PIETY, AND POESY. Contracted.  
By T. J.  
LONDON, Printed for Robert Wood, 1643.   

PIETY, AND POESY.  

On the Title, that was fixed upon the Cross of our Blessed Saviour: Jesus of Nazareth King of the Jews.  
Imploration.  

ALmighty Maker (on whose Power divine  
The Seraph and the sacred Cherubin  
Attend with holy Anthems) gracious be  
To my design; Oh make my poesy  
Pure as an angel's Essence, that it may  
Sing in thy choir, when my neglected Clay  
Becomes a prostrate ruin, and is hurled  
To its first Earth, by the forgetful world;  
Oh! may each Line have a celestial Art,  
To make the Good prove Constant, Bad Convert:  
Then in this Line I may declare my Muse,  
Jesus of Nazareth King of the Jews.   

This was once Pilat's Title, and his Jest 
John 19.19   
When it was fixed on the diviner Crest  
Of my Eternal Lord: Oh! I must grudge  
At thee false Pilate, Couldst thou judge thy Judge?  
Could thy oblivious Soul so soon expel  
The apprehension of each Miracle  
His potent Power performed? if he would  
Legions of Angels had secured his blood 
Matth. 26.53   
From thy insulting Tyranny, for he  
That was thy prisoner, could have captived Thee:  
Oh! then how durst thy rebel heart abuse  
Jesus of Nazareth King of the Jews.   

Why (like a just Judge) didst not punish them  
Who (i'th' worst form of malice) Spit on him? 
Mar. 27.30   
Why did thy lewder Laws the Traitor miss  
That sealed his Master's murder with a Kiss? 
Mar. 14.45   
Why did thy black thoughts hold conspiracy  
To send him to thy long-vowed Enemy? 
Luke 23.7   
His death, Pilat's and Heroa's hatred ends,  
When True souls suffer, Impious men are Friends.  
But why did thy injurious Judgement pass 
Mar. 27.26   
On Jesus clear, for guilty Barrabas?  
(A murderer) that did (like thee) refuse  
Jesus of Nazareth King of the Jews.   

But (Scriptum est) Eternity decreed 
Mat. 26.24   
That on the cross the King of kings must bleed,  
Condemned by Vassals; Pilate, dar'st thou sit  
Upon the Bench for whom the Bar was sit?  
Obdurate Judge, could not thy Eyes relent  
To see the glory of an Innocent  
Brought to thy guilty Session? where the Jury  
Instead of Good, and True, are fraught with Fury  
Such (as without Examination) cried,  
(With voices loud) Let him be crucified,  
His blood be upon us: thus they accuse 
Matth. 27.23   
Jesus of Nazareth King of the Jews   

Ye are all guilty, and his blood will be  
On all your Generations: yet agree  
To call your Verdicts back: No? then go on:  
They love no Good, dread no Damnation:  
Me thinks the purple purchase Judas sent 
Matth. 27.4   
Confessing he betrayed the Innocent  
Should give your guilty Sentence an affront,  
His words were True, He took his Death upon't:  
Though 'twas a desperate one; Could he expect  
A better End for such a bloody Act?  
Like Ends must fall to all who do refuse  
Jesus of Nazareth King of the Jews   

All that you can allege, is this, He said,  
Destroy this Temple, and (without Man's aid)  
You shall perceive (in 3 days' space) that then 
Mat. 26.61   
(By my own power) it shall be built again:  
Where were your wisdoms then? could not your wise  
And learned Rabbins know the Mysteries  
This Oracle pronounced? He did foreshow  
The Temple of his Bodies overthrow:  
This Temple you do ruin, and you should  
Pay for the sacrilege, your guilty blood:  
Although with Stripes and Scorns still you abuse  
Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.   

He bears his Cross, toils till he's out of breath, 
John 19.17   
Oh! cruel, must he Labour for his Death?  
But Simon takes his burden, and goes on 
Mark 15.21   
Under the Tree must bear Salvation:  
A Fruit that we should for Souls comfort keep,  
Although the first Plantation makes me weep:  
Now was their journey ended, for they saw  
The place of Death, Skull-bearing-Golgotha; 
Mark 15.22   
There was the Cross upreared, and on that,  
My Lord was housted, nailed, derided at,  
This Title placed upon him, which ensues,  
Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews. 
Joh. 19.19.    

Now doth he Pray, and his dread Father woo  
To Pardon, cause they know not what they do; 
Luke 23.34   
Now doth his Human Nature loudly cry,  
Elois Elois Lamasabacthanie: 
Mark 15.34    

Now he resigns the Ghost, his Spirit flies, 
Mar. 15.37   
Jerusalem is filled with Prodigies;  
The Graves are opened, the cold Dead come out,  
Ranging the fatal City round about; 
Mat. 27.52,53   
The Temple rends; how could it stand alone  
After the Jews removed the Corner Stone? 
Ephes. 2.20   
Oh! let this prompt my Soul ne'er to abuse  
Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.    

A Dream of doom's Day.  
DReams are the Stories of our Sleep, they be  
The things that best persuade, Security  
Is not in beds of softest Down, for they  
Disturb by Night, like our Designs by Day:  
Yet there be some who have them in election,  
To be the Prophets of our next days Action:  
I shall hold no opinion, but refer  
Them and their Natures to th' Interpreter:  
But I'll declare my own; The hour of Night,  
Nature, and custom, did at once invite  
My weary Brain to Rest. I made my Prayer  
To my Preserver, and did straight prepare  
To entertain their bounty: Not an hour  
Had Sleep possessed me with his passive power,  
But such a Dream I had, as made me flow  
In my own Sweat and Tears, a greater woe  
Ne'er did engross the grieving soul of Man,  
Since those black days, Egypt's ten plagues began.   

