it in himself.   
That with his word the world before did make,  
His Mother's arms him bore, he was so weak,  
That with one hand the vaults of heaven could shake,  
●ee how small room my infant Lord doth take,  
Whom all the world is not enough to hold.  
Who of his years, or of his age hath told?  
●euer such age so young, never a child so old.   

80  
●nd yet but newly he was insanted,  
●nd yet already he was sought to die,  
●et scarcely borne, already banished,  
●ot able yet to go, and forced to fly,  
But scarcely fled away, when by and by,  
The tyrants sword with blood is all defiled,  
And Rachel, for her sons with fury wild,  
Cries, O thou cruel King, and O my sweetest child.   

81  
Egypt his Nurse became, where Nilus springs,  
Who straight, to entertain the rising sun, 
Egypt.   
The hasty harvest in his bosom brings;  
But now for drieth the fields wear all undone,  
And now with waters all is overrun,  
So fast the Cynthian mountains poured their snow,  
When once they felt the sun so near them glow,  
That Nilus Egypt lost, and to a sea did grow.   

82  
The Angels carolled loud their song of peace, 
The Angels,   
The cursed Oracles wear strucken dumb,  
To see their Shepherd, the poor shepherds press, 
Men,   
To see their King, the Kingly Sophies come,  
And them to guide unto his Master's home,  
A Star comes dancing up the orient,  
That springs for joy over the strawy tent,  
Where gold, to make their Prince a crown, they all present.   

83  
Young john, glad child, before he could be borne,  
Leapt in the womb, his joy to prophecy,  
Old Anna though with age all spent, and worn,  
Proclaims her Saviour to posterity,  
And Simeon fast his dying notes doth ply.  
Oh how the blessed souls about him trace.  
It is the fire of heaven thou dost embrace,  
Sing, Simeon, sing, sing Simeon, sing apace.   

84  
With that the mighty thunder dropped away 
The effect of Mercies speech.   
From God's unwary arm, now milder grown,  
And melted into tears, as if to pray  
For pardon, and for pity, it had known,  
That should have been for sacred vengeance thrown:  
Thereto the Armies Angelique devo'wd  
Their former rage, and all to Mercy bo'wd,  
Their broken weapons at her feet they gladly strowed.   

85  
Bring, bring ye Graces all your silver flaskets, 
A Transition to Christ's second victory.   
Painted with every choicest flower that grows,  
That I may soon vnflow'r your fragrant baskets,  
To strow the fields with odours where he goes,  
Let what so e'er he treads on be a rose.  
So down she let her eyelids fall, to shine  
Upon the rivers of bright Palestine,  
Whose woods drop honey, and her rivers skip with wine.    

CHRIST'S VICTORY on Earth.  

1  
There all alone she spied, alas the while; 
Christ brought into the place of combat, the wilderness, among the wild beasts. Mark. 1. 13.   
In shady darkness a poor Desolate,  
That now had measured many a weary mile,  
Through a waste desert, whither heavenly fate,  
And his own will him brought; he praying fate,  
And him to prey, as he to pray began,  
The Citizens of the wild forest ran,  
And all with open throat would swallow whole the man.   

2  
Soon did the Lady to her Grace's cry, 
Described by his proper Attribute. The Mercy of God.   
And on their wings herself did nimbly strow,  
After her coach a thousand Loves did fly,  
So down into the wilderness they throw,  
Where she, and all her train that with her flow  
Through the airy wave, with sails so gay,  
Sinking into his breast that weary lay,  
Made shipwreck of themselves, and vanished quite away.   

3  
Seemed that Man had them devoured all,  
Whom to devour the beasts did make pretence,  
But him their savage thirst did nought appall,  
Though weapons none he had for his defence:  
What arms for Innocence, but Innocence?  
For when they saw their Lords bright cognizance  
Shine in his face, soon did they disadvaunce,  
And some unto him kneel, and some about him dance.   

4  
Down fell the Lordly Lions angry mood, 
Whom the creatures cannot but adore.   
And he himself fell down, in congees low;  
Bidding him welcome to his waist full wood,  
Sometime he kissed the grass where he did go,  
And, as to wash his feet he well did know,  
With fawning tongue he licked away the dust,  
And every one would nearest to him thrust,  
And every one, with new, forgot his former lust.   

5  
Unmindful of himself, to mind his Lord,  
The Lamb stood gazing by the tigers side,  
As though between them they had made accord,  
And on the Lions back the goat did ride,  
Forgetful of the roughness of the hide,  
If he stood still, their eyes upon him baited,  
If walked, they all in order on him waited,  
And when he slept, they as his watch themselves conceited.   

6  
Wonder doth call me up to see, O no, 
By his unity with the Godhead.   
I cannot see, and therefore sink in wonder,  
The man, that shines as bright as God, not so,  
For God he is himself, that close lies under  
That man, so close, that no time can dissunder  
That band, yet not so close, but from him break  
Such beams, as mortal eyes are all too weak  
Such sight to see, or it, if they should see, to speak.   

7  
Upon a grassy hillock he was laid, 
His proper place.   
With woody primroses befreckeled,  
Over his head the wanton shadows played  
Of a wild olive, that her bowghs so spread,  
As with her leave's she seemed to crown his head,  
And her green arms to'embrace the Prince of peace,  
The Sun so near, needs must the winter cease,  
The Sun so near, another Spring seemed to increase.   

8  
His hair was black, and in small curls did twine, 
The beauty of his body. Cant. 5. 11. Psalm. 45. 2.   
As though it wear the shadow of some light,  
And underneath his face, as day, did shine,  
But sure the day shined not half so bright,  
Nor the suns shadow made so dark a night.  
Under his lovely locks, her head to shroud,  
Did make Humility herself grow proud,  
Hither, to light their lamps, did all the Grace's crowd.   

9  
One of ten thousand souls I am, and more,  
That of his eyes, and their sweet wounds complain,  
Sweet are the wounds of love, never so sore,  
Ah might he often slay me so again.  
He never lives, that thus is never slain.  
What boots it watch? those eyes, for all my art,  
Mine own eyes looking on, have stole my heart,  
In them Love bends his bow, and dips his burning dart.   

10  
As when the Sun, caught in an adverse cloud,  
Flies cross the world, and there a new begets,  
The watery picture of his beauty proud,  
Throws all abroad his sparkling spangelets,  
And the whole world in dire amazement sets,  
To see two days abroad at once, and all  
Doubt whither now he rise, or now will fall:  
So flamed the Godly flesh, proud of his heavenly thrall.   

11  
His cheeks as snowy apples, soped in wine, 
Gen. 49. 12. Cant. 5. 10.   
Had their red roses quenched with lilies white,  
And like to garden strawberries did shine,  
Washed in a bowl of milk, or rosebuds bright  
Vnbosoming their breasts against the light:  
Here lovesick souls did eat, there drank, and made  
Sweete-smelling posies, that could never fade,  
But worldly eyes him thought more like some living shade. 
Isa. 53. 2.    

12  
For laughter never looked upon his brow,  
Though in his face all smiling joys did bide,  
No filken banners did about him flow,  
Fools make their fetters ensigns of their pride:  
He was best clothed when naked was his side,  
A Lamb he was, and woollen fleece he bore,  
Wove with one thread, his feet low sandals wore,  
But bared were his legs, so went the times of yore.   

13  
As two white marble pillars that uphold  
Gods holy place where he in glory sets,  
And rise with goodly grace and courage bold,  
To bear his Temple on their ample jets,  
Veined every where with azure rivulets,  
Whom all the people on some holy morn,  
With boughs and flowery garlands do adorn,  
Of such, though fairer far, this Temple was upborne.   

14  
Twice had Diana bend her golden bow, 
By preparing himself to the combat   
And shot from heaven her silver shafts, to rouse  
The sluggish savages, that den below,  
And all the day in lazy covert drouze,  
Since him the silent wilderness did house,  
The heaven his roof, and arbour harbour was,  
The ground his bed, and his moist pillow grass.  
But fruit there none did grow, nor rivers none did pass.   

15  
At length an aged Sire far off he saw 
With his Adversary, that seemed what he was not,   
Come slowly footing, every step he guessed  
One of his feet he from the grave did draw,  
Three legs he had, the wooden was the best,  
And all the way he went, he ever blest  
With benedicities, and prayers store,  
But the bad ground was blessed ne'er the more,  
And all his head with snow of Age was waxen hore.   

16  
A good old Hermit he might seem to be, 
Some devout Essene.   
That for devotion had the world forsaken,  
And now was travailing some Saint to see,  
Since to his beads he had himself betaken,  
Where all his former sins he might awaken,  
And them might wash away with dropping brine,  
And alms, and fasts, and church's discipline,  
And dead, might rest his bones under the holy shrine.   

17  
But when he nearer came, he lowted low  
With prone obeisance, and with curtsy kind,  
That at his feet his head he seemed to throw;  
What needs him now another Saint to find?  
Affections are the sails, and faith the wind,  
That to this Saint a thousand souls convey  
Each hour ': O happy Pilgrims thither stray!  
What caren they for beasts, or for the weary way?   

