THE FIRST DAY OF THE worlds CREATION: Or Of the first week of that most Christian Poet, W. SALUSTIUS, Lord of Bartas.  
Etsi serò seriò.  
Imprinted at London, by I. jackeson, for Gregory Seaton. 1595.   

The Translator to the Author.  

SO, so, Lord Bartas, should all Arts be spent  
In truths advancement, and their Author's glory:  
Blush Christian Poets, to seem eloquent,  
In setting forth a lewd, and lying story:  
Let Poets learn the sacred truth to write:  
And Heathens take the lying Epithet.   

There, there, Lord Bartas hath the truth her grace,  
Where God is Phoebus, and his spirit the muse,  
Where Poets follow Prophets heavenly trace,  
And Parnase mount for Zion do refuse:  
Let heathenish parasites that cog and flatter,  
Call feigned muses, to their forged matter.   

Then, then, Lord Bartas art and truth accord,  
When truth is mistress, and those arts her maids,  
When subtle quirks, and questions be abhorred,  
And damsels follow where their mistress leads.  
Truths Poets, let them not be vain disputers:  
But take her Prophets for their only tutors.   

Thus, thus, Lord Bartas hast thou done, and won  
Arts garland, and truths heavenly blessing,  
She was thy ditty, God did set thy tune,  
His spirit did guide thee in that truths expressing:  
Now whiles thy works in France afford a sunshine,  
Vouchsafe this shadow may be England's moonshine.    

To the Right Worshipful, wise, and learned, M. Anthony Bacon: perfect health of body, increase of virtues and worship; to the honourable service of his country, the advancement of Religion, and the everlasting felicity of his own soul.  
YOur long experience, both of the French estate, & language (Right worshipful:) the report of your wisdom blossomed in youth, and ripened in years, increased by learning at home, and confirmed by travail abroad, have drawn me, a poor nameless countryman of yours, to make choice of your worthy title to countenance the forefront of this frame: and your judgement to censure the privy conveyances thereof. The piece of work which I offer to your patronage and judgement, was undertaken in the nonage of my studies, before I was professed, and perhaps had been smothered from the world as an abortive, had not some my dear friends weaned it from my hands, and fostered it in their affectionate bosoms, promising it life and light, if not with me, without me: yet not in respect, either of the matter which is heavenly, nor the Author which is excellent, desired I to silence my infantlike pen from proceeding herein: but because this most Christian Poet, and noble Frenchman Lord of Bartas, might have been naturalised amongst us, either by a general act of a Poetical Parliament: or have obtained a kingly translator for his week (as he did for his Furies: 
The king of Scots translated his Furies. ) or rather a divine Sidney, a stately Spencer, or a sweet Daniel for an interpreter thereof. For so was I put in a false hope by some, that the living Pen of that worthy deceased knight, had amongst other his charitable legacies bequeathed a rich suit, after our best English fashion, unto this honourable Poet: and therefore suppressed my ragged weeds, till I perceived their promise shrunk, & my expectation still naked. And yet if any of the forenamed Heroical Spirits have undertaken the performance of that act, I would not have my seely days work to prejudice their Week, nor my moat to flutter in the presence of their bright beams: wherefore though my rash quill hath took a further flight into this translation: yet have I pinioned up the rest of her feathers, and suffered only the first days work to pass abroad: till I may understand whether any of those sweet recording Swans have waded in the derivation of these streams or no: which if it be true (as I rather wish it, then envy at it) I am content that my homely translation be canceled: only this forefront would I have preserved, as an old ruinous wall, not for the workmanship, but for the monument of some famous inscription therein contained; so may it stand as an heap of stones, not only rebounding a short echo of Dubartas his stately voice; but also lifting up the accent in the sounding praises of Master Anthony Bacon: and subscribing to the manifold prayers for his health and happiness, with Amen.   

The Argument.  
THe most Christian Poet in a matter of truth (having made his invocation upon the true God) addresseth himself to describe the creation of the world, against the truth whereof because many opinions of heathenish Philosophers might be opposed, he cutteth them down, as they stand in his way. Some dreamt of eternity, and seeing the briars of antiquity growing over the clear account of the world's age, lost themselves as in a labyrinth, for wane of a directory thread, to lead to the original point of the first entrance of the same. Others stumbled at the beginning thereof, and did seem to hold the circumstance of time, and a former commencement of motion, yet did they deny the substance, and miscall the author thereof: for they affirmed the world to have been patched up of meats, and suddenly so jumbled together by a casual concourse of the same. Our Poet treading the steps of the true Prophets, findeth out an Immortal author and preserver, being the ancient of days, a Father of lights, which is he that protesteth of himself, I am before the light was created. And if the Epicure demand what that Author did before he made the world, here is returned the same answer that Spiridion gave to the like question in the council of Niece, He built a hell for curious questionists: & for his company, he was alone and yet not solitary, he had his essential virtues, his distinct persons all concurring in the fullness of his Godhead which was all in all. Some of the Philosophers harped upon this point, but their brains were out of tune, and therefore never found out the perfect union of those three parts in one. Our Poet expresseth the Author God, the instrument his word, being the very beginning and alpha of those lines written in the royal parchment of the heavens, and made legible to all lands and languages. This whole frame and organ of the world tuned by the finger of God and breathed into by his spirit, serveth as vocal music to convey the significant ditty of his power and glory into every sense. Neither is this world a work of Imitation seconded by any former and external pattern: but of mere nothing was made a rude something at the first, by six days leisure polished & extended in such ample compass as we behold, to the intent there might be but one whole entire mound, without whose pales there might neither be purleiss nor plurality of worlds. As it had a beginning, so also must it have an end, though Plato (of profane men the most divine) should affirm the contrary, & all the stiff conceited sect of Stoics should necessarity implead a sempiternity: Yet such an end shall it have as every venturous. ginger is not able to discover; no, nor any bus the unsearchable knowledge of the highest. God therefore proved the Author and destroyer, is proposed as a precedent to us in that he took six days to finish that which at a trice he could have performed. Amongst his successive labours the comfortable light is preferred in time, & made the first fruit of his creatures: the substance thereof uncertain, the beauty and profits thereof most certain: what cause moved the almighty to distinguish between day and day, light and light, with intercourse of night and darkness expressed. The angel's creation being touched & (according to a general opinion) attributed to this days work, the fall of some of them, malice of these apostate relapses: the persistence and diligent service of others in the defence of Gods beloved, and offence of his enemies described, the Poet takes his farewell for the first day.   


Phillip's fair bloom, sole eye of Macedon,  
Having disroabd of all their royalty  
The lofty towers of thrice-sackt Ilium,  
Was asked by one if he the harp would see,  
That Paris used amidst his venery?  
Not that quoth he, but rather THAT would I:  
Wherewith Achilles made such melody.   

His mind forsooth and voice accorded then,  
With THAT which warbled still the worthy deeds  
Of heaun-bred imps, heroic Gentlemen,  
The mortal blossoms of immortal seeds,  
None such that other twanged but worthless weeds.  
As sighs, sobs, sorrows, and lovers languishments,  
Or else their wiles, smiles, sports, and wanton merriments.   