The Dream.  
ME thought up to a barren Mountains head,  
High as ambitious Babel, I was led  
By my own gentle Genius, there to fee  
What was ne'er taught me by Cosmography,  
The Quarters of the World; Casting my eyes  
Full in the East, the glorious Sun 'gan rise  
Just in my Face, his Beams had so much power,  
They spoilt my prospect; yet before an hour  
Was full expired, me thought the Sun began  
His Declination, it backwards ran,  
Or else my eyes decieved me; all the Air  
Me thought grew thick, as if it did prepare  
To give the Earth a shower; for I could spy  
The chanting Birds unto their Nests to fly,  
Beasts to their Caves, the Night-bird to begin  
Her dismal Note, as when the Day shuts in:  
And now the Sun was turned to darkness to,  
Night never was so dark, Day did ne'er show  
So opposetly light, so that my Hand  
Could scarce declare where my own feet did stand▪  
My Senses all were numbed, and did resign  
Their Faculties; I wished the Moon would shine,  
That, since I was deprived the short day's light,  
I might receive some solace from the Night:  
The Moon did rise, and yet no sooner shone  
In her full sphere of glory, but was gone,  
And nothing was left to be understood  
Where she declined, but an Orb of blood.  
Lord! how I trembled then, so did the Hill  
Whereon I stood, as if't were Sensible  
Of this prodigious Change, the Stars did sall  
As soon as fix, and now, were wandering all:  
Where were (thought I) th' Astronomers this year,  
They did not quote this in the calendar?  
Now down the Hill I creeped, purposed to see  
How the great City took this prodigy:  
I saw't was full of Lights, ere I was there,  
I heard the cries of Women, a great fear  
Possessed the Poorer sort, and such as those,  
Whom, Heaven knows, had nought but Lives to lose:  
The Rich were banqueting, ye might have spied  
In such a street a Bridegroom and his Bride  
Wedded for Lust, and Riches; here again,  
A Crew of costly Drunkards, that had been  
Making one Day of seven; there another,  
Like cursed Cain, destroying his own Brother:  
Yonder a Fourth, who, in as great excess,  
Wasteth his Soul with an Adulteress:  
Ere I could turn to such another sight,  
I did behold in Heaven a strange Light,  
As if't were burning Brimstone, and, at last,  
I could perceive it fall like rain, so fast,  
I thought that Heaven would have dropped, I cried  
All you that will by Faith be Justified,  
Stir not a foot; this is the Fatal Day,  
For which our Saviour bids you Watch and Pray.  
Great Structures were but Bonfires, Turrets swom  
In their own Lead, whilst here poor wretches come  
Half roasted in the Rain, and Mothers fly  
Laden with pretty Children, till they die:  
No Dug can still their crying, and each kiss  
The Mother gives, a shower of Sulphur is:  
lechers, Insatiate Strumpets, with their shames,  
As they first met in fire, depart in flames;  
No flattering Epitaph, or elegy,  
Hangs on the hearse of proud Nobility.  
The epidemic fires, at once, do fling  
Into one Grave, a Vassal, and a King:  
Our Judges leave the Senate, throw away  
Their reverend Purple, and in Ashes pray  
To that great Judge of Heaven, in whose eyes  
Relenting pity, and Compunction lies:  
Husbands embrace their Wives, but ere they part,  
Both burn to cinders, Death had never Dart  
That gave such cruel Torments; some do fly  
To Rivers to assuage their Misery,  
But all in vain; for fire hath there more power  
Than ever water had, the flaming shower  
Is not to be avoided; all do run,  
But none know whether, now my Dream is done;  
For here I waked, and glad I was to see  
'Twas but a Dream; yet Lord, so gracious be  
To my request, that this Night's Dream may stay  
Still in my thoughts, then shall I Watch and Pray;  
Be ever Penitent with holy Sorrow,  
For fear thou mak'st my Dream prove true to Morrow.   

On Lot's Wife looking back to Sodom.  
COuld not the angel's charge (weak woman) turn  
Thy longing Eyes from seeing Sodom burn?  
What Consolation couldst thou think to see  
In Punishments that were as due to thee?  
For 'tis without dispute, thy only Sin  
Had made thee One, had not thy Husband been  
His Righteousness preserved thee, who went on  
Without desire to see Confusion  
Rain on the wretched Citizens, but joyed  
That God decreed Thou shouldst not be destroyed,  
Nor thy two Daughters, who did likewise fly  
The flaming Plague, without casting an Eye  
Towards the burning Towers, what urged thee then  
Since they went on, so to look back again?  
But God whose Mercy would not let his Ire  
Punish thy Crime, as it did theirs, in fire;  
With his divine Compunction did consent  
At once to give thee Death and Monument▪  
Where I perceive engraved on thy stone  
Are lines that tend to Exhortation:  
Which that by thy Offence, I may take heed,  
I shall (with sacred application) Read.   

The Inscription.  

IN this Pillar do I lie  
Buried, where no mortal Eye  
Ever could my Bones descry.   

When I saw great Sodom burn  
To this Pillar I did turn,  
Where my Body is my Urn.   

You to whom my corpse I show  
Take true warning by my woe,  
Look not back when God cries Go.   

They that to ward virtue high  
If but back they cast an Eye  
Twice as far do from it fly.   

