SACRED POEMS, OR Brief Meditations, Of the day in general and of all the days in the week.  Psalm 90.12. 
Teachus (O Lord) so to number our days ' that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.   printer's or publisher's device 
LONDON, Printed by E. Griffin. 1641.   

TO The Right Worshipful, his Honoured, and loving Master Sir JAMES CAMBELL Knight, and Senior Alderman of the City of London; one of his Majesty's Justices of peace for the said City, Mayor of the Staple at Westminster, Precedent of the Hospital of Saint Thomas in Southwark, and Governor of the Company of Merchants trading into France:  
EDWARD BROWNE, Presenteth these fruits of his Poetical Meditations: with his daily prayers to God, for increase and continuance of health, and Prosperity in this Life; and eternal felicity in the life to come.  
RIght worshipful: I have been very bold,  
My mind to you though rashly to unfold,  
At this time, since I mean no more to write,  
Such fruitless lines, to come unto your sight:  
I'm bold to use a learned Poet's skill;  
(Though fare unfit for my unlearned quill)  
Only to manifest my thankful hart:  
For what God, by you, on me, doth impart.  
Therefore I pray; accept this little Book,  
Yet I acknowledge, 'tis not worth your look;  
Because 'tis framed by unskilful wit,  
And yet again, the matter that's in it,  
Would crave inspection of judicious eyes:  
But that my infant Muse, could not devise  
To frame, compose, and write, such learned Rhymes  
As fit your worth (in these most curious times)  
And sacred things, which I here take in hand  
To illustrate; which well to understand,  
Declare, and (fully) to describe the same,  
Would 'maze the head, of the most learned Brain.  
Then how can I, that am in wit so bare,  
In any wise, such holy things declare?  
Yet what the learned, from God's word have shown,  
I have presumed, herein to make known;  
To manifest, how I spend my spare time  
In Poetry, although by ragged Rhyme.  
Therefore, because I know you only are  
My dearest friend and have of me great care,  
I here present you this my little skill,  
Full of Affection, void of smallest ill;  
And if you please, to read it to the end  
I hope it shall not justly you offend;  
For at the first, when I began to write,  
I did compose it for mine own delight;  
But when I read it I therein did see,  
A little spark of sacred Poetry,  
Also, I have observed, you do of late,  
Delight to read, more than in former state.  
This did induce me to become so bold,  
My Talon in your lap thus to unfold,  
Prayi g your Worship herein to pass by  
The faults I do commit unwittingly:  
For Gods great aid herein, I'll render praise,  
And of your courteous Candour rest always,  Your humble and Grateful Servant, EDWARD BROWNE.  

An Acrostic Proem. To his kind and Loving Master and virtuous Lady.  
SIR,  

IN this small Book, (though rudely) I have shown  
According to my Art, and skill,  
Many unfruitful fancies of my own:  
Each of them shows my true good will.   

Sith better pledges I have none,  
Can make thy Gratitude well known.   

And I do hope, you will accept this mite,  
More for th'intent, then for the thing;  
Because I writ it, only for delight,  
Endeavouring thereby to bring   

Little sweet Honey to the Hive,  
Like to the Bee; to show I thrive.   

Rashly herein, I do confess I take  
A skilful Learned Poet's quill,  
'Cause I unlearned am, nor know to make  
Holy Sonnets free from ill   

Every verse doth show my folly,  
Little worth, in Melancholy.   

Charge me therefore with what is writ amiss,  
And if that any good is done,  
My God of that, the only Author is,  
Because the Fountain makes streams run,   

Even to refresh our minds, and make us ●l●st▪  
Like to God's Saints: And thus I ever rest,   Your Faithful and Obedient Servant, EDWARD BROWNE.  

Praesentatio Gratificationis 25. dic Martii. 1640.  

THis day some say; did our Lord God begin  
This World's round Globe to make and to c●eate;  
And in this month comes in the fragrant spring,  
Therefore the learned, almost in every state,   

Begin their Books, and Reckon on this day;  
To show how precious time doth haste away.   

Therefore I also, though my learning's small,  
Begin this year to show my thankful heart,  
My light grew dim, my Oil was wasted all,  
But Divine Bartas helped me in part:   

For out of his None-such, and holy week,  
I was feign many flowers for to seek:   

Which I Inserted in my weekly days,  
And by a Prick, you'll know my sacred Pelf;  
Because I would not take unto my praise,  
Another's worth to my unlearned self,   

I borrowed his, to make this presentation,  
A perfect, and complete Gratification.    

A Prayer to God.  

OH Holy God, Thou know'st my heart is vain,  
My words are sinful, and my works profane:  
And men of Bethshemesh, because they did  
Look in the Ark, by thee were stricken dead;  
And Uzza, but for staying it upright,  
When it did shake, thou there to death didst smite;  
How dare I then presume to write or speak  
Of holy things, being so vile and weak?  
Yet I do know by thy most sacred writ,  
I must acknowledge the great benefit,  
I have received from thee, and thereof talk  
As I do stand or go, or sit or walk;  
Therefore I crave of thee assisting might,  
For out of darkness, thou canst make true light  
To shine and blaze, O be thou ever still,  
Guider and framer of my perverse will:  
That thy bright glory may shine in these Rhymes,  
To stir up better wits in aftertimes,  
To frame, compose and make a perfect story,  
Of temporal blessings and eternal glory.   
19 Psalm ult.  
Let the words of my mouth and the Meditations of my heart, be (now and ever) acceptable in thy sight O Lord; my strength, and my Redeemer.   


A MEDITATION OF THE DAY.  
HOw frail and Brittle is the life of man!  
He that lives longest liveth but a span;  
Our precious time so vainly we do spend,  
That as a day it cometh to an end.  
The morning of our life is childish youth,  
The noon time is our Manhood at full growth;  
The evening of our Life is froward Age,  
And thus we walk on in our Pilgrimage;  
The dawning of our life we waste like Boys,  
In foolish vanities and Idle toys;  
The middle of our age, our strength and might.  
We should enforce to serve God day and night:  
That so at last, when this lises day shall cease,  
We in the Earth's cold Bed may sleep in peace;  
Thus fatal sisters three take daily pain  
To spin, to wove, and cut man's life ●n Twain,  
Kind hearted Clotho, spins man's life to strength;  
Discreet Lachesis weaves its breadth and length,  
And cruel Atropos with her sharp knife.  
Doth cut the Thread of his Age loathed life;  
Lo thus, this life is but a summer flower:  
Springs up, spreads bravely, and sheds in an hour;  
And Proteus-like we oft do shift our shapes  
From Kids to Goats, from Goats to wrinkled Apes;  
For Man's life's water closed in Brittle Glass;  
Sin brought in death, and death as he doth pass,  
surveys this water weakly walled about,  
Then breaks the Glass, so runs the water out;  
Oh that I could be like the glorious Sun,  
Who doth rejoice his lightsome Race to run,  
And shineth brighter to the perfect day:  
Then should I likewise in a virtuous way  
Begin, and in the same still persevere;  
Thus should I spend the day, the week, and year.   

Of the Morning Light.  
FIrst in the morning when I open mine eye,  
If it be light, me thinks I do espy  
A glimpse of Glory: But if darksome night  
Be not orepast, then do I close my sight,  
And musing think of that eternal horror,  
Where is no comfort, but dismaying rerrour;  
Then do I muse on the material lights  
That God prepared hath to help our sights;  
The Sun, the Moon, the Stars and twinkling Tapers,  
That men invent which vanish into vapours;  
And with these temporal lights, me thinks I see  
That spiritual light hath great Affinity,  
And this Spiritual light's Illumination  
From Divine knowledge by God's Inspiration,  
The heathens knowledge is much like the light,  
That men do make to help their darkened sight,  
Whereby they know there is a God, that he  
Doth punish vice, Crowns those that virtuous be;  
The Jews light's the Divine and holy Law,  
Which as the sages star their hearts might draw  
And drive to Christ, whom they do daily see  
In Types and figures shadowed to be;  
The Papists Knowledge is most like the Moon,  
Which they do borrow from the Gospels Sun.  
But Truth's so wrapped in blind errors lap.  
As clouds their light and shows their hard mishap;  
But knowledge in our Land is like the rays  
Of the bright Sun which shineth at noon days,  
Freed from all fogs and mists of Errors vain,  
And unto all men open clear and plain.  
Oh what confused horror dread and fear,  
Should we in our distressed bodies bear,  
If but deprived of light for a few days;  
Wherefore we have great cause to give God praise,  
Not only for this temporal changing light,  
But much more for the glorious Gospels' sight.   

Of Up rising.  
WHen I do hear the dauntless watchful Cock,  
And that same Bell which rings at five a clock.  
There comes into my mind, the fearful call  
Of the last Trump, which then shall summon all  
Mankind to rise out of the earth's cold Bed;  
And when that when I do rear my drowsy head,  
I musing think of the most glorious sight  
Of Saints and Angels in the Celestial light;  
Oh Lord (I pray) G●ant I may daily rise  
From sins loathed Bed, and foul impieties,  
That I may walk as a Child of the day,  
In virtuous light and in a pious way,  
That at the last, when this draste flesh shall be  
Disrobed of corruption, and set free  
From Passions thrall, which now in me are bred,  
I may with joy lift up my troubled head,  
And in a moment, in celeshall light,  
Behold the lustre, and the glorious sight  
Of our good God, who is in persons three,  
And yet in Essence but one God is he;   

Of putting on Apparel.  
WHen I array myself, then do I muse,  
How in a spiritual habit, I should use  
To deck and cloth myself, so, every day  
That I might never fear the fatal fray,  
Of the world's Baits, and the frail flesh's Charms,  
Which may allure and bring me in the Arms  
Of Satan's power, who doth daily seek  
Me to devour; that am both poor and weak;  
First on my hart I should fast fix the Love  
Of God and holy things that are above,  
Then should I gird my Loins with truths sure cord  
Which I must gather from God's holy word:  
Then should I arm my Breast in warlike state,  
With righteous life, as with an Iron plate,  
And on my head I should keep sure and fast  
Salvation, as a Helm that aye will last;  
And for the feet of my corrupt affections,  
I should have shoes of such Divine directions,  
As in the sacred Gospel written are,  
My ways in Piety thus to prepare:  
Then with good works, take up the shield of faith,  
Which will (as the most holy Scripture saith)  
Blunt, dull, and beat back all the fiery Darts  
Of Satan's malice, whose aime's at the hearts  
Of poor weak Men: thus should I armed be  
Against that wrathful watchful enemy.  
If that I were thus armed strong before,  
And yet behind were naked thin and poor,  
I thought that I might wounded be behind.  
But to prevent this I should bend my mind,  
To be as watchful with a restless eye,  
As my foe's careful, quick to see and spy,  
Both where and how he lays his treacherous trains,  
That so I might frustiate his too great pains,  
By taking in my hand the two edged Sword,  
Of God's keene-cutting and sharpe-piercing word,  
And therewith cutting off this Hidrae's head,  
Which not (so) pruned would so hugely spread,  
That almost no resistance could be found,  
To bring this great Goliath to the ground;  
If I could daily thus myself adorn,  
And in this habit, dress me every morn;  
Then should I neither dread the cold nor heat,  
Of chilling Poverty, or fiery threat  
Of wrathful Tyrants, neither would I fear,  
Sin, death or hell o'er me should domineer;  
But I should always be in blissful plight,  
Well Clothed and healthful as a Child of light;  
Oh Lord (I pray thee) Cloth me with thy spirit,  
That I may neither fear cold Winter's night,  
Nor Summers' heat: so let me ever be  
Clothed with Christ; my wedding garments he.   

Of Man's Labour.  
AS I do walk abroad, my mind's at strife,  
To see how all men, in this mortal life,  
Take care and travel to prolong their days,  
Upon the earth by many several ways,  
And how Artificers with nimble wit  
A hundred Rarities compose and fit  
For several uses, how the husbandman  
Doth plough and sow, and Reap, and thresh, & fan▪  
Most like the Ant in Summer's scorching heat,  
Who labours hardly for his Winter's meat:  
Another he tugs hard against the tide,  
His laden vessel longest a River's side;  
The Merchant he doth take great care and pains,  
To venture fare, and sometimes gets small gains;  
The Trade's man in his dark shop puts to sale,  
His broken wares with many a famed Tale:  
And preachers they do cry to beat down sin,  
Till they be hoarse, and little good they win;  
The Magistrate should strive with all his might  
The guilty to adjudge, the wronged to right:  
The Scholar he doth set his Brains and wit  
To get some knowledge, though small benefit;  
And thus each man in his peculiar way  
Is troubled and encumbered every day,  
To get provision for this brittle life,  
Although sometimes with envy and much strife;  
Oh happy than are they who now are dead!  
From all these troubles they are ever freed,  
Yet by this same I can most plainly see  
What Portion Adam left posterity,  
That by hard labour and their bodies sweat,  
They all must labour to procure their meat.  
And he that doth not thus for his provide,  
It is not fit on earth he should abide,  
But like a careless Idle slothful drone,  
Out of the Hive It's fit he should be thrown:  
For why should he of the sweet Honey eat,  
That the poor Bee with labour hard did get;  
If we do (as we should) take such great pain  
To prop, preserve this life, that's frail and vain;  
Oh how should we then put ourselves to task  
To get and gain that life, which ay will last!  
If for our body's health we oft will spare  
Our most delicious and delightful fare,  
Shall we for our Souls health grudge or repine  
To fast from sin or else refuse to dine?  
If for our profit we the pains think small  
To bend and crouch, to prate, to cry and call;  
Shall we think much unto the Lord to pray  
With hearty voice and humble mind always?  
If the poor Smith does think it no great Toil,  
Over the fire in smoke to burn and broil,  
Shall we, if when the Lord thinks good to try  
Our constant faith, in flames refuse to die?  
Oh Lord, I do confess my feet are slow,  
My heels are heavy, and refuse to go  
Into thy holy house, thy word to hear,  
And in my body I sloths Image bear:  
My hands are Idle, and my eyes are lazy:  
My heart is dull, my lips to laud thee crazy;  
Wherefore (I pray) Infuse into my mind,  
Such heavenly grace, that I may be inclined  
To labour and take care for heavenly food,  
More than for any fading earthly Good.  
So when this life shall cease, I may be blest,  
And live with God in a perpetual rest.   