18  
Soon the old Palmer his devotions sung,  
Like pleasing anthems, moduled in time,  
For well that aged Sire could tip his tongue  
With golden foil of eloquence, and lime,  
And lick his rugged speech with phrases prime.  
Ay me, quoth he, how many years have been,  
Since these old eyes the Sun of heaven have seen!  
Certes the Son of heaven they now behold I ween.   

19  
Ah, mote my humble cell so blessed be  
As heaven to welcome in his lowly roof,  
And be the Temple for thy deity!  
Lo how my cottage worships thee aloof,  
That under ground hath hid his head, in proof  
It doth adore thee with the ceiling low,  
Here honey, milk, and chestnuts wild do grow,  
The boughs a bed of leaves upon thee shall bestow.   

20  
But oh, he said, and therewith sighed full deep, 
(Closely tempting him to despair of God's providence, and provide for himself.)   
The heavens, alas, too envious are grown,  
Because our fields thy presence from them keep;  
●or stones do grow, where corn was lately sown:  
So stooping down, he gathered up a stone)  
But thou with corn canst make this stone to ear.  
What needen we the angry heavens to fear?  
Let them envy us still, so we enjoy thee here.   

21  
Thus on they wandered, but those holy weeds 
But was what he seemed not, Satan, & would fain have lead him   
A monstrous Serpent, and no man did cover.  
So under greenest herbs the Adds feeds:  
And round about that stinking corpse did hover  
The dismal Prince of gloomy night, and over  
His ever-damned head the Shadows erred  
Of thousand peccant ghosts, unseen, unheard,  
And all the Tyrant fears, and all the Tyrant feared.   

22  
He was the Son of blackest Acheron,  
Where many frozen souls do chattering lie,  
And ruled the burning waves of Phlegeton,  
Where many more in flaming sulphur fry,  
At once compelled to live and forced to die.  
Where nothing can be heard for the loud cry  
Of oh, and ah, and out alas that I  
Or once again might live, or once at length might die.   

23  
Ere long they came near to a baleful bower, 
1. To Desperation, charactered by his place,   
Much like the mouth of that infernal cave,  
That gaping stood all Comers to devour,  
Dark, doleful, dreary, like a greedy grave,  
That still for carrion carcases doth crave.  
The ground no herbs, but venomous did bear,  
Nor ragged trees did leave, but every where  
Dead bones, and skulls wear cast, and bodies hanged wear.   

24  
Upon the roof the bird of sorrow sat  
Elonging joyful day with her sad note,  
And through the shady air, the fluttring bat  
Did wa●e her leather sails, and blindly float,  
While with her wings the fatal Shreechowle smote  
Th' unblessed house, there, on a craggy stone,  
Celeno hung, and made his direful moan,  
And all about the murdered ghosts did shriek, and groan,   

25  
Like cloudy moonshine, in some shadowy grove,  
Such was the light in which DESPAIR did dwell, 
Countenance, Apparel, horrible apparitions, etc.   
But he himself with night for darkness strove.  
His black uncombed locks dishevelled fell  
About his face, through which, as brands of hell,  
Sunk in his skull, his staring eyes did glow,  
That made him deadly look, their glimpse did show  
Like Cockatrice's eyes, that sparks of poison throw.   

26  
His clothes wear ragged clouts, with thorns pinned fast,  
And as he musing lay, to stony fright  
A thousand wild Chimeras would him cast:  
As when a fearful dream, in midst of night,  
Skips to the brain, and fancies to the sight  
Some winged fury, straight the hasty foot,  
Eager to fly, cannot pluck up his root,  
The voice dies in the tongue, and mouth gapes without boot.   

27  
Now he would dream that he from heaven fell,  
And then would snatch the air, afraid to fall;  
And now he thought he sinking was to hell,  
And then would grasp the earth, and now his stall  
Him seemed hell, and then he out would crawl,  
And ever, as he crept, would squint aside,  
Lest him, perhaps, some Fury had espied,  
And then, alas, he should in chains for ever bide.   

28  
Therefore he softly shrunk, and stole away,  
Ne ever durst to draw his breath for fear,  
Till to the door he came, and there he lay  
Panting for breath, as though he dying were,  
And still he thought, he felt their craples tear  
Him by the heels back to his ugly den,  
Out feign he would have leapt abroad, but then  
The heaven, as hell, he feared, that punish guilty men.   

29  
Within the gloomy hole of this pale wight  
The Serpent wooed him with his charms to inn,  
There he might bait the day, and rest the night,  
But under that same bait a fearful grin  
Was ready to entangle him in sin.  
But he upon ambrosia daily fed,  
That grew in Eden, thus he answered,  
So both away wear caught, and to the Temple fled.   

30  
Well knew our Saviour this the Serpent was,  
And the old Serpent knew our Saviour well,  
Never did any this in falsehood pass,  
Never did any him in truth excel:  
With him we fly to heaven, from heaven we fell  
With him: but now they both together met  
Upon the sacred pinnacles, that threat  
With their aspiring tops, Astraea's starry seat.   

31  
Here did PRESUMPTION her paullion spread, 
2. To Presumption, charactered by her place,   
Over the Temple, the bright starts among,  
(Ah that her foot should trample on the head  
Of that most reverend place!) and a lewd throng  
Of wamon boys sung her a pleasant song 
Attendants, etc.   
Of love, long life, of mercy, and of grace,  
And every one her dearly did embrace,  
And she herself enamoured was of her own face.   

32  
A painted face, belied with vermeyl store,  
Which light Eüëlpis every day did trim,  
That in one hand a guilded anchor wore,  
Not fixed on the rock, but on the brim  
Of the wide air she let it loosely swim:  
Her other hand a sprinkle carried,  
And ever, when her Lady wavered,  
Court-holy water all upon her sprinkled.   

33  
Poor fool, she thought herself in wondrous price  
With God, as if in Paradise she wear,  
But, wear she not in a fools paradise,  
She might have seen more reason to despere:  
But him she, like some ghastly fiend, did fear,  
And therefore as that wretch hewed out his cell  
Under the bowels, in the heart of hell,  
So she above the Moon, amid the stars would dwell.   

34  
Her Tent with sunny clouds was seeled aloft,  
And so exceeding shone with a false light,  
That heaven itself to her it seemed oft,  
Heaven without clouds to her deluded sight,  
But clouds withouten heaven it was aright,  
And as her house was built, so did her brain  
Build castles in the air, with idle pain,  
But heart she never had in all her body vain.   

35  
Like as a ship, in which no balance lies,  
Without a Pilot, on the sleeping waves,  
Fairly along with wind, and water flies,  
And painted masts with silken sails embraves,  
That Neptune self the bragging vessel saves,  
To laugh a while at her so proud array;  
Her waving streamers loosely she lets play,  
And flagging colours shine as bright as smiling day:   

36  
But all so soon as heaven his brows doth bend,  
She veils her banners, and pulls in her beams,  
The empty bark the raging billows send  
Up to th' Olympic waves, and Argus seems  
Again to ride upon our lower streams:  
Right so PRESUMPTION did herself behave,  
Tossed about with every stormy wave,  
And in white lawn she went, most like an Angel brave.   

37  
Gently our Saviour she began to shrive, 
And by her Temptation.   
Whither he wear the Son of God, or no;  
For any other she disdeigned to wive:  
And if he wear, she bid him fearless throw  
Himself to ground, and thearwithall did show  
A flight of little Angels, that did wait  
Upon their glittering wings, to latch him straight,  
And longed on their backs to feel his glorious weight.   

38  
But when she saw her speech prevailed nought,  
Herself she tumbled headlong to the flore:  
But him the Angels on their feathers caught,  
And to an airy mountain nimbly bore,  
Whose snowy shoulders, like some chaulkie shore,  
Restless Olympus seemed to rest upon  
With all his swimming globes: so both are gone,  
The Dragon with the Lamb. Ah, unmeet Paragon. 
3. To Vainglory.    

39  
All suddenly the hill his snow devours, 
Poetically described from the place where her court stood. A garden.   
In lieu whereof a goodly garden grew,  
As if the snow had melted into flowers,  
Which their sweet breath in subtle vapours threw,  
That all about perfumed spirits flew.  
For what so ever might aggrate the sense,  
In all the world, or please the appetence,  
Here it was powered out in lavish affluence.   

40  
Not lovely Ida might with this compare,  
Though many streams his banks besiluered,  
Though Xanthus with his golden sands he bore,  
Nor Hibla, though his thyme depastured,  
As fast again with honey blossomed.  
Ne Rhodope, ne Tempe's flowery plain,  
Adonis' garden was to this but vain,  
Though Plato on his beds a flood of praise did rain.   

41  
For in all these, some one thing most did grow,  
But in this one, grew all things else beside,  
For sweet variety herself did throw  
To every bank, here all the ground she died  
In lily white, there pinks eblazed wide;  
And damasked all the earth, and here she shed  
Blue violets, and there came roses red,  
And every sight the yielding sense, as captive led.   

