A DIVINE CENTURIE OF Spiritual Sonnets.  
Altera Musa venit, quid nisit & alter Apollo.  
LONDON Printed by john Windet. 1595.   

TO THE RIGHT REVEREND FATHER IN GOD, the Right honourable and my very good Lord, TOBY (by the grace of God) Bishop and Count Palatine of Duresme and Sadberge: Increase of all true zeal, honour & perpetual consolation of mind and body.  
RIGHT gracious, and my very good Lord (if in any measure I could have better devised, consonant with the weakness of my slender faculties how for so many your honourable great favours to me worthless, neither of any the least deserueable: publicly to divulge, and promulgate the reverend gratuity which I still by numberless respects of duty, pretend and bear to your worthiness) it should have been even in the mightiest power of my wits, and vertuousest endeavours more (though not better) manifested. But since it both proceedeth from a frank spirit, & the chiefest treasures of my better part: I beseech your good Lordship (not only as in tolerating this boldness branching from the firm confidence of my mere love and duty, but that also in gracious admittance of your honourable Patronage) you would dignify these spiritual Poems: which this last year in my late little travails had through some parts of France (as tribute of that measure of wit, and invention, which it hath pleased almighty God of his supper abundant grace, and mercy to endue my feeble spirit withal) I daily to his honour and service by prescribed task, devoted. And albeit it nothing near (by millions of sacred degrees) attaineth to the glory of this divine subject, and argument: yet was it written (I call his sacred Majesty to record, that I neither for vain glory nor my justification speak it) in lively touch, motion, and feeling-anguishe of spirit, void of all colourable varnish, and hypocrisy: and therefore more fit for their spiritual consolation to be perused of diverse, whom numerous Orations move much more than proase: and to that end these (at motion of some others my well-deserving friends) I have committed to the public typographical Theatre of general censure, which if they shall his omnipotency (in whose honour by me most unworthy vassal of sin and mortality they were composed) please, then am I most pleased, fortunate, and comforted for ever. And then I doubt not but they shall also hightly stand with your Lordships good liking and contentment: to whom if in favour these shall in this world pass, I much less depend of other men's opinions: referring them alone (next under God) to your honours virtuous protection, and the protection of your honour to the great Protector, and disposer of all honours and blessings. With which I beseech his mightiness endue your good Lordship, and yours to his best pleasure and your dear soul's comfort. From London this 30. of August. 1595.  
Your Honours in all spiritual devotion assured. Bar. Barnes.   

To the favourable and Christian Reader.  
I Have published (courteous Reader) an hundredth Quatorzaines in honour of the greatest disposer of all great honours; wherein, if through secret, and inseparable combat betwixt earth and my spirit, the privy motions, and sting of divers wounds, as they did succeed and grieve my soul, manifested appear: Let them (though not in these, that singular virtue to contrition, may movingly persuade and stir up your Spirit to Divine contemplation of your Ghostly comfort) remain yet as remembrancers to kindle more gracious and rich spirits of zeal and pure holiness in your more Copious and Facile prepared wits & natures: Which only as they be in respect of all other creatures reasonable, and most Divine; so ought they to be (likewise) in all reason employed to the propagation, honour and mightiness of his Divinity; whose virtue abundantly moveth upon all unworthy creatures of his hands: but upon us (the models of his similitude, & likeness) in that large measure, which as it is ineffable, so doth it by nature enjoin us to glorify the singular operations, of his omnipotent hands.  
The glorious subject, as it is matchless, and incomparable for Titles and Mightiness, so would it (in some richer & more copious Inventions) raise the triumphant chariot of your sacred Muses, above the starre-bearing firmament, & upon the spiritual Pegasus of celestial poesy in divine harmony of spirit bear the writer to that majestical Throne, and Hemicycle of incomparable state and comfortable dignity where he should (with consent and assistance of Angels and heavenly Spirits, to the musical strings of royal crowned Harper's) for ever sing ALLELVYA, Salvation, Honour, Glory, Renown and Eternity be ascribed always to the greatest God of gods, King of kings, Lord of lords, only victorious, triumphant, merciful and gracious: And if any man feel in himself (by the secret fire of immortal Entheusiasme the learned motions of strange and divine passions of spirit, let him refine and illuminate his numerous Muses with the most sacred splendour of the holy Ghost, & then he shall (with divine Sallust the true learned french Poet) find that as human fury maketh a man less than a man, and the very same with wild unreasonable beasts: so divine rage and sacred instinct of a man maketh more than man, and leadeth him (from his base terrestrial estate) to walk above the stars with Angels immortally.  
The several passions of comfort & ghostly combats, albeit they stand in my book confused, & peradventure therefore may to some readers seem disordered and strange, as in their unequal coherence of praises, penitence and fearful afflictions, yet upon some especial occasions and in earnest true motions of the spirit were they devised: and I therefore in this respect implore your general favours. Read I beseech you, and with singleness of zeal and true spirit give censure according to my good will and endeavours.  
Farewell. Bar. Barnes.   

INVOCATION To the Divine Father of sacred Muses.  

SONNET. I.  
NO more lewd lays of Lighter loves I sing,  
Nor teach my lustful Muse abused to fly,  
With Sparrows plumes and for compassion cry,  
To mortal beauties which no succour bring.  
But my Muse feathered with an Angel's wing,  
Divinely mounts aloft unto the sky.  
Where her loves subjects with my hopes do lie:  
For Cupid's darts prefigurate hell's sting.  
His quenchless Torch foreshows hell's quenchless fire,  
Kindling men's wits with lustful lays of sin:  
Thy wounds my Cure dear Saviour I desire  
To pierce my thoughts thy fiery Cherubinne,  
(By kindling my desires) true zeal t' infuse,  
Thy love my theme and holy Ghost my Muse.   

SONNET. II.  
Sweet Saviour from whose fivefold bleeding wound,  
That comfortable Antidote distilled:  
Which that rank poison hath expelled and killed,  
In our old wretched father Adam found.  
In Paradise when he desertless crowned,  
Received it as th' envenomed Serpent willed,  
In steed of lustful eyes with arrows filled:  
Of sinful loves which from their beams abound.  
Let those sweet blessed wounds with streams of grace,  
Abundantly solicit my poor spirit:  
Rauish'de with love of thee that didst debase  
Thyself on earth that I might heaven inherit,  
O blessed sweet wounds fountains of electre,  
My wounded soul's balm, and salvations nectre.   

SONNET. III.  
SAcred redeemer, let my prayers pierce  
Thine ears to contrite sinners open still  
At my heart's altar made, where (to fulfil  
My vows) I sacrifice in humble verse.  
Which do with troubled penitence rehearse  
My ceaseless sins repugnant to thy will:  
Let mercy mitigate the large black bill  
Of my dead sins: Dear judge the doom reverse  
Which with foul guilt agrieu'de my conscience gave,  
By justice justly damned to quenchless fire:  
Oh my dear Saviour crucified, me save!  
Let my contritions incense up aspire  
(With true zeal kindled on my Altar heart)  
And of thy sweet salvation purchase part.   

SONNET. FOUR  
Dear comforter (with whose dear precious blood,  
The costly ransom of my sins was paid,  
For my redemption murdered and betrayed,  
Sole spotless Lamb before the throne which stood  
Opening the seven sealed Book: who for pure food  
Thy precious self in sacrifice hadst laid  
To my soul's sustenance: which had decayed  
If thou hadst not been lifted on the rood)  
O let my soul (thy Temple) be perfum'de  
With sacred incense of thy virtuous grace:  
Which having with repentant sighs presum'de  
(Though charg'de with sin) to kneel before thy face,  
Yet for like Alms (in mercy) doth implore,  
Though last in work, with those which wrought before.   

SONNET. V  
BLessed creator let thine only son  
(Sweet blossom stock and root of David's line  
The clear bright morning star) give light and shine  
On my poor spirit, which hath new begun  
With his loves praise and with vain loves hath done:  
to my poor Muse let him his ears incline,  
Thirsting to taste of that celestial wine  
Whose purple stream hath our salvation won.  
O gracious bridegroom, and thricelovely bride  
Which come and fill who will for ever cry,  
Water of life to no man is denied:  
Fill still who will if any man be dry.  
O heavenly voice! I thirst, I thirst and come  
For life, with other sinners to get some.   

SONNET. VI  
PVre sacrifice, once offered for us all,  
Even all which were defiled with deadly sin:  
Let me poor deadly sinner, who begin  
With voice and heart repentant thee to call,  
And cry that find myself about to fall  
Into that quenchless lake, replete within  
With howling fiends which ever gnash and grin,  
Have Audience from thy throne celestial.  
Dear spotless sacrifice (which didst descend  
And as a man for mankind's safety died,  
And ransacked Hell's foul dungeon without end:  
Enlarging sinners which therein were tied)  
Since thou didst die that sinners saved might be,  
I am a wicked sinner (Lord) save me.   

SONNET. VII.  
WHite spotless Lamb (whose precious sweet bloodshed  
The whole world's sinful Debt hath satisfied:  
For sinners scorned, whipp'de, wounded, crucified,  
Behold my sinful soul by Satan led  
Even to the gates of Hell: where will be red  
My consciences black book: unless suppli'de  
Be (to those leaves past number) thy wounds wide:  
Whose purple issue which for sinners bled,  
Shall wash the Register of my foul sin,  
And thence blot out the vile memorial:  
Then let thy blessed Angel enter in  
My temple purged, and that historical  
(Of my sins numberless) in deep Seas cast:  
So shall I be new borne, and saved at last.   

