Immanuel: OR THE MYSTERY Of GOD, Manifested in the FLESH.  
Sung in the several CANTOS Of 

URANIA.  
ASTRAEA.  
MELPOMENE.    
By WILL. WISHARTT B. D. Scoto-Britan. and Preacher in both Kingdoms.  
LONDON, Printed by R. Hodgkinson, for Philip Nevil dwelling in Ivy Lane. 1642.   

TO THE HIGH AND MIGHTY MONARCH Charles, Of Great Britain, France and Ireland, etc.  

ANAGRAMMATA REGIA:  Carolus Stevartus, 
Solus sacra tuetur:  Charles Stevart, 
Th'Altars Rescue:  Charles Stevart, 
L'-tres haut Cesar.   

TO thee, great Britain's, France & Ireland's King,  
To thee, great Faith's defending Sovereign,  
To thee, great Patron of Parnassus spring,  
To thee, great Neptune of our Northern Main,  
To thee, great Owner of th'Hesperian Plain,  
To thee, great Patron both of Arms and Arts,  
To thee, great Mover of great Albion's wain,  
To thee, great Monarch, both of hands and hearts,  
To thee, great Sun, who to our soil imparts  
Light, vegetation, life and influence,  
To thee, great Pan, who break'st Bellona's darts,  
To thee, great Mirror of Magnificence,  
My pure Urania sacres those poor drops  
She sucked from Pindus and Parnassus tops;  
'Tis true, to thee she can no good impart,  
Yet shall she sing, Thy servant's   
WILL. WISHARTT.   

To the Reader.  

WHat wise Jedidjah did not understand,  
What Jakehs Son could never yet conceive,  
Apelles pencil in Apollo's hand  
On those succeeding tables shall engrave.   

What way a young man with a maid can have,  
What way a Serpent strayeth on a stone,  
What way a Ship doth slope the Ocean's wave,  
What way an Eagle scales the welkin's Zone.   

How glory cometh from confusion,  
How meat com'th from the eater, sweet from sour  
How life doth spring from death's pavilion,  
And how a Lamb doth curb the Lion's power,  
Stand all indented on that cursed Tree,  
Where ink and blood have writ, J. N. R. J.    

The Contents of the several Chapters or Cantos contained in the 3 ensuing Weeks-Works, or Books, expressed under the Titles of URANIA, ASTRAEA, MELPOMENE.  

viz. In URANIA, or the first Week.  
Cant. 1ᵒ. The Rogation, or the Author's Prayer. fol. 1  
Cant. 2ᵒ. The Prodrome, or Forerunner. fol. 5  
Cant. 3o. The Annunciation, or Salutation. fol. 17  
Cant. 4ᵒ. Immanuel, or the Birth of Christ. fol. 27  
Cant. 5ᵒ. The Advent, or Circumcision. fol. 39  
Cant. 6ᵒ. The Epiphany, or the Sages. fol. 51  
Cant. 7ᵒ. The Massacre, or murder of the children. fol. 59   

In ASTRAEA, or the second Week:  
Cant. 1ᵒ. The Unction, or Baptism. fol. 69  
Cant. 2ᵒ. The Duel, or, Temptation. fol. 79  
Cant. 3o. The Doctor, or the Law interpreted. fol. 91  
Cant. 4ᵒ. The Powers, or Miracles. fol. 102  
Cant. 5ᵒ. The Proselytes, or Converts. fol. 117  
Cant. 6ᵒ. The Metamorphose, or Transfiguration. fol. 126  
Cant. 7ᵒ. The Hosanna, or riding to the Temple. fol. 136   

In MELPOMENE, or the third Week:  
Cant. 1ᵒ. The Conspiracy, or betraying of Christ. fol. 147  
Cant. 2ᵒ. The Agony, in Gethsemen. fol. 158  
Cant. 3o. The Surprise, or Apprehension. fol. 168  
Cant. 4ᵒ. The Assize, or Trial. fol. 178  
Cant. 5ᵒ. The Cross, or Death. fol. 189  
Cant. 6ᵒ. The Triumph, or Resurrection. fol. 200  
Cant. 7ᵒ. The Trophec, or Ascension. fol. 211    


URANIA.  
Here doth a worm-ling to his wondrous maker  
His Souls best service and affections sacre.  
A Lion to a Lamb prepares the Way.  
The Angel Gabriel greets great Bethleem's May  
The chaste Parthenia bringeth forth her Son.  
Immanuel's sealed by Circumcision.  
A blazing Star makes Sages seek their King.  
In Ramah Rachel weeps, and scorns to sing.  