42  
The garden like a Lady fair was cut,  
That lay as if she slumbered in delight,  
And to the open skies her eyes did shut;  
The azure fields of heaven wear sembled right  
In a large round, set with the flowers of light,  
The flowr's-de-luce, and the round sparks of dew,  
That hung upon their azure leaves, did show  
Like twinkling stars, that sparkle in th'evening blue.   

43  
Upon a hilly bank her head she cast,  
On which the bower of Vaine-Delight was built,  
White, and red roses for her face wear placed,  
And for her tresses Marigolds wear spilled:  
Them broadly she displayed, like flaming guilt,  
Till in the ocean the glad day wear drowned,  
Then up again her yellow locks she wound,  
And with green fillets in their pretty calls them bound.   

44  
What should I here depeint her lily hand,  
Her veins of violets, her ermine breast,  
Which there in orient colours living stand,  
Or how her gown with silken leaves is dressed;  
Or how her watchmen, armed with boughie crest,  
A wall of prim hid in his bushes bea●s,  
Shaking at every wind their levy spears,  
While she supinely sleeps, ne to be waked fears?   

45  
Over the hedge depends the graping Elm,  
Whose greener head, empurpuled in wine,  
Seemed to wonder at his bloody helm,  
And half suspect the bunches of the vine,  
Lest they, perhaps, his wit should undermine.  
For well he knew such fruit he never bore:  
But her weak arms embraced him the more,  
And with her ruby grapes laughed at her paramour.   

46  
Under the shadow of these drunken el●es  
A Fountain rose, where Pangloretta uses,  
(When her some flood of fancy overwhelms,  
And one of all her favourites she chooses)  
To bathe herself, whom she in lust abuses,  
And from his wanton body sucks his soul,  
Which drowned in pleasure, in that shaly bowl,  
And swimming in delight, doth amorously roll.   

47  
The font of silver was, and so his showers  
●…n silver fell, only the guilded bowls  
(Like to a furnace, that the min'rall powers)  
Seemed to have mouled it in their shining holes:  
And on the water, like to burning coals,  
On liquid silver, leaves of roses lay:  
But when PANGLORIE here did list to play,  
●…ose water than it ran, and milk it reigned they say.   

48  
The roof thick clouds did paint, from which three boys  
three gaping mermaids with their ea●●s did feed,  
Whose breasts let fall the stream, with sleepy noise,  
●…o Lion's mouths, from whence it leapt with speed,  
And in the rosy laver seemed to bleed.  
The naked boys unto the waters fall,  
Their stony nightingales had taught to call,  
When Zephyr breathed into their watery interall.   

49  
And all about, embayed in soft sleep,  
A heard of charmed beasts a ground wear spread,  
Which the fair Witch in golden chains did keep,  
And them in willing bondage fettered,  
Once men they lived, but now the men were dead,  
And turned to beasts, so fabled Homer old,  
That Circe, with her potion, charmed in gold,  
Used manly souls in beastly bodies to immould.   

50  
Through this false Eden, to his Lemons bower, 
From her Court, and Courtiers. 1. Pleasure in drinking.   
(Whom thousand souls devoutly idolize)  
Our first destroyer led our Saviour.  
There in the lower room, in solemn wise,  
They danced a round, and poured their sacrifice  
To plump Lyaeus, and among the rest,  
The jolly Priest, in ivy garlands dressed,  
Chanted wild Orgialls, in honour of the feast.   

51  
Others within their arbours swilling sat,  
(For all the room about was arboured)  
With laughing Bacchus, that was grown so fat,  
That stand he could not, but was carried,  
And every evening freshly watered,  
To quench his fiery cheeks, and all about  
Small cocks broke through the wall, and sallied out  
Flagons of wine, to set on fire that spueing tour.   

52  
This their inhumed souls esteemed their wealths,  
To crown the bousing can from day to night,  
And sick to drink themselves with drinking healths,  
Some vomiting, all drunken with delight.  
Hence to a fit, carved all in ivory white, 
in Luxury.   
They came, wheat whiter Ladies naked went,  
Melted in pleasure, and soft languishment,  
And sunk in beds of roses, amorous glances sent.   

53  
Fly, fly thou holy child that wanton room,  
And thou my chaster Muse those harlots shun,  
And with him to a higher story come, 
2. Avarice.   
Where mounts of gold, and floods of silver run,  
The while the owners, with their wealth undone,  
Starve in their store, and in their plenty pine,  
Tumbling themselves upon their heaps of mine.  
Glutting their famished souls with the deceitful shine.   

54  
Ah, who was he such precious perils found?  
How strongly Nature did her treasures hide;  
And threw upon them mountains of thick ground,  
To dark their orie lustre; but quaint Pride  
Hath taught her Sons to wound their mother's side,  
And gauge the depth, to search for flaring shells,  
In whose bright bosom spumie Bacchus swells,  
That neither heaven, nor earth henceforth in safety dwells.   

55  
●… sacred hunger of the greedy eye,  
Whose need hath end, but no end covetise,  
Empty in fullness, rich in poverty,  
That having all things, nothing can suffice,  
How thou befanciest the men most wise?  
The poor man would be rich, the rich man great,  
The great man King, the King, in Gods own seat  
Enthroned, with mortal arm dares flames, and thunder threat.   

56  
Therefore above the rest Ambition sat: 
3. Ambitious honour.   
His Court with glitterant pearl was all enwalled,  
And round about the wall in chairs of State,  
And most majestic splendour, wear installed  
A hundred Kings, whose temples wear impaled  
In golden diadems, set here, and there  
With diamounds, and gemmed every where,  
And of their golden virges none disceptred wear.   

57  
High over all, Panglories blazing throne, 
From her throne.   
In her bright turret, all of crystal wrought,  
Like Phoebus' lamp in midst of heaven, shone:  
Whose starry top, with pride infernal fraught,  
Selfe-arching columns to uphold wear taught:  
In which, her Image still reflected was  
By the smooth crystal, that most like her glass,  
In beauty, and in frailty, did all others pass.   

58  
A Silver wand the sorceress did sway,  
And, for a crown of gold, her hair she wore,  
Only a garland of rosebuds did play  
About her locks, and in her hand, she bore  
A hollow globe of glass, that long before,  
She full of emptiness had bladdered,  
And all the world therein depictured,  
Whose colours, like the rainbow, ever vanished.   

59  
Such watery orbicles young boys do blow  
Out from their soapy snells, and much admire  
The swimming world, which tenderly they row  
With easy breath, till it be waved higher,  
But if they chance but roughly once aspire,  
The painted bubble instantly doth fall.  
Here when she came, she 'gan for music call,  
And sung this wooing song, to welcome him withal.   

Love is the blossom where there blows 
From her temptation.   
Every thing, that lives, or grows,  
Love doth make the heavens to move,  
And the Sun doth burn in love;  
Love the strong, and weak doth yoke,  
And makes the yeie climb the oak,  
Under whose shadows Lions wild,  
softened by Love, grow tame, and mild;  
Love no medicine can appease,  
He burns the fishes in the seas,  
Not all the skill his wounds can stench,  
Not all the sea his fire can quench;  
Love did make the bloody spear  
Once a levy coat to wear,  
While in his leaves there shrouded lay  
Sweet birds, for love, that sing, and play;  
And of all loves joyful flame,  
I the bud, and blossom am.  
Only bend thy knee to me,  
Thy wooeing, shall thy winning be.   

See, see the flowers that below,  
Now as fresh as morning blow,  
And of all, the virgin rose,  
That as bright Aurora shows,  
How they all unleaved die,  
Losing their virgintie:  
Like unto a summer-shade,  
But now borne, and now they fade.  
Every thing doth pass away,  
There is danger in delay,  
Come, come gather then the rose,  
Gather it, or it you lose.  
All the sand of Tagus' shore  
Into my bosom casts his ore;  
All the valleys swimming corn  
To my house is yearly borne;  
Every grape, of every vine  
Is gladly bruised to make me wine,  
While ten thousand kings, as proud,  
To carry up my train, have bowed,  
And a world of Ladies send me  
In my chambers to attend me:  
All the stars in heaven that shine,  
And ten thousand more, are mine:  
Only bend thy knee to me,  
Thy wooing shall thy winning be.   

60  
Thus sought the dire Enchauntress in his mind  
Her guileful bay● to have embosomed,  
But he her charms dispersed into wind,  
And her of insolence admonished,  
And all her optic glasses shattered. 
The effect of this victory in Satan.   
So with her Sire to hell she took her flight,  
(The starting air flew from the damned sprite,)  
Where deeply both aggrieved, plunged themselves in night.   

61  
But to their Lord, now musing in his thought, 
The Angels.   
A heavenly volley of light Angels flew,  
And from his Father him a banquet brought,  
Through the fine element, for well they knew,  
After his lenten fast, he hungry grew,  
And, as he fed, the holy quires combine  
To sing a hymn of the celestial Trine;  
All thought to pass, and each was past all thought divine.   

62  
The birds sweet notes, to sonnet out their joys, 
The Creatures.   
Attempered to the lays Angelical,  
And to the birds, the winds attune their noise,  
And to the winds, the waters hoarsely call,  
And Echo back again revoyced all,  
That the whole valley rung with victory.  
But now our Lord to rest doth homewards fly:  
See how the Night comes stealing from the mountains high.    