SONNET. VIII.  
Lion of judah (which dost judge and fight  
With endless justice, whose anointed head  
Was once with wounding thorns environed,  
But now with sacred Crowns by glorious right:  
Whose glorious host succeeds in armour white,  
Before whose face so many millions fled,  
And whose Imperial name, no man could read)  
Illuminate my thoughts, with the beams bright  
Of that white powerful and celestial Dove:  
Kindle my spirit with that sacred heat,  
Which me may ravish with an heavenly Love:  
Whilst I thy ceaseless graces do repeat,  
Down powered in full abundance to mankind,  
Which comfort in my soul (poor wretch) I find.   

SONNET. IX.  
O Gracious shepherd (for thy simple flock  
By guileful Goats to ravening Wolves misled,)  
Who thine own dear hearts precious blood didst shed,  
And Lambelike offered to the butcher's block;  
O gracious shepherd (unremoving rock  
Of succour to such all as thither fled)  
Respect one of thy flock which followed  
These cursed Goats, and doth repentant knock.  
To be with mercy taken to thy fold,  
I know thy grace doth still for wanderers look,  
I was a lost sheep once (dear Lord) behold,  
And in compassion take me with thy hook:  
In one lost sheep new found thou dost rejoice,  
Then know thy sheep, which knows his shepherds voice.   

SONNET. X.  
Heavenly Messiah (sweet anointed King,  
Whose glory round about the world doth reach,  
Which every beast, plant, rock, and river teach,  
And aery birds like Angels ever sing,  
And every gale of wind in gusts doth bring,  
And every man with reason ever preach)  
Behold, behold that lamentable breach:  
Which (my distressed conscience to sting)  
False spiteful Satan in my soul doth make:  
Oh (sweet Messiah) lend some gracious oil  
To cure that wound, even for thy mercy's sake:  
Lest (by that breach) thy temple he despoil.  
Help, help, my conscience thither him doth lead,  
And he will come, if thou bruise not his head.   

SONNET. XI.  
Merciful jesus thine eyelids of grace  
Decline unto a wicked sorry sinner  
Humbly prostrate, who (but a new beginner)  
Begs that thine holy Ghost might Satan chase  
From his foul soul, ordained for thy palace:  
as it did Mary Mag'daline save, and win her  
From seven foul spirits which did reign within her:  
But now behold a more contagious place,  
A place where the seven mortal sins root take,  
From whence beside all ugly crimes branch out,  
With each of these seven legions do partake  
Of unclean spirits raging round about:  
Oh now dear jesus, jesus show thy power,  
And drive them forth, lest they my soul devour.   

SONNET. XII.  
Bountiful Lord Christ (whose hand liberal  
Is still outstretched for man's sustenance  
Which we much thankless with small sovenance  
recount, when in such largesse it doth fall:  
But that which all men in especial  
Aught to maintain in high remembrance,  
(Naylde feet and hands, and heart pearc'de with a Lance  
For our redemption from the sinful thrall)  
With fervent zeal, true Love, fear reverent,  
Is quite forgot of most: and yet these be  
The chief dear signs for our salvation sent:  
Oh blessed Christ, bestow thy grace on me  
Bestow this blessed grace (dear Christ) that I  
May hope new life by thy death, when I die.   

SONNET. XIII.  
Dear David's son (whom thy forefathers have  
In Psalms and prophecies unborn foretold,  
That hell in Adamantine chains should hold,  
And thence poor sinners both enlarge and save  
Whom former blindness to damnation gave)  
Me swallowed in the gulf of sin behold:  
A Lamb amongst wild wolves (once of thy fold)  
Whom Satan now doth for his portion crave:  
Dear son of David help, yet help with speed.  
Thy wounds bleed fresh in my remembrance yet,  
Which blessed wounds did for offenders bleed:  
These wounds I will not in distress forget,  
For all chief hope of my salvation, grounds  
In Nectre of those comfortable wounds.   

SONNET. XIIII.  
O Benign Father let my suits ascend,  
And please thy gracious ears from my soul sent;  
Even as those sweet perfumes of incense went  
From our forefather's altars: who didst lend  
Thy nostrils to that myrrh which they did send,  
Even as I now crave thine ears to be lent.  
My soul, my soul, is wholly, wholly bend  
To do thee condign service, and amend,  
To fly for refuge to thy wounded breast;  
To suck the balm of my salvation thence,  
In sweet repose to take eternal rest,  
As thy child folded in thine arms defence:  
But then my flesh me thought (by Satan fired)  
Said my proud sinful soul in vain aspired.   

SONNET. XV.  
Pitiful Lord (whose endless mercy reacheth  
From East to West and the world's compass filleth,  
Whose charge imperious (as thy spirit willeth)  
Things senseless as in life obedience teacheth:  
Whose bright omnipotence the Dumb borne preacheth:  
Whose grace in full abundance down distilleth  
To contrite sinners, which old Satan killeth,  
And wounded spirits heals, whom sin appeacheth)  
With those bright eyes of mercy me respect,  
From my soul (made thy temple) Satan drive,  
That my pure spirit may thy praise detect,  
And from death by thy lively grace revive:  
That (sin and Hell suppressed) I might appear  
After death's conquest, by thy mercies clear.   

SONNET. XVI.  
Sure corner stone of that rock firm and high,  
(Where of eternal life the fountain springs,  
Whose virtue to the soul such comfort brings  
That he which tasteth never shall be dry,  
Nor ever slave of death again shall die)  
Oh let thy blessed Angel carry wings  
And arm my soul: which loathing earthly things  
For lively water to that rock would fly:  
There never dare approach my Ghostly foe,  
Which would from number of thy Saints exempt  
My silly soul: sweet Christ let him forego  
That dear souls purchase: which he doth attempt.  
Remember (my dear Lord) thou died to save it  
Then never shall the roaring Lion have it.   

SONNET. XVII.  
Mild King of Salem Lord of lovely peace,  
(Who dost in brother like agreement joy,  
In mercy mourning when thou dost destroy,  
Where justice condign anger doth increase)  
Behold a wretch, whose sins do never cease  
With heinous guilt his conscience to annoy:  
Who by that means cannot calm rest enjoy  
Behold dear Christ, and for my free release  
(Upon contrition) those offences blot  
Out of those large inditements, which be given  
By my just conscience: let them be forgot.  
Forget, forgive (dear Lord) for I am driven  
(By their remembrance) almost to despair:  
Which my soul's ruin ready would prepare.   

SONNET. XVIII.  
high priest of Zion (whose eternal throne  
With endless right, and mercy seated is:  
Which all knees (when his name repeated is)  
Adore: whose rule hath times swift wings outgone,  
Whose Sceptre is an everlasting one,  
Whose Monarchy never completed is)  
This humble Altar see, which heated is  
With fervent zeal I bear to thee alone:  
Which from the Zion of my soul aspireth,  
Even from this zealous heart unto the chair  
Of everlasting power, where it desireth  
(Through pleasing incense) for me to prepare  
A glorious Crown, which never will take rust:  
Which grant (Dear Saviour) in whose help I trust.   

SONNET. XIX.  
Lovely Samaritane, draw near, and view  
The mangled object of a wretched soul,  
Afflicted deadly with a conscience foul:  
The just sting of such sins as my soul slew,  
Whose faults be numberless though years be few.  
Oh note them not sweet Lord in thy black scroll  
Which may my dear salvations hope control,  
When breath and body shall be changed new:  
But these foul desperate wounds (dear Christ) up bind,  
Cherished with oil of mercies and sweet grace:  
And let thy Gospel minister each kind  
Of heavenly food, and be thy Church the place  
Where I may me repose to purchase cure,  
That (when thou comest) I may be sound and pure.   

SONNET. XX.  
GReat God of Abraham (whose eternal power  
Shaketh the world's unsure foundations,  
Whose frown affrights all Kings and nations,  
whose anger doth like flames of fire devour,  
Whose triumph coming is in unknown hour,  
Whose praise exceeds all mortal men's Orations,  
Whose time of grace (for sinners preparations)  
Thou dost enlarge, to yield us more succour)  
Like Father chastise me with tender twigs,  
Not like an angry judge with iron Rod,  
Lest Satan purchase conquest by despair.  
That (when heaven shall shake down her Stars like Figs)  
Thou (both as equal judge, and gentle God)  
For me the Crown of glory may prepare.   

SONNET. XXI.  
SOle hope and blessing of old Israel's line  
(Which gave by promise to his blessed seed  
A land that should all blessings plenty breed,  
Rivers of pleasant Honey, Milk, and wine,  
Whose offspring numberless thou called'st thine,  
Whom with thine Angel's Manna thou didst feed  
Being before from Pharaoh's bondage freed,  
When Moses first thy statutes did resign)  
Behold dear God, one in these days of grace:  
Since by thy precious blood thou freed mankind,  
By promise which a portion and a place  
Amongst thy children hopeth for to find  
In Gospel's comfort, through thy bloods dear prize,  
Oh let him purchase such a Paradise!   

SONNET. XXII.  
Fountain of life, and endless happiness,  
O quench these worldly sparks of Satan's fire,  
Enkindled in my fancies and desire:  
Rock of salvation and all blessedness  
Defend me charg'de with sinful wickedness;  
Spirit of comfort let thy breath inspire  
My soul infected, ready to retire,  
And carnal motions striving to repress.  
I thirst (clear fountain) for the stream of life,  
I fall far set from my salvations rock,  
And Satan with my Spirit is at strife,  
Urging that I am severed from thy flock:  
Yet my dear Saviour, strong rock, and sweet spirit,  
Through mercy, my poor soul shall heaven inherit.   