No such like passions here of carpet love,  
No objects fit for lewd and lustful eyes:  
Lo here the world, the earth, the heaven above,  
The elements, and sense deceiving skies,  
All made free denizens after English guise:  
You Gentles cast in Alexander's mould,  
By choice like his, like mind of yours unfold.   
Io. Ho.   

THE FIRST DAY OF THE FIRST WEEK OF du Bartas.  

THou, that the course of glittering heaven dost guide  
And checkest trucebound Neptune's surly waves, 
The poet's invocation on God.   
Shaking the steedie earth both far and wide:  
Whose word can tame th'Aeolian broad that raves,  
Or cause them bustle from their vented caves;  
discharged my mind of cloudy cares and thought:  
And to thyself, hale up my sprights aloft.   

Drive out this stately drift of me intended,  
And by thy cunning let this verse be squared,  
So that thy works, by words may be commended:  
Levy those lines with special regard,  
Wherein the world's rare grow the shall be declared:  
That I may sing, and latter age may hear,  
How first the world's rude nonage did appear.   

Great father, grant that I may couch in measure, 
The proposition.   
The rarest points of beauty in this frame,  
And spread abroad the chief concealed treasure  
Containing worthy lectures of thy name,  
And serving fit to register thy fame:  
Let me thy sacred mysteries discern:  
That teaching others them, myself may learn.   

The elements from everlasting time  
Have not been pitched as we behold them now:  
Nor did the nimble fire so ever climb,  
That it kept down the tossing air below: 
The world was not eternal.   
Nor did the air about the waters bow:  
Nor water shrinking in the earth's hollow lap,  
With slippery turnings did the same enwrap.   

This mighty Cope, 
The world not made by chance.  that stretcheth wide and side,  
Was not rough hewed by fortunes chop or chance:  
Nor in gross clusters of moats undescride,  
Or time scrapes up ruffled at a glance:  
As vain Democritus dreamt in his trance:  
That self-same word, whereby the world shall fade,  
Was once the word, whereby the world was made.   

Not made before the measuring time was found,  
Without beginning, from eternity:  
But world and time, 
World and time of one standing.  at one the self same stound,  
As things coequal, took formality:  
For you (o heavenly lamps) give certainty.  
The seasons, and the times your course confirms  
And cuts the years, the months, the days and terms.   

Elder than place, than form of arched sky,  
Elder than time, which wheels in circle space,  
Sat endless jove in perfect majesty:  
Peizing the whole with more than princely grace,  
Cheering the parts which all he did embrace:  
What that was then, I know not how to call:  
Nought else, but God, for God was all in all.   

One only mind, and pure intelligence  
A virgin sprite, unspotted and sincere:  
Living for ever, making no expense  
Of age or time that wrinkles might appear,  
By nature bright, and always shining clear:  
Fearless and infinite, a lord unknown,  
Conversing only with himself alone.   

Wretches, that beat your brains on frantic toys,  
Ask you how mighty jove was then employed? 
An answer to the Atheist, that demandeth what God did, before he made the world.   
Making inquiry what were then his joys,  
When all the world was uncreate and void?  
His prudent mind (say they) might be annoide,  
Which having power to counterpoise his will,  
Can suffer nothing worse than sitting still.   

This curious motive mounts to blasphemy:  
Another point were fit to record:  
Before the heavens, and late world's infancy  
Produced were by his effectual word, 
The Answer of Spiridio in the council of Niece, to the Epicures demand.   
He built a hell for such as were abhorred:  
A hell, for such a proud ambitious rout,  
As Giantlike would cast their maker out.   

Doth not a Carver master of his art,  
Draw whilom fancide patterns in his brain,  
Not using tools nor timber in his draft?  
Doth not the Webster negligent of gain,  
Lay sometimes by both woof and warp in vain?  
Doth not the Potter leave his tempered clay,  
Not forging it in vessels though he may?   

And shall the Master workman of them all  
Subject his art unto some lumpish stuff,  
As though his skill were mere mechanical,  
Which in itself is absolute enough,  
And by itself can yield sufficient proof?  
Never was Scipio solitary less,  
Than when alone, and had no other guess.   

Can such a Roman captain take delight  
Within the closet of his human breast:  
And sole sufficient jove be thought so slight,  
That he could not enjoy an active rest,  
Amongst such joys as cannot be expressed?  
Might he not live alone (O heavens, what madness?)  
As well as men in melancholy sadness?   

That ancient sage priëna's great renown, 
Bias.   
When he should fleet with bag and baggage thence,  
Bragged he brought all, 
Omnia mea mecum porto.  yet nothing from the town,  
His mind was all fraught with intelligence:  
And should rich jove in his magnificence,  
A Lord and King, and all within himself,  
Desire to be enriched with worldly pelf?   

God is the fountain from whose lively spring  
Conduits of grace, and streams of good do flow,  
All turns are served by his replenishing,  
For worlds of plenty from this fountain grow,  
He is not suppliant to high nor low:  
But Ocean-like his fullness he discharges,  
Supplying every want with his frank largesse.   

Before the winds could breathe, or waters breed  
The spawning fish: before the earth was stored  
With Antleere, or enrichde with any seed,  
Or harvest crop that fodder might afford:  
Before all this remained the sovereign Lord,  
Employed in self-conceited exercise:  
A fit delight for him that's only wise.   

His admirable glory, puissant power,  
Rich bounty, and his settled providence,  
Were sacred objects, present every hour,  
To exercise his deep intelligence,  
And wouldst thou know his further diligence?  
He did contemplate on this world's huge frame,  
Viewing a former model of the same.   

That Father solitary could not be,  
Which had begot before all worlds begun  
An offspring motherless, for company:  
His word, his wisdom, and his only Son,  
By whose consent all works of weight were done:  
They two both one combined in puissance regal:  
The Father Lord, the Son the Father's equal.   

From which two peers, and powers invisible,  
Unite in mutual love and majesty,  
Issues a third peer indivisible:  
And yet to both proportioned equally,  
Copartner with the sacred Deity;  
Of nature like, although distinct in name:  
Of sundry gifts, in Godhead all the same.   

My muse strike sail, and launch not in the deep:  
Bear of aloof, and hold thy bark at bay:  
From hungry gulf of rough Charybdis keep,  
And shun the dreadful rocks of Capharee,  
Those rocks be wracks and many men's decay: 
The heathen Philosopherslost themselves for want of the true Lodestar.   
For many slipped in maze of curious doubt,  
So whelmed themselves, they never could get out.   

A safer course to cut alongst the shore,  
And bear a point, where landmarks may direct:  
The shallow waters best can brook an ore:  
But trifling wherries by the seas are checked:  
In busy points, let faith thy sails erect,  
Gods breathing Spirit be thy happy wind:  
The Bible be a load-star to thy mind.   

What else could blind, our Sages secular,  
And make those blind, seduce the vulgar sort,  
But keeping of a course irregular:  
Counter to that the Bible doth exhort:  
Leaving whose compass, they must needs come short?  
Truths surest card, when once they did abandon,  
They lost themselves, and others left at random.   