Of Eating and Drinking.  
IF that our bodies want due food to eat,  
How do we labour strait to find out meat?  
Or if with cruel thirst we be possessed,  
Till we find drink we cannot be at rest,  
Oh this should teach me after Grace to long,  
Which is the Souls Refection to prolong  
My spiritual life, and never be at rest,  
Till with such meat and drink my Soul's refreshed▪  
And when I do behold the great provision,  
For earthly Bodies from Gods loving Mission,  
How that all creatures for our food are slain,  
Oh Lord (think I) If for this life that's vain,  
There's such provision in such sundry kind,  
For life eternal, to refresh the mind,  
There's as great plenty and as various store,  
Of spiritual dainties, If not far much more;  
My daily food should be Christ's holy body,  
Which by the mouth of faith I swallow wholly,  
To strengthen and refresh my sinful mind,  
That I may at the last true comfort find;  
My drink should be my Saviour's precious blood,  
Which quencheth sinful thirst; & doth much good  
For all my sins, It would wash quite away;  
Oh this should be my bread and drink all day,  
That at the last, when as the dismal night  
Of death shall come, in heaven I may shine bright:  
My Salt should be the sanctifying Grace,  
Of God's good spirit, which I should ever place,  
Upon the Table of a pious hart,  
That I there with may season every part  
Of all my sinful thoughts, my words and deeds,  
And every evil lust which in me breeds;  
Yea this should be the ordinary food  
Of my poor soul for her eternal good;  
But yet at several times there's sundry dishes  
Of Beasts, of Birds, of divers Herbs and fishes.  
In prosperous state there is the loving Hind,  
Who having eased his fellows goes behind:  
The charitable Stork and temp rate Swallow,  
The loving Prawne and pearl fish, they may follow  
In this same mess, to teach men of great might  
Gentle sobriety to do poor right.  
But if Adversity become our state,  
The first dish is a Lamb immaculate,  
The patiented Sheep, the gall-less harmless Dove,  
In this same mess should likewise have our love.  
Th'industrious Bee, the nimble painful Ant,  
The milk-white Lily this mess should not want;  
And many other things of precious kind,  
Which I can hardly bring into my mind.  
And all to teach, that in a cause that's good,  
It is a glorious thing to spend our blood,  
And to bear patiently Gods chastising hand,  
Like job at last more strenuously to stand,  
At all times else, there is much spiritual meat,  
For our poor souls. But I cannot repeat  
One half or quarter of this great variety,  
It is enough if I can find satiety  
In the least crumb of any heavenly Grace,  
That after I have finished this life's race,  
I may in heaven keep a continual feast  
With Christ my Saviour in eternal rest.   

Of the Night.  

HOw soon doth darksome night succeed light day;  
By this I know I have not long to stay  
In this frail life, which doth so quickly hast,  
That as a day itself doth spend and waste:  
But what need I to fear deaths ghastly face,  
For I am young, and in a healthful case.  
I have not yet arrived to high noon,  
For I in years am scarcely thirty one:  
Yet what of that? for this same very night  
God may bereave me of to morrow's light:  
For cruel death, with his impartial knife,  
Doth cut the thread of man's most wretched life,  
Before that ten or twenty yeere's expired  
In this frail life, whereby I am required  
To take due notice, that ere long may be,  
Death's dart may make as quick dispatch of me.  
And now because I undertake to write  
Of the similitude of darksome night,  
I do desire of God that I could tell  
Blind errors paths, and the dread pains of hell,  
Myself thereby to warn to take great heed  
That in blind errors ways I may not tread:  
For they will lead me to the dark Abyss  
Of doleful horror where no comfort is:  
And error in its self's so smooth a way,  
That the best falleth in it every day.  
It is a maze, which if we once get in  
Out of the same it's hard to get again,  
And he that in it very often wanders,  
Shall find a troop of crooked sly Meanders.  
But I will bring them into these two kinds;  
Errors in life, ignorance of men's minds.  
And here at first my senses are at strife,  
For who can tell the errors of this life?  
To such a countless number they do grow,  
That my Arithmetic them cannot show.  
The errors that in my poor soul are bred  
Do fare exceed the hairs upon my head.  
If my sins rise to such a sum alone,  
Who can the total of all sins make known?  
Under seven Captains they do march in fight,  
Pride, lechery, and envious hateful spite,  
Cruel man-killing wrath, beastly excess  
In meat and drink, sloth, greedy cov'tousnesse.  
These are the chief ways: but there's many more  
Crooked by-paths that lead men to the door  
Of utter darkness, for they do delight  
To act their deeds i'th' dark, and out of sight.  
So Hazael, when he was left alone,  
Killed Benhadad, that it might not be known.  
Achan did also hid his thievish pelf,  
Because that none should know it but himself.  
Th' Adulterer waits also for twilight,  
That he may act his sin out of men's sight.  
And the deceiver in his dark shop vents  
His broken wares, that none knows his intents.  
And every sinner doth even hate the light,  
Because it showeth sins deformed sight.  
But I have here almost forgot to write  
Of blindfold ignorance that hates the light:  
Yet under two sorts I can briefly show  
How she likewise in crooked ways doth go.  
The one constrained, the other's wilful blind;  
And these I call the errors of the mind:  
Their case is pitiful that never heard  
True saving knowledge, but from it debarred:  
Such are unfaithful Jews, Turks, Infidels,  
Blind Papists, and many rude nations else.  
That as yet never saw the glorious sight  
Of sacred Truth, showed in the Gospel bright.  
But others that do wilfully refuse,  
Such are the Jesuits, and the leained Jews,  
And Protestants, who like the Israelite,  
This holy Manna greatly scorn and slight:  
There is a woe denounced against them,  
As was 'gainst Bethsaida and Corazin.  
As in the day wild beasts do keep in caves,  
Because the light should not descry their ways;  
But in the Night, then do they hunt and range  
After their preys, most cruel, fierce and strange:  
So in the dawning of the Gospel's light,  
When that Star Edward in this Sphere shined bright.  
The murderous Papists, cruel, fierce and fell,  
In caves and holes were then constrained to dwell.  
But when the Moon began her head to rear,  
In this blessed Islands glorious Hemisphere,  
This light eclipsed was, and there did swarm  
Papists, like Locusts, which did do great harm  
Unto God's Church, by faggots, fiery flame,  
To show in smoky darkness they remain:  
For such apparently walk in the dark,  
Because they greatly do mistake the mark  
Of saving Truth, whose pathwayes are most bright.  
But here I must remember now to write  
Of that same darkness which for ay doth dwell  
In that most horrid doleful place called hell.  
And 'tis no wonder, though I fear to show  
What horror in that dark Abyss doth grow:  
For thought thereof doth make my heart to ache,  
My body tremble, and my hand to shake:  
Besides, it passeth all that I can think,  
How shall I show it then with Pen and Ink?  
For I am weak in judgement, sick in brain,  
Then why should I adventure so in vain  
To describe that no man can well express,  
Though ne'er so learned, yet nevertheless  
By some conjectures learned men can tell  
What horrid darkness is in that same Cell.  
And what from God's Words literate men have shown  
I will not fear in this place to make known.  
First I will write of the great cause of fear,  
Then of the punishments that are used there,  
Besides the Majesty of God offended,  
The mercy we receive, and have mispended,  
The long forbearance of his wrathful stroke,  
Should unto godly fear our hearts provoke,  
Fear to offend him by our grievous crimes,  
Fear to displease him in all place and times:  
The very darkness which is in that place  
Would in dread horror even confound our face:  
For if the stoutest man should be alone,  
Naked and bare in a dark place unknown,  
And there should hear the noise of ugly spirits,  
Hissing of Serpents, and the dismal sights  
Of tortured souls, would he not quake and fear,  
Although no stripes he on himself did bear?  
And such thick darkness was the Egyptians night,  
Who in three days could not descry the light.  
But now to be tormented in the dark,  
It's past expression, Pray fit down and mark.  
Oh! wretched man, come, sit thee down by me,  
Think with my thoughts, and see what I do see;  
As Bal●'m showed to Balack isack's race,  
So will I show thee the most damned trace  
Of hellish torments from the learned fables  
Of Poets old, yet take them not for babbles.  
For I do hope in thee and me 'twill breed  
Such godly fear, that so we may take heed  
To shun those ways that lead us to the place  
where's utter darkness, and no light of Grace.   

Methinks I see grim Pluto calls his Court,  
With Proserpina he sits in dreadful sort  
Upon a chair of fire, in ugly form,  
As black as hell, yet was a Star o'th' morn:  
Then I see Cerberus that triple dog  
Who seems more terrible than Gogmagog:  
‛ Than after him from fiery Phlegeton  
‛ Comes Allecto, Meager ', and Tisiphone.  
‛ Oh than what hear I? wondrous thundering blows,  
‛ Alas, what yells, what howls what dismal shows?  
‛ There Echo made whole hell to tremble troubled,  
‛ The drowsy night her deep dark horrors doubled,  
‛ And suddenly Avernus' gulf did swim  
‛ With Rosin, Pitch, and Brimstone to the brim,  
‛ And ugly Gorgon's, and the Sphinxes fell,  
‛ Hidra's and Harpies began to yawn and yell,  
‛ One lifting's lungs, hisses, and barks and brays;  
‛ This howls, that yels, another roars and neighs.  
‛ Such a black song, such a confused sound  
‛ From many-headed bodies doth rebound,  
‛ Like Guns astuns, with round round-rumbling thunder,  
‛ Filling the air with noise, the earth with wonder.  
Till at the last, pausing a while they stayed,  
And suddenly with great confusion made  
A flight at man, all at intestine strife,  
Who might most torture his detested life.  
Then at command of Pluto's dreadful call  
Each one unto his work did quickly fall,  
And then I saw proud Icarus tumbled down,  
Under fiends feet that wrought above the crown,  
And all because he thought to sore on high,  
His waxed wings were cut, and he did lie  
Despised, contemned, dishonoured and disgraced,  
Although on earth he was so highly placed.  
See drunken Tantalus doth roar for thirst,  
Yet to his chin in water so accursed  
He lies and howls, and cannot get a taste  
And dying lives, yet's dying life doth last.  
See how the Glutton cries, and longs for meat,  
Yet Sodom's Apples he doth daily eat.  
It seems they do not fill his hungry maw,   

But look, I pray, see how that beast doth gnaw  
Upon the envious wretch, see how his heart  
Is eaten by the Viper, and each part  
Of all his body is so thin and bare,  
Nothing but skin and bones upon him are.  
See how that lazy slave doth turn the wheel,  
And yet that ugly fiend doth make him feel  
The smarting lashes of his knotty whip,  
Which makes his hands to work, his legs to skip.  
But see the lecherous man even shake for cold,  
And yet in flames of fire I him behold.  
Oh horrid torment! never yet descried  
That one should frieze by such a fire side.  
The covetous wretch I saw crammed to the full  
Of burning brimstone. Oh 'tis wonderful  
To mark how he is paid in the same coin  
That did oppress the weak, the poor purloin.  
But hark, what hear I? doleful shrieks and cries  
Of him that's alway's killed, yet never dies.  
It's strange (me thinks) so many dangerous darts  
Should not destroy their bloody murderous hearts:  
But 'tis not strange, for the great God above  
to show his justice and express his love,  
To choose a place as well for to torment  
The wilful sinner and impenitent,  
As to prepare a place of heavenly state,  
For his dear friends that are regenerate.  
If then the Lord himself shall go to rear  
A place of torments, who shall that declare?  
For if when God made fire for our delight,  
It is so fierce, there's none would if he might  
Gain a whole Kingdom, hold his hand therein,  
But for one hour. Oh then, what pain is in  
The fire of hell! To which if I compare  
The fire we have, it seems but painted air:  
Ours is for comfort, that is to torment;  
Ours must be fed, else of itself it's spent;  
That needs no fuel, but doth burn for ay:  
Ours giveth light, and shines as bright as day,  
That's always dark, and is in its right place;  
Ours ever shifts, and doth ascend apace:  
Ours doth consume and rids quick out of pain,  
That consumes not; once there, ne'er out again:  
Ours soon extinct; that never doth abate  
H●s heat, And yet (as I did show of late,  
And as Christ saith) they shall gnash teeth and shake,  
For very cold will make their bones to quake.  
And as that fire is of such wondrous might,  
So doth that darkness fare exceed our night.  
Now could I show the universal pains,  
And all th'eternal torture there remains,  
How Cerberus doth strongly keep hell's door,  
That none comes out, but may come in the more,  
And how that Charon with dread horror grim  
Over the Stygian lake his boat makes swim  
Filled full of souls whom he hath got off shore,  
O'er Sulphry Styx and makes them cry and roar;  
I should but all this while show pain of sense,  
But there's great damage in lost excellence,  
Which is as great (as learned men do show)  
As pain of sense. But yet I do not know  
How to describe the loss of that bleft sight  
Of God's bright glory in celestial light.  
At thought whereof the damned have a worm  
Which on their conscience gnaws and makes them mourn,  
And when they think of that same heavenly light  
That they have lost, this worm doth give a by't  
Which causeth them to tear their flesh and hair,  
And if they could, themselves in pieces tear.  
Then do they wish for mountains, hills and rocks  
To fall upon them, with such ponderous knocks,  
That they might kill them; which when they deny,  
They do begin to howl, lament and cry,  
And marvel, saying, what hath our pride got?  
What profit hath glory of riches brought?  
How easily might we have scaped this place  
By living well, and seeking help of grace?  
Oh! if on earth we now could live again,  
We would fear God alone, and count as vain  
All other things in the vast world's round ball,  
And Gods bright glory should be all in all.  
And thus they do repent without amends,  
And still their pain gins, and never ends;  
Then cease your talk of Pluto's darksome den,  
That's but the idle fantasy of men,  
But this is true, which in God's word is shown,  
That hellish pains to mortal man's not known,  
Yet I do wonder, that such learned skill  
Should so divinely drop from heathens quill:  
For as in Pluto's cave they well have shown,  
Hell's torments, as in Scripture is made known,  
So heavenly bliss in jupiters' high court,  
And in Elysium fields they make report  
In their profanest fabled histories,  
By Hercules they show Christ's victories,  
Long before Christ was borne, which makes me muse  
That they should know almost as much as Jews,  
Who were Gods chosen; but where do I go?  
This in some other place I mean to show.  
And now, that I am thus come out of hell,  
Safe and unhurt from all those furies fell,  
In the last place I did intent to write  
Of the great benefits we have by night.  
But my dull Muse grew barren, thin and bare,  
I therefore borrowed his whose fruits are rare.  
‛ The night to temper days exceeding drought,  
‛ Moistens our air, and makes our earth to sprout.  
‛ The night is she that all our travels caseth,  
‛ Buries our cares, and all our griefs appeaseth.  
‛ The night is she, that (with her sable wing,  
‛ In gloomy darkness hushing every thing)  
‛ Through all the world dumb silence doth distil,  
‛ And wearied bones with quiet sleep doth fill.  
‛ Sweet night, without thee, without thee (alas!)  
Our life were loathsome, even a hell to pass:  
‛ For outward pains and inward passions still,  
‛ With thousand deaths, would soul and body kill.  
‛ Oh Night! thou pullest the proud mask away,  
‛ Wherewith vain actors in this world's great play,  
‛ By day disguise them, for no difference,  
‛ Night makes between the Peasant and the Prince,  
‛ The poor, the rich, the Prisoner and the Judge,  
‛ The foul and fair, the Master and the drudge,  
‛ The fool and wise, Barbarian and the Greek;  
‛ For Night's black Mantle covers all alike;  
‛ He that, condemned for some notorious vice,  
‛ Seeks in the Mines the Baits of Avarice;  
‛ Or, swelting at the furnace, fineth bright,  
Our Souls dire sulphur, ●esteth yet at night:  
‛ He that still stooping tugs against the Tide  
‛ His laden barge alongst a River's side,  
‛ And filling shores with shouts, doth melt him quite,  
‛ Upon his  resteth yet at night;  
‛ He that in Summer, in extremest heat,  
‛ Scorched all day in his own scalding sweat,  
‛ Shaves with keen Sith, the glory and delight  
‛ Of motley Meadows, resteth yet at night,  
‛ And in the Arms of his dear Fere foregoes  
‛ All former troubles and all former woes;  
‛ Only the learned Sisters sacred Minions,  
‛ While silent night under her sable Pinions,  
‛ Folds all the world, with painless pain they tread  
HE sacred path, that to the heavens doth lead;  
‛ And higher than the heavens their Readers raise  
‛ Upon the wings of their immortal lays.  
And now (me thinks) I hear the clock doth chime,  
Which doth inform me that it is high time,  
Me to unclothe and so to go to bed,  
For this day's work hath troubled my weak head.    