SONNET. XXIII.  
FAther of Piety by this we know  
The glories greater of thy gracious love  
Then of desires which carnal fancies move:  
For if we praise a mortal shape below  
By flattery their Divinities we show,  
Comparing them their perfectness above:  
Their cheeks to Roses, their necks white to Dove,  
Their eyes to stars from whence all fortunes flow:  
Their eyes effects to the Meridian Sun,  
Their modest thoughts to the cold Virgin moon.  
Oh fools, fools ignorant, when this is done,  
We know we flatter them, than Muses soon  
Why turn you not your numbers musical  
To God above man's praise which ruleth all?   

SONNET. XXIIII.  
PVre spotless offspring of ungrateful jury  
(At morning, midday, and at quiet night)  
I neither will forget thy praise, nor might:  
When men ungrateful shall provoke thy fury  
I shall be safe, if that dear grace procure I  
And find sweet comfort of eternal light,  
'mongst Cherubes, Seraphins, and Angels bright.  
But if thy precepts I forget, then sure I  
With sinners must expect my portion dew,  
Because thy grace celestial I abused.  
And in thy face (with vile contortion) threw  
Those sacred blessings stubbornly refused:  
At length I like an Angel shall appear  
In spotless white, an Angel's Crown to wear.   

SONNET. XXV.  
GLorious jehovah Oh how full of power,  
How full of sacred marvels be thy deeds!  
Thou that with plenties every creature feeds,  
And blessed bounties which bestows each hour.  
With hand of mercy sending forth a shower  
In large abundance to produce good seeds,  
My wounded heart with pierced conscience bleeds,  
When I remember thee my soul's succour:  
Who was so many times by me forgot,  
Who by me wicked, vilest, heinous wretch,  
Profaned oft haste been, but praised not:  
At length though late) mine arms, mine heart I stretch,  
My soul, my sinful soul I lift to thee,  
Who (with thy praises triumph clear) would be.   

SONNET. XXVI.  
GReat God of largesse, bountiful good giver  
Of endless blessings (as thou didst bestow  
On me poor wretch, that reason how to know  
Thee without all beginning endless liver)  
power likewise down thy graces lovely River,  
And let it (Lord) my poor heart overflow:  
These like sweet fire (which Divine spirits blow)  
May clearly burn in zeal of thy Loves ever:  
That all my thoughts thy Testament embrace,  
That all my wits thy tearmelesse grace set out,  
That by thee praising I may show thy grace  
Which in large Talon thou to me let out:  
That after good account (past term of ages)  
I may receive a trusty steward's wages.   

SONNET. XXVII.  
HIgh King of Kings (who with thine awful cheek  
Controls the stern winds, sinful land, rough Seas:  
Who chides in thunder when we do displease,  
Whom all things fear and tremble at his beck,  
Yoking in one the Kings and beggars neck  
Without respect (in wrath) yet will appease  
His wrath, when sinners penitent shall press  
His throne (in zeal sincere) without contecke.  
Oh God just, merciful, and gracious,  
Full of all plenty, blessing, and kindness,  
Whose endless rule past limit, spacious,  
Illuminate my soul, and banish blindness:  
Consider how this sinful soul (oppressed  
With nature) by thy grace would be redressed.   

SONNET. XXVIII.  
Fortress of hope, Anchor of faithful zeal,  
Rock of affiance, Bulwark of sure trust,  
(In whom all nations for salvation must  
Put certain confidence of their soul's weal)  
Those sacred mysteries dear Lord reveal  
Of that large volume, righteous and just:  
From me (though blinded with this earthly dust)  
Do not those gracious mysteries conceal.  
That I by them as from some beam some Lamp,  
May find the bright and right direction  
To my soul blinded, marching to that Campe.  
Of sacred soldiers: whose protection  
He (that victorious on a white horse rideth)  
Taketh, and evermore triumphant guideth.   

SONNET. XXIX.  
RAyons of glory beams of endless joy,  
Cherish my soul, illuminate my wits:  
Ravish my senses with celestial fits,  
That mists infernal do not them annoy:  
All carnal motions weaken and acoy,  
Even from that beam some throne (where glorious sits  
The Lord of light whose eye no shade admits)  
That filthy Dragon my sonles foe destroy,  
Which in foul pit of dreadful darkness lives,  
replete with horror, and contagious smell:  
Whose shadow, noisome mist and blindness gives,  
Raised from th'infectious damps of ugly Hell.  
Rayons of comfort through my Temples pierce,  
And consecrate my Muse to sacred verse.   

SONNET. XXX.  
HIgh mighty God of Gods, and King of Kings  
(Whose awful charge through the round world doth run,  
Even from the rising of the glorious Sun  
Unto the Seas, where he his Chariot brings)  
What instruments, or what harmonious strings  
Shall to thy graces, which be new begun,  
And have so many souls with comfort won,  
Give praises due to such celestial things  
Praise and thanksgiving to the Lord surrender,  
And pay thy duties to thy God most highest,  
Lest thou before his throne a vile offender  
Appear, when sin and Hell (to conscience nighest)  
Accuse thee wicked sinner, for that grace  
Which God bestowed, and thou cast in his face.   

SONNET. XXXI.  
O Glorious Patron of eternal bliss,  
Victorious conqueror of Hell and death,  
Oh that I had whole western winds of breath,  
My voice and tongue should not be so remiss:  
My notes should not be so rare and demisse:  
But every river, forest, hill, and heath  
Should echo forth his praise, and underneath  
The world's foundations sound that it is his:  
He which did place the world's foundations,  
He which did make the Sun, the Moon and stars,  
Who with his blood redeemed all nations,  
And willing none from Paradise debars,  
Shall not all instruments and voices sound  
His glories, which in all these things abound?   

SONNET. XXXII.  
THe well of life, the fort of happiness,  
Rock of affiance, Pillar of sure trust,  
Anchor of hope, Treasure repining rust,  
Star of direction, Ease of wretchedness,  
Great Lord of largesse, judge of wickedness,  
Balm of salvation, Aider of the just,  
Fountain of grace, Quickener of Clay and dust,  
Cure of disease, Releever of distress,  
Bright Sun of comfort, justice of true peace,  
The branch of glory, and the Fruit of bliss,  
kingdoms disposer, Husband of increase,  
For penitence who pardons things amiss,  
And in contrition daily who delights:  
What man can give due glorious Epithets?   

SONNET. XXXIII.  
THrice puissant general of true Christian host  
(Whose voice itself is dreadful thundercracke,  
Whose wrath doth neither fire nor lightning lack,  
Whose stormy frown makes tremble every coast:  
Chase thy fearful foes from post to post,  
Whose hands force can all the world's forces sack,  
Who turns his foeman's colours into black,  
Whose murdering thunderboults for arrows be,  
Whose sword victorious, Trenchant, double edged,  
His holy Scripture is, whose foes convert,  
The point to their own breast, and have alleged  
Vain arguments thy dear Saints to subvert)  
As thou dear God art judge, so give thy doom  
(In justice) to subvert ambitious Rome.   

SONNET. XXXIIII.  
BEhold dear Father (with those gracious eyes  
Which all the world with their beams glory brighten)  
My plaints, and then my cause in justice right.  
My soul repentant still for mercy cries  
Pricked with vain sins, which in my thoughts arise:  
Hope of thy mercy doth my sorrow lighten,  
Fears (lest more sins ensue) with my soul fighten,  
And true zeals of thy love my thoughts surprise.  
But angry justice seems (with ireful threat)  
To give black sentence of damnation  
unto my soul distressed, and doth repeat  
Old sins, provoking desperation:  
Oh save me, save me (Lord) lest that I fall  
Into damnation, save Lord when I call.   

SONNET. XXXV.  
A Rise thou mighty God of heaven, rise up,  
Against thy sinful foes of Babel rise:  
And scatter thou like dust thine enemies:  
Let them dregs of thine indignation sup:  
That have been drunken with the strumpet's cup:  
Like smoke which vanisheth into the skies  
Dissever them, and like the wax (which fries  
Before the fire) so melt, and burn them up.  
O magnify the Lord, and praises sing  
Unto the mighty God of heaven, who makes  
The clouds to thunder, and his bolts doth wing  
With fire and fury: who the round world shakes:  
Before whose face Kings with their Armies fly,  
And at whose feet proud Emperors dead lie:   

SONNET. XXXVI.  
LOrd (with the light of thy clear countenance)  
My sinful troubled soul illuminate:  
And with thy mighty shoulders elevate  
My feeble spirit, and his state advance:  
From thy sweet breast (pierced sometimes with a Lance  
For my redemption from accursed state)  
Lend one dear drop, whose force shall animate  
My soul infect with sins misgovernance:  
Then purge my spirit by thine holy Ghost,  
And as an Angel let it mildly rest,  
In thy thrice blessed bosom wished most  
By my poor soul, with grievous sins oppressed:  
And let thy blessed feet suppress all those,  
Which to thee, and my soul be vowed foes.   