A busy point so hard and dangerous,  
As is none such contained in holy writ:  
Apart to those that are not curious,  
Presuming on discourse of human wit,  
Or think by reason to discover it:  
No point more plain to faithful minds and holy:  
No point more dark to minds possessed with folly.   

Where am I now? or whither am I pulled?  
My clambering mind surcharged with piercing rays  
Of this celestial majesty, is dulled:  
Each faculty proceeding thence decay:  
A stately threefold brightness overswaies:  
My voice foregoes her meditated sound:  
And in my heart no heart at all is found.   

This glorious Trinity whom I adore  
With bending knee, and lowly prostrate heart:  
Whom I believe, and trembling search no more,  
Than lively faith vouchsafeth to impart:  
This Trinity by thrice exceeding art, 
Three persons, one God made the world.   
Of nothing framed this Mound of huge receipt:  
When all was nothing, but unmeasurable great.   

This Trinity, surpassing Dedalus,  
This Master builder, singular for skill,  
Endued with worlds of wealth, and sumptuous  
In choice of change, yet changeless resting still,  
Doth boast the endless riches of his will:  
Displays his native power, and heavenly science;  
And gives to all blaspheming Momes defiance.   

Mount who so list unto the wheluing spheres,  
As scorning of these mouldy parts below,  
Above the heavens let others fetch careers,  
And over bound those balls of sparkling show:  
Swell they with pride of lofty things they know:  
Let them enjoy the counsel of the highest:  
And in his courts let them approach the nighest.   

And let some other low conceited wight,  
Take countercourse, and cowchant to the ground,  
Creep in these muddy objects next his sight,  
As wholly in these lowly kennels drowned:  
Searching what force in petty works is found:  
And finding there some notes of Gods own glory,  
Eclipse the same, by telling of the story.   

Below the former, but above the last,  
I train my muse, 
Mediocria firma: medio tutissimus ibis.  amidst the midmost air:  
There shall she hover, in proportion placed,  
And peizd with equal wings of heedy care:  
Lest soaring high, her flight she might impair,  
Where blazing lamps would singe her winged train,  
Or buzzing low, the damp might slug her vain.   

I please myself, in prying up and down,  
And eyeing of the world's fair countenance:  
Wherein God's image makes reflection,  
As in the mirror of his excellence:  
His Godhead set in this world's purveyance, 
The Godhead is seen in the visible things of the world.   
By transparence doth fill my feeble eyes:  
Which may not view his brightness otherwise.   

If he that looks against the fiery sparks  
Of glittering Phoebus, gets a sunne-burnd face:  
If he that with a fixed eye sight marks  
That flaming Globe (although from distant place)  
Is purblind, only with that fulgent grace;  
Who can sustain the daunting looks of him,  
That lightning-like disperseth life and limb?   

Of him, that separate in heavenly throne,  
Did build this stately Theatre beside  
For men to sojourn, and converse upon:  
Where lively prints of majesty abide,  
Though but a glimpse of his power is descried:  
And yet his Godhead graven in this frame,  
Doth teach our childish thoughts to spell the same.   

Great Father (whom no lumpish brains conceive)  
How dost thou intimate to human sense,  
The knowledge of thyself? and givest us leave  
To feel thy presence in this world's contents,  
And read thy glory in these monuments?  
Our finger's feeling, nostrils drawing savour,  
Our palate tasting, all bewray thy favour.   

From highest throne thou send'st a roaring noise,  
And to instruct us, playst the Orator:  
Heaven starts to understand thy thundering voice,  
And speaks to us, as thine Ambassador,  
Soothlie, each creature is thine auditor:  
The world a public school, where we may learn  
Such proper lessons as thy praise concern.   

This frame like to a pulley heaves our sprights,  
And moves our thoughts to climb by winding stars,  
Above the stories of those heavenly lights. 
divers comparisons to show the use of the worldly frame to Christian considerations.   
The mighty God this world a shop prepares,  
To make a public show of his rich wares.  
This world like to a bridge conducts the stranger  
By gulf of God's deep secret without danger.   

And not unlike a thin transparent cloud  
Yields passage to the beams of Phoebus' light,  
(Not Phoebus whom Latona's womb did shroud,  
Lighting by day, and lurking in the night)  
But such a sun as always stays in sight:  
In thickest darkness still persists to shine,  
And never stowpes beneath Orisons line.   

Hear as in semicircled Theatre,  
Love, justice, Righteousness and Majesty,  
Present themselves: which expert actors are,  
Their parts discharging so ingeniously,  
That human sense is rapt above the sky.  
This world a book in folio, doth proclaim  
With letters capital, the Author's name:   

Each kind, a page, each sundry shape a line;  
Each creature, is a character to teach:  
Each work, a vowel, sounding discipline:  
And all the world doth consonantly preach:  
But we are truants, which from master's reach,  
On toys and gauds do set their wanton hearts,  
Respecting them more than regarding arts.   

Our eyes be wandering on the babish gays,  
And flowers that fill the waste comportenance:  
On backside of the book we spend our days,  
Not using nature's text, a furtherance  
To help instruct our blindfold ignorance:  
Thence might we learn that God is chiefest cause,  
Supporting cities peace with wholesome laws.   

What do we travel in the multitude  
Of languages? and labour to explain  
The sense, which Turkish characters include?  
Or Egypt's sacred figures do contain?  
What those small pricks in th'Ebrew language mean?  
To know the notes and accents of the Greek,  
These things so slight, what need we greatly seek?   

The Scythian and the wildt Tartarian,  
The seven years wit, not grown yet to be wise,  
And those that have the Pole meridian,  
By nature's light can scanned these mysteries,  
Sans further insight, than by carnal eyes:  
But he that is illuminate by faith,  
Moves from this mould, and mounts a greater hath.   

He vawts above the crystal firmament,  
And underneath his feet, beholds the stir  
Of spheres converted by God's regiment:  
Whence reading his celestial calendar,  
He proves to be an arch-Astronomer.  
Aided with faith, I long to be discerning  
The sacred text of Gods inspired learning.   

My pleasure is to couch in stately verse  
The world's first birth and tender nursery,  
The eaning, and the weaning I rehearse,  
The infant nonage, and minority,  
And how it grew to perfect dignity.  
I will unfold the bosom of this frame,  
That all may read God's essence in the same.   

The founder of this overspreading tent,  
took no fantastic copy for his guide,  
No borrowed shadow for his precedent,  
Nor melancholy did he long abide, 
God took no view of any external pattern to make the world after.   
Inventing how the parts might be applied:  
There was no world, before this world, erected:  
No former plot nor pattern he respected.   

An earthly builder, tossing in his brains,  
How best to raise a palace for a king:  
First craveth respite, counsel, taketh pains  
To make survey of many a such like thing,  
Before he sets his hand to fashioning,  
That after divers palaces beheld,  
Himself at last, might exquisitely build.   

Where any quaint conveyance is comprised,  
He marks the point, the workmanship, and grace:  
Hear he commends the forefront, well devised,  
Elsewhere, some pillar raised on comely base,  
Or stars well mounted honouring the place:  
Surveying much, he notes a thousand things,  
And in his work the grace of all he brings.   