Of unclothing.  
HOw vain a thing it is to vaunt in Pride,  
Of brave Apparel, may be quickly tried:  
For had old Adam never fallen from Bliss,  
Of use of  we ne'er had had much miss:  
And he devised but leaves to hid the shame,  
Which on himself by his foul folly came:  
And God himself when he did undertake  
Some brave apparel for poor man to make,  
To hid his shame, his liv'ry was but skin,  
Of some poor beast, this Adam's sin did win.  
Wherefore the man that of brave  is proud,  
Doth as a Beggar with a voice most loud,  
Extol and magnify his Rotten Rags,  
Which hid his sores, and set them forth as flags  
For all to gaze at, and to wonder why  
He should set out his stinking Bravery.  
Wherefore the Godly always did not care,  
What Clothes upon their bodies they did bear;  
So it would keep them from the heat and cold,  
They were content, and I do read of old,  
The Saint's Apparel, they arrayed were,  
Was made of Goat's skin, and of Camels hair.  
But men are now so curious for their back,  
They'll Rob and spoil all creatures ere they'll lack:  
From one they'll take his wool to make them cloth,  
From others skin and fur: nay they're not loath,  
To take the Excrements of the poor worm,  
Which they into brave Silk and Satin turn,  
Then do they beg of fish, Pearl for the Neck,  
And find in Sea-sands precious stones to deck  
Their sinful bodies, than they take great pains  
To Digg and delve in Earth for Golden gains;  
And when they have this borrowed Treasure got,  
About the streets they jet, and frisk, and troth,  
Provoking others thus to look on them,  
Deeming themselves better than other men.  
But greater folly than this is not known,  
For one to boast of that is not his own.  
Yet thus have I too oft done, and was glad  
When I brave  upon my body had;  
Therefore I'll now put off this Pedlar's pack,  
Which all this day hath burdened thus my back;  
Can I as quickly put off my foul sin.  
And in new Robes of Grace my Soul put in,  
As I can cast these filthy Rags aside,  
That from men's eyes my sinful shame doth hid,  
Then should I be received a welcome Guest,  
Of Christ my Saviour, to his glorious feast,  
Where Angels, Patriarches and Prophets old,  
Apostles, Martyrs, and the Saints do hold,  
A feast of Joy, thus should I then be blest,  
In Robes of Glory in eternal Rest.   

Of Sleep.  
Sleep is the Image and Picture of Death,  
In which we seem senseless and void of breath;  
The Bed seems as the Grave in which we lay  
Our body's mould which turns to dust and Clay;  
And to the Saints death's truly but a sleep,  
That doth refresh their minds and safely keep,  
Their wearied Souls, which when they were awake  
I mean alive very great pains did take,  
To serve the Lord, for which they hated were,  
By wicked men, who bended all their care,  
To persecute, oppress, and do them wrong,  
Therefore they do greatly desire and long,  
To be dissolved and to be with Christ,  
In whom their joy and quiet doth consist;  
Besides Christ warmed hath the earth's cold bed  
For his beloved, when he laid his head  
To rest three days therein, and hath oft called  
Death but a sleep, once to a Jew enthralled  
Four days in grave: then did he groan and weep,  
And said, friend Lazarus doth sweetly sleep;  
And of the Ruler jayrus his dead daughter,  
He said she slept, which moved some to laughter,  
And holy Martyrs went as cheerfully,  
To take their death, as in Rose beds to lie,  
Because they knew death to be but a sleep,  
Which doth refresh their Souls, and bodies keep  
Safe and unhurt unto that glorious day,  
When they shall rise to live with Christ foray;  
But unto wicked men, death is a Terror,  
Which to remember, fills their Souls with horror;  
If then the thought of death their minds affright,  
How will they be amazed to feel his might,  
When he doth strike them with his deadly Dart,  
How loath will then the Soul from body part,  
Because like friends they lived on Earth in Joy,  
Well clad, well fed, and felt not much annoy;  
Now if a man to mortify one part  
Of his weak body, In such deadly smart  
Is put unto, that makes him groan and cry,  
Oh than what will be the great misery,  
For him to suffer, when through every limb  
He feels deaths pangs fiercely assailing him!  
First from extreme parts, Fingers, Feet, and Toes,  
Then Legs and Arms, and so in order goes  
Through every Joint, Vein, Muscle, Sinew, Bone,  
Till at the heart it rests, and there alone,  
(Like a besieged Prince) his Soul looks out,  
For help of friends, whom she did little doubt,  
Would so forsake her, in her extreme need,  
To wit, Youth, Physic, helpless friends indeed:  
Then doth she greatly fear tremble and quake,  
Expecting hourly, when the fiend will take  
Her wretched self: And then when she doth see  
The flattering Doctor parted with his fee,  
The weeping of his wife, the loss of all,  
Jewels and brave apparel, that's not small,  
Grief and vexation to his wretched mind,  
That all his wealth he so must leave behind,  
Which he did gather with such grief and ca●e,  
To serve the Lord he had no time to spare:  
And lastly, now to think what will become,  
Of Soul and body, how the noisome worm,  
Serpents and Vermin shall take for their food,  
That dainty body which he thought too good,  
To tread on earth or to come in the air,  
This will almost drive him into despair;  
But when he thinks his Soul must come before  
Hearts searching Judge, and when he sees the score,  
Of his great sins, which his own conscience shows,  
And hath not where to pay, for well he knows,  
He did not show his faith by living well,  
And therefore doth deserve nothing but hell:  
Which when the Soul doth think on, slavish fear,  
In wicked men do bring them to despair,  
Which causeth them to fret, to howl, and cry,  
To think how bliss they lost, in hell they'll lie  
For evermore, in torments past expression:  
But all this while I have made a digression,  
From what I did intent at first to write;  
It seems I am misled by darksome night,  
Of bad men's deaths, in which they cannot sleep,  
For hellish fiends their Souls awake do keep;  
Therefore I'll pray to God, that he may keep  
My Soul and body, so that I may sleep  
In rest and peace, in bed as in my grave,  
And that in Mercy he would freely save,  
Both Soul and body to that blessed day  
Of resurrection, that in heaven always  
I may with Saints and Angels shine as bright,  
As doth the Sun, and praise God day and night.   

Of the week.  
THe wisdom of the Lord did first compose,  
The week into seven days, as Moses shows,  
Thereby to teach us how to spend our time,  
In Meditation of his works divine.  
And in three week's God hath his great works shown,  
The first is of the world's creation,  
In which the power and might of God appears;  
The next is preservation in the years,  
And ages since, till this same very hour,  
And the third week doth show his love and power,  
In the Redemption of all-fallen mankind.  
But I am weak in body, dull in mind,  
So that not one of these I can declare,  
As is befitting, for the best that are  
May come fare short in such a sacred theme:  
Therefore I only do intent and mean,  
To show each several day's denomination,  
And therein touch the works of God's creation.  
And in this place I now will briefly speak,  
Of man's frail life, in David's general week;  
For he divides the life of Mortal men,  
Into seven parts, till threescore years and ten;  
And therein I will show how precious time  
Is vainly spent, each age in one short Rhyme.  
The first ten year's man is a harmless child,  
And as a Lamb his life is meek and mild;  
But after that (Goat-like) he skips and Joys,  
In foolish vanities and Idle toys,  
And so till thirty man's an untamed Colt,  
Heady, and from all goodness doth revolt;  
And until forty he's a sturdy Bull,  
His limbs are strong, with blood his veins are full,  
But after that, his courage will not fail;  
For as a Lion than he will prevail:  
And then at fifty he's a crafty Fox,  
And Lawyerlike gets money in his Box.  
And so till seventy by Industrious pains,  
Woolfe-like he's greedy to increase his gains;  
But after that he feels his bones to tyre,  
Therefore much like the Dog he loves the fire,  
And keeps at home like to the wily Cat,  
Where he delights to sit, to prate and chat;  
Thus doth the Carnal man waste his life's week,  
And seldom doth after true Riches seek;  
I mean the wealth, which beyond Age will last,  
And still endure after this life is past:  
Therefore the Sages, That did first ordain  
And gave unto each day It's several name,  
Did well at first the nimblest Planet place,  
And last of all that of the slowest race,  
To show that man in youthful blithfull plight  
In Grace and virtue should take most delight:  
For painful age cannot so well hold out  
As lusty youth, yet still should go about,  
In virtue's race, and not out of it start,  
Till death doth strike him with his deadly dart;  
Therefore I'll pray, that with the glorious sun,  
I may rejoice in virtue's Race to run,  
And with old Saturn therein persevere,  
So should I well conclude the week and year.   

Sunday or Dies Dominicus.  
IN the Beginning and the Birth of time,  
God made his glory and his power to shine,  
In framing of the earth and heavens bright,  
And the first day, God did create the light;  
‛ Before which time, there was a confused heap,  
HE formelesse Chaos did together keep,  
HE gulf of gulfs, a body ill compa●t,  
‛ An ugly medley, where all difference lacked:  
‛ Where th' elements lay jumbled altogether,  
‛ Where hot and cold were jarring each with either;  
‛ The blunt with sharp, the dank against the dry,  
‛ The hard with soft, the base against the high;  
‛ All all was void of beauty, rule and light,  
‛ All without fashion, soul and motion quite.  
‛ Fire was no fire, the water was no water,  
‛ Air was no air, the earth no earthly matter.  
‛ This was not then the world: 'twas but the matter,  
‛ The Nursery whence it should issue after;  
Yet Gods great power did keep this darksome mass,  
And on the waters did his spirit pass.  
‛ And he no sooner said, Be light, but lo  
‛ The formless lump to perfect form began grow:  
‛ And all illustred with lights radiant shine,  
‛ Doffed mourning weeds, and decked it passing fine.  
‛ All hail pure lamp, bright, sacred, and excelling  
‛ Sorrow and care, darkness and dread repelling:  
‛ Thou world's great Taper, wicked men's just terror,  
‛ Mother of Truth, true beauties only mirror,  
‛ Gods eldest daughter, Oh! how thou art full  
‛ Of grace and goodness? Oh! how beautiful;  
‛ Sigh thy great Parent's all-discerning eye  
‛ Doth judge thee so: and sigh his Majesty  
‛ (The glorious maker) in his sacred lays,  
‛ Can do no l●sse than sound thy modest praise.  
‛ But yet, because all pleasures wax unpleasant,  
‛ If without pause we still possess them, present;  
‛ And none can right discern the sweets of peace,  
‛ That have not felt w●rs irksome bitterness;  
‛ And Swans seem whiter, if swart Crows be by,  
‛ (For contraries each other best descry.)  
‛ Th'Alls Architect, alternately decreed,  
‛ That Night the Day, the Day should Night succeed:  
‛ So morn and evening the first day conclude,  
‛ And God perceived that all his works were good.  
Therefore the learned, that each day did name  
In the whole weeks (as I conceive) did aim  
At the great works of God in the creation,  
And so according set the Planets station.  
For, first they set the Sun bright Phoebus height,  
Who is the fountain and the spring of light.  
Also the Pots call him by the name  
Of bright Apollo, whose illustrious fame  
Was very great, he was the son of jove,  
He and Diana (his dear sister) strove  
Within the Matrix of Latona's fair,  
And these two days and nights directors are:  
Apollo for his skill in Poetry,  
Physic and Music and Divinity  
Was honoured as a god by heathen men,  
Such was the ignorance of those times then.  
But why that others call Sol burning hot  
Flaming bright Titan, my weak judgement's not  
Able to show; but sure his mighty power  
His names do show, even every day and hour.  
He governs Princes, and great men of state,  
And is the Planet that's most fortunate.  
He is the days bright eye and heart of heaven,  
For God placed him in midst of Planet seven,  
And in three hundred threescore days and five,  
Doth to the period of h●s race arrive:  
By him we measure out to us and ours,  
Years, ages, seasons, months, days, minutes, hours,  
And therefore well placed in the front of time,  
But I have him eclipsed in this ●ude rhyme.  
Therefore I'll now conclude, lest Phaethon like  
For taking such a task great jove may strike  
Me in his wrath: therefore I'll hast away,  
And speak a little of the Lords blest Day.  
Me thinks, none should make it a scruple, why  
We disagree from Jew's solemnity  
In keeping of the sacred Sabbath Day:  
They're in the old, and we in a new way:  
They have the old Law, and we have the new,  
For state of Christians differs from the Jew.  
Old things are past, and new are come in place,  
Then why should we follow the Jewish race?  
Besides, our Saviour is the Lord of days,  
And therefore for his meritorious praise  
It's very fit he should a day ordain  
His worship and his statutes to maintain:  
For in this world each Prince his subjects draws  
After his lore, for still New Lords new Laws.  
So now new Sacraments, new Heaven, new Earth,  
New Testament, and Sabbath Day sets forth,  
How we do differ from the Levites law,  
But of the moral we still stand in awe.  
We know that shadows now are passed away,  
Because from death their substance risen this day:  
For now the ceremonies of the Jews  
Do cease, yet on this day we always use  
To rest from labour, and vain idle sport.  
And to the Lords House we should oft resort,  
There both to hear God's Word divinely taught  
By learned men, and also as we ought:  
There we should pray, and sing with hearty cheer,  
And not as some do, sleep when they should hear.  
Then after Sermon we should call to mind,  
What good instruction we therein did find,  
Into what parts, what doctrines, and what uses  
Was made thereof, to check the gross abuses  
Of man's frail nature, and the consolation  
Weak man doth need to establish his salvation.  
If I could thus the Lords Day sanctify,  
Delighting thus to hear, sing, pray purely,  
And on the Lord set my whole mind and heart,  
That all this day he might not from me part;  
If I could as the Sun begin to shine,  
From youth to old age in all works divine;  
If I could so distinguish and divide  
Blind errors ways from truths bright paths well tried,  
And well approved of God, and all good men,  
For grace's splendour I might shun the den  
Of utter darkness: then I should be blest,  
And keep a Sabbath in eternal rest.   