Council than I give to those  
Which the path to bliste have chose,  
Turn not back, ye cannot lose.   

That way let your whole hearts lie,  
If ye let them backward fly  
They'll quickly grow as hard as I.    

On Eve' tasting the Apple.  
THe Fruit was amiable to the eyes,  
'Twas fit for food, 'twas Good, 'twould make one Wise,  
The subtle Serpent wanted neither tale,  
Nor terms of Art, to set the fruit to sale:  
Me thinks the words th' Almighty did repeat,  
In saying Of this Tree ye shall not eat,  
Proposing punishment likewise, that by  
The tasting this forbidden fruit, ye die,  
Should have sufficient force in ye to fright  
The tempter's craft, and your own Appetite:  
Could ye conceit, a Serpent (made as you  
By th' will of God) more than your Maker knew?  
But 'tis in vain my passion thus to vent  
'Gainst you that have received your punishment,  
Yet give me leave to grieve; for, since your fall,  
That fruit hath wrought diseases in us all.   

On the Children of Israel murmuring at Manna.  
BLind Israelites, can ye no sooner boast  
Ye are secured from Pharaoh, and the coast  
Of cruel Egypt, but (that to obtain  
Their fleshpots) ye would be their Slaves again?  
Hath great Jehovah made his Servants free,  
And are they angry at their liberty?  
Are not your Labours ended? or doth Care  
Perplex your senses for the next days fare?  
What is't doth cause your murmur and disquiet?  
Are ye not fed with Manna? angel's diet:  
Are ye not sated every Morn and Even,  
With food in pearly viols, sent from Heaven?  
Your two first Parents in the Garden, had  
No greater store, why will you then be sad?  
And call down angry Justice, to exclude  
This plenty from you, for Ingratitude?  
Are ye not God's Elect? doth he not tell,  
He will protect his chasen Israel?  
And yet ye grieve, and murmur at the food  
He sends ye, which is temperately good,  
Fit for your Constitutions? and doth bless  
Your Bodies with it in a wilderness:  
These Acts of wonder, were your Food as base  
As it is very precious, might breed Grace  
In your ungrateful souls; you should consent  
Together to be thankfully Content,  
For these high favours, which he ne'er did show  
Since Adam's fall, to any but to you:  
It is content, and thankfulness that makes  
Course Fare appear as fine as Costly Cakes:  
Then pray for those two virtues, you that have  
More than a useful plenty, yet still crave,  
Whilst the profusest Banqueter shall sit  
T' invent strange Dishes,' Till he wastes his wit,  
And starves his body to. It is not Meat  
Only, that makes the body show replete;  
But 'tis the grace of God that must attend  
Our Meals in their beginning and their end.  
That feeds the poor man when his Table's spread  
With a Course cloth, the Rich man's refused bread,  
And his own dear-got pennyworth, which (eat)  
He neither doth repine, or wish for meat;  
This is a life of Peace, Content, and Good,  
It cherisheth as well the Soul, as blood;  
The discontented stomachs when they spy  
A dish they like, oft surfeit, or else die;  
So did the Israelites when Quails were sent,  
Their plenty did become their punishment:  
But let me crave, Oh! thou Omnipotent,  
That canst, and dost allow Food and Content,  
Thou Saviour, that didst the thousands feed  
With two poor Fishes, and five loves of Bread;  
That didst the tempter's rude Request deny,  
When as thou saidst, Man not by Bread only  
Must live, but by the precious words that do  
Proceed from thee, Grant me those Dishes too:  
For than I know Want never can control  
My replete Body or inspired soul,  
Let me with joy thy Benefits embrace  
And, when thou send'st me Manna, give me Grace.   

On Mary Magdalen's coming to the Tomb of our Saviour.  
Whilst the sad night was dark, and silent, then  
To th' sepulchre comes Mary Magdalen,  
She fears no idle Fancies of the Night,  
Faith in the deepest Darkness, shines most bright,  
The Temples rending, nor the Prodigies,  
That came to grace the world's great Sacrifice,  
Frighted not her, but all alone, to th' Tomb  
Of her dead Lord is poor Maria come,  
No Apparition could her terror be  
An Apparition, 'twas she came to see.   

On Peter called to be a Fisher of Men.  
WHen Simon Peter from his fisher's trade  
By Christ was called, and a Man-fisher made,  
The World soon scorned him, and would not be  
Like Fish, by Peter, nor by Jesus Bought;  
Yet there is no great wonder in't, for when caught  
Have ye known Fish affect the fishermen,   