No such examples of ichnography  
Had everlasting jove to imitate,  
That he might forge a second world thereby,  
And frame a work, for worlds to wonder at:  
He never sweat, nor beat his brains for that,  
But cast the world with ease into a square:  
Quartered with earth, and water, fire, and air.   

Even as the Sun (earth's fairest husbandman)  
Annexed to the wheeling firmament,  
Descendeth not from his pavilion;  
But sends from thence his fruitful increment,  
Cheering the lovesick earth with merriment:  
Although he list not come, yet doth he send  
Garlands of plenty to his distant friend.   

God's pleasure, and performance, will, and deed,  
Conceit, and act, are of one equal age:  
Purpose and practise, word and work, proceed,  
And march alike, with perfect equipage,  
As offsprings of one heavenly parentage:  
All keep their course injoind, on God attendant:  
He was their maker, and is their defendant.   

But yet the matter of this comely frame  
Was not forthwith so curious to behold:  
Nor so polite, as now we see the same,  
Till jove had cast it in a fairer mould:  
For as a shipwright (not to be comptrold)  
When he should build a bark to check the seas,  
By leisure looks what kinds of stuff he please:   

First trees for timber; iron, pitch for strength:  
Then he provides his cables and his cord:  
Which all he lays on heaps: until at length,  
He singles out a sayle-yard from the hoard:  
The beak, and stern he makes of some choice board:  
The tallest fir he marketh for his mast:  
Until by art, each part is fitly placed.   

So God before this world was polished,  
Produced his pregnant and immortal word;  
And then collecting all the parts untried,  
He mendgd them all, in one confused hoard:  
But where the Shipwright to his hands is stored;  
God was the author both of form and stuff,  
Not borrowing ought, for he had all enough.   

Base was the world's first visage, and uncouth,  
An Avernus dungeon, tossed with heedless quoil:  
A rifraffe medley; 
The world without form, fashion, place, at the first.  and a gulphall mouth,  
A sluggish heap of Elements at soil,  
Amongst themselves pell-mell all one the spoil:  
Cold nipped the heat, square things and round did jar:  
The hard and rough, with soft and smooth, made war.   

Moisture and drought, high mounting things & humble,  
At hurly-burly scattered on a rank,  
In civil strife uncivilly did tumble:  
The fire, and air, played many a lawless prank:  
The water scorned to keep within a bank:  
Nor earth, nor air, retained bound or border:  
But all things were, unperfect, out of order.   

Sometime the water kept such heave and shove,  
That it incrochde upon the victory:  
The air sometimes by struggling did remove  
The water's force, and got the mastery:  
Sometime the earth did crush the other three:  
eftsoons the fire above them all did skip,  
When topsy-turvy down the rest did slip.   

That high Lord Martial darting thundershot,  
As yet had not his offices disposed:  
The shapeless sky had not one glistering spot;  
Nor any Planetary sign that glosd:  
The earth had not her motley weeds imposed:  
Nor Neptune had his waterish kingdom stored:  
Nor any foul amidst the welkin soarde.   

All things lay weltering in a slothful shade:  
No quickening sprite did animate the lump: 
Genos. 1. ●.   
The blended fire, no fiery gesture had:  
The earth, no earth, the air could make no thump:  
These first borne creatures stuck as in a dump:  
No settled course, degrees or bounds ordained,  
By which this revel rout might be restrained.   

If fire were then; 'twas not possessed with heat:  
If air; it did not through shine with light:  
If water; yet the moisture was not great:  
If earth; it tottering danced for lack of weight:  
Do but imagine such an auckwoorth sight,  
Where Tellus bald and barren were presented,  
Not firm, nor plain, nor yet with dales indented.   

Suppose the heavens disrobde of all their pride:  
Those eyes pockt out, and lights extinguished,  
Debarred of motion and all form beside,  
And think thou seest the first world pictured,  
Whose portraiture can not be uttered,  
What then was not, I better can declare,  
Then what that was, which was of old time there.   

World was it not, but hope of world to come,  
A lump that asked six days the finishing,  
A likelihood such as in mother's womb  
The fruit gives first, when first it gins to spring, 
Embrye.   
Which grows so long till it be lively thing:  
First face, than eyes, than chin, and nostrils parting,  
Then hands distinct, and fingers thereto sorting.   

This petty world, thus at the length increased,  
Obtaineth vigour for his enterprise:  
And out of prison strives to be released,  
Getting a larger prospect for his eyes:  
Yet in this mass a secret virtue lies,  
Which hath by nature force to form and give  
A vital act, whereby the flesh may live.   

That vaster heap had no selfe-quickning sprite,  
No natural activity to grow:  
And therefore had in dullness moultred quite,  
But that God's sacred word began to flow,  
And with his influence inspired it so,  
That it became a vegetable brood,  
And was partaker of such livelihoode.   

A darksome horror, such as Egypt felt,  
With blindfold eyes, and heart's astonishment:  
blackness, like that where the Cimmerians dwelled,  
Or Sibb unto Mephitis hellish sent,  
Belchd from the puddle Styx, God's punishment:  
Or if some darkness be more palpable,  
Of that, and all was Chaos capable.   

Confused revel and disorder reigning,  
This waxing world was like to ruinated:  
Had not Gods power their mutines restraining,  
Dispersed itself into that rude estate,  
And qualified the rage of their debate, 
The spirit moved upon the water. Genes. 1.   
Had not his virtue like to sodder closed  
The chaps and rents of matter indisposed,   

Had it not bound as with a mastic glue,  
The heavens, earth, air, and vagrant Ocean:  
And fixed lists to keep apart that crew,  
Their natures in the cradle every one  
Had been extinct with self commotion:  
But God's great puissance shed into this hoard,  
Assuaged the strife: and bred a sweet accord.   

As some brave wit resolved to consecrate  
A work of weight unto the Muse's shrine:  
At home, abroad, at bed, board, early, late,  
Rippes his discourse and ponders every line,  
Houring amongst his books of discipline:  
So Gods great sprite which was the only mover, 
Genes. 1.2.   
Upon the water's superfice did hover.   

Even as the brooding bird that sits at once,  
To hatch her eggs, and huckle up her young,  
Till native and adoptive eggs breed bones,  
And all her flock is fledge and lively sprung:  
So Gods own spirit sat, though not so long,  
And far and near did spread his ripening wings  
Till he had perfected these callow things.   

Out of the suds, where monsterlike they lay,  
He did extract them: altering their hue:  
Extending such an universal bay,  
As overreachd this compass which we view;  
And was complete with all the residue:  
All was but one thing, neither marked, nor bounded:  
Nothing remained that was not there impounded.   

If that Archduke from God in Horeb taught,  
Had not this certain testimony yielded,  
How first the universal world was wrought,  
And in six days this stately frame so builded,  
By that same God which all things wrought & wielded:  
Leucippus might by arguments persuade, 
A plurality of worlds confuted.   
That some great multitude of worlds were made.   

