THE Double Eternity, OR, The Inevitable Choice.  Deut. xxx. 19 
I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing, therefore choose life.  
LONDON: Printed by M. Clark for the Author. 1695.   

To the Honoured Madam GULDEFORD OF HEMSTED in KENT.  
Honoured Madam,  
IT having been your daily Practice for these many Years, to set apart a considerable time for Meditation on the Joys of Heaven and Pains of Hell, which makes you fly the Sweets which end in so much Bitterness, and go cheerfully the hard way which leads to such endless Happiness: A Meditation of this twofold Estate will be no  Present; Tho your Ladyship has better Thoughts of your own, and better Inspirations than Poets are acquainted with.  
That, I know, in another would lessen the Value of the Present, but in your Ladyship it increases it; for having improved the Thoughts, and mixed with them Inspirations, you kindly believe the Author has more Part in them than he has, and humbly believe yourself to have less part in them than you have; for 'tis the Property of true Humility to build so high and lay the Foundations so low, that there is no distinct seeing from the bottom to the top.  
This is the Advantage those Writers have which fall into your Hands, and 'tis such, that, considering it, I fear my little Present will seem made to your Ladyship rather for Self-ends than to make any return for the many great Favours I stand Indebted for. Yet that was the first thing in my Thoughts, when I proposed to myself this small Address; and should be the last, if this little Book of mine were but of Worth enough: But as it is, Honoured Madam, be pleased but to accept of it, and I am more indebted than before.  
Honoured Madam, Your Ladyship's Most humble Servant J. L.   

THE PREFACE TO THE READER.  
THIS Description of Heaven and Hell, is a part of Mr. Niewport's Poem Dedicated to King Charles II. under the Title of Vivat Rex; And it being capable, with Alteration of a World or two, to stand by itself, and make a Title of its own, I have made it English, and Christened it with the Name of the Double Eternity.  
The Purity of the Latin, and the Excellency of the Thoughts enticed me to translate it, and the shortness of it took off the fear of overmuch Trouble in the Work, and the usefulness of the Subject made me willing to Publish it. A Man may read it that would not read a Sermon; and seeing in it the Rewards of Heaven and the Pains of Hell better represented to him than ever he represented them to himself, and conformable to the Word of God, he may come to think it is no great business to keep Ten Commandments, to have so much for keeping them; and think it too much for a little more of the Flesh and the World to take up with the Devil at last, and so be converted in Verse, who had continued on wickedly in Prose.  
You may father suppose, if you think it is Püritanical to pretend nothing but Godliness without mixture, that Vanity had a helping hand in the Press, and I wish Profit had been there too; But I find the Prophet Isaiah himself having things of this nature of sell, was forced to cry out, Come ye and buy without money, and without Price; which makes me expect but a very indifferent Market: However take it and make the best of it, and so farewell.   

THE Double Eternity.  

LOST in a Storm and wildered in the Night,  
Long time I stretched my Eyes with useless Sight;  
At length the Clouds disperse, the Heaven's clear  
And Stars, the lovely night-watch, Stars appear,  
The only comfort then, the only there.   

Here taking Heart, I cast about my Eyes,  
And viewed the opening beauties of the Skies;  
Fixed Stars and Planets at their liberty:  
But, oh, the distance of those Lights from me!  
Yet they (faint Lights) move in a Sphere so low,  
That less to Heaven than to Earth they show.  
The total sum of Hope and heap of Bliss  
Farther in Heavens inmost Region is.  
That part goes backward a vast length of place.  
Who'll wing these feet that move so slow a pace?  
Or who'll my shoulders wing? that I may fly  
Above the Clouds, above the azure Sky;  
Above the Region of the Moon and Fire,  
And pass the distant Lights which I admire:  
And at th' Empyreal Palace set me down,  
Where heavens Darling (Happiness) doth crown  
Mortals immortal made, and to the Poor  
Unlocks the Heaven's everlasting Store.  
Virtue alone this lump of Earth can raise,  
And find us Wings to pass those untrod ways.   