CHRIST'S TRIUMPH Over and after death.  
Vincenti dabitur.  
CONFIDO IN DOMINO  
Printed by C. LEGGE. 1610.   

CHRIST'S TRIUMPH over Death.  

1  
SO down the silver streams of Eridan, 
Christ's Triumph over death, on the cross, expressed. 1. in general by his joy to undergo it: singing before he went to the garden, Mat. 26. 30.   
On either side banked with a lily wall,  
Whiter than both, rides the triumphant Swan,  
And sings his dirge, and prophesies his fall,  
Diving into his watery funeral:  
But Eridan to Cedron must submit  
His flowery shore, nor can he envy it,  
If when Apollo sings, his swa●s do silent sit.   

2  
That heavenly voice I more delight to hear,  
Then gentle airs to breath, or swelling waves  
Against the sounding rocks their bosoms tear,  
Or whistling reeds, that rutty jordan laves,  
And with their verdure his white head embraves,  
To chide the winds, or hiving bees, that fly  
About the laughing bloosms of sallowie,  
Rocking asleep the idle grooms that lazy lie.   

3  
And yet, how can I hear thee singing go,  
When men incensed with hate, thy death foreset?  
Or else, why do I hear thee sighing so,  
When thou, inflamed with love, their life dost get?  
That Love, and hate, and sighs, and songs are met;  
But thus, and only thus thy love did crave,  
To send thee singing for us to thy grave,  
While we sought thee to kill, and thou soughtest us to save.   

4  
When I remember Christ our burden bears, 
By his grief in the undergoing it.   
I look for glory, but find misery;  
I look for joy, but find a sea of tears;  
I look that we should live, and find him die;  
I look for Angels songs, and hear him cry:  
Thus what I look, I cannot find so well,  
Or rather, what I find, I cannot tell,  
These banks so narrow are, those streams so highly s●…   

5  
Christ suffers, and in this, his tears begin,  
Suffers for us, and our joy springs in this,  
Suffers to death, here is his Manhood seen,  
Suffers to rise, and here his Godhead is.  
For Man, that could not by himself have ris,  
Out of the grave doth by the Godhead rise,  
And God, that could not die, in Manhood dies,  
That we in both might live, by that sweet sacrifice.   

6  
Go giddy brains, whose wits are thought so fresh,  
Pluck all the flowers that Nature forth doth throw,  
Go stick them on the cheeks of wanton flesh;  
Poor idol, (forced at once to fall and grow)  
Of fading roses, and of melting snow:  
Your songs exceed your matter, this of mine,  
The matter, which it sings, shall make divine,  
As stars dull puddles gild, in which their beauties shine.   

7  
Who doth not see drowned in Deucalion's name, 
By the obscure fables of the Gentiles, typing it.   
(When earth his men, and sea had lost his shore)  
Old Noah; and in Nisus lock, the fame  
Of Samson yet alive; and long before  
In Phaethons', mine own fall I deplore:  
But he that conquered hell, to fetch again  
His virgin widow, by a serpent slain,  
Another Orpheus was then dreaming poets feign.   

8  
That taught the stones to melt for passion,  
And dormant sea, to hear him, silent lie,  
And at his voice, the watery nation  
To flock, as if they deemed it cheap, to buy  
With their own deaths his sacred harmony:  
The while the waves stood still to hear his song,  
And steady shore waved with the reeling throng  
Of thirsty souls, that hung upon his fluent tongue.   

9  
What better friendship, then to cover shame? 
By the cause of it in him, his love.   
What greater love, then for a friend to die?  
Yet this is better to asself the blame,  
And this is greater, for an enemy:  
But more than this, to die, not suddenly,  
Not with some common death, or easy pain,  
But slowly, and with torments to be slain,  
O depth, without a depth, far better seen, then sane!   

10  
And yet the Son is humbled for the Slave, 
By the effect it should have in us.   
And yet the Slave is proud before the Son:  
Yet the Creator for his creature gave  
Himself, and yet the creature hasts to run  
From his Creator, and self-good doth shun:  
And yet the Prince, and God himself doth cry  
To Man, his Traitor, pardon not to fly,  
Yet Man his God, and Traitor doth his Prince defy.   

11  
Who is it sees not that he nothing is,  
But he that nothing sees; what weaker breast,  
Since Adam's Armour failed, dares warrant his?  
That made by God of all his creatures best,  
Straight made himself the worst of all the rest:  
" If any strength we have, it is to ill,  
" But all the good is Gods, both power, and will:  
The dead man cannot rise, though he himself may kill.   

12  
But let the thorny schools these punctualls  
Of wills, all good, or bad, or neuter diss;  
Such joy we gained by our parentalls,  
That good, or bad, whither I cannot wiss,  
To call it a mishap, or happy miss  
That fell from Eden, and to heaven did rise:  
Albe the mitred Cardinal more did prise  
His part in Paris, than his part in Paradise.   

13  
A Tree was first the instrument of strife,  
Where Eve to sin her soul did prostitute, 
By the instrument, the cursed Tree,   
A Tree is now the instrument of life,  
Though ill that trunk, and this fair body suit:  
Ah, cursed tree, and yet O blessed fruit!  
That death to him, this life to us doth give:  
Strange is the cure, when things past cure revive,  
And the Physician dies, to make his patient live.   

14  
Sweet Eden was the arbour of delight, 
2. expressed in particular, 〈◊〉 by his fore-passion in the Garden.   
Yet in his honey flowers our poison blew;  
Sad Gethseman the bower of baleful night,  
Where Christ a health of poison for us drew,  
Yet all our honey in that poison grew:  
So we from sweetest flowers, could suck our bane,  
And Christ from bitter venom, could again  
Extract life out of death, and pleasure out of pain.   

15  
A Man was first the author of our fall,  
A Man is now the author of our rise,  
A Garden was the place we perished all,  
A Garden is the place he pays our price,  
And the old Serpent with a new devise,  
Hath found a way himself for to beguile,  
So he, that all men tangled in his wile,  
●s now by one man caught, beguiled with his own guile.   

16  
The dewy night had with her frosty shade  
immantled all the world, and the stiff ground  
Sparkled in ice, only the Lord, that made  
All for himself, himself dissolved found,  
Sweat without heat, and bled without a wound:  
Of heaven, and earth, and God, and Man forlore,  
Thrice begging help of those, whose sins he bore,  
And thrice denied of those, not to deny had swore.   

17  
Yet had he been alone of God forsaken,  
Or had his body been embroiled alone  
In fierce assault, he might, perhaps, have taken  
Some joy in soul, when all joy else was gone,  
But that with God, and God to heaven is flown;  
And Hell itself out from her grave doth rise,  
Black as the starles night, and with them flies,  
Yet blacker than they both, the Son of blasphemies.   

18  
As when the Planets, with unkind aspect,  
Call from her caves the meager pestilence,  
The sacred vapour, eager to infect,  
Obeys the voice of the sad influence,  
And vomits up a thousand noisome scents,  
The well of life, flaming his golden flood  
With the sick air, fevers the boiling blood,  
And poisons all the body with contagious food.   

19  
The bold Physician, too incautelous,  
By those he cures, himself is murdered,  
Kindness infects, pity is dangerous,  
And the poor infant, yet not fully bred,  
There where he should be borne, lies buried,  
So the dark Prince, from his infernal cell,  
Casts up his grisly Torturers of hell,  
And whets them to revenge, with this insulting spell.   

20  
See how the world smiles in eternal peace;  
While we, the harmless brats, and rusty throng  
Of Night, our snakes in curls do prank, and dress:  
Why sleep our drowsy scorpions so long?  
Where is our wont virtue to do wrong?  
Are we ourselves; or are we Graces grown?  
The Sons of hell, or heaven? was never known  
Our whips so over-moss't, and brands so deadly blown.   

21  
O long desired, never hoped for hour,  
When our Tormentor shall our torments feel!  
Arm, arm yourselves, sad Dires of my power,  
And make our judge for pardon to us kneel,  
Slice, launch, dig, tear him with your whips of steel:  
Myself in honour of so noble prize,  
Will power you reeking blood, shed with the cries  
Of hasty heirs, who their own father's sacrifice.   

22  
With that a flood of poison, black as hell,  
Out from his filthy gorge, the beast did spew,  
That all about his blessed body fell,  
And thousand flaming serpents hissing flew  
About his soul, from hellish sulphur threw,  
And every one brandished his fiery tongue,  
And woorming all about his soul they clung,  
But he their stings tore out, and to the ground them flung.   

23  
So have I seen a rocks heroic breast,  
Against proud Neptune, that his ruin threats,  
When all his waves he hath to battle priest,  
And with a thousand swelling billows beats  
The stubborn stone, and foams, and chafes, and frets  
To heave him from his root, unmoved stand;  
And more in heaps the barking surges band,  
The more in pieces beat, fly weeping to the strand.   