On Peter's Imprisonment and Release.  
IS the Great Shepherd, whom our Saviour called  
To feed his Sheep and Lambs, like them, installed  
Now by a wolvish Tyrant? Or did he  
Envy our Peter's office? and would be  
Himself in that high place? Badmen (we know)  
Desire a goodman's Title, though they show  
No virtue of their Calling, Thieves would be  
Termed True men, though their Trade be Felony,  
'Tis a strange governed Kingdom, where they keep  
Shepherds in hold, and Wolves to feed their Sheep:  
Must Heavens mighty Keeper now obey  
The wretched bondage of a jazlors' Key?  
Must Fetters cling about his sacred Bones?  
And, for his Guard, four bold Quaternions  
Of Lift-depriving soldiers, such as fly  
All acts that tend not unto Tyranny?  
What is the Saint accused of? Can your Laws  
Inflict a punishment without a Cause?  
Was he too Holy for your vicious Time?  
Too just? or, was his Innocence his Crime?  
'Tis a hard case where virtue must entreat  
For right, when Guilt sits on the Judgement seat:  
Peter this case is thine; yet (thou dost know)  
Not thine alone, 'twas our great Masters too,  
Then since his Neck unto that Yoke did come  
There is no Majesty, like Martyrdom:  
Observe the Sequel: In the dead of Night,  
When Silence ruled the sleepy world, and Light.  
Was quite extinguished, (for the Lord did make  
It darker sure, for his loved Peter's sake)  
For whose abuse Herod and's impious Men  
Might well despair of seeing day again:  
In prison twixt two stout-armed soldiers, there  
Most sweetly slept our holy Prisoner,  
Though burdened with his Chains, Nought can immure  
Rest from that Soul that is from guilt secure:  
A sudden Light more glorious than the Sun  
Entered the Prison walls, which first begun  
To strike and awake Peter, it is held  
A doubt, whether that Peter first did yield  
The motion of his Eyes unto the smite  
This glorious body gave him, or his Light,  
But now he is commanded to arise,  
To shake his Bonds off, which he doth, off flies  
The Locks, and Bolts of Prison-Doors, and He  
Follows this Light that leads to Liberty:  
Thus, in one Minute, doth the Jailor lose  
(Spite of his care) his prisoner, and his Fees.   

Imploration.  
LOrd fill my Soul with Innocence, and then  
I care not though I be in Daniels den,  
I'th' fiery Furnace nought can me assail;  
Were I locked up in Jonah's water Goal;  
Just Joseph's pit, or Peter's prison, all  
If I remain in Innocence are small:  
And, as thou saidst to Peter, say to me  
Shake of thy Bonds, I'll do't, and Follow thee.   

On the Penitent thief upon the Cross.  
'TWas time to cry Remember, 'twas an hour  
Fit to invoke thy dying Saviour  
For an eternal life, yet it is strange  
To see this blessed, unexpected, Change  
In thee, a Thief, how couldst thou hope to be  
Preserved by him, that was condemned like thee?  
Or if thou didst conceit his power could give  
A Life to thee, Why didst not ask to live?  
As did thy Partner, whose desire was thus,  
If thou be Christ, save thou thyself and Us:  
Then might ye hope after your strange Reprieves  
To rob again, be more notorious Thieves,  
Resolve to keep the Passenger in awe,  
To steal in spite of Conscience, or Law;  
Why didst thou ask his Kingdom, there's no place  
Fit for thy Trade, No Mask to hide thy face  
From the known Traveller; the Wealth he gives  
Can never be devoured by Rust, or Thieves:  
But this was not thy Aim, thy Lord could see;  
'Twas not for this thou cried'st Remember me:  
For thou wert Fenitent, and from each Eye  
True drops did fall to purge thy Felony;  
What ever thou didst force from any one  
Thy tears distilled a Restitution;  
But what did cause all this? sure'twas that Eye  
That looked and made forgetful Peter cry  
After his Third denial, whose blesed Sight  
Can give a Thief Repentance, blind men, light;  
Thence came that Faith, which made thee to believe  
This Jesus had a Kingdom for to give:  
That taught thee to obtain it, that did show  
How by Repentance thou must thither go;  
That made thee to cry out undauntly,  
When thou com'st thither, Lord, Remember me:  
Let me Sweet Saviour take this Thief's advice,  
And I shall be with thee in Paradise:  
No faggot, Gibbet, Rack, or axe shall fear me,  
If on my cross, I have a Cure so near me.   

Charity begins at home.  
WHen Christ (to save Believers from all evils)  
Gave his Disciples power to cast out Devils,  
Judas (who did his Master's life betray)  
It is supposed, had no less power than they;  
And yet we cannot read amongst the many  
Great Acts they did, that ere he cast out any  
The Obstacle is found, for Judas fins  
In the first Rule, where Charity begins,  
It was not strange, he dispossessed none  
From others, that could not first cast out': own:  
Learn here ye Teachers, ere ye go about  
To clear men's Eyes, first take your own beams out:  
That then those beams of darkness being gone  
Men may behold in you the Beams o'th' Son.   

On holy Fasting, and on holy hunger.  
AN holy Fasting may be called a Feast,  
It feeds the fainting Soul, and gives it rest,  
He that would gain a life for Everlasting  
By God's account, is only full with fasting,  
A holy Hunger doth suppress all Evil,  
That kind of Hunger famisheth the Devil.   

On our Saviour paying Tribute.  
IT was decreed the King of Kings must pay  
Exacted Tribute, to a King of Clay:  
Caesar must have his Image, and his birth  
May well exact it, 'tis but Earth to Earth:  
We are Christ's Image, our Souls only easer,  
Why should not he have's due as well as Caesar?   

On Paul's healing the cripple at Lystra.  
WHen Christ to Paul his Curing power revealed  
And he at Lystra had a cripple healed,  
The astonished People, with hands heaved on high,  
Adore him by the name of Mercury,  
The God of Eloquence, and well they might  
Whose Tongue could make a cripple walk upright.   

On the holy Ghost descending like a Dove.  
WHen John (unwilling cause unworthy) lead  
Christ into Jordan, o'er his glorious head  
Hovers a Dove, whose bright wings would not cease  
Till they were spread over the Prince of peace;  
Well may our Turtles grieve their sad estates,  
When Doves from Heaven come to seek their Mates.   

Sapiens Dominabitur Astris.  
GAve the star light to th'three Wise men from far?  
No 'twas their Faith gave light unto the star.   