We leave our native Soil, House, Nuptial ties,  
And follow father leading Avarice.  
Then Stars of our bright Hemisphere are seen,  
And that which once the utmost Bounds has been,  
(Th' Hesperian Garden and the Caspian Sea,  
And Colchos whither Jason's Ship made way)  
Is now thought nigh. Our first Step is their last;  
The straits, as Suburb Journeys, now are past,  
Where trav'ling Hercules himself stuck fast;  
Where the Line equally the year divides,  
And right between each Hemisphere decides:  
Where the East-winds and West-winds are at home,  
And in their Native Indies freely roam;  
Where the North-winds about the Bear-star blow;  
Their fiercest storms of Rain, and Hail, and Snow;  
And where the South-winds no less fury show.  
(Europe's a Prison) past all Bounds of old.  
Through unknown Heats, unhabitable Cold;  
Tho Rocks and Sands forbidden and roating Sea;  
We to the Winds our vows and sails display,  
But mind not Heavens Gifts or Heaven's way.  
Ignoble Souls! The noble Seed of God,  
Mad Avarice debases to a Clod;  
And yet our greedy thirsty Avarice,  
No Earth, no Sea of Gold can it suffice.  
The World can't hold Man's Heart, that holdeth all;  
The great World is too little for the small:  
And still the Self-dissatisfyed Mind  
Labours for Breath and burns for what's behind.  
Why surely then for greater things 'tis made,  
And there is something greater to be had.  
O Man what is't? Lift up thy mind, and dare  
To cast off Earthiness and sordid Care.  
Woe to the Miser, on his Breast he crawls,  
For Earth and Dirt his greedy Hunger calls;  
Cursed like the Serpent which deceived Eve.  
But thou whose meanest part's from Earth, be ned Slave  
To that, but upwards to the Heavens strive,  
From whence thou dost thy chiefest part derive,  
And look upon them as thy native Home,  
And form thyself as does thyself become.   

O high large Dwelling! highest Seat of Peace,  
Fullness of Bliss where all our Wishes cease.  
The Presence-Chamber of the Thunderer;  
But Thunder-free, and free from Threat or Ire.  
Death's fatal Sith and Dart which fill with Fear  
The sublunary World, fright no Man there:  
No Sighs disturb that Air, no Tears their Joy,  
No Gall th' immortal Sweets that never cloy.  
Besides, the glorious Body shines so bright,  
That all its Raiment are its Rays of light;  
A kind of Angel-Dress: and Angels wings  
Move with a heavenly swiftness earthly Things.  
Rain, Hail, Snow hurts them not, nor Dog-days heat,  
Nor deadly Weapons any Fear create:  
And Bodies gently slide, like Inspiration,  
Through each other without separation;  
Nor strength of brazen Bars can stop the way,  
Nor solid Rocks the solid Body stay.   

Had I a Thousand Tongues to praise the Place,  
What were a Thousand Tongues in such a case?  
Or were Apelles hand to labour here,  
How little would his matchless Art appear?  
Now because glittering Jewels, Gold and Plate  
Make up the little Pride of Man's poor state,  
To Heaven both the Indies straight must go;  
As if in Heaven Gold would make a show.  
Thus we transport from Earth the golden Ore,  
To make the Stars, and pave th' immortal Floor;  
And jasper's, Beryls, Rubies hence convey,  
To make the Frontispiece of Heaven gay.  
But, oh, thou better Nature, all that's fine  
In Gold and Gems no Riches are of thine;  
Thy Treasures, hid from Sense, nor Tongue nor Thought  
Can tell; we speak but what by Sense is taught:  
Beasts only know the Dainties of the Field,  
Which the best Salads to their Palates yield:  
So what we see and feel we only know,  
So far we can and cannot farther go.  
Oh, what a Masterpiece must Heaven be,  
Where God designed from all Eternity  
To have his Art, his Riches, his large Breast,  
And the All-Maker in the Work confessed.   


Essential Happiness.  But, oh, what Torrent's that which in such streams  
From God's Throne overflows to the extremes  
Of Heaven! Say, ye Blessed, if we may know,  
What Torrent's that? for it is famed below  
As far as Earth; as far as Hell, which made  
The burning Glutton hope a little Aid;  
But 'twould not be; the burning Glutton cried  
For one Cold Drop, and one Cold Drop's denied.  
A Torrent 'tis, but of an endless Course:  
That source of Life, that everlasting Source  
Does to eternal Streams new Stores supply:  
Who Drinks thereof Drinks in Satiety;  
Quenches his Thirst, and yet is ever Dry;  
Dry without trouble, full, yet never cloyed;  
Wish and Possession is at once enjoyed.   

Nigh to this Torrent a rich Beauty lies,  
Of charming Form and Features, and her Eyes  
Are brighter than the Sun: Her Angels call  
By the sweet Names of Life Celestial.  
Sincere Delight, and Rest Secure, and Peace  
With soft Breasts open, and with Virgin face,  
Are of her Train; and Blessed Eternity,  
Known by her Crown of endless Majesty,  
And by the Dress which circles round her Hair,  
Of Heaven's brightest Die, and richest Wear.  
These Sister-Beauties fold in her Embrace,  
And all together join to bless the Place.   