SONNET. XXXVII.  
O My dear God how shall my voice prevail?  
How shall my tongue give utterance to my mind?  
Where shall my thankful hartfree passage find?  
My slender voice, tongue feeble, and heart frail  
(Before they can give condign praise) will fail:  
I cannot celebrate (in their due kind)  
Thy glories numberless, which Angels find  
Even to surmount all Angels best travail.  
Oh my dear God, my comfort, my solace,  
My swift soul flies (with my Divine thoughts wings)  
Even to thy bosom. Oh let it embrace,  
And triumph in my sweet salvations springs:  
For I believe thou wilt not me forsake,  
Who for me didst thy Son a Martyr make.   

SONNET. XXXVIII.  
GRacious, Divine, and most omnipotent,  
Receive thy servants Talent in good part,  
Which hid it not, but willing did convert  
It to best use he could when it was lent:  
The sum (though slender, yet not all misspent)  
Receive dear God of grace, from cheerful heart,  
Of him, that knows, how merciful thou art,  
And with what grace to contrite sinners bend:  
I know my fault, I did not as I should,  
My sinful flesh against my soul rebelled,  
But since I did endeavour what I could,  
Let not my little nothing be withheld  
From thy rich treasuries of endless grace;  
But (for thy sake) let it procure a place.   

SONNET. XXXIX.  
I Nuironed with dangers manifold,  
At home and foreign both by land and wave,  
(Where change of Nations divers dangers gave,  
And novels erst which I did not behold:  
Much like a doubtful Pilgrim, whom enfold  
Millions of woes, that knows no help to have,  
Nor how from dangers priest himself to save)  
Was I: but when me thought I perish should,  
My God of mercy did my life redeem,  
My God of mercy did my soul sustain,  
Oh then how well shall it my Muse beseem  
To praise the Lord, and him collaude again?  
Nay try (vain Poets) try, that King, that place,  
If God, and heaven, give not your Muse most grace.   

SONNET. XL.  
MY days be few, my sins past number be,  
Add to my days (Oh God) more time of grace,  
And mercy to my sins: behold my case,  
With eyes of gracious pity look on me:  
My wounded and afflicted conscience see,  
My soul afraid to stand before thy face:  
In pity Lord, (dear Lord) a longer space,  
Or else in mercy (Father) set me free,  
I find high justice doth my soul condemn,  
Which Satan urgeth still to my despair:  
Satan avoid, thy malice I contemn,  
All thy suggestions vain illusions are.  
Of thy temptations this is my construction,  
Then perish in vain hope of my destruction.   

SONNET. XLI.  
TEmpted in foreign nation by that foe,  
Which both my soul and body's health envies,  
And vexed with several strange perplexities,  
Whose cause or reason I could never know,  
Or why my mind should mourn afflicted so  
To thee my God, I turn my sinful eyes,  
(Whom I provoke with my remorse full cries)  
Some succour for my vexed thoughts to show.  
That (as I have my native Country changed)  
So likewise from the world I may be weaned:  
And as my weed with nation is estranged,  
I so may shine in Christian arms unfeigned:  
And as I leave my nations true language,  
My Muse may change for a diviner rage.   

SONNET. XLII.  
OH you light Poets (whose Ardure divine  
Enkindled with immortal fury was  
Ordained therefore, all other wits to pass;  
Because those faculties you should incline  
To make with praise the most praiseworthy shine:  
From sacred numbers, rolled in just compass,  
Sphoerelike in Music) turn your tunes alas  
To ravish ears with notes of your engine.  
By these you shall the God of Gods collaude,  
The King of Kings, and Lord of Lords exalt.  
Make not Divine wit foul affections bawd,  
It is against that holy Ghost a fault.  
Who therefore with his beams your wits did brighten,  
That your wits likewise should his glory lighten.   

SONNET. XLIII.  
SAthan abroad (when I was left alone  
A stranger and distress'de) did me assail:  
Finding my nature hoped to prevail,  
And make sure entrance where he could find none.  
A gentle nature soon overthrown  
He thought, supposing (for his more avail)  
The sting of sin should help if others fail:  
But now behold God's mercy to me shown.  
He gracious, loving, merciful, and wise,  
Declared expressly that I was ordained  
Unto salvation, for that enterprise  
Of Satan's moved my soul (before profaind)  
To purge itself, with that repentant grace,  
Which me shall save from hell, and him displace.   

SONNET. XLIIII.  
O Lord increase in me true faith, and love:  
Faith of salvation in thine only son,  
And his love that hath my soul's health begun,  
Who from my soul (his incense) will remove  
That deadly sting which sin did under shove.  
O Lord increase my zeal, and let it run  
Through my soul's Organs: that thereby be done  
A pleasing incense to thy throne above:  
O Lord increase in me that earnest care  
To make a mends for those high sins by past,  
And equal charity to work welfare,  
Unto my neighbours bound in fetters fast:  
That by faith, Love, true zeal, and charity,  
(Through thee) my soul may find felicity.   

SONNET. XLV.  
O What great comfort is it to give praise  
To God the Lord of heaven, Oh what comfort  
Is it abroad his praises to report,  
And of his wondrous works our notes to raise?  
To lift our Muses from base earthly lays  
To that Dinine angelical consort,  
Bearing Palm, Olive, and immortal bay  
With change of harmonies in one consort:  
To glorify the mighty God of glory,  
To magnify the mighty God of might,  
To triumph in the guide of victory,  
To celebrate the justice of all right,  
To make our refuge where all help is found,  
To cure our wounded souls with his sole wound.   

SONNET. XLVI.  
OH Sun and Moon the days and evenings lights,  
With powerful Stars bright subjects of the same,  
Archangels, Angels praise his holy name:  
The glorious Cherubin which fiery fights  
With his proud foes: the Seraphes, holy sprights,  
Who with sweet hymns record his endless fame,  
The dreadful thunder with his angry flame,  
Which (when he list) all men, and beasts affrights:  
Rain, hail, Snow, tempest, clouds, and bitter wind,  
Darkness, and light, Earthquakes, and foggy mist,  
With Flies and feathered fowls of several kind,  
My soul and spirit in his praise assist:  
Who (past all humane wonder) did create  
Us all, that all his praise might propagate.   

SONNET. XLVII.  
OH what celestial Angel will down send  
Into these eyes some dewy clouds of grace  
To wash the furrows of my withered face  
Defiled with sin? what spirit will me lend  
Sufficient wind, that my sighs might ascend  
And (with contrition) pierce to that palace,  
From whence proceeds all succour and solace?  
What Champion Michael my soul to defend,  
Will lend his puissant and victorious cross,  
To conquer that old Serpent, which assails  
My feeble soul entombde in earthly dross?  
Thy precious cross, that lance, those piercing nails,  
If he shall them, or their dear wounds espy,  
Will bruise his head, and yield me victory.   

SONNET. XLVIII.  
O Glorious conquest, and thrice glorious spear,  
But seven times thrice more glorious the name,  
By which thrice powerful we conjure the same:  
Which but repeated doth that Dragon fear,  
That old Levyathan whose jaws Lord tear.  
Root out his tongue which doth thy Saints defame,  
And thy sweet Gospel seek to vail with shame:  
This the chief conquest of all conquests wear,  
For which Archangels, and all Angels might,  
With Cherubins, and Seraphins out bring  
Victorious Palms, arraide in sincere white:  
For which all Saints might Alleluya sing,  
Then glorious Captain, our chief God and man,  
Break thou the jaws of old Leviathan.   

SONNET. XLIX.  
I Feel my soul in combat with the dust  
Of sinful flesh, and ready to break out  
From loathsome bondage, dreadless of all doubt:  
I feel my soul (by shadows) sever must  
From that base prison of terrestrial rust,  
Where it shall triumph in celestial rout  
Of my forefather's Angels round about  
That glorious throne of the faithful and just.  
But yet my feeble flesh (surcharg'de with guilt)  
Trembleth at thought of death, but why should it  
Fear coward death, since for my soul was spilled  
His blood, that shall for me in triumph sit?  
Death do thy worst, but yet (Lord) thine ear give,  
Why I with David would not die but live.   

SONNET. L.  
I Would not die but hue (dear living Lord)  
And to thy glory show that faculty,  
With which thou didst me worthless beautify:  
Turning my Muse to that Divine concord,  
Which I perceive doth with my soul accord  
In endless praise of thy Divinity.  
But (if unworthy them to magnify,  
Because my sinful mouth hath not abhorred  
To be before with vanities abused)  
Thou loathe my wicked tongue should them declare:  
Thy will be done, which cannot be refused:  
For death of sin the guerdon doth prepare,  
Yet when I die (dear God of Love and truth)  
Remember not the follies of my youth.   

SONNET. LI.  
Break thou the jaws of old Leviathan,  
Victorious conqueror, break thou the jaws,  
Which full of blasphemy malign thy laws:  
Ready to curse, to lie, slander and ban,  
Which nothing but abomination can:  
Who like a ramping Lion with his paws  
Thy little flock with daily dread adawes,  
antichrist's Harrould who with pride began,  
Even into thy triumphant throne to press,  
And therefore his first comfort had forgonne:  
The bodies ruinor, and soul's disease,  
Bawd to that harlot of proud Babylon,  
Which mortal men to mortal sins inviteth,  
Tear out those Fangues with which he thy flock biteth.   