On the Pharisees requiring of a Sign.  
YE faithless Pharisees, what would ye more  
To show the Coming of our Saviour  
Then ye have seen? hath not his power, and might,  
Given cripples legs? and to the blind their sight?  
Restored to life, and health, a corpse that died,  
Was shrouded, coffined, graved, and putrified?  
Fed many souls, turned Water into Wine?  
Yet (for all this) ye still require a Sign;  
Our Saviour still, some greater Sign must give;  
It is a sign (vain men) you'll not believe.   

On our Saviour's receiving of Children.  
EXcept we be converted, and become  
As little Children we shall have no room  
In God's eternal Kingdom, and who e'er  
Can be so humble, shall be greatest there,  
Or he that will receive so sweet a flower  
Into his bosom, hugs his Saviour:  
But he that shall offend such little Ones  
That are believing, better 'twere millstones  
Were hung about his fatal neck; and he  
Rendered a prey to the devouring sea:  
If Children Lord, are acceptable then  
Make me a child, Let me be born again.   

On our Saviour's saying, he brought a Sword.  
OUr Saviour said, he came to bring a Sword  
Into the World, 'tis true, that was his Word,  
Lord, strike our hearts with that, and so assure us,  
That way of wounding is the means to cure us.   

On Saul's Conversion in his Journey to Damascus.  
WHen Saul was called to be a Convertite,  
God's glorious presence struck him blind with light:  
What strange enigmas Heaven can devise,  
Saul then saw clearest, when he lost his Eyes.  
The lustre struck him to the Earth, and he  
At that rebound rise to Eternity;  
Look here Ambition, learn this of Saul,  
The only way to rise high, is to fall.   

On the words, Scriptum est.  
OUr Saviour gives the perfect Revelation  
To his Disciples of his Death, and Passion,  
When Wisemen see known Dangers they prevent 'em;  
Yet Christ foresaw his Wrongs, but underwent 'em:  
He did expect no quiet, ease, or rest,  
Until he had performed quoth scriptumest.   

An Eclogue betwixt Saul, the Witch of Endor, and the Ghost of Samuel.  

The Introduction.  
WHen as the proud Philistines did prepare  
Their Bands in frightful order to make War  
Against the Israelites, Saul (their wished King)  
Marched forth, and unto Gilboa did bring  
All Israel, where (till the sad Events  
The threatning War had brought) they pitched their Tents:  
But when the Host of the proud Foe appeared  
To Saul so infinite, he greatly feared;  
The rather'cause he did no more inherit  
The Divine Power of a prophetic Spirit:  
For now the Power of God had left him so,  
That he by Prophecy nor Dream could know  
His future fate, from him all power went  
That doth support Kings just, and innocent:  
And now a fearful rage usurpeth all  
His nobler thoughts, he doth begin to call  
For Wizards, Witches, and his Fate refers  
No more to Prophets but to Sorcerers:  
A Woman must be found, whose breast inherits  
The damned Delusions of predictive Spirits:  
So in my younger observation  
Of this vile World, I have cast my Eyes upon  
A fawning Parasite who for some Boon  
His Patron had to grant, would beg, fall down  
Before him for it; which being denied,  
His humbleness converts to its old Pride,  
He grows Malicious, what he did desire  
Before with meekness, now he'll win with Ire:  
If Cruelty and murder can prefer  
His long-wished Ends, he'll be a murderer,  
Or any thing of horror, yet will pray  
And beg, at first, to have't the safest way;  
Though 'tis not Love, or Service, he extends,  
But Flattery to purchase his own Ends:  
So Saul's resolved, since Heaven denies to tell  
What he would know, makes his next means to Hell:  
To Endor goes accompanied by No man;  
And, with these words, invokes th' Infernal Woman.   

Saul and the Witch,  Saul. 
THou learned Mother of mysterious Arts,  
I come to know what thy deep skill imparts  
By necromancy: Thou whose awful power  
Can raise winds, thunder, lightnings, canst deflower  
The Spring of her new Crop: Of thee I crave  
That thou wilt raise some spirit from the grave,  
Who may divine unto me, whether Fate  
Will make me happy, or unfortunate  
In my next enterprise.  Witch. 
Strange Man forbear;  
Whose Craft instructed thee to set a snare  
For my most wretched Life? Dost thou not know  
King Saul proclaims himself a mortal foe  
To our black college? Hath not his Command  
Ruined the great'st Magicians of the Land?  
Is't not enough, I am confined to dwell  
In the dark building of an unknown Cell,  
Where I converse with nought, but bats and Owls,  
Ravens and night-Crows, who, from dismal holes,  
I send to sick-men's windows, to declare  
Death's embassy, to the offended Ear  
Of the declining Patient: Wherefore (pray)  
Seek ye this horrid Mansion, to betray  
The hapless Owner?  Sau. 
Woman do not fear,  
I do not seek thee out, or set a snare  
To get thy Life; for, finish my intent,  
As the Lord lives, there is no punishment  
Shall be inflicted on thee; I will be  
A grateful debtor to thy Art and Thee:  
Be speedy then. Oh! how I long to hear  
The Message of my Fate!  Wit. 
Whom shall I rear?  Sau. 
Old Samuel.  Wit. 
'Tis done. Ye Fiends below,  
That wait upon our will, one of you go,  
Assume the shape of Samuel, and appear,  
With such a Voice, and likeness: or declare  
The Reason why you cannot; for I fear,  
Ye dare not do it.  Spirit. 
Dare not? I am here.  Wit. 
Oh! I am lost; the unknown Fates decree  
Have set a period to my Art and Me.  
Why didst thou thus thy Royalty obscure,  
To take me Acting my Designs impure;  
In th' midst of them for to contrive my fall;  
So sure my Death is, as thy Name is Saul.  Sau. 
Though thou divinest me right, yet do not fear,  
But let me understand, what did appear  
After'thy Incantations?  Wit. 
You shall know:  
I saw immortal Gods rise from below,  
And after them, a reverend aged Man,  
Out of the Deep (with speedy passage) ran,  
Leapt in a Mantle, his white gentle Hairs  
Expressed a Brief of many well-spent years:  
Within whose Cheeks, bright Innocence did move,  
His eyes reverted to the Joys above,  
(Like holy men in prayer) and now appears  
To hear your will, and terminate your fears.   