24  
So may we oft a venturous father see,  
To please his wanton son, his only joy,  
Coast all about, to catch the roving Bee,  
And stung himself, his busy hands employ  
To save the honey, for the gamesome boy:  
Or from the snake her rancorous teeth erace,  
Making his child the toothless Serpent chase,  
Or, with his little hands, her ●um'rous gorge embrace.   

25  
Thus Christ himself to watch, and sorrow gives,  
While, dewed in easy sleep, dead Peter lies:  
Thus Man in his own grave securely lives,  
While Christ alive, with thousand horrors dies,  
Yet more for theirs, than his own pardon cries:  
No sins he had, yet all our sins he bore,  
So much doth God for others evils care,  
And yet so careless men for their own evils are.   

26  
See drowsy Peter, see where judas wakes, 
By his passion itself, amplified, 1. from the general causes.   
Where judas kisses him whom Peter flies:  
O kiss more deadly than the sting of snakes!  
False love more hurtful than true injuries!  
Ay me! how dearly God his Servant buys?  
For God his man, at his own blood doth hold,  
And Man his God, for thirty pence hath sold.  
So tin for silver goes, and dunghill dross for gold.   

27  
Yet was it not enough for Sin to choose  
A Servant, to betray his Lord to them;  
But that a Subject must his King accuse,  
But that a Pagan must his God condemn,  
But that a Father must his Son contemn,  
But that the Son must his own death desire,  
That Prince, and People, Servant, and the Sire,  
Gentil, and jew, and he against himself conspire?   

28  
Was this the oil, to make thy Saints adore thee, 
Parts, and   
The frothy spittle of the rascal throng?  
At these the virges, that at borne before thee,  
Base whips of cord, and knotted all along?  
●s this thy golden sceptre, against wrong,  
A reedy cane? is that the crown adorns  
Thy shining locks, a crown of spiny thorns?  
〈◊〉 theas the Angels himns, the Priests blasphemous scorns?   

29  
Who ever saw Honour before ashamed; 
Effects of it.   
Afflicted Majesty, debased height;  
innocence's guilty, Honesty defamed;  
Liberty bound, Health sick, the Sun in night?  
But since such wrong was offered unto right,  
Our night is day, our sickness health is grown,  
Our shame is veiled, this now remains alone  
For us, since he was ours, that we be not our own.   

30  
Night was ordained for rest, and not for pain, 
1. From the particular causes.   
But they, to pain their Lord, their rest contemn,  
Good laws to save, what bad men would have slain,  
And not bad judges, with one breath, by them  
The innocent to pardon, and condemn:  
Death for revenge of murderers, not decay  
Of guiltless blood, but now, all headlong sway  
Man's Murderer to save, man's Saviour to slay.   

31  
Frail Multitude, whose giddy law is list,  
And best applause is windy flattering,  
Most like the breath of which it doth consist,  
No sooner blown, but as soon vanishing,  
As much desired, as little profiting,  
That makes the men that have it oft as light,  
As those that give it, which the proud invite,  
And fear: the bad man's friend, the good man's hypocrite.   

32  
It was but now their sounding clamours sung, 
Parts, and   
Blessed is he, that comes from the most high,  
And all the mountains with Hosanna rung,  
And now, away with him, away they cry,  
And nothing can be heard but crucify:  
It was but now, the Crown itself they save,  
And golden name of King unto him gave,  
And now, no King, but only Caesar, they will have:   

33  
It was but now they gathered blooming May,  
And of his arms disrobed the branching tree,  
To strow with boughs, and blossoms all thy way,  
And now, the branchlesse trunk a cross for thee,  
And May, dismayed, thy coronet must be:  
It was but now they wear so kind, to throw  
Their own best garments, where thy feet should go,  
And now, thyself they strip, and bleeding wounds they show   

34  
See where the author of all life is dying:  
O fearful day! he dead, what hope of living?  
See where the hopes of all our lives are buying:  
O cheerful day! they bought, what fear of grieving?  
love love for hate, and death for life is giving:  
Loc how his arms are stretched abroad to grace thee,  
And, as they open stand, call to embrace thee,  
Why stayest thou then my soul; o fly, fly thither hast thee.   

35  
His radious head, with shameful thorns they tear,  
His tender back, with bloody whips they rend,  
His side, and heart they furrow with a spear,  
His hands, and feet, with riving nails they tent,  
And, as to disentrayle his soul they meant,  
They jolly at his grief, and make their game,  
His naked body to expose to shame,  
That all might come to see, and all might see, that came.   

36  
Whereat the heaven put out his guilty eye, 
Effects of it in heaven.   
That durst behold so execrable sight,  
And sabled all in black the shady sky,  
And the pale stars, struck with unwonted fright,  
Quenched their everlasting lamps in night:  
And at his birth as all the stars heaven had,  
Wear not enough, but a new star was made,  
●o now both new, and old, and all away did fade.   

37  
The mazed Angels shook their fiery wings, 
in the heavenly Spirits.   
Ready to lighten vengeance from God's throne,  
One down his eyes upon the Manhood flings,  
Another gazes on the Godhead, none  
But surely thought his wits wear not his own:  
Some flew, to look if it wear very he,  
But, when Gods arm unarmed they did see,  
albe they saw it was, they vowed it could not be.   

38  
The sadded air hung all in cheerless black, 
in the Creatures sub celestial.   
Through which, the gentle winds soft sighing flew,  
And jordan into such huge sorrow broke,  
(As if his holy stream no measure knew,)  
That all his narrow banks he overthrew,  
The trembling earth with horror inly shook,  
And stubborn stones, such grief unused to brook,  
Did burst, and ghosts awaking from their graves 'gan look.   

39  
The wise Philosopher cried, all aghast,  
The God of nature surely lanquished,  
The sad Centurion cried out as fast,  
The Son of God, the Son of God was dead,  
The headlong jew hung down his pensive head, 
In the wicked jews.   
And homewards fared, and ever, as he went,  
He smote his breast, half desperately bend,  
The very woods, and beasts did seem his death lament.   

40  
The graceless Traitor round about did look, 
In judas.   
(He looked not long, the Devil quickly met him)  
To find a halter, which he found, and took,  
Only a gibbet now he needs must get him,  
So on a withered tree he fairly set him,  
And helped him fit the rope, and in his thought  
A thousand furies, with their whips, he brought,  
So there he stands, ready to hell to make his vault.   

41  
For him a waking bloodhound, yelling loud,  
That in his bosom long had sleeping laid,  
A guilty Conscience, barking after blood,  
Pursued eagerly, ne ever staid,  
Till the betrayers self it had betrayed.  
Oft changed he place, in hope away to wind,  
But change of place could never change his mind,  
Himself he flies to lose, and follows for to find.   

42  
There is but two ways for this soul to have,  
When parting from the body, forth it purges,  
To fly to heaven, or fall into the grave,  
Where whips of scorpions, with the stinging scourges,  
Feed on the howling ghosts, and fiery Surges  
Of brimstone roll about the cave of night,  
Where flames do burn, and yet no spark of light,  
And fire both fries, and freezes the blaspheming sprite.   

43  
There lies the captive soul, aye-sighing sore,  
Reckoning a thousand years since her first bands,  
Yet stays not there, but adds a thousand more,  
And at another thousand never stands,  
But tells to them the stars, and heaps the sands,  
And now the starts are told, and sands are run,  
And all those thousand thousand myriads done,  
And yet but now, alas! but now all is begun.   

44  
With that a flaming brand a Fury catched,  
And shook, and tossed it round in his wild thought,  
So from his heart all joy, all comfort snatched,  
With every star of hope, and as he sought,  
(With present fear, and future grief distraught)  
To fly from his own heart, and aid in plore  
Of him, the more he gives, that hath the more,  
Whose storehouse is the heavens, too little for his store.   

45  
Stay wretch on earth, ●…d Satan, re●●le● rest,  
knowst thou not justice lives in heavens or ean  
The worst of creatures live among the best;  
Among the blessed Angels cursed man?  
Will judas now become a Christian?  
Whither will hopes long wings transport thy mind;  
Or canst thou not thyself a sinner find;  
Or cruel to thyself, wouldst thou have Mercy kind?   

46  
He gave thee life: why shouldst thou seek to slay him?  
He lent thee wealth: to feed thy avarice?  
He called thee friend: what, that thou shouldst betray him?  
He kissed thee, though he knew his life the price:  
He washed thy feet: shouldst thou his sacrifice?  
He gave thee bread, and wine, his body, blood,  
And at thy heart to enter in he stood,  
But then I entered in, and all my snaky brood.   

47  
As when wild Pentheus, grown mad with fear,  
Whole troops of hellish hags about him spies,  
Two bloody Suns stalking the dusky sphere,  
And twofold Thebes runs rolling in his eyes:  
Or through the scene staring Orestes flies,  
With eyes flung back upon his Mother's ghost,  
That, with infernal serpents all embossed,  
And torches quenched in blood, doth her stern son accost.   

48  
Such horrid gorgons, and misformed forms  
Of damned fiends, flew dancing in his heart,  
That new, unable to endure their storms,  
Fly, fly, he cries, thyself, what ere thou art,  
Hell, hell already burns in every part.  
So down into his Torturers arms he fell,  
That ready stood his funerals to yell,  
And in a cloud of night to wa●● him quick to hell.   