Monday, or dies Lunae.  
THe next day after God had made the light,  
He spread heaven's curtains glorios in our sight,  
‛ That Huge broad length, that long broad height profound  
‛ Th'infinite finite, that great moundlesse Mound,  
‛ I mean that Chaos, that selfe-jarring Mass,  
‛ Which in a moment made of nothing was,  
‛ Was the rich matter and the matrix, whence  
‛ The heavens should issue, and the elements.  
‛ Now, th' elements, two twins (two sons, two daughters)  
To wit, the fire, the air, the earth and waters,  
‛ Are not compounded; but of them is all  
‛ Compounded first, that in our sense can fall:  
There's no material substance but doth bear  
Within itself fire, water, earth and air.  
And God to each his place hath well assigned  
According to its nature, breed and kind.  
‛ Earth as the lees, and heaviest dross of all  
‛ (After his kind) did to the bottom fall:  
‛ Contrariwise, the light and nimble fire  
‛ Did through the crannies of th'old heap aspire  
‛ Unto the top; and by his nature, light  
‛ No less than hot, mounted in sparks upright;  
‛ But lest the fire (which all the rest embraces)  
‛ Being too near, should burn the earth to ashes;  
‛ As chosen Umpires, the great All-creator,  
‛ Between these foes placed the air and water:  
‛ For one sufficed not their stern strife to end,  
‛ Water, as cousin did the earth befriend.  
‛ Air, for his kinsman fire, as firmly deals:  
‛ But both uniting their divided zeals,  
‛ took up the matter, and appeased the brawl,  
‛ Which doubtless else had discreated all.  
The air, as modern, and the elder Sages,  
Have fitly parted it into three stages.  
The upper's seated next the fiery vault,  
And by the learned very hot is thought:  
That which we touch with times doth variate,  
Now hot, now cold, and sometimes temperate.  
But middle Region's far from fire set,  
And therefore very cold, and little heat.  
In airy clouds God bottles up the rain,  
Which gratifies the Ploughman's toil and pain:  
The air engenders milk white snow and hail,  
Mist, dew and ice, in season will not fail,  
In divers vapours their effects are strange,  
But in the air they keep a constant range.  
For in the Summer of a several kind  
They do produce Frogs, Toads, and the swift wind,  
Whose whisking besom doth brush clean and sweep  
The cloudy curtains of heaven's stages steep,  
And sometimes they do make the earth to rock,  
To shake and tremble like a weathercock.  
And when I do consider lightnings flash,  
It's rare effects my sense in pieces dash.  
A man was once going out of his door,  
He saw a fire passing him before,  
Which he did follow, to see where 'twould go;  
But he will ne'er trust Ignis fatuus so,  
For he had like so far to lose his way,  
That he could hardly find it the next day.  
When I do sometimes look into the skies,  
Me thinks I see a hundred prodigies,  
Composed of exhalations in the air,  
But the true cause thereof none can declare,  
Though by nice will, and deep conceited strains,  
They give a guess, but 'tis not worth their pains;  
For the great God of heaven sometimes delights  
From top to toe, to alter nature's rites,  
That his strange works to nature contrary  
May be forerunners of some misery:  
Such are the blazing Comets, fiery star,  
That threaten earth with famine, plague and war,  
Three Suns, three Moons at once, green blue gilt bow,  
God's judgements and his mercies forth to show.  
But I almost forget the firmament,  
Although it was the chief of my intent,  
Their number and their nature here to show,  
And how their whirling Orbs about do go.  
Yet of their number many a writer varies,  
Yet most agree, that there a ten round stories.  
In several Orbs they place the Planets seven  
After the fixed Stars and Christ ●●n heaven.  
Lastly, the highest Orb of all the rout  
Is the first mover, which whirls all about.  
But there is none that can relate the solace,  
Or boundless vastness of th'imperial Palace,  
‛ Where life still lives, where God his Assizes holds,  
‛ Environed round with Seraphins and Souls,  
‛ Bought with Christ's precious blood, whose glorious flight  
‛ Yet mounted earth above the heaven's bright.  
Neither do I know rightly how to write  
What wa●ers are above the heaven's bright:  
For I (too bold) will not ask how, or why  
God placed water so exceeding high.  
I must believe it for God's Word doth show,  
Above the heaven's God made waters flow.  
‛ I'll rather give a thousand times the   
To my own reason than but once defy  
‛ The sacred voice of th'everlasting Spirit,  
‛ Which doth so often and so loud aver it;  
Besides, when sinful men did God provoke,  
In Noabs' days these windows he set .  
And by these Seas drowned cattles men and beast.  
In this example I'll sit down and rest.  
So morn and even the second day conclude,  
And God perceived that all his works were good.  
Now, why the Sages when they named this day,  
Called it Lucina's day I cannot sae,  
Except it be because her wax and wain,  
Do cause the waters ebb and flow again.  
Fair Phoebe she of all the Planets bright  
Is most infirm, because she borrows light.  
By Poets she is called Diana chaste,  
Yet sh● her love on fair Endymion cast,  
Constant in love she her swift course doth run  
Throughout the Zode twelve times for once the sun.  
Diana was goddess of chastity,  
And therefore I do see small reason why  
The vulgar should affirm a man on's back,  
Within the Moon should bear a Pedlar's pack.  
Besides, I think no woman could be chaste,  
If that a man within her were well placed.  
Luna doth govern Seamen, Fishers, Hunters,  
 maidens and wise Matrons, whose encounters  
Or unchaste meetings with uncivil men  
Are never used: but my unlearned pen  
Hath so outrun my judgement and my wit,  
The uses of this day I quite forget.  
Besides, amazement and astonishment  
At God's great works, I am by this day bend,  
Advised to learn my waters to divide  
Of charity free from vain glorious pride,  
And to distinguish my repentant tears  
From those for loss of worldly things in fears.  
And as the Moon I borrow all my light  
From God, whose glory in me shineth bright.  
And as the Moon, so I in virtue's race,  
Should still go forward, though dark be my pace.  
And though by frailty I may sometimes fail,  
Yet godly constancy should e'er prevail.   

Tuesday, or dies Martis.  
‛ THis day th'Almighties bounteous Majesty  
‛ (willing t'enfeoffe man this world's Empiry)  
‛ Commanded Neptune strait to marshal forth  
‛ His floods apart, and to unfold the earth,  
‛ And presently the Sea to't self betook,  
‛ Mount after mount, field after field forsook;  
‛ And suddenly in smaller cask did tun  
‛ Her waters, that from every side did tun:  
‛ And hath imprisoned them in bounds of brass,  
‛ Which (to this day) the Ocean dares not pass  
‛ Without his licence, for, th'eternal, knowing  
‛ The Seas commotive and inconstant flowing  
‛ Thus kerbed her; and 'gainst her envious rage  
‛ For ever fenced our flowry-mantled stage:  
‛ So that we often see those rolling hills,  
‛ With roaring noise threatening the neighbour fields,  
‛ Through their own spite to split upon the shore,  
‛ Foaming for fury that they dare no more.  
‛ Also God poured the water on the ground  
‛ In sundry figures; some in fashion round,  
‛ Some squa●e, some cross, some long, some Lozenge-wise,  
‛ Some triangles, some large, some lesser size:  
‛ Amid the floods (by this fair difference)  
 give the world more wealth and excellence.  
‛ And though each of these arms (how large soever)  
To the great Ocean seems a little river:  
‛ Each makes a hundred sundry Seas besides  
‛ (Not sundry in waters, but in names and tides)  
 moisten kindly, by their secret veins,  
‛ The thirsty thickness of the neighbour's plains:  
To Bulwark Nations, and to serve for fences,  
‛ Against th'invasion of Ambitious Princes:  
 bond large kingdoms with eternal limits,  
 further traffic through all earthly Climates,  
' T'abridge long Jorneyes, and with aid of wind,  
‛ Within a month to visit either Ind;  
‛ Most wisely did th'eternal All-creator,  
‛ Dispose these Elements of earth and water,  
‛ For sith th'one could not without drink subsist,  
‛ Nor th'other without stay, bottom and list,  
‛ God intermixed them so, that th'earth her breast  
‛ Opening to th'ocean, th'ocean winding pressed,  
‛ About the earth a thwart, and under it:  
‛ For the world's Centre, both together fit,  
‛ For if their mixed Globe held not certainly,  
‛ Just, the just midst of the world's Axletree,  
‛ All Climates than should not be served aright,  
‛ With equal counterpoise of day and night:  
‛ The Orisons il-leveled circle wide,  
‛ Would sag too much on th'one or th'other side  
' Th' Antipodes, or we, at once should take  
‛ View of more signs then half the Zodiac:  
‛ The Moons Eclipses would not then be certain,  
‛ And settled seasons would be then uncertain.  
‛ This also serveth for probation sound,  
‛ That th'earth and waters mingled Maise is round.  
‛ Round as a Ball; seeing on every side,  
‛ The day and night successively to slide.  
‛ Seas liquid Glass round boweth every where,  
‛ With Sister earth, to make a perfect Sphere.  
‛ And yet this Globe (which we so much admire)  
‛ Seems but a point compared to th'upper Spire,  
‛ Sith the least Star which we perceive to shine,  
‛ Above dispersed in th'Arches Crystalline,  
‛ (If, at the least, starre-Clarkes be credit worth)  
‛ Is eighteen times bigger than all the earth:  
‛ whence, if we but subtract what is possessed,  
‛ (From North to South, and from the east to west)  
‛ what doth remain? Ah! nothing (in respect)  
‛ lo here, O men! wherefore do you neglect,  
‛ heavens glorious kingdom: Lo the largest scope  
‛ Glory can give to your Ambitious hope.  
‛ Lo her's the Guerdon of Man's glorious peines:  
HE needles point, a Mote, a Mint he gains,  
HE Nit, anothing (did he all possess;)  
‛ Or if than nothing any thing be less.  
‛ And certainly it is Gods only power,  
‛ That doth uphold and keep earth's branchy Bower,  
‛ For though it hang in th'air, swim in the water,  
‛ Though every way it be a round Theatre,  
‛ Though all turn round about it, though for ay,  
‛ It's self's foundations with swift, Motions play,  
‛ It rests unmovable: that the holy race,  
‛ Of Adam there may find fit dwelling place.  
‛ The earth receives man, when he is first borne:  
' Th'earth nurse's him; and when he is forlorn,  
‛ Of th'other Elements, and nature loathes him,  
' Th'earth in her bosom with kind burial clothes him.  
‛ Oft hath the air with tempests set upon us.  
‛ Oft hath the water, with her floods undone us,  
‛ Oft hath the fire (th'upper as well as ours)  
‛ With woeful flames consumed our Towns and Towers:  
‛ Only the earth, of all the Elements,  
‛ Unto mankind is kind without offence:  
‛ Only the earth did never jot displace,  
‛ From the first seat assigned it by God's grace:  
‛ When God, whose word more in a moment can,  
‛ Then in an age the proudest strength of Man,  
‛ Had severed the floods, levelled the fields,  
‛ Embast the Aalleys, and embossed the Hills;  
‛ Change, change (quoth he) O fair and firmest Globe,  
‛ Thy mourning weed to a green gallant Robe;  
‛ Cheer thy sad brows, and stately garnish them,  
‛ With a rich fragrant, flowery diadem;  
‛ Lay forth thy locks, and paint thee (Lady like)  
‛ With freshest calours on thy sallow Cheek;  
‛ That air, and water, and the Angel's court,  
‛ May all seem jealous of thy praise and port.  
‛ No sooner spoken, but the lofty Pine,  
‛ Distilling-pitch, the Larch yield Turpentine,  
‛ Th'ever-green Box, the Gummy Cedar sprout,  
‛ And th' Airy Monntaines' mantle all about:  
‛ The Mast full Oak, the useful Ash, the Holm  
‛ Coat changing Cork, white Maple, shady Elm,  
‛ Through hill and dale ranged their plumed ranks,  
‛ The winding Rivers bordered all their Banks,  
‛ With flice-sea Aldars, and green Osiers small,  
‛ With trembling Poplars, and with Willows pale;  
‛ And many Trees beside, fit to be made  
‛ Fuel, or Timber, or to serve for shade,  
‛ The dainty Apricock (of Plums the Prince)  
‛ The velvet Peach, gilt Orange, downy Quince,  
‛ Already bear graven in their tender Barks,  
‛ Gods powerful Providence in open marks;  
‛ The sweet-sent Apple, and astringent Pear,  
‛ The Ch●rry, Filbert, Walnut, Meddeler,  
‛ The Milky Fig, the Damson black and white,  
‛ The Date, and Olive, aiding Appetite  
‛ Spread  a most enlightfull spring,  
‛ And  a very Eden bring I  
‛ Here, the fine Pepper, as in clusters hung:  
‛ There Sinemon and other Spices sprung;  
‛ Here, dangled Nutmags, that for thrifty pains,  
‛ Yearly repay the Bandons wondrous gains;  
‛ There grows (th' Hesperian Plant) the precious Read.  
‛ Whence Sugar Syrups in abundance bleed;  
‛ There weeps the Balm, and famous Trees, from whence,  
' Th' Arabians fetch perfuming Frankincense:  
‛ There, th'amorous Vine calls in a thousand sorts,  
‛ (With winding Arms) her spouse that her supports:  
‛ Hear for our food, Millions of flowery grains,  
‛ With long moustaches, wave upon the plains;  
‛ Here thousand fleeces, fit for Prince's Robes,  
‛ In Se'rean forests hang in silken Globes:  
‛ Here shrubs of Malta (for my meaner use)  
‛ The fine white Balls of Bombace do produce;  
‛ Hear th'azure-flowered Flax is finely spun  
‛ For finest Linen, by the Belgian Nun:  
‛ Hear fatal Hemp, which Denmark doth afford,  
‛ Doth furnish us with Canvasse, and with Cord,  
‛ Cables and Sails; that, winds assisting either,  
‛ We may acquaint the East and West together,  
‛ And dryfoot dance on Neptune's watery front,  
‛ And in adventure lead whole Towns upon it,  
‛ Never mine eyes in pleasant springs behold,  
' Th'azure Flax, the gilded Marigold,  
‛ The Violets purple, the sweet Roses stammel,  
‛ The Lillye's snow, and Panseye's various Enamel,  
‛ But that (in them) the Painter I admire,  
‛ Who in more colours doth the fields attire,  
‛ Than fresh Aurora's rosey Cheeks display,  
‛ When in the East she ushers a fair day.  
‛ God not content to have made these plants ours,  
‛ Precious perfumes, fruits, plenty, pleasant flowers  
‛ Infused Physic in their leaves and Moors,  
 cure our sickness, and to salve our sores.  
‛ Blue succ'ry, hanged on the naked Neck,  
‛ dispels the dimness that our sight doth check.  
‛ About an Infant's neck hang Peony,  
‛ It cures Alcides cruel malady.  
‛ If fuming bowls of Bacchus, in excess,  
‛ Trouble thy brains with storms of giddiness;  
‛ Put but a Garland of green Saffron on,  
‛ And that mad humour will be quickly gone;  
' Th'inchanting charms of Siren's blandishments  
‛ Contagious Aire-ingendring Pestilence,  
‛ Infect not those that in their mouths have ta'en  
‛ Angelica that happy counter-baen,  
‛ Sent down from heaven by some Celestial scout,  
‛ As well the name and nature doth avow'c;  
‛ So Pimpernell held in the patient's hand,  
‛ The bloody Flix doth presently withstand:  
‛ And to conclude, whether I walk the fields,  
‛ Rush through the woods, or clamber up the hills,  
‛ I find God : thence all depend,  
‛ He giveth frankly, what we thankly spend.  
‛ But th'earth not only on her back doth bear,  
‛ Abundant Treasures glistering every where,  
‛ But inwardly she's no less fraught with riches,  
‛ Nay rather more (which more our Souls bewitches)  
‛ Within the drepe folds of her fruitful lap,  
‛ Such boundless mines of treasure she doth wrap,  
‛ That th'hungry hands of humane Avarice  
‛ Cannot exhaust with labour or device;  
‛ For, they be more than there be stars in heaven,  
‛ Or stormy billows in the Ocean driven,  
‛ Or ears of corn in Autumn on the fields,  
‛ Or Savage Beasts upon a thousand Hills,  
‛ Or Fish's diving in the silver floods,  
‛ Or scattered Leaves in winter in the woods.  
‛ Slate, jet and Marble shall escape my Pen,  
‛ I overpasse the Salt-mount Oromene:  
‛ I blanche the Brine-quar hill in Arragon,  
‛ Whence (there) they powder their provision.  
‛ I'll only now embosse my Book with Brass,  
‛ Died with Vermilion, decked with Coperasse.  
‛ With Gold and Silver, Led and Mercury,  
‛ Tin, Iron, Orpine, Stibium, lethargy;  
‛ And on my Gold work I will only place  
‛ The Crystal pure, which ●oth reflect each face;  
‛ The precious Ruby, of a sanguine hue,  
‛ The seal-fit Onyx, and the Saphire bl●w,  
‛ The Cassidonie, full of circles round,  
‛ The tender Topza, and rich Diamond,  
‛ The various Opal, and green Emerald,  
‛ The Agath by a thousand titles called,  
‛ The skie-like Turqisez, purple Amethists,  
‛ And fiery Carbuncle, which flames resists.  
‛ But, shall I balk th'admired Adamant?  
‛ Whose dead-live power, my reason's power doth daunt,  
‛ Renowned Loadstone, which on I●on acts,  
‛ And by the touch the same a loft attracts;  
‛ Attracts it strangely with unclasping crooks,  
‛ With unknown Cords, and unconceived hooks,  
‛ With unseen hands, with undiscerned Arms,  
‛ With hidden force, with sacred secret charms,  
‛ Wherewith he woes his Iron Misteresse  
‛ And never leaves her till he get a kiss;  
‛ Nay till he fold her in his faithful bosom,  
‛ Never to part (except we, love-lesse loos'em)  
‛ With so firm zeal and fast affection,  
‛ The stone doth love the steel, the steel the stone;  
‛ And though sometime, some make bate come betwixt,  
‛ Still burns their first flame; 'tis so surely fixed:  
‛ And while they cannot meet to break their minds,  
‛ With mutual skips, they show their love by signs,  
‛ (As bashful suitors seeing strangers by  
‛ Parley in silence with their hand or eye.)  
‛ Nor is th'earth only worthy praise eternal,  
‛ For the rare Riches on her back external,  
‛ Or in her bosom: but her own self's worth,  
‛ Solicits me to sound her praises forth.  
‛ All-hail fair earth, bearer of Towns and Towers,  
‛ Of men, Gold, Graine, Physic, and fruits and flowers,  
‛ Fair, firm, and fruitful, various, patiented, sweet,  
‛ Sumptuously clothed in mantle meet,  
‛ Of mingled-colours; laced about with stoods;  
‛ And all imbrod'red with fresh blooming buds,  
‛ With rarest Gems richly about embossed,  
‛ Excelling cunning, and exceeding cost:  
‛ All-haile great heart, round base, and steadfast Root,  
‛ Of all the world, the world's strong fixed foot,  
‛ heavens chastest spouse, supporter of this All,  
‛ This glorious buildings goodly Pedestal.  
‛ All-haile dear mother, Sister, hostess, Nurse,  
‛ Of the world's Sovereign: Of thy liberal purse,  
‛ weare all maintained, matchless Empress;  
 do thee service with all readiness.  
‛ The Spheres, before thee bear ten thousand Torches:  
‛ The fire, to warm thee, folds his heatfull arches,  
‛ In purest flames about the floating cloud:  
' Th' air to refresh thee, willingly is bowed  
‛ About the waves, and well content to suffer,  
‛ Mild Zephyrs blasts, and Boreas bellowing rougher,  
‛ Water, to quench thy thirst, about the mountains,  
‛ Wraps her moist arms, Seas, Rivers, lakes and fountains.  
‛ So Morn and Evening the third day conclude;  
‛ And God perceived that all his works were good.  
But by this writing I declare my Birth,  
How like a Mole I do delight in earth.  
Therefore I'll leave this Trash and haste away,  
And show how furious Marr doth rule this day,  
Yet it is strange: for he is God of war,  
Discord, dissension, and delights to jar.  
He governs Knights, Captains, and bloody Soldiers,  
Alchemists, Surgeons, he rules all disorders,  
In Butchers, Sergeants, Hangmen, the stout thief,  
Who many times heaps the poor true man grief.  
And all this day I writ no harm to be  
In fields, in woods, in hills that I could see.  
But 'tis to show how vainly men do use,  
God's creatures good, and how they do abuse.  
Iron and steel they make to kill and slay,  
Herbs, metals, earth cast many men away.  
When dull Physicians void of learned Notions  
For greedy gain make poisoned salves and potions;  
And for gold's lustre many do not fear,  
To lose their limbs, and last the halter were,  
 pick a lock, to take their neighbour's purse,  
 break a house, or to do something worse,  
 cut his Parent's Throat, to kill his Prince,  
 spoil his Country, murder innocents';  
‛ Even so profaning of a gift divine,  
The drunkard drowns his Reason in the wine;  
‛ So fale-tongued Lawyers, wresting Eloquence,  
NONE' Excuse rich wrong, and cast poor innocence,  
‛ So Antichrists, their poison to infuse,  
‛ Mis-cite the Scriptures, and God's name abuse:  
‛ For as a Cask, for want of use grown fusty,  
‛ Makes with his stink the best Greek Malmsey musty,  
‛ So Gods best Gifts, usurped by wicked ones,  
 poison turn through their contagions.  
'Tis not these creatures, but 'tis man's amiss,  
‛ Hath made Sin mount unto the hight it is:  
‛ But, as the sweet bait of abundant riches,  
‛ Bodies and Souls of greedy men bewitches:  
‛ Gold gilds the virtuous, and it lends them wings,  
 raise their thoughts unto the raiest things.  
‛ The wise not only Iron well apply,  
‛ For household turns, and tools of husbandry;  
‛ But to defend their Country (when it calls)  
‛ From foreign dangers, and intestine bralls.  
‛ Brave-minded Mars, (yet master of misorder,  
‛ Delighting nought but Battles, blood, and murder)  
‛ His furious coursers lasheth night and day,  
‛ That he may swiftly pass his course away,  
‛ But in the road of his eternal race,  
‛ So many rubs hinder his hasty pace,  
‛ That thrice the while the lively Lyquor-God.  
‛ With dabbling heels, hath swelling clusters trod,  
‛ And thrice hath Ceres' shav'n he● amber Treffe,  
‛ E'er his steel wheels have done their business.  
Oh Lord, I pray, grant I may make such use,  
Of all thy creatures without base abuse,  
That I with temperance may take and eat  
Wheat, herbs, and fruit which are delicious meat,  
And that the love of wine may near intox,  
My head and mind to make me catch the Fox:  
And though (like Mars) many do me oppose,  
For men and devils may become my foes,  
Grant me such courage I may never fear  
Any but thee and still move in thy Sphere,  
That having lived on earth Godly and well,  
I may with thee in heaven for ever dwell.   