Nature (no niggard of her workmanship)  
If she had coinde many worlds in number,  
The heavy earth would rush, the water drip,  
And make one neighbour world another's cumber:  
So all might fall into their wont slumber:  
Or lest the one the others course should hinder,  
Some empty space must keep the frames asunder.   

But now the engine was so firmly jointed,  
So close compact without one crevice void,  
With furnished compliments so well appointed,  
That nothing was by vacant chinks annoyed.  
We see, how close stopped wine cannot avoid,  
Nor issue currently from out the terse,  
Except a vent to take in air we pierce.   

We see the puffing bellows cannot heave,  
If at the nose they snuff not up the wind:  
Bungd vessels cannot any frost receive,  
Not closed water-pots an issue find.  
Forced liquor drawn in pipes against the kind,  
Doth mount aloft as though it were no water,  
So great a foe is emptiness to nature.   

God, only great, beyond all quantity, 
God, only infinite the world hath his limited measure of time and place.   
Framed the course of nature mutable:  
From change exempting his divinity,  
Making time measure allthings movable:  
For heavens themselves are not unmeasurable:  
Time meets the circuit of the firmament,  
And rules the motions with his regiment.   

The world, is not immortal, though so vast,  
But subject unto ravenous decay:  
The parts do languish, and the members waste:  
And, like the parts, the whole must wear away:  
To every thing prefixed is a day:  
The day calls death, still gaping to devour:  
And nature's wheel is turned every hour.   

Now go vain Greece, and weave heavens curtaincloth  
Of brain spun threads, such as thy quintessence: 
The quintessence of Aristotle.   
Fill all the world with fancies windy froth,  
Painting fond fables with fair eloquence:  
Dispute, according thine intelligence,  
And say; the course of heaven was near begun:  
Nor, ever in thy judgement shall have done.   

Stand on the urgent laws of destinier  
And lock up all within their hard precinct, 
The stoical accessitie.   
As bound to tocke of stark necessity:  
Yet not the stars so slavishly are linked,  
But monthly they receive a fresh instinct,  
Such fables are not able to defend,  
The worldly frame from ruin in the end.   

The day shall come, 
A description of the world's end.  when rocks rend from the quarry,  
And trembling tops of lofty hills shall rush:  
When heavens shall crack, and lowly vales miscarry,  
Stuffed up with shards, and suffering many a brush  
Of huge great heaps, that cannot choose but crush:  
The rubbish of the ruinated heaven,  
Shall make the mountains and the valleys even.   

Gape shall the channels, void of water streams,  
Or having moisture, all imbrew'de with blood,  
Shall hiss with heat of scorching fiery beams:  
The sea shall vomit lightnings as a flood,  
And blazing flame shall foam up like the sud:  
The Whales half roasted on the bank shall roar:  
And gasping lie upon the new found shore.   

The foggy clouds shall muffle up the day:  
The cheerful Sun shall mourn in fearful mask:  
And Neptune's tail shall sweep the stars away,  
Both Sun and Moon shall shun their wonted task,  
In fogs shall one, in blood the other bask.  
The darting stars shall cleave the earth asunder,  
And forth shall march fear, death, dark storms & thunder   

Those marshalled in their quarters, shall attend  
The wrathful vengeance of their Lord approaching:  
All wicked hearts shall fail to see that end,  
And hear the judge their own lewd deeds reproaching,  
With thousand torments on them still encroaching:  
Nought shall the world be but a flaming ball,  
Light fire (like water once) surrounding all.   

Alas, what means the misbelieving pen  
Of sottish wizards, scribbling Almanaches;  
To mark the year, the month, or season when  
This fleeting world, full point and period makes:  
And Saturn's port a Supersedeas taketh?  
As though some cross aspect of wandering stars  
Should crush the world by fury of their jars.   

I tremble to relate: and through heart and joints  
A i'll cold horror shoots: 
Against the base sort of astrologers which dare set forth their predictions of the time whem dooms day shall come.  when I do ponder  
How some base figure-flingers broach these points,  
Forestall God the only world's confounder:  
To move the people to a faithless wonder.  
For their conjectures taken by their theme,  
judicials and all, are but a dream.   

Yet grope they at Gods sealed closet door,  
And would be prying at those mysteries,  
Which he hath treasured up for secret store:  
Keeping the dial of all destinies  
Unto himself, that knows all secrecies:  
That Calendar he shuts up in his hand,  
Wherein Doomsday with letters red doth stand.   

That day, whereof no man can read the date,  
Shall swiftly strike the rout of men secure:  
And striking warn, when warning is too late:  
For times delay no longer may endure.  
Then comes thy Son (O Father essence pure,)  
Thy glorious Son with majesty shall come, 
The second coming of Christ.   
In shape of man, once form in the womb.   

Immortal God, that glorious Son of thine,  
In flaming fire triumphant shall descend:  
About whose throne shall troops of Angels shine,  
And thousand thousand holy saints attend,  
joious to see that long desired end.  
His chariot wheels shall skud like lightning flame:  
justice and mercy haling on the same.   

Then, such as sleep in bowels of the grave,  
Oppressed with dust, or weight of marble tombs:  
Such as the sea hath swallowed in her cave:  
Such as by fire received their former dooms,  
Or paunch of beasts have had for burial rooms:  
All shall stand up repaired with manlike shape,  
No one, so great or small, that shall escape.   

All must appear, appearing must attend  
In their own persons, till the judge proceed,  
Awarding life or death to be their end:  
Of mercy some, of justice other speed:  
Too some is weal, to others woe decreed:  
Some to the lowest pit shall be debased,  
And others with the highest shall be graced.   

O thou (whom once th'Italian Precedent  
Pronouncing wicked sentence terrified)  
Grant me, 
Pilate.  that when thy trumpet shall be sent  
To sound a summons upon every side,  
East, west, north, south, where any men abide:  
rousing the world with sudden change of state,  
I may have thee, my judge and Advocate.   

The sage and powerful providence of jove  
Brought out this world as she bear fools her young: 
The creation of the world's matter from nothing.   
A lumpish gobbet, first unapt to move,  
Till it be licked, and tricked up with the tongue:  
She spares no pains, till all the limbs be sprung:  
She smooths it up, with mouth, and mother's moisture,  
Till she disclose the shape, hid in the cloisture.   

By licking she expresseth every limb:  
She forms the head, and fashions out the feet,  
Indents the paws, and makes the visage grim,  
Rough casts the shag haired shoulders: as is meet,  
In every part, she shows herself discreet:  
Discreet and diligent, till she have done,  
And brought her whelp to just perfection.   

For when God's wisdom, by his pregnant voice  
powered out a mass of heat, cold, moist and dry:  
In process, he 'gan make exacter choice,  
And separate the low lie things from high:  
Consorting like with like, dislike laid by:  
Fire joined with fire, things heavy found like matter:  
Cold drew to cold, and liquid things to water.   

The queintest form, that best beseems each part,  
Is unto each particular assigned:  
And in six days God showed his matchless art,  
Forming this world conformall to his mind:  
Not, but he could have all these things refined,  
And perfected in less than times least tittle,  
Unlike to man that's long about a little.   