The Rogation.  
CANTO 1ᵒ.  

THE very heavens are in thy sight impure,  
O thou dread Sovereign of all Creature!  
Thy Wisdom's such, and eke thy power so large  
That thou layst folly to the Angel's charge:  
O then! how idly foolish and how vain  
A thing is man, even in his choicest strain?  
Whose habitation is in dust and clay,  
Where Vanity bears such imperial sway  
As mak● his strength but weakness; wisdom, folly;  
Thoughts, fond; and actions, every way unholy:   

How canst thou then, thou sacred strong of strongs,  
To whom untainted Majesty belongs,  
Once sip the runnals of that source, whence gall  
Springs up from Wormwoods poisoned Mineral;  
Or hear the cries which wretched he pours out,  
Whose best apparel is a men struous clout?  
No, sure I am it cannot be, but thou  
Who, in thyself, art still unchanged and true,  
Must on some rarer object fix thine eyes  
E'er thou dispense with our impieties;  
Yea, sure I am, it is that Lamb, alone,  
Who joined with thee in triple-union,  
Whose intercession, and sweet warbling airs  
Makes thee attend the tenor of our Prayers.   

Look therefore, great GOD, on that Lamb whose cry  
Speaks better things than Abel's butchery,  
Look on that blood, which spread on Israel's doors  
Saves from that Plague which Pharaoh's sons devours:  
Look on that thread, which being tied about  
Zarah's right hand, inspred him to come out,  
Holding his brother's heel in's grappling fist  
To testify he struggled to be blest;  
And finally, look on that scarlet Lace  
Which tied to Rachab's window, gave her Peace  
Amidst that foil, and death-denouncing wound  
Which Jericho's vainglory did confound:  
Look on all those, and through all those on me,  
In him whom those did all presignify,  
And by thy Spirit, every this spirit of mine  
With learned Judgement, and with Art divine,  
That whilst I undertake this task, to tell  
The World, how her dread Lord Immanuel  
Thy eternal Word; yea, thy eternal Son,  
Was made in Time our very flesh and bone;  
I may dilate that story in such guise  
As may enforce the learnt, the sage, the wise,  
To lead the Squadrons of their carnall-sense  
All captivated to thy obedience.   

And, to this end, rouse thou my mind on high,  
Teach thou my hands to touch, and eyes to see  
The secrets of thy sweet-coelestiall-Court,  
Which may my Soul above the Pole transport  
In such a sort, that whilst the Poetasters  
Of brainsick passions, and of fond disasters  
Do ravish worldly minds, and muddy brains  
With forged sighs, false tears, and feigned strains  
Of wanton Love, lascivious shows and songs,  
Vain Madrigals, dissembling woes and wrongs;  
My Muse, quit-claming the Castalian Font,  
Where the Pyerian maids, of old, were wont  
To sip their Nectar: And those swelling tops  
Of Pindus and Parnassus, whose sweet drops  
Ravished great Homer, by their sacred kisses,  
To sing Achilles and the wise Ulysses;  
Made Maro from his Mantua to descry  
The sighs of Dido, and the sack of Troy;  
And taught Love's pander in a ravished trance,  
To vent his fabulous Metamorphosed dance:  
I may with sacred measures, notes and numbers,  
Which on sublunar-themes nor sleeps nor slumbers,  
The grave sweet honours, and th'eternal praises  
Of my Redeemer rouse from errors mazes;  
So, whilst that some their pens and pains inure  
To limb the Gnydian Idols portraiture,  
And in the veins of their lascivious rhyme  
Make Cupid prince, and Genius of the time;  
Whilst others subjects are but fictions, dreams,  
Imaginations and conceited themes,  
Clothed up in such a charming phrase, that vice  
Robs virtue of her chair, she looks so nice:   

My care may be t'unfold that boundless Ocean  
Of Peace, of Mercy, and of Lovesick-motion,  
Wherewith the Man-God, my Redeemer, hath  
Released my Darling, both from Sin and Death:   