Wednesday or Die Mercurii.  
GOd having now the World's wide curtain spread  
About the Circuit of the fruitful Bed;  
‛ Where (to fill all with her unnumbered kin)  
‛ Kind natures self each Moment lieth in:  
 make the same for ever admirable,  
‛ More stately-pleasant, and more profitable:  
‛ He th' Azure Tester trimmed with Golden works,  
‛ And richly spangled with bright glistering Sparks.  
‛ He that to number all the Stars would seek.  
‛ Had need invent some new Arithmetic;  
‛ And who, to cast that reckoning takes in hand,  
‛ Had need for counters take the Ocean's sand:  
‛ Yet have our wise and learned Elders found  
‛ Foure-dozen Figures in the heavenly Round.  
‛ For aid of memory; and to our eyes,  
‛ In certain Houses to divide the skies,  
‛ Of those are twelve in that rich Girdle grift  
‛ Which God gave Nature for her New-yeares-Gift,  
‛ (When making all, his voice Almighty most,  
‛ Gave so fair Laws unto heaven's shining host)  
 wear it biar, buckled overthwart her  
‛ Not round about her swelling waste, to gird her.  
‛ This glorious Baldric of a Golden tindge,  
‛ Embossed with Rubies, edged with Silver fringe,  
‛ Buckled with Gold; with a Bond glistering bright,  
‛ heavens biaz-wife environs day and night,  
‛ For from the period, Where the Ram doth bring  
‛ The day and night to equal balancing,  
‛ Ninety degrees towards the North it wends,  
‛ Thence just as much toward Mid-heav'n it bonds,  
‛ As many thence toward the South, and thence  
‛ Toward th'years Portall, the like difference.  
‛ Nephelian Crook horn with brass Cornets crowned,  
‛ Thou buttest bravely 'gainst the New-year's bound;  
‛ And richly clad in thy fa●re Golden fleece,  
‛ Dost hold the first house of heavens spacious Meese.  
‛ Thou spiest anon the Bill behind thy back:  
‛ Who lest that fodder by the way he lack,  
‛ Seeing the world so naked, to renewed,  
‛ Coats th'infant earth in a green gallant suit;  
‛ And without Plough or Yoke, doth freely fling  
‛ Through fragrant pastures of the flowery spring  
‛ The Twins, whose heads, Arms, shoulders, knees and feet,  
‛ God filled with Stars to shine in season sweet,  
‛ Contend in course, who first the Bull should catch,  
‛ That neither will nor may attend their match.  
‛ Then Summers guide, the Crab comes rowing soft,  
‛ With his eight Oars through the heaven's azure loft;  
 bring us yearly, in his starry shell,  
‛ Many long days the shaggy earth to swell,  
Almost with like pace leaps the Lion out,  
All clad with flames, bristled with beams about;  
Who with contagion of his burning breath,  
Both Grass and grain to cinders withereth.  
The Virgin next, sweeping heaven's ature Globe,  
With stately train of her bright Golden robe,  
Mild-proudly marching in her left hand brings  
A sheaf of Corn, and in her right hand wings.  
After the Maiden, shines the Balance bright,  
Equal divider of the day and night:  
In whose gold beam, with three Gold rings, there fastens  
With six Gold strings, a pair of Golden basins.  
The spiteful Scorpion next the Shalt addressed,  
With two bright Lamps covers his loathsome breast;  
And fain, from both ends, with his double sting,  
Would spit his venom over every thing;  
But that the brave Halfe-horse Phylirean scout,  
Galloping swift the heavenly Belt about,  
Ay fiercely threats, with his flame-fethered arrow,  
To shoot the sparkling starry viper through.  
And th' hoary Centaur, during all his race,  
Is so attentive to this only chase,  
That dreadless of his dart, heaven's shining Kid  
Comes jumping light, just at his heels unspid.  
Mean while the Skinker, from his starry spout,  
After the Goat, a silver stream pours-out;  
Distilling still out of his radiant fire  
Rivers of water (who but will admire?  
In whose clear channel might at pleasure swim,  
Those two bright Fishes that do follow him;  
But that the Torrent slides so swift away,  
That it outruns them ever, even as they  
Outrun the Ram, who ever them pursues,  
And by returning yearly, all renews.  
Besides these twelve, towards the Arctic side,  
A flaming Dragon, doth two-Beares divide;  
After the Wainman comes, the Crown, the Spear,  
The kneeling Youth, the Harp, the Hamperer  
Of th' hateful Snake (whether we call the same  
By Esculapius, or Alcides' name)  
Swift Pegasus, the Dolphin, loving man;  
Ioves stately Eagle, and the silver Swan:  
Andromeda, with Cassiopea neere-her,  
Her Father Cepheus, and her Perseus dearer,  
The shining Triangles Medusa's Tress,  
And the bright Coachman of Tindarides.  
Toward th'other Pole, Orion, Eridanus,  
The Whale, the whelp, and hot breathed Sirius,  
The Hare, the Hulk, the Hydra and the Bowl,  
The Centaur, Wolf, the Censer, and the foul,  
(The twice foul Raven) the Southern Fish and Crown,  
Through heaven's bright Arches brandish up and down.  
Thus on this day working th' eight azure tent  
With Artless Art, Divinely excellent;  
Th' Almighty's fingers fixed many a million,  
Of Golden Scutcheons in that rich Pavilion:  
But, in the rest (under that glorious heaven)  
But one a piece, unto the several seven,  
Lest, of these lamps the number-passing number  
Should mortal eyes with such confusion cumber,  
That we should never, in the clearest night,  
Stars divers course see or discern aright:  
And therefore also, all the fixed Tapers,  
He made to twinkle with such trembling Capers;  
But, the seven lights that wander under them  
Through various passage, never shake a beam.  
Or, He (perhaps) made them not different;  
But th'host of Sparks spread in the Firmament,  
Far from our sense, through distance infinite,  
Seems but to twinkle, to our twinkling sight,  
Whereas the rest, nearer a thousand fold,  
To th' earth and Sea, we do more brim behold.  
For, the heavens are not mixedly interlaced;  
But th'undermost by th'upper be embraced.  
And more or less the rundels wider are,  
As from the Centre they be near or far,  
As in an Egg, the shell includes the skin,  
The skin the white, the white the Yolk within,  
Now like as in a Clock that is well tended,  
Just counterpoise, Justly thereon suspended,  
Makes the great wheel go round, and that anon  
Turns with his turning many a meaner one,  
The trembling watch & th'Iron Maule that chimes,  
The entire day in twice twelve equal times:  
So the grand heaven, in four and twenty hours,  
Surveying all this various house of ours,  
With his quick motion all the Spheres doth move,  
Whose radiant glances gild the world above,  
And drives them every day (which swiftness strange is)  
From Gange, to Tagus, and from Tag to Ganges.  
But th'under-O●bes, as grudging to be still,  
So straight subject to another's will,  
Still without change, still at another's pleasure,  
After one Pipe to dance one only measure;  
They from-ward turn, and traversing aside,  
Each by himself an obliqne course doth slide:  
So that they all (although it seem not so)  
Forward and backward in one instant go,  
Both up and down, and with contrary paces,  
At once they post to two contrary places.  
But now the nearer any of these eight,  
Approach th' Imperial Palace walls in height,  
The more their circuit, and more days they spend,  
Ere they return unto their Jorneyes end.  
It's therefore thought, that sumptuous Canopye,  
The which th'unnigard hand of Majesty,  
Powdered so thick with shields so shining clear,  
Spends in his voyage nigh seven thousand year.  
Then follow Saturn●, jupiter, and Mars,  
Divine Apollo, Venus' bright Cars.  
So swiftly follows, whose doves go not far  
From splendent Phoebus' glory beaming Car:  
Then witty Mercury and Luna last  
In her Career, doth make a monthly haste.  
Now, should I write how the Latonian twins  
The year, the month, the week and day gins.  
First how the sun about the world rides ay,  
How all do live by virtue of his Ray:  
How, even as man (the little world of Cares)  
Within the middle of his body, bears  
His heart (the spring of life) which with proportion  
Supplieth spirits to all, and every Portion.  
Even so the Sun his Golden Chariot Marches  
Amid the six lamps of the six low Arches,  
Which seal the world, that equally it might  
Richly impart them beauty, force and light;  
Six heavenly Princes mounted evermore  
Wait on Sols Coach, three behind. three before,  
Besides the hosts of th'upper twincklers bright,  
To whom for pay, he giveth only light:  
And how he cheereth every living thing  
With light and heat, but my muse days not sing  
His honoured praises, for I'm like the moon,  
In borrowing light from a diviner Sun.  
Therefore I'll veil my front under his shine,  
Lest I eclipse him by this work of mine.  
So m●rn and Evening the fourth day conclude.  
And God perceived that all his works were good,  
Why this is called the day of Mercury,  
(Who is of Eloquence and Memory,  
The God by Poet called, and rules the Muses,  
Merchants and each one that the Pen oft uses,  
Ambassadors, the Prince's humour pleaser,  
To end his course takes near a twelve month's leisure.  
For all the while his nimble winged heels  
Dare little budge from Phoebus' golden wheels.  
he's feigned to have wings on Arms and feet,  
To show his speed (for message he is meet)  
I cannot tell except it be to show  
How swift the motion of the Planets go,  
How by the force of the first moving heaven  
With speedy hast their flaming Cars are driven:  
Now as that grand heaven by his powerful force,  
Doth move the under nine in their swift course:  
So of myself, I know I cannot move  
To any good. It is the Lord above,  
That drives me forward in the way of Grace,  
That in bright Glory I may have a place,  
There to remain, even as a glorious star,  
Which happy Bliss doth pass man's reason far.   

Thursday or Dies jovis.  