The heavens he could have spangled with their lamps:  
And stored the airy cage, with winged breed:  
The forest where the savage Bevie ramps,  
He could have furnished forth with for a need:  
And filled the seas with fishes in like speed:  
But yet it was his uncomptrouled pleasure; 
Why God would take six days for his creation.   
To work them out in six whole days at leisure.   

So many days, such leisure, and such art,  
Bestowed in preparation of a seat  
For man unformed, seemeth to impart,  
That doubtless his good will is wondrous great  
To those, for whom he made this goodly seat:  
To whom by promise, he first sealed a warrant  
Of thousand favours afterward apparent.   

He gave an imitable precedent,  
That we should not, in over eager haste  
Post in our toil, till breath and strength be spent:  
Nor rashly ruffle up our works to waste,  
But make good speed, yet hurry not too fast,  
Advisement always brings an act to proof: 
Sat cito, si sat been. Fostina lente:   
And things well done are all done soon enough.   

Father of wisdom, father of the light;  
What first might be extracted from that trance,  
Where all things lay confused without delight  
More worthy than the lights fair countenance?  
Whose absence were fair beauties hindrance: 
Light the first fruit of God's creatures.   
For without light Timanthes had in vain  
To carve his antic Cyclops took such pain.   

In vain Parrhasius had shaped his piece:  
And Zeuxis drawn his quaint Penelope:  
Apelles had expressed the flower of Greece  
Dame Venus, to no purpose, if so be  
The Sun had not afforded light to see:  
In vain those master's artificial,  
Had raised their wonders supernatural:   

Diana's temple: and that monument  
Of love and death Mausolus' tomb much famed:  
And Pharos beacon; works of wonderment,  
By three great masters exquisitely framed:  
Which Sostrat, Scopas, Ctesiphon are named:  
In vain those marvels all had been erected:  
If by the light, they had not been detected.   

What more hath every artsman in request,  
When he doth frame an exquisite devise;  
Then that the world's fair eye which lights the rest,  
Should also glance upon his work of price?  
For that intent, his window open lies:  
He doth admit the sunne-light for a witness,  
That he observes proportion, art and fitness.   

Either Gods active spirit hovering,  
Upon the boiling confluence of water,  
Which wrapped the Chaos as a covering,  
Struck out light fire by secret force of nature, 
diverse opinions touching the matter and creation of the light.   
As when contrary winds begun to clatter,  
In Summer nights, and clap two clouds together:  
From hence proceed, bright flames & lightning wether.   

Or God by parts disposing of the mass,  
Fetched brightness from the fiery element:  
Or heavens clear curtain that extended was,  
In twice six hours upon that litterment,  
Again by God was darkened: to th'intent,  
That each Horizon should by turns have light:  
And each again an intercourse of night:   

Or whether God produced a crystal lamp,  
In countenance unlike unto the Sun,  
And with another light cleared up the damp,  
While sometimes up and sometimes down it run,  
Like Titan brandishing his station;  
Let there be light (said God, 
Genes. 1.3. ) no sooner spoken,  
But Light began to show a glorious token.   

The glistering rays, acknowledging their duty,  
Do shed themselves on nature, being glad,  
To feel the cheering sparks of lights fair beauty:  
Who scorns the shade wherewith she erst was clad,  
And loathes to be, or suffer others sad.  
Clear lamp, God give thee many goodly morrows,  
That chasest night, and putst to flight all sorrows.   

Thou worlds great candle: & thou truths right parent,  
Terror of thieves, and perfect looking glass  
Of God's good creatures, made by thee apparent:  
First fruit of God bespread upon the mass;  
How doth thy beauty and thy grace surpass?  
God's cheerful eye: which all the world surveys,  
Why should not modest men chant out thy praise?   

And yet because all pleasures do displease,  
That have no blank nor intercourse between: 
Why God ordained the night to succeed the day.   
And they best know the benefit of ease,  
Which long in garboils of the wars have been:  
For contraries compared are better seen,  
The silver Swan, that shines upon Cayster,  
Matched with the swarthy crow, doth much more glister.   

Therefore the world's renowned Architect  
Ordained the night to press upon the day: 
The commodities of the night.   
The day again, night's error to detect,  
The night days eager schorches to allay:  
And th'air with showering vapours to array:  
The night makes mellow seeds sprout in the furrows,  
Surceaseth toil: and breaks off daily sorrows.   

The night which covers all, with wings of pyteh,  
Doth hush the world, and lull it in a sleep:  
Infusing silence, that no creatures quitch:  
But drunk with influence of slumber deep,  
Both man and beast, do lay their limbs in sleep.  
The nights refresh their weary bones with ease,  
And make amends for the'anguish of the days.   

Sweet night, without thee, and thy welcome presence,  
Life were a hell, where (fury like) sad grief,  
Revenge, pain, avarice would dash all pleasance,  
And thousand deaths, before deaths last repreefe,  
Would torture mind and body sans relief:  
Sweet night, thou colourst every parsonage  
In suits alike, that plays on worldly stage.   

Thou blendest states, and all distinction,  
Which day light varies in a sundry guise:  
Thou equalest the king and cullion,  
The rich, and poor, the simple, and the wise,  
The judge, and him that in dungeon lies:  
Master and slave: foul maukyn and fair may:  
Days candle out, the night makes all things grey.   

He that for some ungracious deed, remains  
A creature damned to delve in golden mines:  
And in those traps of avarice, takes pains:  
He that all smoky at the furnace pines,  
Whiles he the sulphur of man's heart refines:  
Though all day long, his hellish toil doth last:  
Yet at the night, he takes his due repast.   

He that alongst the river tugs his boat,  
With pugs and oars against the stubborn tide:  
And dropping ripe, doth strain his rugged throat,  
That voice and strength may both his litour guide;  
At night unto his palate steps aside.  
He that the spring proud meadows frizzled hair  
Doth barb with sith: at night goes to his lare.   

Only you children of the bookish maids,  
While all the world is overcast with night,  
Trace out a path, by your celestial trades,  
Whereby into the heavens you take your flight,  
And with your muse raise others to delight.  
But the evening chime hath rung days latest hour,  
The light shut in, the days gins to louvre:   

The night, unbender of my head strong study,  
Approacheth near: but new supply of pains,  
Appears as soon, as morning pears out ruddy:  
And still more work dares on my weary brains:  
For now behold in numerable trains,  
And squadrons of celestial soldiers muster:  
Dazzling mine eyes with their bright orient cluster.   

You angels (Gods attentive pursevaunts)  
Be it, you are coequal to the light, 
A discourse of the Angel's creation, which are thought under the name of light to have been created: without determining upon so difficult a point.   
Which drowns the name of your significance:  
Or then first took your serviceable flight,  
When heaven was spangled with those aglets bright:  
Or, be you ancients to each other creature:  
Surpassing them in essence, time and feature:   

Me listeth not to argue pro or con;  
Or undertake with stubborn conference,  
To dwell in this or that opinion:  
In points uncertain obstinate defence  
I do dislike, and jangling arguments:  
Blind sophistry is bold and full of taunts:  
But my sure card is humble ignorance.   