Samuel, Saul, and the Witch of Endor.  Sam. 
Why from the cold bed of my quiet Grave  
Am I thus summoned Saul? what wouldst thou have?  
Why must thy Incantations call up me  
From secure sleep? are men in Graves not free?  Saul 
Divinest Spirit of blessed Samuel,  
The Causes that by necromantic Spell  
I am induced to raise thee from thy Grave  
Are these, within my restless Soul I have  
A thousand Torments, The Philistines are  
Prepared against me with a dreadful War  
And the Almighty who hath stood my Friend  
In many battles, given victorious End  
To all my Actions, and (in Dreams) would show  
Whether I should be conqueror or no,  
All things so near unto my Wishes brought  
I knew the battles End, ere it was Fought,  
But now no Invocations can desire  
The all-disposing Power to inspire  
My jonging Soul with so much Augury  
As serves to prophesy my Misery;  
These are the Causes make me thus return  
To thee, though sleeping in thy peaceful Urn.  Sam. 
Com'ft thou to me to know thy enterprise?  
Can Man make manifest what God denies?  
Yet I shall ease thy doubt; and now prepare  
To hear the fatal passage of thy War,  
So sad a Sonnet to thy Soul I'll sing,  
Thou'lt say it is a Curse to be a King;  
That all his Pomp, Titles, and Dignity,  
Are glorious Woes, and Royal Misery:  
As good Kings are called Gods that suppress Evils,  
So bad Kings (worse than Men) grow worse than Devils.  
But these are exhortations fit for those  
That have a Crown and People to dispose;  
Alas! thou've none, but what adds to thy cross,  
Thou hast it, to be ruined with the loss;  
Thy Diadem, upon thy Head long worn  
In Majesty, shall from thy front be torn,  
So shall thy kingdom from thy power be rent,  
And given to David as his Tenement;  
Before the sun hath once his journey gone  
Unto the West, thou shalt be overthrown  
By the Philistines, all this shalt thou see,  
And then thou and thy sons shall be with me.  
But all these sorrows would have been Delights,  
Hadst thou against the cursed Amalekites  
Obeyed the almighty's will. But 'tis too late  
Now to exhort; farewell, attend thy Fate,  Sau. 
Oh! dismal Doom, more than my Soul can bear  
A thousand Furies in a Band appear,  
To execute their charge; a Ghost dost doth bring  
News that doth make a shadow of a King.  
Oh! wretched Dignity! what is thy end?  
That men should so their fond Affections bend  
To compass their Frail Glory? half these woes  
That I have on me, would confound my Foes:  
Must these mysterious Miseries begin  
With me, the smallest o'th' Tribe of Benjamin?  
It could not else be styled a perfect Thrall;  
The highest Riser, hath the lowest fall.  
Would I had still kept on my weary way,  
To seek my father's Asses, then to stray  
This Princely path of passions; I had then,  
As now most cursed, been happiest among men.  
Ye Princes, that successfully shall Reign  
After my hapless End, with care and pain,  
Peruse my pitied Story, do not be  
Too confident of your frail sou'reignty;  
If Titularity could safety bring,  
Why was't not mine (a Prophet and a King?)  
And (for a Friend) what Mortal can excel  
The Knowledge of seraphic Samuel?  
Who had he lived, and I his Counsel taken,  
I had not (as I am) been thus forsaken:  
But now I shake thee off, vain World, farewell;  
Here lies entombed the King of Israel.  
All you that stand, be wary lest you fall,  
And when ye think you're sure, Remember Saul.    