IN vain had God stored heaven with glistering studs,  
The Plain with grain, the mountain tops with woods,  
Severed the air from fire, the earth from water.  
Had he not soon peopled this large Theatre  
With living Creatures: therefore he began  
(This Day) to quicken in the Ocean  
In standing Pools, and in the straggling Rivers,  
(whose folding Channel fertile Champion fevers)  
So many Fishes of so many features,  
That in the waters one may see all creatures,  
And all that in this, All is to be found;  
As if the world within the deeps were drowned,  
Seas have (as well as Skies) Sun, Moon, and stars:  
(As well as air) Swallows, and Rooks, and stairs  
As well as earth, Vines, Roses, Nettles, Millions,  
Pinks, Gillyflowers, Mushrooms, & many millions  
Of other Plants (more rare and strange than these)  
As very Fishes living in the Seas:  
And also Rams, Calves, Horses, Hares, and Hogs,  
Wolves, Lions, Urchins, Elephants, and Dogs,  
Yea men and maids: and (which I more admire)  
The Mitred Bishop, and the cowled Friar:  
whereof example (but a few years since)  
Were shown the Norway's, and Polonian Prince.  
As a rare Painter draws (for pleasure) here  
A sweet Adonis, a soul Satire there:  
Here a huge Cyclops, there a Pigmy Elf:  
Sometimes no less busying his skilful self;  
Upon some ugly Monster (seldom seen)  
Then on the Picture of fair beauty's Queen,  
Even so the Lord, that, in his works variety,  
We might the more admire his powerful deity;  
And that we might discern by different features,  
The various kinds of the vast Ocean's Creatures;  
Forming this mighty frame, he every kind,  
With divers and peculiar Signets signed.  
Some have their heads grovelling betwixt their feet,  
(As th'inky Cuttles and the many-feets:)  
Some in their breast (as Crabs) some headless are,  
Foot less and Fin-lesse (as the baneful Hare,  
And heatfull Oyster) in a heap confused,  
Their parts unparted, in themselves diffused.  
Then for their bulk, the Ork, Whirlpool and Whale  
In greatness pass the largest ships that sail.  
Me thinks I see the Dolphin swiftly pass,  
And the rare Tortoise whose shell seems as brass,  
Which th' Arabiàn makes in stead to stand,  
For hulk at Sea, and for a house on Land.  
The dainty Salmon, Chevins thunder-sca●'d,  
Feast-famous Sturgeons, Lampreyes' speckle-starred,  
Th' adulterous Sar●us, and the loving Mullet,  
The baneful Crampfish, which when in her Gullet,  
¶ She hath received the sharp deceitful hook.  
‛ Suddenly spews into the silver brook  
‛ Her secret-spreading, sudden-speeding bane;  
‛ Which, up the line, and all along the cane,  
‛ Creeps to the hand of th' Angler; who withal  
‛ Benumbed and senseless, suddenly lets fall  
‛ His hurtful pole, and his more hateful price,  
‛ In a deep sleep upon the ground he lies.  
HE firmer league of friendship is not seen,  
‛ Than is the Pearle-fish and the Prawn between;  
‛ Both have but one repast, both but one palace,  
‛ But one delight, death, sorrow, and one solace:  
‛ That lodgeth this, and this remunerates  
‛ His Landlords kindness, with all needful cates.  
‛ For while the Pearle-fish gaping wide doth glister,  
‛ Much fry (allured with the bright silver lustre,  
‛ Of her rich casket) flocks into the Nacre;  
‛ Then with a prick the Prawne a sign doth make her.  
‛ That instantly her shining shell she'll close,  
‛ (Because the prey worthy their pain he knows)  
‛ Which gladly done, she ev'nly shareth out  
‛ The prey betwixt her, and her faithful scout:  
‛ And so the Sponge-spie, warily awakes  
‛ the Sponges dull sense, when repast it takes.   

But why do I thus search in Thetis lap  
For fishes kind, when I am far unapt  
To imitate their virtuous quality:  
Therefore into the air I mean to fly,  
And there I see the only phoenix fly,  
So fair a creature dazzled hath mine eye:  
‛ Such form, such feathers, and such fate God gave her,  
‛ That fruitful Nature breedeth nothing braver:  
‛ Two sparkling eyes; upon her crown a crest  
‛ Of starry sprigs (more splendent than the rest)  
HE golden down about her dainty neck,  
‛ Her breast deep purple, and a scarlet back,  
‛ Her wings and train of feathers (mixed fine)  
‛ Of orient azure and incarnadine.  
‛ He did appoint her fate to be her Fere,  
‛ And death's cold kiffes to restore her here,  
‛ Her life again, which never shall expire,  
‛ Until (as she) the world consume with fire.  
‛ For she becomes out of a sacred fire,  
‛ Her own self's heir, Nurse, Nursling, Dam and Sire,  
‛ Teaching us all in Adam here to die,  
‛ That we in Christ may live eternally.   

‛ Next her the Swallow sweepeth to and fro,  
‛ As swift as shafts fly from a Turkish bow,  
‛ When (use and art, and strength confedered)  
‛ The skilful Archer draws unto the head:  
‛ Flying she sings, and singing seeketh every where.  
‛ She more with cunning, then with cost may rear  
‛ Her round-fiont palace in a place secure,  
‛ Whose plot may serve in rarest Arch'tecture.  
‛ The pretty Lark climbing the welkin clear,  
‛ Chants with a cheer, here peer I near my dear;  
‛ Then stooping thence (seeming her fall to rue)  
‛ Adieu (she saith) dieu dear dear adieu.  
‛ Th● Sp●●ke, the Linot, and the Goldfinch fill  
‛ All the fresh air with their sweet warbles shrill.  
‛ But these are nothing to the Nightingale.  
‛ Breathing so sweetly from a breast so small,  
‛ So many tunes, whose harmony excels,  
Our voice, our vials and all music else.   

‛ The Stork, still eyeing her dear Thessaly,  
‛ The Pelican consorteth cheerfully.  
‛ Praiseworthy pair, which pure examples yield  
‛ Of faithful father and officious child:  
' Th'one quites (in time) her Parents love exceeding,  
‛ From whom she had her birth and tender breeding  
‛ Not only brooding under her warm breast  
‛ Their age-chilled bodies bedrid in the nest;  
‛ Nor only bearing them upon her back  
‛ Through th'empty air, when their own wings they lack,  
‛ But also, sparing (this let children note)  
‛ Her daintiest food from her own hungry throat,  
 feed at home her feeble parents, held  
‛ From foraging, with heavy gives of eld.   

‛ The other kindly for her tender brood  
‛ Tears out her bowels, trilleth out her blood  
 heal her young, and in a wondrous sort  
‛ Unto her children doth her life transport:  
‛ For finding them by some fell Serpent slain,  
‛ She rends her breast, and doth upon them rain  
‛ Her vital humour; whence recovering heat,  
‛ They by her death, another life do get:  
HE type of Christ, who sin-thralled man to free,  
‛ Became a captive, and on shameful tree  
‛ (Selfe-guiltlesse) shed his blood, by's wounds to save us,  
‛ And salve the wounds th'old Serpent firstly gave us,  
‛ And so became, of mere immortal, mortal,  
‛ Thereby to make frail mortal man, immortal,  
‛ There's the fine Pheasant, and the Partridge rare,  
‛ The lustful Sparrow, and the fruitful Stare.  
‛ The lustful Sparrow, and the fruitful Stare.  
‛ The chattering Py, the chastest Turtle-Dove,  
‛ The grezell Quoist, the Thrush that grapes doth love)  
‛ The little Gnatsnap (worthy Prince's boards)  
‛ And the green Parrot feigner of our words.   

‛ The ravening Kite, whose train doth well supply  
HE rudders place, the Falcon mounting high,  
‛ The Mar'in, Lanar, and the gentle Tercell  
' Th' Ospray and Saker with a nimble sarcel  
‛ Fellow the Phoenix, from the clouds (almost)  
‛ At once discovering many an unknown coast.  
‛ In the swift rank of these fell rovers, fly's  
‛ The Indian Grissin with the glistering eyes,  
‛ Beak Eaglelike, bacl sable, sanguine breast,  
‛ White (Swanlike) wings, fierce talons, always pressed  
‛ For bloody battles; for with these he tears  
‛ Boars, Lions, Horses, Tigers, Bulls and Bears.  
The fear of him hath made me quite forget  
Night Birds and Water, Fowls, and I as yet  
Have writ nothing of Peacock's stalking grave,  
Nor mighty Ostrich, nor the Eagle brave,  
Nor thousands more of famous Birds that be  
Within the air never descried by me:  
For hitherto, what I have boldly writ  
Is all but borrowed from more learned wit.  
But this I do acknowledge is mine own,  
To fit the Planets, and to make it known  
Wherefore they govern every day i'th' week:  
But on this day I'm most of all to seek.  
Why jupiter should bear such rule and sway,  
To move the Sages place him on this day,  
For he was Saturn's lofty son and heir,  
And as a Planet in his high career.  
His Tinnen Chariot shod with burning bosses  
Through twice six signs in twice six twelve month's crosses.  
He rules o'er Princes, Preachers, Bishops, Priests,  
Judges, and those that in deep Council sits.  
But as he is a God of th'air and sky,  
Therefore I think over the birds that fly,  
Our elders placed him on this day, and so  
Because his brother Neptune doth not go  
Among the number of the wand'ring seven,  
He hath the power of fishes to him given.  
Now will I praise the Lord for all the good  
Nourishment we receive from th'air and flood,  
From fowls of th'air and fishes of the Sea,  
Whose copious choice and number end leffe be.  
Yet with such food our corpse are daily fed,  
And on our tables plentifully spread.  
And I will pray to God, that I may learn,  
From fish and fowls that I in them discern:  
For some are precedents of love and piety,  
Others of prudence, and of grave sobriety.   

And lastly, I admire God's wondrous power,  
In peopling this most vast and fearful bower,  
With such variety of sundry creatures,  
Of admirable kind, and dainty features.   

O Lord, I pray, grant I may ever sing  
Thy praise, like warbling birds in welcome Spring,  
And that in waters of thy Word I may  
Delight as fish to swim there night and day,  
And there to learn such knowledge of thy grace,  
That I in glory may find resting place:  
Where I shall sing a song among the blessed,  
And live with God in a perpetual rest.    

Friday, or dies Venery.  

‛ HAving the last day ventured forth so far,  
‛ On Neptune's back (through winds and waters war)  
‛ I'll row this stroke, the harbour to recover,  
‛ Whose shores already my glad eyes discover.  
‛ Of all the beasts that this day God did build  
 haunt the hills, the forest and the fields:  
‛ I see (as Viceroy of their brutish bend)  
‛ The Elephant the Vanguard doth command,  
‛ Worthy that office; whether we regard  
‛ His towered back where many soldier's ward,  
‛ Or else his prudence, where withal he seems  
‛ Tobscure the wits of human-kinde some times.   

‛ Near the Elephant comes th'horned Hirable,  
‛ Stream-troubling Camel, and strong necked Bull,  
‛ The lazy-paced (yet laborious) Ass,  
‛ The quick proud Courser, which the rest doth pass  
‛ For apt address; Mars and his Master loving,  
‛ After his hand, with ready lightness moving,  
‛ When out of hand, will self advance, and bound,  
‛ Corvet, pace, manage, turn, and troth the round.   

‛ In a fresh troop, the fearful Hare I note,  
‛ The oblivious Coney and the brouzing Goat,  
‛ The slothful Swine, the golden fleeced sheep,  
‛ The lightfoot Hart, that every year doth weep.   

‛ But, of all beasts, none steadeth man so much  
‛ As doth the Dog; his diligence is such:  
HE faithful guard, a wachfull sentinel,  
HE painful purvey'r, that with perfect smell  
‛ Prov des great Princes many a dainty mess,  
HE friend till death, a helper in distress,  
‛ Dread of the Wolf, fear of the fearful thief,  
‛ Fierce combatant, and of all hunter's chief.  
‛ There skips the Squirrel, seeming weatherwise.  
‛ Without beholding of heaven's twinkling eyes;  
‛ For, knowing well which way the wind will change,  
‛ He shifts the portal of his little grange.  
‛ There's the wanton Weazel, and the wily Fox,  
‛ The witty Monkey that man's actions mocks.  
‛ The sweat sweet Civet, dear fetched from far,  
‛ For Courtiers nice, past Indian Tarnassar,  
‛ There the wife Bever, who pursued By foes,  
‛ Fears off his coolings, and among them throws;  
‛ Knowing the hunters, on the Pontik heath,  
‛ Do more desire that ransom, than his death:  
‛ There, the rough Hedgebog, who to shun his thrall,  
‛ Shrinks up himself as round as any ball;  
‛ And fastening his slow feet under his chin,  
‛ On's thistly brisles, rowles him quickly in:  
‛ But th'eye of heaven beholdeth nought more strange  
‛ Than the Chameleon, who with various change  
‛ Receives the colour that each object gives,  
‛ And (foodless else) of th'air alonely lives.   

‛ Oh! who is he that would not be astounded,  
 be (as I am) here environed round  
‛ With cruelest creatures, which for mastery  
‛ Have vowed against us endless enmity?  
‛ Phoebus would faint, Alcides' self would dread,  
‛ Although the first dread Python conquered,  
‛ And th'other vanquished th' Erymanthian Boar,  
‛ The Nemean Lion and a many more.  
‛ What strength of arm, or artful stratagem  
‛ From Nile's fell rover could deliver them,  
‛ Who runs and towes, warring by land and water  
'Gainst men and fishes, subject to his slaughter:  
‛ Or from that furious Dragon, which alone  
‛ set on a Roman army; whereupon  
‛ Stout Regulus as many engines spent,  
‛ As to the ground would Car●hage walls have rend.  
‛ What shot free Corslet, or what counsel crafty,  
'Gainst th' angry aspic could aslure them safety.  
‛ Who (saithful husband) over hill and plain  
‛ Pursues the man that his dear Pheet hath slain;  
‛ Whom he can find amid the thickest throng,  
‛ And in an instant venge him of his wrong.  
‛ What shield of Ajax could avoid their death  
‛ By th' Basilisk, whose pestilen●iall breath  
‛ Doth pierce firm Marble, and whose baneful eye  
‛ Wounds with a glance, so that the soundest dye.  
‛ From Serpents scaped, yet am I scarce in safety:  
‛ Alas! I see a Legion fierce and lofty  
‛ Of Savages, whose fleet and furious pace,  
‛ Whose horrid roaring, and whose hideous face  
‛ Make my senso senseless, and my speech restrain,  
‛ And cast me in my former fears again.  
‛ Already howls the wasteful Wolf, the Boar  
‛ Whets foamy fangs, the hungry Bear doth roar,  
‛ The Cat-faced Ounce, that doth me much dismay,  
‛ With grumbling horror threatens my decay;  
‛ The light foot Tiger, spotted Leopard,  
‛ Foaming with fury do besiege me hard;  
‛ Then th' Unicorn, th' Hyena tearing-tombs,  
‛ Swift Mantichoes, and Nubian Cephus comes;  
‛ Of which last three, each hath (as here they stand)  
‛ Man's voice, man's visage, manlike foot and hand.  
‛ I fear the beast bred in the bloody coast  
‛ Of Cannibals, which thousand times (almost)  
‛ Re-whelps her whelps, and in her tender womb  
‛ She doth as oft her living brood retomb;  
‛ Then th'monstrous Porcupine there bids me battle,  
‛ On whose rough back an host of pikes doth rattle.  
‛ But (courage now) here comes the valiant beast  
‛ The noble Lion, King of all the rest;  
‛ Who bravely minded, is as mild to those  
‛ That yield to him, as fierce unto his foes:  
 humble Suitors neither stern nor stateful;  
 benefactors never found ingrateful:   

‛ There's under Sun (as Delphos God did show)  
‛ No better knowledge, that ourselves to know:  
‛ There is no theme more plentiful to scan  
‛ Than is the glorious goodly frame of man.  
‛ For in man's self is fire, air earth, and Sea;  
‛ Man's (in a word) the world's Epitome  
‛ Or little map: which here my Muse would try  
‛ By the grand pattern to exemplify:  
But my dull Muse shall not eclipse thy shine,  
From whom I borrow all these words divine.  
For I can little of man's nature speak,  
But what I take from thy creation weak:  
For here and there I take a little taste  
Of thy sweet Nectar, my tart lines to cast  
In such a heavenly smooth delicious mould,  
As with the Word of God may firmly hold  
Due correspondence: and make plain to sense  
The wondrous works of God's Omnipotence▪  
‛ Now God that supreme peerless Architect,  
‛ When of mere nothing he did first erect  
‛ Heaven, earth and air, and seas; at once his thought,  
‛ His Word and deed all in an instant wrought:  
‛ But when he would his own self's type create,  
' Th'honour of nature, th'earth's sole potentate;  
‛ As if he would a council hold, he citeth  
‛ His sacred power, his prudence he inviteth,  
‛ Summons his love, his justice he adjourns,  
‛ Calleth his goodness, and his grace returns,  
 (as it were) consult about the birth  
‛ And building of a second god, of earth;  
‛ Or rather he consults with his own Son,  
‛ (His own true portrait) what proportion,  
‛ What gifts, what grace, what soul he should bestow  
‛ Upon his Viceroy of this Realm below.   