Yet this I know, and therefore make no doubt,  
You active spirits, once were all created  
Immortal innocent, and fair throughout:  
And with great choice of heavenly virtues fraghted,  
That with no creatures else, you could be mated:  
To God's pure essence you approach the nighest:  
Alone inferior unto the highest.   

But as desertless wights, whom countenance  
And prince's favour, deigneth to exalt;  
Mounted on honours back, begin to prance,  
And 'gainst their founder make unjust assault,  
Till down again, they slip for their proud fault:  
Even so some rout of these created spirits,  
Insur'gde against their maker for his merits.   

Some angels, 
Angels created innocent and pure keep not their first estate.  giants like, attempting far,  
In malice of their founder, malcontent,  
Banded themselves, and made uncivil war,  
(Although in vain) yet with a lewd intent,  
To dispossess him of his regiment:  
Aspiring Imps, so reared up would wring,  
The crown and sceptre from their Lord and king.   

Their Lord and king als priest, with armed hands,  
Swift to encounter such usurping mights,  
Guns out his thunder at those fire brands:  
And for revenge of such rebellious wights,  
He throws them down, & makes them cursed sprights:  
Down in the air, or in some other place:  
For all is hell, whence God withdraws his face.   

This rakehell rout enchanted with disdain, 
Evil sprights.   
(Now devilish fiends by lewd apostasy)  
Can make no brags of any purchased gain,  
But this: they took the longitude: how high,  
The heavens be distant from hell's custody:  
By their ambitious jump, they took the measure  
Of heaven from hell: but forfeited the pleasure.   

Yet Satan and his rabblement,  
No whit amended by this overthrow;  
Increase in rage, and graceless hardiment,  
As fast as unto them their torments grow:  
Like to the Lizards, which by many a blow  
Dismembered: yet they fiercely turn again,  
And show their lively rage in dying pain.   

Since which revolt, this prince usurping power,  
Amidst the air, hath made nor truce nor peace  
With mighty jove: but studies every hour,  
How he may cause the memory to cease  
Of God's great acts deserving only praise:  
priest to supplant the Church of Gods own planting:  
And glad to see God's glory should be wanting.   

He bends his force, to taint the perfect head,  
And rend it from the body militant:  
The kingly guide from city to misled, 
The devils assaults against Christ the head and men the members.   
And plant himself therein predominant:  
The pilot of the ship he strives to daunt:  
For from the Church, (Christ's body) would he wring,  
Even Christ that head, that pilot, and that king.   

But sith God's everlasting majesty  
Is safely seated, in his lofty throne:  
Which, neither force, nor threats can terrify,  
Nor ladder scale, nor canon play upon:  
But all their blasts, themselves are overblown:  
For howsoever buzie sathan tampares:  
His darts rebound against God's heavenly rampires.   

Therefore despairing to surprise the head  
Against the members, now he turns his darts:  
He leaves the tree, but would the branches shred:  
For neither huntsman hath so many arts;  
Nor fisher plays so many cunning parts;  
Nor fouler lays so many crafty gins,  
To catch their several games: as he lays sins.   

As he lays sins, and baiteth secret hooks,  
To catch as well the simple as the wise:  
The frolic younker roving in his looks,  
He charms with shows: alluring first his eyes:  
For greedy pikes he baits with golden flies:  
And princely state he taketh as an angle,  
The high aspiring climber to entangle.   

Such as disdain the worldly blaze of riches,  
With hundred vain conceits he doth distract:  
In mask of truth minds zealous he bewitches,  
Obtruding shows, and words for virtues act:  
In all good matters is his poison packed:  
And like a canker goodly fruits and wholesome,  
He blasts with venom, making all things foulsome.   

Who could withstand the glozing fallacies,  
Of this night prince in malice so profound,  
That he can slip into dumb images  
Of gold, or wood, late hewn from the ground:  
And make them yield some lively speech-like sound:  
Which can assume a prophet's countenance:  
Cause bonfires burn with hidden maintenance. 
The continual fire of vesta.    

The virgin prophetess of Cumes or Delft, 
Oracles Sibilla.   
He prompted with their answer of foresight:  
He raised a Samuel, shaped like himself, 
1 Sam. 28.14.   
Which told the king of dooms that happened right:  
And yet not Samuel, but a cursed sprite.  
He struck jove Ammon's priest with fits of woodness:  
Suggesting hurtful lies, in show of goodness.   

Who can descry this great deceivers guile? 
False miracles.   
Which could transmute a rod into a snake? 
Exod. 7.12.   
Which did convert the watery pool of Nile, 
Ca 7.22.   
To pulp blood? which for a shift could make,  
Great swarms of frogs produc'de from every lake, 
Ca 3.7.   
To crawl about the chambers of the king:  
All by his forged Magic practising.   

And, as he is a sprite invisible,  
So can he sink the thoughts of mighty states:  
And grope their minds, though he insensible, 
The devils knowledge is by experience.   
Till he acquaint himself with their debates,  
And private grudges: whence observing dates,  
With long experiments, he takes a view:  
For tattling thence what matters shall ensue.   

The bravest wits, with some fantastic glimpse,  
Of things to come, he can intoxicate:  
And to inveigle high conceited imps,  
Of afterclaps he can prognosticate:  
We see men provident, whose weak estate,  
No sooner stands, but falls: which live and die  
The self-same stound, yet what great things they try;   

men's bodies be but sluggish instruments,  
Not like to sprights in active motions:  
Yet they by force of metals, and of plants,  
Produce a thousand strange conclusions;  
As ishuing from some heavenly motions:  
And shall we think, that such old soaking sprights,  
Cannot work wonders far above their mights?   

The rather for their immortality,  
Plodding in school of long experience:  
They can discover every quality  
Of hidden simples, and ingredients:  
For bodies they have none to clog the sense:  
But whatsoever enterprise intended;  
Within a moment they can have it ended.   

Not that they have the bridle on their necks,  
Always to rush, 
The devil bridled of God.  and revel where they lust:  
Or making havoc on the earth play reaques:  
And tyrannize, with danger and distrust,  
On lewd men's souls, and bodies of the just:  
But they are muzzled, with a greater force:  
At whose command they take, or stay the course.   

Not without leave, that master sprite of liars,  
Can play the messenger to Achabs' court: 
2. King. 22.35.   
And by false tales, entice him to the briers,  
And make him dare his foe, from out his fort:  
Till his own godless soul returned short.  
Nor yet without a passport to him granted,  
Can humble job, 
job. 1.15.  with such assaults be haunted:   

His varlets slain, his riches all destroyed,  
His flocks consumed, his camels made a pray:  
His kindred sit aloof, as men annoide  
With such a poor base kinsman in their way:  
His house turned topsy-turvy to decay:  
This was not done but by commission:  
The devil making first petition.   

Eternal jove to prove the confidence  
Of constant men, that faith might grow by trial:  
And choke with errors the erroneous sense,  
That in true matters there be no espial:  
To lying sprights he maketh not denial,  
But lets them slip, which do not cease to further  
The lewd attempts commenced in Adam's murder.   