49  
Yet oft he snatched, and started as he hung:  
So when the senses half enslumb'red lie,  
The headlong body, ready to be flung,  
By the deluding phan●●e, from some high,  
And craggy rock, recovers greedily,  
And clasps the yielding pillow, half asleep,  
And, as from heaven it tumbled to the deep,  
Feels a cold sweat through every trembling member creep.   

50  
There let him hang, emboweled in blood,  
Where never any gentle Shepherd feed  
His blessed flocks, nor ever heavenly flood  
Fall on the cursed ground, nor wholesome seed,  
That may the least delight, or pleasure breed:  
Let never Spring visit his habitation,  
But nettles, kixe, and all the weedy nation,  
With empty elders grow, sad signs of desolation.   

51  
Thea● let the Dragon keep his habitance,  
And stinking carcases be thrown avaunt,  
Fauns, Sylvans, and deformed Satyr's dance,  
Wild-cats, wolves, ●oad●, and shreechowles' direly chant,  
There ever let some restless spirit haunt,  
With hollow sound, and clashing chains, to scar  
The passenger, and eyes like to the star,  
That sparkles in the crest of ang●i● Mars afa●●.   

52  
But let the blessed dews for ever shower  
Upon that ground, in whose fair fields I spy  
The bloody ensign of our Saviour:  
Strange conquest, where the Conqueror must die,  
And he is slain, that wins the victory:  
But he, that living, had no house to owe it, 
In the blessed Saint, joseph, etc.   
Now had no grave, but joseph must bestow it,  
O run ye Saints apace, and with sweet flowers bestow it.   

53  
And ye glad Spirits, that now sainted sit  
On your celestial thrones, in beauty dressed,  
Though I your tears recoumpt, O let not it  
With after-sorrowe wound your tender breast,  
Or with new grief unquiet your soft rest:  
Enough is me your plaints to sound again,  
That never could enough myself complain,  
Sing then, O sing aloud thou Arimathean Swain.   

54  
But long he stood, in his faint arms vphoulding  
The fairest spoil heaven ever forfeited,  
With such a silent passion grief unfolding,  
That, had the sheet but on himself been spread,  
He for the corpse might have been buried:  
And with him stood the happy thief, that stole  
By night his own salvation, and a shoal  
Of Mary's drowned, round about him, sat in dole.   

55  
At length (kissing his lips before he spoke,  
As if from thence he fetched again his ghost)  
To Mary thus, with tears, his silence broke.  
Ah woeful soul! what joy in all our cost,  
When him we hold, we have already lost?  
Once didst thou lose thy Son, but found'st again,  
Now findest thy Son, but findest him lost, and slain.  
Ay me! though he could death, how canst thou life sustain?   

56  
Where ere, dear Lord, thy Shadow hovereth,  
Blessing the place, wherein it deigns abide,  
Look how the earth dark horror covereth,  
Clothing in mournful black her naked side,  
Willing her shadow up to heaven to glide,  
To see and if it meet thee wandering there,  
That so, and if herself must miss thee hear,  
At least her shadow may her duty to thee bear.   

57  
See how the Sun in daytime clouds his face,  
And lagging Vesper, losing his late team,  
Forgets in heaven to run his nightly race,  
But, sleeping on bright Oeta's top, doth dream  
The world a Chaos is, no joyful beam  
Looks from his starry bower, the heavens do move,  
And Trees drop tears, lest we should grieve alone,  
The winds have learned to sigh, and waters hoarsely groan.   

58  
And you sweet flowers, that in this garden grow,  
Whose happy states a thousand souls envy,  
Did you your own felicities but know,  
Yourselves unplucked would to his funerals hi●,  
You never could in better season die:  
O that I might into your places slide,  
The gate of heaven stands gaping in his side,  
There in my soul should steal, and all her faults should hide.   

59  
Are theas the eyes, that made all others blind;  
Ah why are they themselves now blemished?  
Is this the face, in which all beauty shined;  
What blast hath thus his flowers debellished?  
At these the feet, that on the watery head  
Of the unfaithful Ocean passage found;  
Why go they now so lowly under ground,  
Washed with our worthless tears, and their own precious wound?   

60  
One hem but of the garments that he wore,  
Could medicine whole countries of their pain,  
One touch of this pale hand could life restore,  
One word of these cold lips revive the slain:  
Well the blind man thy Godhead might maintain,  
What though the sullen pharisees repined?  
He that should both compare, at length would find  
The blind man only saw, the Seers all wear blind.   

61  
Why should they think thee worthy to be slain?  
Was it because thou gav'st their blind men eyes;  
Or that thou mad'st their lame to walk again;  
Or for thou heal'dst their sick men's maladies;  
Or mad'st their dumb to speak; and dead to rise?  
O could all these but any grace have won,  
What would they not to save thy life have done?  
The dumb man would have spoke, and lame man would have run.   

62  
Let me, O let me near some fountain lie,  
That through the rock heaves up his sandy head,  
Or let me dwell upon some mountain high,  
Whose hollow root, and base parts are spread  
On fleeting waters, in his bowels bred,  
That I their streams, and they my tears may feed,  
Or, clothed in some Hermit's ragged weed,  
Spend all my days, in weeping for this cursed deed.   

63  
The life, the which I onte did love, I leave,  
The love, in which I once did live, I loathe,  
I hate the light, that did my light bereave,  
Both love, and life, I do despise you both,  
O that one grave might both our ashes cloth!  
A Love, a Life, a Light I now obtain,  
Able to make my Age grow young again,  
Able to save the sick, and to revive the slain.   

64  
Thus spend we tears, that never can be spent,  
On him, that sorrow now no more shall see:  
Thus send we sighs, that never can be sent,  
To him, that died to live, and would not be,  
To be there where he would; here bury we  
This heavenly earth, here let it softly sleep,  
The fairest Shepherd of the fairest sheep.  
So all the body kissed, and homewards went to weep.   

65  
So home their bodies went, to seek repose,  
But at the grave they left their souls behind;  
O who the force of love celestial knows!  
That can the chains of nature's self unbind,  
Sending the Body home, without the mind.  
Ah blessed Virgin, what high Angels art  
Can ever count thy tears, or sing thy smart,  
When every nail, that pierced his hand, did pierce thy heart?   

66  
So Philomela, perched on an aspen sprig,  
Weeps all the night her lost virginity,  
And sings her sad tale to the merry twig,  
That dances at such joyful misery,  
Ne ever lets sweet rest invade her eye:  
But leaning on a thorn her dainty chest,  
For fear soft sleep should steal into her breast,  
Expresses in her song grief not to be expressed.   

67  
So when the Lark, poor bird, afar espi'th  
Her yet unfeathered children (whom to save  
She strives in vain) slain by the fatal scythe,  
Which from the meadow her green locks doth shave,  
That their warm nest is now become their grave;  
The woeful mother up to heaven springs,  
And all about her plaintive notes she flings,  
And their untimely fate most pitifully sings.    

CHRIST'S TRIUMPH after Death.  

1  
But now the second Morning, from her bower, 
Christ's Triumph after death. 1. in his Resurrection, manifested by the effects of it in the Creatures.   
Began to glister in her beams, and now  
The roses of the day began to flower  
In th' eastern garden; for heavens smiling brow  
Half insolent for joy begun to show:  
The early Sun came lively dancing out,  
And the brag lambs ran wantoning about,  
That heaven, and earth might seem in triumph both to shower.   

2  
Th' engladded Spring, forgetful now to weep,  
Began t' eblazon from her levy bed,  
The waking swallow broke her halfe-yeares sleep,  
And every bush lay deeply purpured  
With violets, the woods late-wintry head  
Wide flaming primroses set all on fire,  
And his bald trees put on their green attire,  
Among whose insant leaves the joyous birds conspire.   

3  
And now the taller Sons (whom Titan warms)  
Of unshorn mountains, blown with easy winds,  
Dandled the morning's childhood in their arms,  
And, if they chanced to slip the prouder pines,  
The under Corylets' did catch the shines,  
To gild their leaves, saw never happy year  
Such joyful triumph, and triumphant cheer,  
As though the aged world anew created wear.   

4  
Say Earth, why hast thou got thee new attire,  
And stickest thy habit full of daisies red?  
Seems that thou dost to some high thought aspire,  
And some newe-found-out Bridegroom meanest to wed:  
Tell me ye Trees, so fresh appareled,  
So never let the spiteful Canker waste you,  
So never let the heavens with lightning blast you,  
Why go you now so trimly dressed, or whither hast you?   

5  
Answer me jordan, why thy crooked tide  
So often wanders from his nearest way,  
As though some other way thy stream would slide,  
And fain salute the place where something lay?  
And you sweet birds, that shaded from the ray,  
Sat caroling, and piping grief away,  
The while the lambs to hear you dance, and play,  
Tell me sweet birds, what is it you so fain would say?   