Hence, as 'tis said, hence from this Life Divine,  
Mankind and Angels take their Origine:  
Angels, pure Spirits, free from all allay;  
Men of mixed nature, Spirit half, half Clay.  
Hence the first Draughts of Life, they say, are ta'en;  
And when Heaven calls upon us for't again,  
Back to its Fountain and first Cause it goes,  
If no Crime stop, no Foulness interpose;  
Then fixed on God  we gaze,  
His Face Divine darts on us piercing Rays;  
Which so reflect God's Likeness back, that we  
Turn living Image of the Deity.  
The Rainbow from the Sun receives its light,  
The Sun's kind Aspect makes it look so bright;  
But being made of Clouds it melts away:  
So God, the Angels bright Eternal day,  
Here in this gloomy Place new Light creates,  
And with it all our Darkness dissipates;  
And Heavens Beauties sets in mortal sight,  
Inflames the Heart, and fills it with delight:  
But being Sinners mists and vapours rise,  
And straight wet Sorrow showers at our Eyes.  
But Heaven knows no Griefs, no Sin is there,  
No Earth, no Vapours, Clouds or Rain to fear.  
According to our little skill we try,  
In mind to copy the Divinity;  
But Sense with earthy Colours and false Dyes,  
Imposes on the Mind as well as Eyes:  
But when the darkness of that lump of Clay,  
Which shades Mortality is driven away  
By Light Divine, God's Beauties then appear,  
Just as in the Original they are:  
'Tis not his Likeness, 'tis his very Face  
Seen in itself, not in the Looking-glass.  
Hence Love, Love equal to the lovely Sight,  
The Good it sees, with infinite delight  
Embraces, holds fast, clings to't, till it be  
Made one with God by mutual Unity.   

God infinitely differs from Mankind,  
And more, if Man can yet be more behind.  
For, uncreated Possibilities,  
Innumerable Kind's and Qualities,  
Which in their Causes fertile Womb lay hid,  
God can bring forth as well as those he did.  
So many Ranks of things, so many Classes,  
And Distance infinite, th'Almighty passes,  
And joins us to himself; 'tis Love unites;  
Vision and Love: O Love! O vast Delights!  
O everlasting Joys! Torrent of Peace!  
Heaven of Heavens! Where all Wishes cease,  
Beholding God for ever face to face.   

O Earthborn, down-looked Creature, where so fast?  
Are Heavens Treasures come to this at last?  
Men to the Indies run, bid Stars adieu,  
Leave God for Gold, and Heaven for Peru,  
And they that stay at home sell Heaven too.  
But stand a little; stand, and look, and think,  
Whilst you have yet a foot upon the Brink:  
Stand, and look down into the Pit of Hell,  
Where the dead Sinner and damned Angel dwell.   

But look not there for fiery Pools, or Lakes  
Flowing with Tears, or Fury's Hair of Snakes,  
Or triple Walls, or famed Ixion's Wheel;  
(All Fables) there are other Things to feel.  
Other Fires and Tears there are to fear;  
men's guilty Minds are their own Vipers there:  
God's doom irrevocable walls them in;  
Eternity, which ever's to begin,  
Moves in an endless round the wheeling Pain,  
That ever turns, ever returns again.  
But, oh, the loathsome Dungeon's horrid Night!  
Was I born to behold the breathing Light  
Of Heaven, and the Sun's bright warming Ray?  
O pleasant Sun! Sweet Heaven! Light of Day!  
O Light thou Mother of Delight! thou Morn  
Of God's Creation, and his fair Firstborn,  
Whom he loves best; whom thou resemblest most  
Of all the numerous Created Host.  
O Light! Nor Light, nor Heaven here is seen;  
It burns: but there's a 
* The Voice of the Lord divides the flames of fire. Ps. 28.7. Which is thus interpreted by Basilius.  Voice that comes between  
The Fire and Flame, and cuts away the Light;  
Darkness burns Hell, and Flames all over Night.  
In these foul depths of Night, these Dungeons deep,  
Full of black Horror guilty Souls shall weep,  
That once neglected Heaven, God, and Grace;  
And call to mind in vain the better Place:  
To Self and all things lost, forsaken quite.  
And that no Pain be lost for want of Sight,  
Darkness, to be more cruel, yields her Right.  
The Fiend that Rules in Chains, sits on a Throne,  
Made up of Gild and great Damnation;  
King of the Damned, and his own Punishment.  
Weak bankrupt, hopeless Fury, deadly Want,  
And Fear, and Rage tearing her bloody Jaws,  
(Foul Guard of Gild) are all the Guard he has.  
An ugly Snake, his chiefest Cause of Woe,  
Meets Head and Tail and round his Head doth go;  
His Brows with this sad Wreath, this Garland's bound;  
Long Evil folding in an endless round.  
He is all over Pain, no Part is free;  
And so are all the Damned as well as he.  
Does the Gout tear the Feet with raging Pains? 
The Pain of Sense.   
Does Stone or gnawing Gravel Heat the Reins?  
The Guts at least or Head is free: But here  
All Parts complain of Burdens, none can bear.  
A living Death they live, they live and die  
Both at a Time, and both Eternally.  
Each Good the more it lasts the more it grows;  
And by their lasting too we measure Woes.  
Great Pain is to itself a speedy Cure;  
The greater 'tis, the less it will endure:  
It can't be great and long, Man has not strength;  
But Hell's vast Pains are of an endless length.  
The Fire never kills and never dies,  
But with itself ever itself supplies:  
Implacable Destruction, Torment extreme,  
Hell's worst of Furies, God's avenging Flame.   