Still they pursue, and practise wont feats:  
The self same anvil they do hammer still,  
And forge new sleights, like to their old deceits:  
But yet sometimes, do good against their will.  
And though the rout apostate seek to kill,  
Yet sometime they unawres, in midst of blood,  
Have made fierce tyrants comfort with the good.   

The hurtless host, God's everlasting train,  
Which kept their first estate, sans haughty pride: 
Good angels.   
Not mounting up, nor tumbling down again,  
Attend God's pleasure, starting not aside,  
But tread the paths, prefixed by their guide:  
This is their only delectation:  
God's glory, and the saints salvation.   

No strange desire assails their fantasy:  
The pleasant aspect of almighty God  
Is better than the sweetest Ambrosia:  
The retrieve of a lamb, that long hath trod  
In wails desert, loosely strayed abroad:  
The child once lost, reduc'de to penitence:  
Delighteth them as Nectar's influence.   

Nought else requires the high aspiring mind,  
But kingdom unto kingdom to unite;  
And Diadem with Diadem to bind,  
That all the world might stoop to one man's might:  
But heavenly angels have no such delight,  
No such desire of greater excellence  
But in God's service spend their diligence.   

No sooner sounds the voice of God's command:  
No sooner doth a beck of majesty proceed:  
No sooner comes a matter to be scanned,  
Wherein these angels serve in any steed,  
But out they fly with more than winged speed:  
Bending themselves to execute the word,  
And to effect the mandate of their Lord.   

One of them follows Agar in her flight,  
And shortening her exiled pilgrimage, 
Gones. 21.17.   
By speech doth yield unlooked for delight:  
Another doth conduct with equipage, 
Exod. 23.23. cap. 33.2.   
The marching armies of God's heritage:  
Others direct young jacob to the East,  
And yield him courage in his first night's rest.   

Another skilled in Physics lore applies  
A sovereign plaster for decayed sight, 
Tob. 11.7.   
Even such as unto faithful Tobiths eyes  
Restored again the long desired light.  
To Nazareth one takes his nimble flight,  
And therefore truth to Marie doth pronounce, 
Lue. 1.26.   
She should be Maid and Mother all at once:   

She should conceive, and bear but only one:  
Yet at one burden should she bring forth these,  
A Father, Husband, Brother, and a Son,  
That by this birth men troubled might find ease:  
When as the offspring, whom it so did please  
To be enclosed within her virgin's womb,  
Might not be cowpd within a world of roeme.   

Another sort in fervent zeal attend,  
With hand, and foot to guard the tempted son:  
And Satan's conflict brought unto an end, 
Matth. 4.11.   
They minister him comfort that had won,  
And help to triumph when the combats done:  
In fruitless sand, and stony wilderness,  
They do not leave Christ comfortless.   

One cheers him up to take the bitter chalice,  
And drink that off which God had tempered, 
Lue. 22.43.   
To wash from sin, and wring from Satan's malice  
The souls of men by Satan blemished:  
Another brings glad tidings of the dead, 
Math. 28.2.5.   
And shows the Matrons of their Christ's arising,  
Which was reputed dead, by their surmising.   

One far beyond all expectation  
Brings tidings of john's strange nativity: 
Luk. 1.13.   
Another puts in execution  
The tenor of God's purpose faithfully,  
Advancing Israel's herd to dignity. 
Exod. 3.2.   
One makes a fearful slaughter and a sad,  
On all the first borne males that Egypt had. 
Exod. 12.29.    

Exempted only from the massacre,  
All such as had their door posts painted red,  
With blood of lamb slain for the passover:  
Another in a moment vanquished  
The host of Rabsache, 
2. Kings. 19.35.  who thundered  
Blasphemous words, and terms of highest slander,  
Boasting his gods, against the heavens commander.   

His soldiers had subdued the Easterlings:  
And now begird that city, which alone  
Adores the only peerless king of kings:  
Without the walls scarce could a bird have flown,  
For troops beleagaring the garrison.  
Which Ezechias viewing, as a prince most wise,  
Foresees th'event, as present to his eyes.   

Foresees the common havoc round about:  
His subjects taken captive, cast in bands,  
Their tender children squatted in the rout:  
Their noble virgins forced with bloody hands,  
Deslowr'de with ravishment, and rough commands:  
His kingly person eide with thousand threats,  
Already hacked and hewed in their conceits.   

Foresees the naked temple stripped of wall,  
The sacred Censors not with myrrh perfumed,  
The Altar bare, no sacrifice at all,  
But priests of God, and priesthood both consumed:  
Weighing these things, and how his foe still fumed,  
He sprinkled ashes, and with penitence,  
He cried to God in sackcloth, for defence.   

God hears his cry, and whets his lightning darts,  
To strike the squadrons of that heathenish rout:  
And while dead sleep benumbs their senseless hearts:  
(Their bodies, hemming in the fires about)  
He doth address and send a champion out:  
Hunting the frustrate legar without pity,  
And casting friendly looks upon the city.   

Charged is the field, a scour flies out the dart,  
Whose single flight is not content to make  
A single slaughter: but through cu'rie part  
It cuts a lane, and thickest troops doth take:  
Imbrued in blood, and like a lightning flake,  
The sword doth brandish, lighting here and there,  
As doth a whirlwind whisk about the air.   

They fly in chase, but too too slow they drag,  
To scape the reach of such a ramping blade:  
The glittering steel is only seen to wag,  
By which, such havoc in one night is made:  
Like as the windmill sails with sowpe unstaid,  
Do swinge about, yet no man sees the wind,  
By whose impulsive force, the sails do grind.   

No sooner had the purple morning chased  
The donker shade, from haughty Liban's top,  
But th'Ebrew guarders in their sconces placed,  
Behold whole heaps of men slain at a chop,  
(An hundred, four score, and five thousand) stop  
And pester all their wont passages:  
As erst with men, so now with carcases.   

The jews rear solemn triumph to the sky,  
Insulting on the quailed conqueror:  
Ascribing honour for this victory,  
Alone unto the world's chief governor,  
Which gave these braving troops the overture.  
But you O sacred tutors of the saints, 
Epilog with a conversion to the Angels.   
Swift archers helping when our army faints.   

You that in counsel are as delegates,  
And posts in needful expedition:  
Heralds in sounding out to all estates  
The sum of Gods decreed commission:  
You that do fear the countenance of none:  
Were men like rocks, or sturdy like to giants,  
You dare presume to give them all defiance.   

Faithful interpreters from God to men:  
Feign would I still attend upon your trace,  
With laggring pinions of my feeble pen,  
But that I journey to a further place,  
And therefore doubt, least in so long a race,  
Hasting too much, the first outsetting day,  
My rash attempt might falter by the way.   

For he that entertains a brave desire,  
(Which well beseems a worthy Cavaleer)  
To view strange men, strange manners and attire,  
In foreign countries as a traveler,  
It boots him not to be swift passenger:  
He speeds it well if in his first days road,  
He leaves the place and coast of his abode.   
FINIS.