6  
And, thou fair Spouse of Earth, that every year,  
Get'st such a numerous issue of thy bride,  
How chance thou hotter shinest, and drawest more near?  
Sure thou somewhear some worthy sight hast spied,  
That in one place for joy thou canst not bide:  
And you dead Swallows, that so lively now  
Through the flit air your winged passage row,  
How could new life into your frozen ashes flow?   

7  
Ye Primroses, and purple violets,  
Tell me, why blaze ye from your levy bed,  
And woo men's hands to rend you from your sets,  
As though you would somewhear be carried,  
With fresh perfumes, and velvets garnished?  
But ah, I need not ask, 'tis surely so,  
You all would to your saviours triumphs go,  
There would ye all await, and humble homage do.   

8  
There should the Earth herself with garlands new 
In himself.   
And lovely flowers embellished adore,  
Such roses never in her garland grew,  
Such lilies never in her breast she wore,  
Like beauty never yet did shine before:  
There should the Sun another Sun behold,  
From whence himself borrows his locks of gold,  
That kindle heaven, and earth with beauties manifold.   

9  
There might the violet, and primrose sweet  
Beams of more lively, and more lovely grace,  
Arising from their beds of incense meet;  
There should the Swallow see new life embrace  
Dead ashes, and the grave unheale his face,  
To let the living from his bowels creep,  
Unable longer his own dead to keep:  
There heaven, and earth should see their Lord awake from sleep.   

10  
Their Lord, before by other judged to die,  
Now judge of all himself, before forsaken  
Of all the world, that from his aid did fly,  
Now by the Saints into their armies taken,  
Before for an unworthy man mistaken,  
Now worthy to be God confessed, before  
With blasphemies by all the basest tore,  
Now worshipped by Angels, that him low adore.   

11  
Whose garment was before indipt in blood,  
But now, imbright'ned into heavenly flame,  
The Sun itself outglitters, though he should  
Climb to the top of the celestial frame,  
And force the stars go hide themselves for shame:  
Before that under earth was buried,  
But now about the heavens is carried,  
And there for ever by the Angels heried.   

12  
So fairest Phosphor the bright Morning star,  
But neewely washed in the green element,  
Before the drowsy Night is half aware,  
Shooting his flaming locks with dew besprent,  
Springs lively up into the orient,  
And the bright drove, fleeced all in gold, he chases  
To drink, that on the Olympic mountain grazes,  
The while the minor Planets forfeit all their faces.   

13  
So long he wandered in our lower sphere, 
2. In his Ascension to heaven, whose joves are described,   
That heaven began his cloudy stars despise,  
Half envious, to see on earth appear  
A greater light, then flamed in his own skies:  
At length it burst for spite, and out there flies  
A globe of winged Angels, swift as thought,  
That, on their spotted feathers, lively caught  
The sparkling Earth, and to their azure fields it brought.   

14  
The rest, that yet amazed stood below,  
With eyes cast up, as greedy to be said,  
And hands upheld, themselves to ground did throw,  
So when the Trojan boy was ravished,  
As through th'Idalian woods they say he fled,  
His aged Guardians stood all dismayed,  
Some least he should have fallen back afraid,  
And some their hasty vows, and timely prayers said.   

15  
Toss up your heads ye everlasting gates,  
And let the Prince of glory enter in:  
At whose brave voly of sideriall States,  
The Sun to blush, and stars grow pale wear seen,  
When, leaping first from earth, he did begin  
To climb his angels wings; then open hang  
Your crystal doors, so all the chorus sang  
Of heavenly birds, as to the stars they nimbly sprang.   

16  
Hark how the floods clap their applauding hands,  
The pleasant valleys singing for delight,  
And wanton Mountains dance about the Lands,  
The while the fields, struck with the heavenly light,  
Set all their flowers a smiling at the sight,  
The trees laugh with their blossoms, and the sound  
Of the triumphant shout of praise, that crowned  
The flaming Lamb, breaking through heaven, hath passage found.   

17  
Out leap the antic Patriarches, all in haste, 
1. By the access of all good, the blessed Society of the Saints,   
To see the power's of Hell in triumph lead,  
And with small stars a garland intercha'st  
Of olive leaves they bore, to crown his head,  
That was before with thorns degloried,  
After them flew the Prophets, brightly stoled  
In shining lawn, and wimpled manifold,  
Striking their ivory haps, strung all in chords of gold.   

18  
To which the Saints victorious carols sung,  
Ten thousand Saints at once, that with the sound,  
The hollow vaults of heaven for triumph rung:  
The Cherubins their clamours did confound 
Angels, etc.   
With all the rest, and clapped their wings around:  
Down from their thrones the Dominations flow,  
And at his feet their crowns, and sceptres throw,  
And all the princely Souls fell on their faces low.   

19  
Nor can the Martyrs wounds them stay behind,  
But out they rush among the heavenly crowd,  
Seeking their hean'n out of their heaven to find,  
Sounding their silver trumpets out so loud,  
That the shrill noise broke through the starry cloud,  
And all the virgin Souls, in pure array,  
Came dancing forth, and making joyous play;  
So him they lead along into the courts of day.   

20  
So him they lead into the courts of day, 
The sweet quiet and peace, enjoyed under God.   
Where never war, nor wounds abide him more,  
But in that house, eternal peace doth play,  
Acquieting the souls, that new before  
Their way to heaven through their own blood did score,  
But now, estranged from all misery,  
As far as heaven, and earth discoasted lie,  
Swelter in quiet waves of immortality.   

20  
And if great things by smaller may be guest, 
Shadowed by the peace we enjoy under our Sovereign.   
So, in the midst of Neptune's angry tide,  
Our Britain Island, like the weedy nest  
Of true Haleyon, on the waves doth ride,  
And softly sailing, scorns the waters pride:  
While all the rest, drowned on the continent,  
And tossed in bloody waves, their wounds lament,  
And stand, to see our peace, as struck with wonderment.   

21  
The Ship of France religious waves do toss,  
And Greece itself is now grown barbarous,  
Spain's Children hardly dare the Ocean cross,  
And Belges field lies waste, and ruinous,  
That unto those, the heavens are envious,  
And unto them, themselves are strangers grown,  
And unto these, the Seas are faithless known,  
And unto her, alas, her own is not her own.   

22  
Here only shut we janus iron gates,  
And call the welcome Muses to our springs,  
And are but Pilgrims from our heavenly states,  
The while the trusty Earth sure plenty brings,  
And Ships through Neptune safely spread their wings.  
Go blessed Island, wander where thou please,  
Unto thy God, or men, heaven, lands, or seas,  
Thou canst not lose thy way, thy King with all hath peace.   

23  
Dear Prince, thy subjects joy, hope of their heirs,  
Picture of peace, or breathing Image rather,  
The certain argument of all our prayers.  
Thy Harry's, and thy Country's lovely Father,  
Let Peace, in endless joys, for ever bathe her  
Within thy sacred breast, that at thy birth  
Brought'st her with thee from heaven, to dwell on earth,  
Making our earth a heaven, and paradise of mirth.   

24  
Let not my Liege misdeem these humble lays,  
As licked with soft, and supple blandishment,  
Or spoken to disparagon his praise;  
For though pale Cynthia, near her brother's tent,  
Soon disappears in the white firmament,  
And gives him back the beams, before wear his,  
Yet when he verges, or is hardly ris,  
She the vive image of her absent brother is.   

25  
Nor let the Prince of peace his beadsman blame,  
That with his Stewart dares his Lord compare,  
And heavenly peace with earthly quiet shame:  
So Pines to lowly plants compared are,  
And lightning Phoebus to a little star:  
And well I wot, my rhyme, albe unsmooth,  
Ne, says but what it means, ne means but sooth,  
Ne harms the good, ne good to harmful person doth.   

26  
Gaze but upon the house, where Man embowrs:  
With flowers, and rushes paved is his way, 
The beauty of the place.   
Where all the Creatures at his Servitors,  
The winds do sweep his chambers every day,  
And clouds do wash his rooms, the ceiling gay,  
Starred aloft the guilded knob● embrave:  
If such a house God to another gave,  
How shine those glittering courts, he for himself will have?   

27  
And if a sullen cloud, as sad as night, 
The Caritie (as the school cal● it) of the Saints bodies.   
In which the Sun may seem embodied,  
Depured of all his dross, we see so white,  
Burning in melted gold his warrie head,  
Or round with ivory edges silvered,  
What lustre superexcellent will he  
Lighten on those, that shall his sunshine see,  
In that all-glorious court, in which all glories be?   

28  
If but one Sun, which his diffusive fires,  
Can paint the stars, and the whole world with light,  
And joy, and life into each heart inspires,  
And every Saint shall shine in heaven, as bright  
As doth the Sun in his transcendent might,  
(As faith may well believe, what Truth once says)  
What shall so many suns united rays  
But dazzle all the eyes, that now in heaven we praise?   

29  
Here let my Lord hang up his conquering lance,  
And bloody armour with late slaughter warm,  
And looking down on his weak Militants,  
Behold his Saints, midst of their hot alarm,  
Hang all their golden hopes upon his arm.  
And in this lower field dispacing wide,  
Through windy thoughts, that would their sails misguide,  
Anchor their fleshly ships fast in his wounded side.   