But of is particular parts I will not speak,  
It is enough in this my borrowed week  
In general to write a little story  
Of soul and bodies first created glory.  
They that desire more of the same to know,  
Learned Du Bartas will divinely show.   

' Th' Almighty Father, as of watery matter,  
‛ It pleased him make the people of the water,  
‛ So of an earthly substance made he all  
‛ The slimy Burghers of this earthly ball;  
 th'end each creature might (by consequent)  
‛ Part-sympathize with his own element.  
‛ Therefore, to form this earthly Emperor  
‛ He did take earth, and by his sacred power  
‛ So tempered it, that of the very same  
‛ Dead shapeless lump did Adam's body frame:  
‛ Yet not his face down to the earth-ward bending  
‛ (Like beasts that but regard their belly ending  
‛ For ever all) but toward the azure skies  
‛ Bright golden Lamps lifting his lovely eyes;  
‛ That through their nerves, his better part might look  
‛ Still to that place from whence her birth she took.   

‛ And this most peerless learned Imager,  
‛ Life to his lovely picture to confer,  
‛ Did not extract out of the elements  
HE certain secret Chemic Quinte slence:  
‛ But, breathing, sent as from the lively spring  
‛ Of his divinen●sse some small riverling,  
‛ It self dispersing into every pipe  
‛ Of the frail Engine of this Earthen type.  
‛ In brief, it's but a breath: Now, though a breath  
‛ Out of our stomaches concave issueth;  
‛ Yet of our substance it transporteth nought:  
‛ Only it seemeth to be simply fraught,  
‛ And to retain the purer qualities  
‛ Of the inward place whence it derived is,  
‛ Inspired by that breath: this breath desire  
‛ I to describe; who so doth not admire  
‛ His spirit, is spriteless, an● his sense is past,  
‛ Who hath no sense of that admired blast.   

‛ Yet wots I well, that as an eye perceives  
‛ All but itself, even so our soul conceives  
‛ All, save her own self essence; but the end  
‛ Of her own greatness cannot comprehend.  
‛ Yet as a sound eye, void of vicious matter,  
‛ Sees (in a sort) itself in glass or water:  
‛ So, in her sacred works (as in a glass)  
Our soul (almost) may see her glorious face.   

‛ Man's complete nature, imitates the best  
‛ And fairest works of the Almightiest,  
‛ By rare effects bears records of its lineage  
‛ And high descent; and that God's sacred Image  
‛ Was in man's soul engraven, when first his spirit  
‛ (The spring of life) did in man's limbs inspire it:  
‛ For as God's beauties are passed all compare,  
‛ So is man's soul all beautiful and fair.  
‛ As God's immortal; and is never idle:  
‛ Mas soul●'s immortal; and can brook no bridle,  
‛ Of Sloth, to curb her busy intellect,  
‛ He Ponders all; she poizeth each effect,  
‛ And man's mature and settled Sapience  
‛ Hath some Alliance with God's providence:  
‛ God works by reason; man his rule, God's glory  
‛ Of the heavenly Stages; man of th' earthly story;  
‛ God's great high-Priest; man his great Vicar here,  
‛ God's Sovereign Prince; & man his Viceroy dear.  
‛ O man! assoon as God had framed thee,  
‛ Into thy hands he put this Monarchy;  
‛ Made all the creatures know thee for their Lord,  
‛ And come before thee of their own accord:  
‛ And gave thee power (as Master) to impose  
‛ Fit sensefull names unto the host that rows,  
‛ In watery Regions; and the wand'ring herds,  
‛ Of Forest people, and the painted Birds.  
‛ O too-too happy! had that fall of thine  
‛ Not cancelled so the Character Divine.  
‛ But sigh our Souls now-sin-obscured light  
‛ Shines through the Lantern of our flesh so bright,  
‛ What sacred splendour will this Star send forth,  
‛ When it shall shine without this veil of earth?  
‛ The Soul here lodged, is like a man that dwells;  
‛ In an ill Air, annoyed with noisome smells;  
‛ Never in health, not half an hour together:  
‛ Or (almost) like a Spider, who confined,  
‛ In her webs Centre, shaked with every wind;  
‛ Moves with an instant, If the buzzing fly  
‛ Stir but a string of her Lawn Canopy,  
‛ Yet without woman man's but half a man,  
‛ But a wild wolf, but a Barbarian,  
‛ Brute, rageful, fierce, moody, melancholic,  
‛ Hating the light; whom nought but naught could like:  
‛ Born solely for himself, bereft of sense,  
‛ Of heart, of Love, of life, of Excellence.  
‛ God therefore, not to seem less liberal,  
 man, than else to every animal;  
‛ For perfect pattern of a holy Love,  
 Adam's half, another half he gave,  
‛ Ta'en from his side, to bind (through every age)  
‛ With kinder Bonds the sacred Marriage.  
‛ For, God impaled our Grandsire's lively look,  
‛ Through all his Bones a deadly chillness strooke,  
‛ Siel'd-up his sparkling eyes with Iron bands,  
‛ Led down his feet (almost) to Lethi sands;  
‛ In Brief; so numbed his Soul's and Body's sense,  
‛ That (without pain) opening his side, from thence  
‛ He took a Rib, which rarely he refined,  
‛ And thereof made the mother of mankind:  
‛ Graving so lively on the living bone,  
‛ All Adam's beauties; that, but hardly, one  
‛ Can have the lover from the love descried,  
‛ Or known the Bridegroom from his gentle Bride:  
‛ Saving that she had a more smiling Eye,  
HE smother Chin, a Check of purer dye,  
HE fainter Voice, a more enticing face,  
HE deeper Tress, a more delighting grace,  
‛ And in her bosom (more than Lily-white)  
‛ Two swelling Mounts of Ivory, panting light.  
‛ Now, after this ptofound and pleasing Trance,  
‛ No sooner adam's ravished eyes 'gan glanc●,  
‛ On the rare beauties of his new-com half,  
‛ But in his heart he 'gan to leap and laugh,  
‛ Kissing her kindly, calling her his life,  
‛ His Love, his stay, his rest, his weal, his wife,  
‛ His other-selfe, his help (him to refresh)  
‛ Bone of his bone, flesh of his very flesh.  
‛ Source of all Joys! sweet Hee-shee coupled one,  
‛ Thy sacred birth I never think upon,  
‛ But (ravished) I admire how God did then  
‛ Mike two of one, and one of two again.  
‛ O blessed Bond! Oh happy marriage!  
‛ That dost the match twixt Christ and us presages!  
‛ O chastest friendship, whose pure flames impart  
‛ Two souls in one, two hearts into one heart!  
‛ O holy knot, in Eden instituted  
‛ (Not in this earth with Blood and wrongs polluted,  
‛ Profaned with mischiefs▪ the prescene of Hell  
To cursed creatures that against heaven rebel)  
‛ O sacred Covenant, which the sinless Son  
‛ Of a pure Virgin (when he first begun  
 publish proofs of his dread power Divine,  
‛ By turning water into perfect wine,  
‛ At lesser Cana) in a wondrous manner,  
‛ Did with his presence sanctify and honour;  
‛ By thy dear favour, after our decease,  
‛ We leave-behind our living Images,  
‛ Change war to peace, in kindred multiply,  
‛ And in our Children live eternally.  
‛ By thee, we quench the wild and wanton fires,  
‛ that in our Soul the Paphian shot inspires:  
‛ And taught (by thee) a love more firm and fit,  
‛ We find the Mel more sweet, the Gall less bitter,  
‛ Which here (by turns) heap up our humane life  
‛ Even now with joys, anon with jars and strife.  
‛ This done, the Lord Commands the happy pair  
‛ With chaste embraces to replenish fair,  
' Th'unpeopled world; that while the world endures  
‛ Here might succeed their living portraitures.  
‛ He had imposed the like precept before,  
‛ On th'ireful droves that in the deserts roar,  
‛ The feth'red flocks, and fruitfull-spawning legion,  
‛ That live within the liquid Crystal Region,  
‛ Thenceforth therefore, Bears, Bears engendered;  
‛ The Dolphins Dolphins; Vulture's, Vultures bred;  
‛ Men, men: and nature with a changeless course,  
Still brought forth Children like their Ancestors.  
‛ So morn and evening the sixth day conclude,  
‛ And God perceived that all his works were good.  
Now'tis' apparent why the smooth faced wench  
Upon this day hath the pre-eminence,  
Of other planets, for she governs those  
That unto venery themselves dispose,  
As fiddlers, Players, Jewellers, Dyers,  
Painters, Dancers, whores, and Cupid's Squires:  
Her birth was rare: she came of the Seas frath,  
Produced by Saturn, for when he was wrath,  
He cast his Father's members in the Sea,  
Of which (as Poets say) came this fair she,  
‛ Fair dainty Venus, whose free virtues mild,  
‛ With happy fruit gets all the world with child.  
‛ Whom wanton dalliance, dancing and delight,  
'Smiles, witty wiles, Youth, love, and Beauty bright  
‛ (With soft blind Cupids evermore consort)  
‛ Of lightsome day opens and shuts the Port:  
‛ For hardly dare her silver doves go far,  
‛ From bright Apollo's glory beaming Car,  
O Lord, how wondrous are thy works Divine!  
How in all creatures doth thy glory shine!  
This day alone does thy rare works declare,  
Thy goodness unto sinful men who are  
Deprived, bereaved of that most glorious form,  
With which thou didst this day his soul adorn.  
O grant that I may labour to repair  
Thy Image in me, and in Christ seem fair,  
And that like Venus in fair virtues race,  
Igoe not far from Christ the Son of Grace:  
But keep (I pray) my body and my mind  
From sinful lust O rather let me find,  
A virtuous, Careful, honest, loving Mate,  
In Joy and peace to spend this mortal state.    

Saturday or Dies Sabbati.  