SONNET. LII.  
Full of celestial syrropes, full of sweet  
are all thy precepts, full of happiness,  
full of all comfort, full of blessedness  
those salutations which our Saviour greet:  
O let us then contend (since it is meet)  
to keep those laws with upright holiness,  
oh let us use, and have in readiness  
those sweet orations, prostrate at his feet:  
Begging, imploring, weeping, smiling, kneeling  
for succour, grace, and for our sins humbly  
repentance mercies signs in our heart feeling:  
Repent, and praise our God, for it is comely,  
O nothing doth a Christian more beseem,  
Then him to praise that did his soul redeem.   

SONNET. LIII.  
DIdst thou redeem my soul, my sole salvation?  
Oh with what ransom (Lord) didst thou redeem it?  
Even of so precious worth did he esteem it,  
Because at our forefathers first creation,  
He in his breast by sacred inspiration,  
From his own mouth (which did so well so well beseem it)  
Breathed a soul divine, then let us deem it  
A gracious, precious and dear immolation,  
For him to save our souls with his bloodshed,  
For him to take man's nature, man to save,  
For him to be whipped, nailed, torn, crucified,  
For him to sweat in blood, to lie in grave,  
For him (most mighty) to lie down beneath,  
Where (for our life) he vanquished hell and death.   

SONNET. liv.  
THen awful sting of Pail deaths leaden dart,  
Where is thy kill poison and thy pile?  
Then fearful horrid Serpent full of guile  
(Whose ugly kingdom hoped for his part,  
The most of all poor souls in endless smart)  
Where is thy dreadful conquest all this while?  
Behold how Christian souls triumph and smile  
To see thee bound, where thoufast burning art,  
To see that sacred and victorious troop  
(Whose Captain Lord of Lords, and King of Kings  
Adorned with many Crowns, makes all crowns stoup)  
Which in high triumph Alleluya sings,  
Makes God and Magog his fell fury find,  
Which scattered fly like dust before the wind.   

SONNET. LV.  
FRom depth of fearful Hell's eternal shade,  
And bottomless descent into that lake,  
In heat, and cold where sinners burn and quake:  
Where all things vnconsum'de for ever fade,  
At whose remembrance sinners are dismayed  
For horror of those dreadful pangs which shake,  
And for sweet succour intercession make,  
Of their sins burden, and hell fire afraid:  
Even from the fearful bottomless black pit,  
(At whose remembrance my poor soul doth tremble)  
Save and deliver me, whereas I sit  
Environed with despair, which doth resemble  
An Island (with rough seas enclosed round)  
At every gust, in danger to be drowned.   

SONNET. LVI.  
O That I might with the wise Prophet sing,  
Mine heart is ready, ready to give praise!  
But mine is not, though willing most always  
To celebrate the glorious heavenly King  
Poor heart, not worthy to that Angel's wing  
(Which with his glory through the world doth poise  
In heavenly number stemp'red with sweet phrase)  
The least soft down of Plumage for to bring.  
Then mild, then spotless, comfortable Dove,  
Whose wings were sin of sins to violate,  
Pure Bird of heavenly solace, peace and Love,  
With Rayons bright my soul illuminate,  
From that false lustful Pygeon late returned,  
Which almost had both soul and body burnt.   

SONNET. LVII.  
THrough Satan's malice and my nature weak,  
When in my soul I find my faith is dead,  
Those sacred schoedes of comfort, than I read  
Whose powerful words the gates of hell can break:  
Then faith in kindleth fresh, and then I wreak  
My wrath on Satan, and upon his head  
Me thinks (like Michael or Saint George) I tread:  
Whilst he that erst against the Sun did beak  
His foreswolne poisonous bulk, doth vanquishdlie  
In his own filth: and I (which lately was  
Like to be swallowed by mine enemy)  
Now safely like a conqueror may pass.  
Behold my captains puissance, who did this  
To rid my soul from hell, and ransom his.   

SONNET. LVIII.  
COmfort thyself (poor soul) whom grief of sin  
Down presseth to the mouth of the lowest hell,  
With contrite penitence thou knowest well  
Him that will raise and it from danger bring:  
Pray then, and praise the Lord, who will begin  
To purge thy soul, and Satan's filth expel  
Who thee defileth and in thee doth dwell.  
Oh Lord my voice shall praise and never linne  
So long as thou shalt lend breath to my voice,  
My voice unto my soul shall spirit lend,  
And in the comfort of my soul rejoice,  
And (with my mouth) consent world without end  
To speak, to praise, to glorify to sing,  
That God, which to my soul doth succour bring.   

SONNET. LIX.  
MY soul, my soul I feel, I feel is vexed,  
My mind and thoughts in uncouth fort distressed,  
My brains with fearful dreams by night oppressed,  
My heart with strange discouragement perplexed,  
My soles unneathed unto my feet annexed,  
My spirit with faint languor still distressed,  
And help (Lord) help my soul, my soul addressed,  
(By Melancholies poison) is connexed  
In fetters serpentine of foul despair:  
Death almost my life's ceasure hath begun,  
And (after) Satan will his books prepare  
Blotted with ugly sins, past number done.  
Oh my God, my dear God, help and assist:  
Sin, death, and hell, my safety do resist.   

SONNET. LX.  
Turn not away the sun shine of thy face  
(Sweet God of comfort) from my troubled heart  
Congealed with sin: do not (sweet Lord) depart  
From him that penitently sues for grace.  
Whose soul through countless sins (my whole lives space)  
Benumbed, can scarcely feel contritions smart:  
What Physic then shall serve, what help of art.  
My dead soul to revive, and sin forth chase?  
Even those pure Rayons of thy holy Ghost,  
Those gracious beams of thy pure holy word  
Shall mollify, give ease, and comfort most  
To my cold frozen soul, and help afford:  
Lest with the frost of sin my soul astounded,  
After death's grief, should with hell's sting be wounded.   

SONNET. LXI.  
WHere is that copious fury, whilom which  
My brains in kindled with an uncouth fire?  
Whose sacred spirit did of yore aspire  
Above the glorious Sun with passions rich  
Which thoughts in choice words to the stars would stitch,  
With sacred Music tempering my desire:  
Contending holily to mount up higher  
Whilst heavenly chaunture did my soul bewitch.  
Oh precious Ardoure, by whose cheerful heat  
The brain especial recreation finds,  
The soul chief comfort, I thy beams entreat  
Which cheer all plants, and beasts of sever all kinds  
From my poor spirit, do not take away  
Those rays which must with light my wits array.   

SONNET. LXII.  
FOr comfort (my dear God) I did attend,  
And gracious ears to me thou didst incline:  
At my petitions thou didst not repine,  
But present succour to my suits didst send.  
Thou didst direct my feet, which did depend  
On thee my steadfast Rock, where brightly shine  
Thy laws those Lamps to which my thoughts incline,  
Which Lord grant that my soul do not offend.  
In my mouth (Lord) thou didst put a new song,  
A due thanksgiving unto thee my God,  
Which men shall fear to violate and wrong  
Lest they should be corrected with thy rod.  
Oh God great wonders thou for me hast wrought  
(For thy sons sake) who my salvation bought.   

SONNET. LXIII.  
O Dreadful horror and tormented mind,  
Fowl restless conscience charged with heinous sins,  
Loathsome and numberless (when God begins  
His fruitful harvest in fair sheaf to bind)  
Hath thee for tars to quenchless fire assigned,  
Where tears, nor hope of vain repentance wins  
Thy soul from Torture: where grief never linnes  
More pangs (by worm of conscience) to find.  
Oh dreadful hour, when (to thy soul condemned)  
The judge of truth and King of glory saith  
Headlong with Lucifer fall, who contemned  
My laws: fall down thou Fiend of little faith:  
And with devils damned thy due portion take,  
Immortally to burn in fiery lake.   

SONNET. LXIIII  
THen if darn Love of thy dear loving Lord,  
His gentle grace's Oil, his mercy's balm,  
His bounties numberless, his spirit calm,  
His love of peace, and comfort in concord  
Of the thrice sinful soul remain abhorrde:  
If to thy soul sin wounded, no sweet Psalm,  
Nor heavenly Harp, nor Organ, Trump, nor Shawm  
Can comfort bring with their Divine record,  
To make thee join in praise of his good grace,  
Or to thy sinful soul correction give:  
Yet let that quenchless lake and dreadful place,  
(Where souls in deadly torment ever live,  
Creator and creation which reprove)  
Make thee repent for fear, if not for love.   

SONNET. LXV.  
O Mercy, mercy, which much greater is  
Then heavens themselves! Oh truth, Oh sincere truth,  
Which to the clouds extendeth and ensueth!  
Of justice which doth never judge amiss!  
Oh age of ages, evermore in youth!  
Oh judge whose righteous punishment is ruth!  
Which sinners worthless dost with bounty bliss?  
Oh where shall I find to my spirit voice?  
Where to my voice sufficient choice of words?  
To show how much my spirit doth rejoice  
In those large blessings, which thy grace affords?  
My spirit first will fail with feeble voice:  
Oh my Lord God lend spirit, life and breath,  
That I may praise thy name to conquer death.   

SONNET. LXVI.  
IF death may by thy praises vanquished be,  
Then voice, than spirit, let your organs break  
And of his glory sing, criefoorth, and speak  
Of him that succours, helps and comforts me,  
Move tongue, sound voice, and from your slothful gree  
Avoid, and in this utter ance be not weak:  
If hell the venom of his fury wreak,  
It shall not be of force to vanquish thee.  
Oh laud, laudes, glory, glories, praise of praise,  
Fame, honour, truth, eternity, renown,  
And justice merciful ascribe always  
To thee great kaiser of the thorny crown:  
Which coronation infamous, did gain  
That millions should rich glorious Crowns obtain.   