LET US PRAY.  
AFter the Creed, our holy Pastors say  
Unto their Congregations Let us pray.  
The custom is divine, it argues, they  
That are believers must not cease to Pray.  
Sure those three words contain a charm that may  
Protect believers, therefore Let us pray.  
Would we resist temptation, the broad way  
That leads to black Damnation? Let us pray.  
Would we have Names and honours ne'er decay,  
But flourish like the springtime? Let us pray.  
Would we live long and happy, have each day  
Crowned with a thousand blessings? Let us pray.  
Would we have Jesus Christ the only stay  
Of our sick souls and bodies? Let us pray.  
Are we with Judas ready to betray  
Our Friends for fatal treasure? Let us pray.  
Are we grown proudly wise, will know no way  
To Heaven but our own? pray Let us pray.  
Are we so full of wrath, that we could slay  
Our nearest, dearest Kindred? Let us pray.  
Have we committed Treason, and no way  
Is left but desperation? Let us pray.  
Do we with Dives let poor Laz'rus stay  
Fasting, while we are Feasting? Let us pray.  
Lest evil-Angels bear our Souls away,  
As they did his, to torment, Let us pray.  
Are we in dismal Dungeons doomed to stay,  
Till Death allow enlargement? Let us pray.  
Are we so used to swear, that Yea and Nay  
Are words of no Assertion? Let us pray.  
Doth Pestilence possess us? lest Delay  
Consume us in a moment, Let us pray.  
Are we in wrathful War, where Tyrants sway  
The sword of black injustice? Let us pray.  
Would we return victorious? win the day  
From our red Adversaries? Let us pray.  
Doth Famine vex our Nation, and decay  
Our (once too pampered) body? Let us pray.  
Doth Causeless Care oppress us, that to day  
We cast for food to Morrow? Let us pray,  
Are we despised? contemned? made to obey  
The wrath of other Nations? Let us pray.  
Are we in sickness, and would gladly play  
The sanctified physicians? Let us pray.  
Doth Death approach us? lest too long Delay  
Lose both our Souls and Bodies, Let us pray.  
Would we be ready for doom's dreadful day?  
Let us (like Ninevites) Fast, Watch, and Pray.  
Sure sinful Sodom had been saved, had they  
With one entire consent said, Let us pray.  
And put those words in practice; what we may  
Obtain by Faith and Prayer, who can say,  
But those blessed Souls in Heaven? If Despair  
Poison the Soul, no Antidote like Prayer.  
If, in the stead of Disputatious, we  
These seven years, had put our Piety  
Into the Act of Prayer, we might have been  
Free from those Mischiefs past, or now begin:  
Prayer is the Key of Heaven, way to quiet,  
The Lands preservative, the angel's diet:  
It breaks the rage of Thunder, calms the Ocean,  
It is the sweetest Issue of Devotion;  
The Soul put into Language, a Design  
That (by just claim) doth make God's Kingdom thine  
The Prince's Treasury, the earth's increase,  
The Christian's Sacrifice, the Path to Peace,  
If we would have more bliss than Men can say,  
Pens write, or Angels tell us, Let us pray.   

An acrostic containing the Ten COMMANDMENTS.  

EXOD. XX.  
Thy God of Gods I am, whose hand  
Hath ransomed thee from Egypt's Land,  
Oh! than no other Gods implore. I  
Make no carved Statues to adore. II  
Almighty God speak not in vain. III  
See that his Sabbath thou maintain. IV  
In honour let thy Parents be. V  
Oppose thy Wrath, from murder fly. VI  
Reject Adulteries, faint pleasure. VII  
Do not steal in any Measure. VIII  
Abandon all false witness, never love it. ix.  
Nor let thy Soul thy neighbour's Riches covet. X    

Intemperance.  
A Fancy upon words.  

HE that's devoted to the GLASS,  
The Dice, or a Lascivious LASS,  
At his own price is made an ASS,   

He that is greedy of the GRAPE,  
On Reason doth commit a RAPE,  
And changeth habit with an APE.   

The Lover whose Devotion flies  
Up to the Sphere where Beauty lies,  
Makes burning-glasses of his EYES.   

If long he to that IdoI PRAY  
His Sight, by love's inflaming RAY,  
Is lost 
* Rob. Wisdom,  For ever and for AY.     

Elegiac Poems.  

An elegy on the Death of Mr. John Steward.  
IF a sad Stranger may presume to mourn,  
And build (in Verse) an Altar o'er an Urn,  
If Tears that come from Heart-instructed Eyes  
Appear no despicable Sacrifice;  
If you'll conceive Sorrow can keep her Court  
In Souls that have the Cause but by Report,  
Or if the loss of virtue you believe  
Can make its Lover (though a Stranger) grieve:  
Admit my Wet Oblation which imparts  
Something that shows th'effects of mourning Hearts.  
You who have had no Tears for your own Crimes,  
And cannot vent a Sigh for these sad Times,  
Within whose juiccless Eyes was never seen,  
Drops but proceeding from a tickled Spleen:  
And you who (Valor-hardened) never could  
Bestow one stream to see a Sea of blood,  
Though of your Sons, or Brothers; Come to me  
I'll teach you true grief in this elegy,  
Steward is dead, a man whom Truth, and Fame  
With Virtue, ever shall embalm his Name;  
Crave although Young, who in his heart did prize  
Learning, and yet not wittier than wise;  
Religious without Faction, and could be  
Courteous without the Court hypocrisy,  
Just to his Friends, not hateful to his Foes,  
For he had none, though Virtue seldom goes  
By envy unattended; He was one  
In whom appeared much of Perfection,  
But Death (the due of Nature) must be paid,  
Beauty, and Strength must in a Grave be laid:  
So hasty and unwilling to defer  
The time, is our great grim, Commissioner;  
Then let us mourn, let our true Sorrow swim,  
That he is not with us, or we with him:  
'Tis Good to mourn for Good, as to Regard,  
Or pity, is a kind of a Reward:  
His latest precious Breathings, had respect  
To nothing more than divine Dialect,  
Which he committed to his mourning Friends;  
In Exhortations for their better Ends  
Unlocks his breast, which only could express  
Aspiring Prayers, and pious pensiveness;  
Thus like a Traveller (that will not stray  
To any talk, but's journey, and his way)  
Our Peregrine discourseth, till at last  
As Tapers, near their end give greatest blast,  
He dies, and all the Duty I can do  
Is on his hearse to fix a Line or two.   

The Epitaph.  

UNderneath this Marble lies  
Youth's decay, that merchant's prize,  
Who trades for what is just and wise.   

On this Urn let no man laugh,  
Reader, if thou keep him safe,  
His Name shall be thy Epitaph.   

Let no one here presume to Read  
Unless he be by sorrow lead,  
To drop a Tear upon the dead.   