The Say strange, 
Mark 6.  That every one shall be  
Salted with fire; Here's the Mystery;  
As Salt preserves, so shall that Fire do;  
With Pain preserving, salt and burn them too:  
That fiery Salt force to the  inspires,  
And makes them fire-proof t'eternal Fires.  
O Penance, give me Sighs and weeping Eyes!  
O force of Tears at which Hell-fire dies.  
But see, lost Soul, whence art thou tumbled down; 
The Pain of lost Happiness.   
That Sight in Tears the Eyes shall ever drown:  
The Ministers of Light shall always be  
The Ministers of Tears for an Eternity.  
They see the happy Mansions, seat of Peace;  
Bound in Hell's Dungeon, closed within the Place,  
Nine times about by Depths that none can pass:  
They see the blessed Angels Station,  
Filled with Newcomers from our Plantation:  
They see a joyful numberless Embrace;  
Love pressing heart to heart, and face to face.  
But these are Sweets enjoyed by him alone  
The Book of Life has made a Denizen  
Of Heaven: Golden Book! let others be  
Cried up for Beauty, Art, Antiquity;  
These Virtue polish, and eternal Love.   


* The Light of Glory is that supernatural Light, necessary to raise the natural Faculty of the Mind to that supernatural Act, the Vision of God.  Not to my Eyes, but Ears that Light above  
(Which from its Glory takes its Price and Name)  
Has often come, come by the way of Fame.  
The bright East ne'er such Glory had to show;  
And all the First days fertile Light could do,  
(The Parent of each other glorious Light)  
It ne'er could bring forth any thing so bright;  
'Tis God's own Lustre, that which shone about  
Michael and's Army, fighting 'gainst the rout  
Of Rebel Angels: 'tis the Sun's bright Ray  
Which never sets; that Light which shows the way  
Into the very innermost abode,  
And all the pleasures and the Sweets of God.  
But Hell must have no share in this; black Smoke,  
Dark Clouds, thick Steams the Sight of Heaven choke,  
And Hell more dreadful make: What a Sight  
Are these black Monsters of eternal Night.  
I dread the Thought on't: Oh, what Looks! what Blows!  
What biting Serpents to increase our Woes!  
What Fires overspread the burning Plain!  
How fertile is the horrid place in Pain!  
Alas, 'tis more than Horrid: Hence they Groan,  
Roar out and Rage, and make a dismal Moan.   

O Sleep, Death's likeness, if, as Poets tell,  
Thou dost in everlasting Darkness dwell;  
Upon my Eyes shed, from thy charming Rod,  
Kind Poisons, Laudanum and Diacode;  
And make me lose myself for one short Wink,  
And, for a Moment neither feel nor think.  
If any stupifying Lethe flows  
In Hell, amdist their thoughtful sleepless Woes;  
Ah may it wash my Cares, and make the Pain  
Less tyrannising, and compose my Brain  
To rest, that Sleep may steal upon my Grief,  
And Rob me of myself; a welcome Thief.  
But, oh, no Sleep, no Lethe Cares allays,  
But frightful Objects rush in every way  
Upon the Mind, and wearied night and day.  
No way to shun the hateful Sight they fear,  
Where e'er they turn their Eyes the Plague is there.  
Hence comes that Worm, which in their restless Breast, 
The Worm of Conscience.   
Deep in the Heart and Soul is said to nest;  
And gnaws eternally th' immortal Food,  
And sucks the everlasting-wasting Blood;  
No after-Sighs and Tears do any good.  
The Gate which open was to all the Crimes  
Through all the East, West, North and Southern Climes,  
That Gate is shut; with unrelenting hand  
The Iron hinge is turned, and so must stand.  
No hope! All's gone! Hope is Pain's sole relief,  
Either as showing Fruit or end of Grief:  
Grief holds to that; Where is the Fruit of Woe?  
Hell's Pains are fruitless; Where's the end? Round go  
The wheeling Torments with return of Pain,  
Still coming round to be endured again.  
Infinite is the heap of Misery;  
A mass of Ills that fill Eternity:  
The Stars and untold Sands put in one sum,  
Are nothing to the Years of Pain to come.  
Swift Hours stand, and lay aside your Wings,  
Your Wheels, your restless Motion, useless things;  
Times Race is ended, Heaven's Course is done,  
Nor Wheels of Heaven stir, nor Wheels of Sun;  
But the swift Wheel of Pain runs as before,  
Age after Age, and never shall give over.   
FINIS.