SONNET. LXVII.  
WHat thing in spacious heaven, round earth, deep seas,  
Which thy praise worthy glories doth not tell?  
Whose golden Sunshine ever doth excel  
In many millions far above all these:  
So much exceeding (that if any press  
To give due praise) he shall perceive it well  
His faculties against his will rebel,  
And that his tongue cannot his spirit please.  
Oh who shall give due glories to his name,  
That glorifies all things, with decent pride?  
Or what is he can signify the same,  
Or in an equal share his praise divide  
With those great bounties which he hath bestowed,  
And those great mercies (on us sinners) showed?   

SONNET LXVIII.  
THat bounteous largesse of sweet mercy's oil,  
That peace of soul, that silver stream of grace,  
That comfort of salvation, that palace  
Of heavenly succour which death cannot spoil,  
That fortitude, whose force no force can foil,  
Of JESSES' precious branch that royal race,  
Who with his glory filleth every place,  
And with sweet dews doth cherish every soil:  
Can with no flourish of eternal phrase  
Be glorifi'de, according to desert:  
Who with meet colours shall his glory blaze?  
Who to the world shall condign praise impart?  
What instrument, what voice, what tongue, what spirit  
Shall give due commendations to demerit?   

SONNET. LXIX.  
WHo to the golden Suns long restless race,  
Can limits set? what vessel can comprise  
The swelling winds? what cunning can devise  
(With quaint Arithmetic) in steadfast place  
To number all the stars in heavens palace?  
What cunning Artist ever was so wise  
Who (by the stars and planets could advise  
Of all adventures the just course and case?  
Who measured hath the waters of the seas?  
Who ever (in just balance) poised the air?  
As no man ever could the least of these  
Perform with humane labour, strength and care:  
So who shall strive in volumes to contain  
God's praise ineffable, contends in vain.   

SONNET. LXX.  
Unto my spirit lend an Angel's wing,  
By which it might mount to that place of rest,  
Where Paradise may me relieve oppressed.  
Lend to my tongue an Angel's voice to sing  
Thy praise my comfort, and for ever bring,  
My notes thereof from the bright East to West.  
Thy mercy lend unto my soul distressed:  
Thy grace unto my wits; then shall the sling  
Of righteousness, that monster Satan kill:  
Who with despair my dear salvation dared,  
And like the Philistine, stood breathing still  
Proud threats against my soul, for heaven prepared:  
At length I like an Angel shall appear  
In spotless white, an Angel's Crown to wear.   

SONNET. LXXI.  
O Glorious Crown more precious many ways,  
Then simple humane Temples can deserve,  
Thrice glorious God who doth that Crown reserve  
For men unworthy to set out his praise.  
Oh mortal Temples what Muse can you raise,  
Which unhard precious spirits doth reserve  
His praise most meritorious to serve?  
Admit that past all number were your days,  
Admit your spirit more than the four winds,  
Admit your learning be (by more degrees)  
Above the Seraphins, admit all kinds  
Of Musics instruments inferior were  
(In heavenly tunes and sacred harmonies)  
To thy sweet voice, all cannot his praise bear.   

SONNET. LXXII.  
THe sun of our soul's light thee would I call,  
But for our light thou didst the bright Sun make,  
Nor reason that thy Majesty should take  
Thy chiefest subjects Epithets at all.  
Our chief directions star celestial  
(But that the stars for our directions sake,  
Thou fixed, and canst at thy pleasure shake)  
I would thee name: The Rock substantial  
Of our assurance I would term thy name,  
But that all Rocks by thy command were made:  
If King of Kings thy Majesty became,  
Monarch of monarchs I thee would have said,  
But thou gives kingdoms, and makes Crowns unstable:  
By these I know thy name ineffable.   

SONNET. LXXIII.  
TRiumphant conqueror of death and hell,  
Behold what legions (though in vain) conspire,  
Thy Temple militant to set on fire,  
And Saints which in thy sanctuary dwell  
To burn, whilst they against thy power rebel:  
See how like bloody tyrants they desire  
Ambitiously to rise and mount up higher,  
Like Lucifer which to perdition fell.  
Their forces are addressed against thy Saints,  
Break thou their bows, knap thou their spears in sunder:  
I know their spirit at thy presence faints,  
Against their Cannon plant thy dreadful thunder,  
Thy thunderbolts against their bullets dash,  
And on their beavers bright let lightning flash.   

SONNET. LXXIIII.  
Army's of Angels, Myriad of Saints,  
Millions of Emperors, and holy Kings,  
Legions of sacred patriarchs he brings,  
Which his rebellious foes with fear attaints.  
Whose spirit at thy puissant spirit faints,  
(Great Lord of Lords) whose sacred armis singes  
Triumphant Paeans, and new music brings  
In glorious phrase, which thy sweet glory payntes:  
Whilst under thy triumphant chariot wheels,  
Rolling upon the stars, thy captives lie  
In quenchless fiery lake, whose spirit feels  
An endless torment in captivity:  
When thy four sweet Evangelists ride buy  
(Like corporals) proclaiming victory.   

SONNET. LXXV.  
ELders of grace, in number six times four,  
Fall down, fall down upon your aged faces;  
Send from grave ceerefull voice (throughout all places)  
Such joyful tidings in abundant store  
Of praise (than sands of seas in number more)  
To the great bounteous giver of all graces  
Harmonious Kings cast down your Crowns and Maces,  
Sounding your cheerful haps his throne before:  
Let hallelujah round about resound,  
Power, honour glory, praises and renown  
Ascribe unto the Lord, who doth confound  
Even with his nostshils, breath, and casteth down  
His worthless enemies of Magogs' camp,  
And (unto dust and ashes) them doth stamp.   

SONNET. LXXVI.  
AS those three Kings (touched with a sacred zeal)  
By presents rich made Royal offerture,  
Our new born saviours blessing to procure,  
Borne in an Ox stall for our public weal:  
When in adoring him they did reveal,  
his Godhead, by those gifts they did assure.  
So let faith, hope and love make overture  
Of new salvation (which themselves conceal  
In this base mortal stable sins foul place)  
Whereof eternal joys, they may present  
To my salvation (borne of thy dear grace)  
Such rich Propines: As from thy Gospel sent  
By precious incense may my spirit bring  
The tearmelesse praises of my God to sing.   

SONNET. LXXVII.  
PVrge thou my guilty soul sweet gracious Lord  
Defiled and ugly made with sinful spots:  
heal my wounds desperate whose festure rots:  
My vexed members loathsome and abhorred:  
Do not in register my sin record,  
My wicked practices, and vain complots,  
But lift my soul from the defiled pots;  
And let thy mercy with my suit accord.  
Make thou my soul clear like white Salmon's snow,  
Or like a silver winged Dove appear,  
Where divers glorious golden feathers show:  
Convert thy foeman's forces into fear,  
Like jaben make them, and like Cysara,  
Like Seba, Zeb, Horeb and Salmana.   

SONNET. LXXVIII.  
RIde on in glory on the morning's wings  
(Thrice puissant conqueror) in glory ride:  
That heaven as Horse, courageous doth'st bestride,  
Who whether thou disposest succour brings.  
Ride on the glorious clouds high King of Kings:  
Thy conquering sword guirde to thy puissant side,  
Bright soldiers muster up, whose armies guide  
Raungde into Quadraines, and triumphant Rings,  
That shameless strumpet of proud Babylon  
(Which thine Apostles kills, and Prophet's stoneth,  
With Cup full of abomination,  
Which poisons millions, and no man bemoneth)  
With her false, proud and Antichristian rout,  
Suppress, and put to slaughter round about.   

SONNET. LXXIX.  
THe tearmelesse date of my sweet second life,  
(When this corruption mortal in sin bred,  
Shall resting in oblivion vanish dead,  
Ending the period of all earthly strife)  
Freshly recalls those Loves, and graces rife  
Which from my sweet salvations conduct bled:  
These have true zeal to my faiths refuge led,  
So that no torture faggot, cross or knife  
Can sever me sequestered from thy flock,  
I fear no Pagan, Schismatic, nor jew,  
No worldly menaces can tear that Rock  
Of my faiths Adamant, assured and true:  
But for that truth, I thousand deaths would die  
To live ten thousand lives immortally.   

SONNET. LXXX.  
A Blast of wind, a momentary breath,  
A watery bubble simbolizde with air,  
A son blown Rose, but for a season fair,  
A ghostly glance, a skeleton of death,  
A morning dew perling the grass beneath,  
Whose moisture suns appearance doth impair:  
A lightning glimpse: a Muse of thought and care:  
A Planets shot: a shade which followeth:  
A voice which vanisheth so soon as heard:  
The thriftless heir of time: a rolling wave:  
A show no more in action then regard:  
A Mass of dust: worlds momentary slave  
Is man in state of our old Adam made,  
Soon borne to die, soon flourishing to fade.   

SONNET. LXXXI.  
BEhold (by misadventure) how the wind  
From earth blows dust and it in air scatter,  
And if therefore the very smallest matter  
Thine eye (the body's jewel in some kind)  
Do but by chance appeach, will grieve and blind,  
Unless from thence it by good means you shatter:  
So that smooth foe who cunningly can flatter,  
And as a tempest rageth in his kind,  
Moves dust our flesh, from earth upraysde to blear  
Of our redemption the much better part,  
Our souls (with charge of sins) to vex and fear,  
Blinded and grieved with earthly dust and smart.  
To thine eyes (Lord) let our eyes open be,  
And shut from sin, who sight blinds, blind makes see.   