THe cunning Painter, That with curious care,  
‛ Limming a Land scape, various, Rich, and ranre,  
‛ Hath set a work, in all and every part,  
‛ Invention, Judgement, Nature, Use, and Art;  
‛ And hath at length (t'immortallize his name)  
‛ With weary Pencil perfected the same;  
‛ Forgets his pains; and, inly filled with glee,  
‛ Still on his Picture gazeth greedily.  
‛ First, in a Mead he marks a frisking Lamb,  
‛ Which seems, (though dumb) to bleat unto the dam,  
‛ Then he observes a wood, seeming to wave:  
‛ Than th'hollow bosom of some hideous cave:  
‛ Hear a highway, and there a narrow path:  
‛ Here pines, there oaks torn by tempestuous wrath:  
‛ Hear from a craggy Rocks steep-hanging Boss  
‛ Thrummed half with Ivy, half with crisped Moss)  
HE silver Brook in broken streams doth gush,  
‛ And headlong down the horned Cliff doth rush,  
‛ Then, winding thence above and under ground,  
HE goodly Garden it bemoateth round:  
‛ There on his knee (behind a Box-tree shrinking)  
HE skilful Gunner with his left eye winking,  
‛ levels directly at an Oak hard by,  
‛ Whereon a hundred groaning Culvers cry;  
‛ Downe falls the Cock, up from the Touch-pan flies,  
HE Ruddy flash that in a moment dies.  
‛ Off goes the gun, and through the Forest rings;  
‛ The thundering Bullet, borne on fiery wings:  
‛ Here, on a green, two Striplings, stripped light,  
‛ Run for a prize with laboursome delight;  
HE dusty cloud about their head doth flow  
‛ (Their Feet, and head, and hands, and all do go)  
‛ They swelled in sweat; and yet the following rout  
‛ Hastens their haste, with many a cheerful shower.  
‛ Here six pied Oxen, under painful Yoke,  
‛ Rip up the folds of Ceres' winter Cloak.  
‛ Here in the shade a pretty Shepherdess,  
‛ Brings softly home her bleating happiness;  
‛ Still as she goes, she spins; and as she spins,  
HE Man would think some Sonnet she gins,  
‛ Here runs a River, there springs forth a fountain,  
‛ Here veils a Valley, there ascends a mountain,  
‛ Here smokes a Castle, there à City fumes,  
‛ And here a Ship upon the Ocean looms.  
‛ In brief, so liv'ly Art hath nature shaped,  
‛ That in his work, the workman's self is rapt,  
‛ Unable to look off; for looking still,  
‛ The more he looks, the more he finds his skill:  
‛ So th'Architect (whose glorious workman ships,  
‛ My Cloudy Muse doth but toomuch eclipse)  
‛ Having with Painless pain, and careless care  
‛ In these six days, finished the Table fair  
‛ And infinite of the universal Ball,  
‛ Rested this day, to ' admire himself in all:  
‛ And for a season, eyeing nothing else,  
‛ Joys in his work, sigh all his work excels  
‛ (If my dull, stutting, frozen eloquence  
‛ May dare conjecture of his high intents)  
‛ One while, he sees how the ample Sea doth take.  
‛ The liquid homage of each other lake;  
‛ And how again the heavens exhale, from it,  
‛ Abundant vapours (for our benefit:)  
‛ And yet it swells not for those tribute streams,  
‛ Nor yet it shrinks not for those boiling beams;  
‛ There sees he the ean, people's plenteous broods,  
‛ And shifting courses of the 〈◊〉 and sloods;  
‛ Which with inconstant glances night and day,  
‛ The lower Planets forked front doth sway.  
‛ Anon, upon the flowery Plains he looks,  
‛ Laced about with snaking silver Brooks,  
‛ Now, he delights to see four brethren's strife,  
'Cause the world's peace, and keep the world in life:  
‛ Anon, to see the whirling Spheres to roll,  
‛ With restless dances about either Pole;  
‛ Whereby, their Cressers (carried divers ways)  
‛ Now visit us, Anon th' Antipodes.  
‛ It glads him now, to note, how th'orb of flame,  
‛ Which gires this Globe, doth not enfire the frame:  
‛ How th'airs glib-gliding firmelesse body bears,  
‛ Such store of fowls, haile-stormes and floods of tears,  
‛ How th'heavy water, pronest to descend,  
'Twixt Air and earth is able to depend.  
‛ And how the dull earth's proplesse massy Ball,  
‛ Stands steady still, just in the midst of all.  
‛ Anon his nose is pleased with fragrant scents  
‛ Of Balm, and Basill, Myrrh, and Frankincense,  
‛ Thyme, spikenard, Hyssop, Savory, Cinnamon,  
‛ Pink, Violet, Rose, and Clove-Carnation.  
‛ Anon, his ear's charmed with the melody  
‛ Of winged consorts-curious harmony:  
‛ For, though each Bird, guided with Artless Art,  
‛ After his kind, observe a song apart,  
‛ And yet the burden of their several lays  
‛ Its nothing but the heav'n-Kings glorious praise.  
‛ In brief th'almighty's eye, and Nose, and Ear,  
‛ In all his works, doth nought see, sent, or hear,  
‛ But shows his greatness, Savours of his grace,  
‛ And sounds his glory, over every place.  
‛ But above all, Mans many beauteous features  
‛ Detain the Lord more than all other creatures:  
‛ Man's his own Minion; Man's his sacred Type:  
‛ And for man's sake, he loves his workmanship:  
‛ Not that I mean to feign an idle God,  
‛ That lurks in heaven and never looks abroad,  
‛ That crownes not virtue, and corrects not Vice,  
‛ Blind to our service, deaf unto our sighs;  
HE Pagan Idol, void of power and Piety,  
HE sleeping Dormouse (rather) a dead Deity;  
‛ For though (alas) sometimes I cannot shun;  
‛ But some profane thoughts in my mind will run,  
‛ I never think on God, but I conceive  
‛ (Whence cordial comforts Christians souls receive)  
‛ In God, Care, Counsel, Justice, Mercy, Might,  
 punish wrongs and Patronise the right:  
‛ Sith Man (but Image of the Almightiest)  
‛ Without these gifts is not a man, but Beast.  
‛ God is not sitting (like some Earthly state)  
‛ In proud Theatre him to recreate  
‛ With curious objects of his ears and eyes  
‛ (Without disposing of the Comedies)  
‛ Content t'have made (by his great word) to move  
‛ So many Radiant Stars to shine above;  
‛ And on each thing with his own hand to draw.  
‛ The sacred text of an eternal Law:  
‛ Then, bosoming his hand to let them slide,  
‛ With reins at will, whether that Law shall guide:  
‛ Like one that lately having forced some lake,  
‛ Through a new Channel a new course to take,  
‛ Takes no more care thenceforth to those effects,  
‛ But lets the stream run where the ditch directs.  
‛ The Lord our God wants neither diligence,  
‛ Nor love, nor Care, nor power, nor providence,  
‛ He proved his power, by making all of nought  
‛ His diligence, by ruling All he wrought:  
‛ His care in ending it in six day's space;  
‛ His love in building it for Adam's race,  
‛ H●● providence (Maugre Times wasteful rages)  
‛ Preserving it so many years and Ages.  
‛ For, O! how often had this goodly Ball  
‛ By his own greatness caused his proper fall?  
‛ How often had this world deceased, except  
‛ God's mighty Arms had it upheld and kept?  
‛ God is the Soul, the life, the strength, and sinnew,  
‛ That quickens, moves, and makes this frame continue.  
‛ God's the main spring, that maketh every way,  
‛ All the small wheels of this great Engine play▪  
‛ God's the strong Atlas, whose unshrinking shoulders  
‛ Have been and are heavens heavy Globes upholders.  
‛ God makes the fountains run continually,  
‛ The days and nights succeed incessantly:  
‛ The Seasons in their season he doth bring,  
‛ Summer and Autumn, Winter, and the Spring:  
‛ God makes th'earth fruitful, and he makes the earth's  
‛ Large sides not yet faint for so many births.  
‛ God makes the Sun and Stars, though wondrous hot,  
‛ That yet their heat, themselves inflameth not;  
‛ And that their sparkling beams prevent not so,  
‛ With woeful flames, the last great day of woe,  
‛ And that (as moved with a contrary wrist)  
‛ They turn at once both North, and East and West:  
‛ heavens constant course, his hest doth never break:  
‛ The floating water waiteth at his beck:  
' Th' air's at his call, the fire at his command,  
‛ The earth is his; and there is nothing famed  
‛ In all these kingdoms, but is moved each hour,  
‛ With secret touch of his eternal power.  
‛ God is the Judge, who keeps continual Sessions,  
‛ In every place to punish all transgressions;  
‛ Who void of Ignorance and Avarice,  
‛ Not won with bribes, nor wrested with device,  
‛ Sans fear, or favour; hate, or partial Zeal;  
‛ Pronounceth judgements that are past appeal.  
‛ Himself is judge, Jury, and witness too,  
‛ Well knowing what we all think, speak, or do:  
‛ He sounds the deepest of the doublest heart,  
‛ Searcheth the Reins, and sifteth every part:  
He sees all secrets, and his Lynx-like eye  
(Yer it be thought) doth every thought descry:  
His sentence given, doth never prove in vain;  
For, all that heaven, earth, air and sea contain,  
Serve him as Sergeants; and the winged Legions  
That soar above the bright star-spangled Regions,  
Are ever pressed, his powerful ministers:  
And (lastly) for his executioners,  
Satan assisted with th'infernal band,  
Stands ready still to finish his command.   

God (to be brief) is a good Artisan,  
That to his purpose aptly manage can,  
Good or bad tools: for, for just punishment,  
He arms our sins, us sinners to torment.  
And to prevent th'ungodly's plot, sometime  
He makes his foes, (will nill they) fight for him.  
Though then, the Lords deep wisdom, to this day,  
Work in the world's uncertain certain sway.  
Yet must we credit, that his hand composed  
All in six days, and that he then reposed;  
By his example, giving us behest  
On the seventh day for evermore to rest:  
For, God remembered that he made not man  
Of stone or steel, or brass Corinthian:  
But lodged our soul in a frail earthen mass,  
Thinner than water, britler than the glass.  
He knows our life is by nought sooner spent.  
Than having still our minds and bodies bend.  
A soldier that a season still hath lain,  
Comes with more fury to the field again:  
Even so, this body, when (to gather breath)  
One day in seven at rest it sojourneth;  
It recollects his powers, and with more cheer  
Falls the next morrow to his first career,   

But the chief end this precept aims at, is  
To quench in us the coals of covetise;  
That while we rest from all prophaner arts,  
God's Spirit may work in our retired hearts;  
That we down-treading earthly cogitations,  
May mount our thoughts to heavenly meditations.  
Following good Archers guise, who shut one eye,  
That they the better may their mark espy.  
For, by th'Almighty, this great holy day  
Was not ordained to dance, to mask and play,  
To slug in sloth, to lash out in delights,  
And lose the reins to raging appetites:  
To turn God's feasts to filthy lupercals,  
To frantic Orgies, and fond Saturnals:  
To dazzle eyes with our vainglorious splendour,  
To serve strange gods, or our ambition tender;  
As the irreligion of lose times hath since  
Changed the prime Churches chaster innocence.   

God would that men should in a certain place  
This day assemble as before his face,  
Tending an humble and attentive ear  
To learn his great names dear-dread loving-feare:  
He would that there the faithful Pastor should  
The Scriptures marrow from the bones unfold,  
That we might touch with fingers (as it were)  
The sacred secrets that are hidden there.  
For, though the reading of those holy lines  
In private houses somewhat move our minds;  
Doubtless, the doctrine preached doth deeper pierce,  
Proves more effectual, and more weight it bears.  
He would that there in holy Psalms we sing  
Shrill praise and thanks to our immortal King,  
For all the liberal bounties he bestow'th  
On us and ours, in soul and body both:  
He would that there we should confess his Christ  
Our only Saviour, Prophet, Prince and Priest,  
Solemnising (with sober preparation)  
His blessed seals of reconciliation:  
And in his Name, beg boldly what we need,  
(After his will) and be assured to speed;  
Sith in th'exchequer of his clemency  
All goods of fortune, foul and body lie.   

He would this Sabbath should a figure be,  
Of the blessed Sabbath of eternity.  
That the grand jubilee, the feast of feasts,  
Sabbath of Sabbaths, endless rest of rests;  
He would this day, our soul (sequestered)  
From busy thoughts of worldly cares) should read  
In heaven's bowed arches, and the elements,  
His boundless bounty, power and providence,  
That every part may (as a Master) teach  
th'illiterate, rules past a vulgar reach.   

The world's a School, where (in a general story)  
God always reads dumb lectures of his glory.  
The world's a book in Folio printed all  
With God's great works in Letters capital.  
Each creature is a page; and each effect  
A fair character, void of all defect.  
Hear this dumb Doctor, study in this book,  
Where day and night thou mayst at pleasure look.  
And thereby learn uprightly how to live;  
For every part doth special lessons give,  
Even from the gilt studs of the firmament,  
To the base centre of our element.   

The reasons why the Sages on this day  
Do place the Planet Saturn, to bear sway  
Are most conspicuous, hence I'll show his birth;  
Coelum begot him, Vesta brought him forth,  
He was produced of the earth and sky,  
Being the foundation of the progeny,  
Of heathen Gods, as Pluto, Neptune, jove,  
And Venus her fairefelfe, goddess of Love.  
The time he lived was called the golden age;  
For, earth brought fruit without the Ploughs tillage,  
Men peaceful were, and did to rest repose,  
But by his sons there much contention risen:  
Ingenious Saturn Spouse of memory,  
Father of th'age of gold though coldly dry,  
Silent and sad, bald hoary wrinkle faced,  
Yet art the first amongst the Planets placed;  
And thirty years his leaden coach doth run,  
Yer it arrive where his career begun.  
He governs Moores, Monks and the ancient Jews.  
Decrepit old men, and all those that use  
To work in Lecher, earth, or on a grave,  
To show that men's desire is rest to have.   

Therefore the use of this day shall be this,  
To contemplate of heavens glorious bliss;  
You heathen Poets, henceforth let be dumb  
Your fabled praises of Elysium;  
For, the Almighty made his blissful bowers  
Better, far better, than what's feigned of yours.  
Yours but a shadow, and a fabled story,  
But this is perfect real solid glory:  
For never any eye, nor ear nor heart  
Can see, hear or perceive of the least part  
Of that great glory, yet I do admire,  
How heathen men so highly should aspire:  
For in their feigned stories they suppose,  
Strange blessings love on their just men bestows.  
Great jove is he that rules the air and sky,  
And is adorned with great Majesty.  
In his right hand is the Amalthean horn,  
But in his left, thunder and fury's borne.  
He can command all other heathen gods,  
Rewarding Virtue, Vice correct with rods.  
With thundering storms he makes the earth to shake,  
And in his fury Pluto's self to quake:  
But in his clemency he poureth down  
Sweet Honey Nectar, Virtue's head to crown  
His palace he doth keep in royal sort,  
For all the Gods attend upon his court.  
Pallas for wisdom, Venus for beauty's grace,  
Mercury there for eloquence hath place,  
Bacchus for joy, Vulcan the fiery God  
For zeal: for love Cupid hath there abode.  
Pan and Apollo with their music shrill,  
Do all heaven's Court with blissful pleasure fill.  
Thus are Pandora's, or the virtuous blest,  
And live with jove in a perpetual rest.  
But whither do I run out of my story,  
Thus to insist on heathens f●ined glory?  
O! let me now with eye of faith behold  
A glorious city all of beaten gold.  
The walls of Jasper, and the gates shined bright,  
Being twelve in number, each a Margarit:  
The streets and lanes were paved every one  
With gold, inlaid with pearls and precious stone.  
There is no need of Sun or Moon, or Star,  
For Christ's bright glory passeth all these far  
Who sits i'th' midst, and shineth clear and bright,  
There is no darkness, nor no dismal night.  
And from Christ's throne, a stream of water clear,  
Doth flow as Crystal, and there doth appear,  
Upon each bank the Tree of life to grow,  
Which bears perpetual fruit, there is no woe,  
No grief nor sorrow, nor the dreadful fear  
Of death or danger, as we live in here.  
This city's breadth and length both equal are,  
Twelve thousand furlongs, each it is four square:  
And there the Saints keep a perpetual feast,  
With joy and rest that cannot be expressed.  
Thus is this happy place described by john,  
In the last Tract of his blessed vision.  
By the most glorious things, that we do know  
The glorious blessedness thereof to show.   

Now learned Dwines say man by his creation  
Hath in three places his abode and station:  
The first is in a narrow darksome place,  
The second's in this fair world's mantled face.  
Coelum Empyreum is the last, which is  
In life to come, place of eternal bliss.  
Now, what proportion this life doth surpass,  
The life we had in that most narrow place:  
The same and much more to the Saints are given  
In that most glorious happy place called heaven:  
For this world's globe compared to heaven bright,  
Is but a point, a prick void of true light:  
So I conclude, as this world doth exceed  
My mother's womb wherein she did me breed,  
For beauty, pleasure, joy, delight and bliss,  
So doth that palace far surmount all this.  
And as a living man in wit and strength,  
Beauty and learning bodies, breadth and length,  
Doth fare exceed a child in's mother's belly,  
So, and much more Saints in this royal City  
Do far excel men on this earthly station  
In beauty, knowledge, and in true salvation:  
And as great horror would a Saint be in,  
To come from heaven to earth to live in sin:  
As a man grown would fear to go again  
Into his mother's womb, there to remain:  
And as the nine months there compared unto  
An old man's life is little: even so,  
And more, Eternity doth pass all time  
That men here live, why should I then thus rhyme,  
To make conjecture what the learned are  
Ignorant of, and I in wit am bare,  
Therefore I'll leave to speak of this blessed place,  
And view the jewels in this golden case:  
First, there's the presence of the Lord of hoast●.  
I mean the Father, Son and holy Ghost,  
The Father's Majesty and glorious might,  
And Christ at's right hand decked with wondrous light.  
The Spirit in milk white robes of sanctity,  
One God in three, and three in unity;  
On either side a quire of Angels sings,  
Archangels, Cherubins and Seraphins,  
The souls of righteous men and blessed Saints,  
Apostles, Prophets, Martyrs, Innocents',  
There shall appear with crowns upon their heads  
For their victorious acts and worthy deeds;  
These keep a Sabbath in eternal jest,  
Such glorious joy can never be expressed.  
There's rest, no toil, there's joy without all pain,  
Peace without strife, content that is not vain.  
There's safety without fear, bliss without end,  
O! that God would my poor soul thither send.  
For here I labour, and have seldom peace,  
Contents a rare thing, vain lasts never cease;  
But there I should hold a perpetual feast,  
Sing such a sacred song as heaven likes best,  
Wear such a crown as never should decay,  
Possess a dwelling that ne'er falls away,  
Fully enjoy God, and see his bright face,  
Whose presence only makes a happy place.  
Therefore the godly say, it is small pain  
Hell torments to endure, this to obtain.  
Therefore I humbly pray I may so here  
Upon the earth live, that I may appear  
After my soul hath put off's mortal case,  
Pure and unspotted in this resting place;  
〈◊〉 should I truly keep a Sabbath day,  
And in bright glory ever rest for ay.  
〈◊〉 with the Prophets, and Apostles zealous,  
〈◊〉 Constant Martyrs, and our Christian fellows,  
〈◊〉 faithful servants, and his chosen sheep,  
〈…〉 w'n I hope (within short time) to keep.   
FINIS.