30  
Here may the Band, that now in Triumph shines,  
And that (before they wear invested thus)  
In earthly bodies carried heavenly minds,  
Pitched round about in order glorious,  
Their sunny Tents, and houses luminous,  
All their eternal day in songs employing,  
joying their end, without end of their joying,  
While their almighty Prince Destruction is destroying.   

31  
Full, yet without satiety, of that 
The impletion of the Appetite.   
Which whetts, and quiets greedy Appetite,  
Where never Sun did rise, nor ever sat,  
But one eternal day, and endless light  
Gives time to those, whose time is infinite,  
Speaking with thought, obtaining without see,  
Beholding him, whom never eye could see,  
And magnifying him, that cannot greater be.   

32  
How can such joy as this want words to speak?  
And yet what words can speak such joy as this?  
Far from the world, that might their quiet break,  
Here the glad Souls the face of beauty kiss,  
Poured out in pleasure, on their beds of bliss.  
And drunk with nectar torrents, ever hold  
Their eyes on him, whose graces manifold,  
The more they do behold, the more they would behold.   

33  
Their sight drinks lovely fires in at their eyes, 
The joy of the senses, etc.   
Their brain sweet incense with fine breath accloyes,  
That on God's sweeting altar burning lies,  
Their hungry ears feed on their heavenly noise,  
That Angels sing, to tell their untold joys;  
Their understanding naked Truth, their wills  
The all, and selfe-sufficient Goodness fills,  
That nothing here is wanting, but the want of ills.   

34  
No Sorrow now hangs clouding on their brow, 
2. By the amotion of all evil.   
No bloodless Malady empales their face,  
No Age drops on their hairs his silver snow,  
No Nakedness their bodies doth embase,  
No Poverty themselves, and theirs disgrace,  
No fear of death the joy of life devours,  
No unchaste sleep their precious time deflowrs,  
No loss, no grief, no change wait on their winged hours.   

35  
But now their naked bodies scorn the cold,  
And from their eyes joy looks, and laughs at pain,  
The Infant wonders how he came so old,  
And old man how he came so young again;  
Still resting, though from sleep they stiil refrain,  
Where all are rich, and yet no gold they owe,  
And all are Kings, and yet no Subjects know,  
All full, and yet no time on food they do bestow.   

36  
For things that pass are past, and in this field,  
The indeficient Spring no Winter fears,  
The Trees together fruit, and blossom yield,  
Th'unfading Lily leaves of silver bears,  
And crimson rose a scarlet garment wears:  
And all of these on the Saints bodies grow,  
Not, as they wont, on base earth below; 
By the access of all good again   
Three rivers here of milk, and wine, and honey flow.   

37  
About the holy City rowles a flood 
in the glory of the Holy City.   
Of molten crystal, like a sea of glass,  
On which weak stream a strong foundation ●●ood,  
Of living Diamounds the building 〈◊〉,  
That all things else, besides itself, did pass.  
Her streets, in stead of stones, the stars did pave,  
And little pearls, for dust, it seemed to have,  
On which soft-streaming Manna, like pure snow, did ●…   

38  
In midst of this City celestial, 
in the beatifical vision of God.   
Wheat the eternal Temple should have rose,  
Light'ned th' Idea Beatifical:  
End, and beginning of each thing that grows,  
Whose self no end, nor yet beginning knows,  
That hath no eyes to see, nor ears to hear,  
Yet sees, and hears, and is all-eye, all-eare,  
That no wheat is contained, and yet is every where.   

39  
Changer of all things, yet immutable,  
Before, and after all, the first, and last,  
That moving all, is yet immovable,  
Great without quantity, in whose forecast,  
Things past are present, things to come are past,  
Swift without motion, to whose open eye  
The hearts of wicked men unbrested lie,  
At once absent, and present to them, far, and nigh.   

40  
It is no flaming lustre, made of light,  
No sweet consent, or well-timed harmony,  
Ambrosia, for to feast the Appetite,  
Or flowery odour, mixed with spicery.  
●…o soft embrace, or pleasure bodily,  
And yet it is a kind of inward feast,  
A harmony, that sounds within the breast,  
●…n odour, light, embrace, in which the soul doth rest,   

41  
A heavenly feast, no hunger can consume,  
A light unseen, yet shines in every place,  
〈◊〉 sound, no time can steal, a sweet perfume,  
No winds can scatter, an entire embrace,  
That no satiety can ere unlace,  
Ingraced into so ●igh a favour, there  
The Saints, with their Beaw-peers, whole worlds out-wear,  
And things unseen do see, and things unheard do hear.   

42  
Ye blessed souls, grown richer by your spoil, 
And of Christ.   
Whose loss, though great, is cause of greater gains,  
Here may your weary Spirits rest from toil,  
Spending your endless eav'ning, that remains,  
Among those white flocks, and celestial trains,  
That feed upon their shepherds eyes, and frame  
That heavenly music of so wondrous fame,  
Psalming aloud the holy honours of his name.   

43  
Had I a voice of steel to tune my song,  
Wear every verse as smoothly filled as glass,  
And every member turned to a tongue,  
And every tongue wear made of sounding brass,  
Yet all that skill, and all this strength, alas,  
Should it presume to gild, wear misadvised,  
The place, wheat David hath new songs devised,  
As in his burning throne he sits emparadised.   

44  
Most happy Prince, whose eyes those stars behold,  
Treading ours under feet, now mayst thou power  
That overflowing skill, where with of old  
Thou woont'st to comb rough speech, now mayst thou sho●…  
Fresh streams of praise upon that holy bower,  
Which well we heaven call, not that it rowles,  
But that it is the haven of our souls.  
Most happy Prince, whose ●ight so heavenly ●ight be●…   

45  
Ah foolish Shepherds, that wear wont esteem,  
Your God all rough, and shaggy-haired to be;  
And yet far wiser Shepherds than ye deem,  
For who so poor (though who so rich) as he,  
When, with us hermiting in low degree,  
He washed his flocks in Iordans spotless tide,  
And, that his dear remembrance aye might bide,  
Did to us come, and with us lived, and for us died?   

46  
But now so lively colours did embeame  
His sparkling forehead, and so shiny rays  
Kindled his flaming locks; that down did stream  
In curies, along his neck, where sweetly plays  
(Singing his wounds of love in sacred lays)  
His dearest Spouse, Spouse of the dearest Lover,  
Knitting a thousand knots over, and over,  
And dying still for love, but they her still recover.   

47  
Fair Egliset, that at his eyes doth dress  
Her glorious face, those eyes, from whence a● shed  
Infinite belamours, wheat to express  
His love, high God all heaven as captive leads,  
And all the banners of his grace dispreads,  
And in those windows, doth his arms englaze,  
And on those eyes, the Angels all do gaze,  
And from those eyes, the lights of heaven do glean their blaze.   

48  
But let the Kentish lad, that lately taught  
His oaten reed the trumpets silver sound,  
Young Thy●silis, and for his music brought  
The willing spheres from heaven, to lead a round  
Of dancing Nymphs, and Herds, that sung, and crowned  
Eclectas hymen with ten thousand flowers  
Of choicest praise, and hung her heavenly bowers  
With saffron garlands, dressed for Nuptial Paramours,   

49  
Let his shrill trumpet, with her silver blast,  
Of fair Eclecta, and her Spousal bed,  
Be the sweet pipe, and smooth Encomiast:  
But my green Muse, hiding her younger head  
Under old Chamus' flaggy banks, that spread  
Their willough locks abroad, and all the day  
With their own wa●ry shadows wanton play,  
Dares not those high amours, and lovesick songs assay.   

50  
Impotent words, weak sides, that strive in vain,  
In vain, alas, to tell so heavenly sight,  
So heavenly sight, as none can greater seigne,  
Feign what he can, that seems of greatest might,  
Might any yet compare with Infinite?  
Infinite sure those joys, my words but light,  
Light is the palace where she dwells. O blessed wight!    


RUina Coeli pulchra; iam t●rris decus,  
Deusque▪ proles matris i●nuptae, & pater:  
Sine matre natus, sine patre excrescens caro:  
Quem nec mare, aether, terra, non coelum capit,  
Vtero puellae totus angusto latens;  
Aequaev●…s idem patri, matre antiquior:  
Heu domite victor, & triumphator; tui  
Opus, opifexque, qui minor quam sis, eò  
Maior resurgis: vita, quae mori velis,  
Atque ergo possis: passa ●inem Aeternitas.  
Quid tibi rependam, quid ti●i rependam miser?  
Vt quando ocellos mollis invadit quies,  
Et nocte membra plurimus Morpheus pr●mit,  
Auidè vid●mur velle de te●go sequens  
Effugere monstrum, & plumbeos frustra pedes  
Celerare; media succidim●…s aegri fugâ;  
Solitum pigrescit robur, os quaerit viam,  
Sed proditurus moritur in lingua sonus:  
Sic stupeo totus, totus haeresco, intu●ns  
Et saepe repeto, forte si rependerem:  
Solus rependit ille, qui repetit be●e.  
G. Fletcher.