SONNET. LXXXII.  
AFter acoale-blacke comfortless foul night  
(With tempests horror and thick showers oppressed,  
Disease of Pilgrims, Travayllers' unrest)  
When as the glorious Suns uprising right  
With cheerful beams, and virtuous motion bright  
Hath from his Eastern mansion redressde,  
The cheerless Meadows, and Cornefields suppressed  
With lively means of animating might.  
In equal semblance my poor soul enlarged  
From this earths blindness and black dangers free  
With deadly sins sharp tempest late surcharge  
Shall (when my glorious judge, I coming see)  
After rough storms of sighs, and showers of tears,  
Through dear contrition franchised from fears.   

SONNET. LXXXIII.  
THat Bird imperial which the gentile Poets worthy thought  
For virtues rare pre-eminence to stand ascribed fit  
To jupiter, & since in chief when Romans honoured it  
As richest ensign which could be for their great Monarch sought.  
That puissant and imperial beast great into judah brought,  
Which of all other beasts beside doth as commander sit:  
That other firm and permanent which doth so well befit  
(For courage strength humility & service which he wrought)  
The figure of that glorious, and legate most Divine:  
Together with that Angel child chaste innocent and fair  
Which to the spirit of thy dear Ambassador did shine.  
As Eagle first whose precious eyes more bright than Sunbeams are,  
The next is Lion mighty made, as Bull the third more strong  
And of thy dear Evangelists, the fourth as Angel young.   

SONNET. LXXXIIII.  
THe paradise of joys, true mercy's seat  
The throne of judgement, refuge and distress,  
Sweet bosom of love, health, and happiness:  
The glorious Theatre where Saints repeat  
The most praise worthies praise: where frost nor heat  
With violent assaylance souls suppress.  
The choir of Angels, Church of holiness:  
Sweet pardons place where penance doth entreat:  
The Palace of eternal peace and ease:  
The spacious Court where Kings and Angels serve:  
The scaffold where true pomps of honour please:  
The golden paths where Pilgrims never swerver:  
The Stage of sacred triumphs: and that place  
Where tearmelesse victory gives endless grace.   

SONNET. LXXXV.  
COntrariwise, that horrible black pit,  
That ugly jail of sorrows without end:  
That filthy sink to which foul sinners tend:  
That dreadful fiery lake where furies sit:  
That ward of madness and outrageous fit:  
where hideous divilles condemned spirits rend:  
Black desolations den, where lives no friend  
But tortured souls deprived of their wit:  
That filthy dungeon whose chief music is  
The groans, outcries, sobs, and forlorn laments  
of Parracydes, and men which lived amiss:  
The bootless tears of too late penitents:  
That love of haeu'n, this loathsomeness of hell,  
The ways of life and death directly tell.   

SONNET. LXXXVI.  
THat loathsome spirit of vain stinking pride,  
Which (with contempt and detestable scorn)  
Begets all sins to condemnation borne:  
That self consuming Envy, that foul bride  
Of filthy lust that gulf still gaping wide  
For treasures numberless: that poignant thorn  
Of wraths fell passion, furious and forlorn:  
That sink of gluttony: that slothful guide  
Which to destruction and all sickness brings:  
None of these mortal vices which abound  
In sinful creatures, but in sorrowesting  
The troubled carcase with a cureless wound:  
And none of these but doth the soul dismay  
With restless guilt, and it to death betray.   

SONNET. LXXXVII.  
But that sweet spirit, modest, meek and mild,  
Which with true zeal and solace doth embrace  
The love of virtues, and eternal grace:  
That charity whose deeds of mercy build  
With faiths assistance for his soul defiled  
An hospital of ease in heavens palace:  
That spotless countenance with rosy face.  
That sober temperance which hath exiled  
Detested riot, and foul surfeits vice:  
That hand of bounty which still gives and lends:  
That blessed patience souls calm sacrifice:  
That honest labour which life's state defends.  
Through peace of conscience and souls comfort these  
Our hearts for heaven prepare and high God please.   

SONNET. LXXXVIII.  
THe worlds bright comforter (whose became some light  
Poor creatures cheereth, mounting from the deep)  
His course doth in prefixed compass keep,  
And as courageous Giant takes delight  
To run his race, and exercise his might:  
Till him down galloping the mountains steep  
Clear Hesperus smooth messenger of sleep  
views: and the silver ornament of night  
forth brings with stars past number in her train:  
All which with suns long borrowed splendour shine:  
The Seas (with full tide swelling) ebb again:  
All years to their old quarters new resign,  
The winds forsake their mountayne-chambers wild,  
And all in all things with God's virtue filled.   

SONNET. LXXXIX.  
I Feel by motions in my sinful breast,  
My silly soul, through weakness is depraved,  
And Satan (fearing lest it should be saved)  
My memory doth with vile sins infest:  
And to procure my spirits more unrest,  
When of my soul in anguish help is craved,  
(where her chief refuge is) with horror raved  
My conscience in despair cries out oppressed,  
O mercy, mercy, grace and succour send  
Father of mercy for thy Son sweet jesus,  
my sore heart and sinwounded soul defend,  
With thy sweet help and holy Spirit ease us:  
Thy quickening virtue lend to my soul dead,  
Then shall my foot on Satan's belly tread.   

SONNET. LXXXX.  
IF that sweet spirit of omnipotence  
(All virtues and all comfort which containeth:  
Which in souls penitent and heavenly reigneth,  
Whose glorious power and virtues excellence  
Did raise up jesus our sweet soul's defence)  
In us and our reformed hearts remaineth.  
Then he (whose puissance heavenly forceretayneth,  
and Christ upraysde our soul's pre-eminence)  
Shall our base mortal bodies lively make  
Through sin and nature corruptible first,  
And by that holy Ghost which place doth take  
In our revived spirits (mortal erst)  
Our souls and bodies both regenerate,  
Chaung'de for a joyful and immortal state.   

SONNET. LXXXXI.  
OH whither doth my lamentable soul  
(Winged with a spirit of a sighing breath)  
Prepare this languid carcase if to death  
Then farewell bondage of this prison foul,  
The sin of vile transgression where I roll  
In earthly dust and tumble underneath.  
I feel that sacred freelidge followeth,  
(Maugre the rage of Satan) which doth howl,  
And cries out for laws vengeance hear him not,  
Respect not him (dear Lord) but on me look:  
Look on me (my dear Lord) I fear him not:  
My God, my loving God, turn not thy book  
Which may my conscience with sins burden grieve,  
But let thy mercy's balm my soul relieve.   

SONNET. LXXXXII.  
Relieve my soul with thy dear mercies balms,  
Monarch of precious mercy succour send:  
I will endeavour my vile sins to mend  
And to thee my soul's sacrifice in Psalms.  
High God (whose holy spirit outrage calms,  
Calm thou my sinful spirits which intent  
To thy great praise their faculties to lend.  
On my soul's knees I lift my spirits Palms,  
With humble penitence to purchase grace,  
These eyes this mortal bodies skies down power  
Tears of contrition on my blushing face,  
Fruits of repentance flourish with this shower.  
My soul, I feel is comforted and eas'de,  
Then Lord with my poor offering be well pleas'de.   

SONNET. LXXXXIII.  
WIth my poor offering be well pleased sweet Lord,  
And then with ghostly peace and heart upraised  
(Thy Temple celestive where thou liv'st praised  
With ceaseless Canticles, and Hymns record,  
And meekness which mine humble thoughts afford)  
I will approach not any wise amazed,  
To see those sacred mysteries rich blazed  
To my sin blinded eyes before abhorred,  
In thy dear presence their due tribute paying  
For their misgovernance and riotise,  
My soul afflicted with heart's incense praying  
Itself devoutly Lord doth sacrifice  
To that Lamb blemishlesse, which offering made  
Himself for my sins, and deaths forfeit paid.   

SONNET. LXXXXIIII.  
O What a gracious burden huge and heavy,  
What charge importable, and painful weight  
Those deadly sins which with our souls do fight,  
And fresh supplies of vile offences levy?  
Yielding more puissance to their powerful might,  
In hope with shade of everlasting night  
To blind the beamesome rays of my poor soul  
(Which doth a restless stone of labour roll)  
Till thy dear gracious mercies from thy sight  
Do banish them, and with the glory bright  
Of thy sweet pardon lighten them again?  
And then (albeit no volumes can contain  
Thy praise and mercies) yet will I contend  
From East to West their memory to send.   

SONNET. LXXXXV.  
THat golden Planet, Lamp of this world's light  
Whose glorious Eastern insurrection shows  
His ceasclesse course, whose term no creatures knows:  
That silver Planet torch of silent night,  
Which (when the Sun reposeth her beams bright  
In Western Seas) her Planet-darts forth throws,  
Whose influence doth strange events compose:  
That boisterous turbulence of North winds might  
Which swells and ruffles in outrageous sort:  
Those cheerful Southern showers whose fruitful dew  
Brings forth all sustenance for man's comfort:  
East West, North, South, (if none thy puissance knew)  
Relate thy wondrous virtues, and with praise  
From West to East, from North to South them raise.   