It shall be but lent, for when  
Thou com'st to th' period of all Men,  
His Friends shall pay thy Drops again.    

On the Death of the most worthily honoured Mr. John Sidney, who died sull of the Small Pox.  
SIdney is dead, a Man whose name makes furrows  
In his Friends Cheeks, channeled with Tears for Sorrows,  
Within whose Microcosm was combined  
All Ornaments of Body, and of mind:  
In whose good Acts, you might such volumes see,  
As did exceed th' extent of Heraldry;  
Whose well-composed Excellencies, wrought  
Beyond the largest scope of human thought.  
Indeed, within his Life's short little Span,  
Was all could be contracted in one Man;  
And He that would write his true elegy,  
Must not Court Muses, but Divinity.  
He's Dead: But Death, I have a Speech, in vain,  
Directed unto Thee, where I complain  
Upon thy cruel Office, that could find  
No way to part his Body and his Mind,  
But by a fatal sickness, that confounds  
The beauteous Patient, with so many wounds;  
Sure when thou mad'st his fabric to shiver,  
Thou couldst not choose but empty all thy Quiver,  
What Man (to all odds open) in the Wars,  
Dies with such a Solemnity of scars?  
Yet his great Spirit gives the Reason why,  
Without that Number, Sidney could not die:  
And therefore we will Pen it in his Story,  
What thou intend'st his ruin, is his Glory;  
So when the Heavenly Globe I've looked upon,  
Have I beheld the Constellation  
Of Jupiter, and on all parts descried  
Th'illuminated Body stellified,  
Sprinkled about with Stars, so that you might  
Behold his Limbs and Hair, powdered with Light:  
This we'll apply, that, though we lose him here,  
His Soul shall shine in a celestial Sphere.   

The Epitaph.  

IN this sacred Urn there lies,  
Till the last Trump make it rise,  
A Light that's wanting in the Skies.   

A corpse enveloped with Stars,  
Who, though a Stranger to the Wars,  
Was marked with many hundred Scars.   

Death (at once) spent all his store  
Of Darts, which this fair Body bore,  
Though fewer, had killed many more.   

For him our own salt Tears we quaff.  
Whose Virtues shall preserve him safe  
Beyond the power of Epitaph.    

An elegy on the lamented Death of the virtuous miss Anne Phillips, dedicated to her Son and Heir Mr. Edmond Philips.  
REligious Creature, on thy sacred hearse  
Let my sad Muse engrave a weeping Verse  
In watery Characters, which ne'er shall dry,  
Whilst Men survive to write an Elegy:  
Dull Brass, Proud Marble, and Arabian Gold,  
(Though they tire Time and ruin) shall not hold  
Their aged Letters half so long, as we  
Shall keep thy living worth in Memory:  
Obedience was thy study, Truth thy aim,  
wisdom thy worship, Fortitude thy fame,  
Patience thy peace, and all good eyes might see  
Thou didst retain Faith, Hope, and Charity.  
Within the holy treasury of thy Mind,  
Were the choice virtues of all womankind:  
Nothing that had affinity with good,  
But lived within thy Spirit or thy blood;  
No costly Marble need on thee be spent,  
Thy deathless Worth is thine own Monument.   

Thoughts of Life and Death, written upon the occasion, ex tempore.  
I Never look on Life, but with a loathing,  
When it is sterril, and conduceth nothing  
To my Eternal Being; but when I  
Find it devoted to the Deity,  
To love my Neighbour, and obey that State  
Which God hath made next, and immediate,  
Under his sacred Power; when I have will  
To Forgive him that doth me greatest ill;  
To calm my Passions, to content my Friends,  
And do no Acts that savour of self-ends,  
Then I love Life; but wanting this, I have  
No joy, but to exchange it for a Grave.   

An Epitaph on the Death of an Organist.  
WIthin this Earth (a place of low condition)  
Entombed, here lies, an exquisite Musician:  
Living, he thrived by Concord, and agreeing,  
Looking from all things, to Eternal being:  
In Equal Rule and Space he lead his life;  
A constant, honest, Consort to his Wife,  
Much troubled music suffered such derision  
By many, that began Points of Division:  
He now, without control, no question, sings  
Eternal Anthems to the King of Kings.   

An Epitaph on Himself.  

NAy, read, and spare not, Passenger,  
My sense is now past feeling,  
Who to my Grave a Wound did bear  
Within, past physics healing.   

But do not (if thou mean to Wed)  
To read my Story tarry,  
lest thou Envy me this cold Bed,  
Rather than live to marry.   

For a long strife, with a lewd Wife  
(Worst of all Ills beside)  
Made me grow weary of my Life,  
So I fell sick and died.    

An Epitaph on a Strumpet, buried at Gravesend, once at my landing there, to go to Canterbury.  
WE read, that Sacred Solomon would have  
No nice distinction twixt a Whore and Grave:  
Since it is so, then now it may be said,  
That hear a Grave within a Grave is laid:  
She was no sexton's wife, yet now and than  
Suspicion said, she buried many a Man;  
But now the Grave is dead, why then (my Friend)  
The worst is past, Thou'rt Welcome to Gravesend.   

An Epitaph on my worthy Friend Mr. John Kirk.  
REader, Within this Dormitory, lies  
The wet Memento of a widows eyes;  
A Kirk, though not of Scotland, One in whom  
Loyalty lived, and Faction found no room:  
No Conventicle Christian, but he Died  
A Kirk of England by the mother's side.  
In brief, to let you know what you have lost,  
Kirk was a Temple of the Holy Ghost.   
FINIS.