SONNET. LXXXXVI.  
Firm Rock of during stone, sure Bulwark of defence,  
Strong arm of fortitude, Shield of protection,  
Courage of puissance, and virtues of perfection,  
Eorne of salvation, and divinest essence.  
Thou shalt sustain my spirit lest it backward fall,  
Thou shalt my soul relieve from Satan's fierce given charge,  
Thou shalt my cause maintain and combat him at large,  
Thou shalt huige blows of sin, ward from my soul in thrall,  
Thou shalt with ghostly valour my soul's strength inspire,  
Thou shalt anoint my head with oil of peace and joy,  
Thou me shalt purify with pure zeals holy fire,  
By these I shall my spirits enemy destroy.  
By these I shall effect my souls chief happiness,  
By these I shall my soul unhallowed redress.   

SONNET. LXXXXVII.  
MY soul through manifold assaults of sin  
(In grievous combat with my flesh retain'de)  
Declining faints, unless it be sustain'de:  
Then send thy mercies which might enter in,  
To sever them least further broils begin:  
And if my soul (with wounds affliction payn'de)  
Have penitently to thy grace complayn'de,  
Let it by gracious mnee as some mercy win.  
Pure grace, sweet mercy, comfortable peace  
Zeal, truth, and righteousness are dearly met,  
Whose fame from East to West can never cease,  
Nor those which in these their affiance set  
Can ever be (for glories want) obscure:  
But with Salvation eternized endure.   

SONNET. LXXXXVIII.  
WHere shall I vex'de my sinful head repose?  
If that in error and conceived vice,  
Which with deceitful Blandishments entice  
My feeble nature mortified with sin.  
Then hope shall gates of my salvation close,  
Against my soul: and my despair begin,  
If that in open sight, then open shame  
The Scarlet of my conscience will disclose;  
And sound the shameful Trumpet of my fame.  
Where then shall I my vexed soul dispose?  
(If not in blind obscurity nor light)  
Then there even there impenitence with those  
Which weep down tears of comfort to delight  
Their soul enlarged from eternal night.   

SONNET. LXXXXIX.  
OH whether shall my troubled Muse incline?  
When not the glorious scaffold of the skies  
Nor highest heavens resplendent hierarchies,  
(Where heavenly Soldiers in pure armour shine)  
Nor air which thy sweet spirit doth refine,  
Nor earth thy precious blood unworthy prize,  
Nor Seas which when thou list ebb and arise,  
Nor any creature profane or Divine,  
Can blaze the flourish of thy tearmelesse praise:  
Surreaching far by manifold large space  
All Divine fabric of thy sacred hands?  
Even thither shall my Muse her Music raise;  
Where my souls everlasting palace stands,  
Sweet refuge of salvation, Court of grace.   

SONNET. 100  
SAcred director of divine Zion  
With gracious hands and mercy-moving eyes,  
With ears attentive) take my sacrifice:  
Behold my tears, hear my plaints which cry on,  
Lighten my pensive soul which would fly on  
To thy sweet mercy's seat, heavens Paradise:  
Thy pure Dooves white Wings (that my soul may rise,  
And mount from this base earth) dear Lord tie on:  
So shall my Spirit fly from star to star:  
And in consent of musics sweet report  
Bear thy rich Glories forth from far to far,  
When Cherubins with Seraphines resort,  
And Angels with archangels still to sing  
The glorious wonders of their heavenly King.  
FINIS.    

HYMN TO THE GLORIOUS HONOUR OF THE most blessed and indivisible Trinity.  
SACRED dear Father of all things created,  
(Whose joyful throne of endless triumph stands  
In glorious heaven: whose name earth (animated)  
proclaimeth through the compass of all lands)  
I lift these humble hands,  
Vpheau'de with courage of a zealous heart,  
Confirm'de with fortitude of constant faith,  
Assured in grace of some sweet mercy's part:  
Which Treasures my dear hope in high heaven layeth,  
Which comfort my soul hath.  
And thou dear only Son of God alone,  
Thou precious Immolation of mankind,  
Who sits on right hand of thy Father's throne,  
Who fearful Satan did in fetters bind,  
Whom death alone did find,  
To be the peerless Champion of his foil,  
Thou that redeemed'st from infernal pain  
Our great grandfathers and ourselves assoil  
Of our foul sins; nor humbled didst disdain  
For mankind to be slain:  
And lastly thou sweet comfortable Spirit  
Of meekness, holiness and spotless love,  
By whose dear incense, not our vain demerit,  
We purchase heritage in heaven above:  
Thou that (in form of Dove)  
Thy sanctified Apostles didst salute:  
Spirit of truth which doth our comfort bring,  
Without whose heavenly motions men are mute,  
By whose power in the Virgin's womb did spring  
Our comforter and King:  
And thou dear sacred Father of like power,  
With thy most dear Son sacrifice for sin,  
And thou sweet holy Ghost who didst down shower  
Cloven tongues of fire true glory for to win:  
All which three powers close in  
One sacred and indivisible God.  
Vouchsafe oh you perpetual highest powers,  
Of equal virtues, yet in number odd,  
These simple fruits of my repentant hours,  
And (with your grace's showers)  
The temper of my feeble wits renew,  
To prosper, cherished with celestial dew.   

A Table to find out any Sonnet herein Alphabetically.  

A  
ARise thou mighty God. Son. 35.  
Armies of Angels Son. 74  
As those three Kings. Son. 76.  
A Blast of wind. Son. 80.  
After a coale-blacke. Son. 82.   

B  
BLessed Creator. Son. 5.  
Bountiful Lord Christ. Son. 12.  
Behold dear Father. Son. 34.  
Break thou the jaws. Son. 51.  
Behold by misadventure. Son. 81.  
But that sweet. Son. 87.   

C  
COmfort thyself. Son. 58.  
Contrariwise that. Son. 85.   

D  
Dear comforter. Son. 4.  
Dear David's Son. Son. 13.  
Didst thou redeem. Son. 53.   

E  
ELders of grace. Son. 75.   

F  
Fountain of life. Son. 22.  
Father of piety. Son. 23.  
Fortress of hope Son. 28.  
Full of celestial. Son. 52.  
From depth of fearful. Son. 55.  
For comfort my dear. Son. 62.  
Firm Rock. Son. 96.   

G  
GReat God of Abraham. Son. 20.  
Glorious jehovah. Son. 25.  
Great God of largesse. Son. 26.  
Gracious Divine. Son. 38.   

H  
Heavenly Messiah. Son. 10.  
High priest of Zion Son. 18.  
High King of Kings. Son. 27.  
High mighty God. Son. 30.   

I  
Environed with dangers. Son. 39  
I feel my soul Son. 49.  
I would not die. Son. 50.  
If death may. Son. 66.  
I feel by motions. Son. 89.  
If that sweet spirit. Son. 90.   

L  
LIon of judah. Son. 8.  
Lovely Samaritane. Son. 19  
Lord with thy light. Son. 36.   

M  
Merciful jesus. Son. 11.  
Mild King of Salem. Son. 17.  
My days be few. Son. 40  
My soul my soul. Son. 59  
My soul through. Son. 97   

N  
NO more lewd lays. Son. 1.   

O  
O Gracious shepherd. Son. 9  
O benign Father, Son. 14  
O glorious Patron. Son. 31.  
O my dear God. Son. 37.  
O you light Poets. Son. 42.  
O Lord increase. Son, 44.  
O what great comfort. Son. 45,  
O Sun and Moon. Son. 46.  
O what celestial. Son. 47.  
O glorious conquest. Son. 48.  
O that I might. Son. 56.  
O dreadful horror Son. 63.  
O mercy mercy. Son. 65.  
O glorious Crown. Son. 71.  
Oh whether doth. Son. 91.  
Oh what a grievous. Son 94.  
Oh whether shall Son. 99   

P  
PVre sacrifice. Son. 6.  
Pitiful Lord. Son. 15.  
Pure spotless. Son, 34.  
Purge thou my guilty. Son. 77.   

R  
RAyons of glory. Son. 29.  
Ride on in glory Son. 78.  
Relieve my soul. Son. 92.   

S  
Sweet Saviour Son. 2.  
Sacred Redeemer: Son. 3.  
Sure corner stone. Son. 16.  
Sole hope and blessing. Son. 21.  
Satan abroad. Son. 43.  
Sacred director. Son. 100   

T  
THe well of life. Son. 32.  
Thrice puissant general. Son. 33.  
Tempted in foreign nation. Son. 41.  
Then awful sting. Son. 54.  
Through Satan's malice. Son. 56.  
Then it darn love. Son. 64.  
Turn not away. Son, 60.  
That bounteous largesse: Son. 68  
The Sun of our soul's light. Son. 72.  
Triumphant conqueror. Son. 73.  
The tearmelesse date. Son. 79.  
That Bird imperial Son. 83.  
The Paradise of joys. Son. 82.  
That loathsome Son. 86.  
The world's bright. Son. 88,  
That golden Planet. Son. 95.   

V  
Unto my spirit Son. 70.   

W  
WHilst spotless. Son. 7.  
Where is that copious. So. 6.  
What thing in spacious. Son. 67.  
Who to the golden suns. Son. 79.  
With my poor offering. Son. 93.  
Where shall I vex. Son. 98.   
FINIS.   

Errata  
Sonnet 59 for unneathed read unneathes. Sonnet 74. for buy read by. Sonnet. 83 for is Lyon. read as Lyon.   

LONDON Printed by john Windet, dwelling at Paul's Wharfe at the sign of the Cross Keys and are there to be sold. 1595.