But since my wit is weak, my pen unable,  
My judgement shallow, and my hand unstable  
To give a true characterizing strain  
Unto thy Greatness, Goodness, Mercies-Main,  
O grant, that whilst thou openest thus my mouth  
T'unfold the Tenor of thy sacred Truth,  
I be not like those stones which by the way  
Unmoved themselves, the beaten road display;  
Nor like that canal, and that watery Spout  
Which from the fountain to its bubbling snout  
Conveys pure streams of cool refreshing water  
For th'use of others, whilst itself's no better:  
No, first inform my mind, then clear mine eye  
That I may learn what depth of Deiry  
Thy Wisdom hath entrenched within the Veil  
Of flesh, and made it there reside and dwell:  
Then touch my lips, and guide my babbling pen,  
That I may warble to the sons of men  
The sweet Hyblaean Nectar of thy Powre  
That brings us sweetness from our bitter-sowre;  
So shall I teach thy Saints thy ways aright,  
Whilst thy allseeing eye vouchsafes me sight.    

The Prodrome.  
CANTO. 2ᵒ.  

I Sing the wonders of that wondrous GOD,  
Who being essentially one is Trin'ly odd,  
Not in that first born Word-begotten Mater  
Whose after-byrth was fire, air, earth and water,  
From whom, and to whom, as their native source  
Time reconveys his childring circled course:  
Nor gaze I, that re-colonizing Boat  
Wherein old Noah, twelve months penned, did float  
On steep high Mountains, and Ryphaean woods,  
Like Neptune, trampling on those swallowing floods  
Which from Heav'ns-sluces, Earth's hid veins, and Seas  
Deep-channels, did God's wrath anatomize.  
Nor mind I now to limb that wondrous Love,  
Which burning in Elohim's breast above,  
Did Shem and Heber's sacred line re-bring  
From Shinar's soil, and fair Euphrates spring  
T'attend the lodestar of th'Eternals call,  
Amidst those plains where Jordan's course doth crawl;  
Nor shall my bubbling pen those plagues express  
Which from the heavens in wraths enraged excess  
On Z●an's field, and Mizraim's flowery Tent  
Were, as postilion's, of their wrath down sent:  
Nor sing I those divine decrees and wonders,  
Whose voice contempered with a thousand thunders,  
Breeds more respect in Israel's haughty heart,  
Who notwithstanding acts the truants part,  
Then all those Laws which Numa could afford,  
Or yet the Spartan or Cecropian Lord: 
L. & S.   
No, those already, have in matchless Ore  
Traversed both Vestae's lap, and Thetis shore,  
And by the pencil of a glorious Gawl 
D. B.   
Have drawn the curtain of our azur'd Alderman  
In such a sort, that time shall never bring  
So sweet a draught from Hippocrene's spring,  
Save that, which Albian's Mercury Trismegist 
J. S.   
Hath quintessenced from Ampelonaes' breast:  
No, no, my care shall be, in heav'n-bred trance  
To gaze his more than wondrous excellence,  
From whom, all things, as from their common father,  
Do all their essence and their being gather;  
That true beginning, midst, and end of all  
Who but beginning, midst, or end, at all,  
Is, ground and top of that uncoupled chain  
Which links poor sinners to their Sovereign:  
The blessed Son I sing of God and Man,  
Who born in time, yet was ere time began  
The Son of God, th'eternal living rock  
And royal offspring of great David's stock;  
That blessed Redeemer, whom the Prophet's old,  
By heav'n-bred revelations oft foretold,  
On whom their figures, shadows, Types and Tropes  
Built all their truths, moralities and hopes;  
The God of Gods, I sing; and King of Kings  
From out whose mouth a two eded smyter-springs,  
Dividing twixt the marrow and the bones,  
And manifesting th'hearts hid motions;  
Whose words are mysteries, whose works are wonders,  
Whose eyes are lightnings, and whose voice is thunders,  
Whose hairs are whiter than the new fallen snow,  
Whose sparkling eyes like flames of fire do glow,  
Whose loins are girt with gold of better fine  
Than Titan lustres in his midday shine,  
Whose foot's of burning brass, and trampleth down  
The rage of Lethe, Styx and Acheron:  
Him, him I sing, Earth, Earth attend my song,  
That so the honeysuckles of my Tongue,  
May, like those showers which on the Meads do trill  
Celestial Nectar, to the world distil:  
For though my pen in peace should snort and lie,  
The Rocks, the Mountains, and the Stones would cry.  
Crant therefore, o my God, Grant, grant betimes  
Peace to my Soul, and soul unto my Rhimes,  
Yea, quintessence my soul, and eke advance  
My care-free spirit in some celestial trance,  
That, purged from passion, thy divine address  
May guide me through this desert wilderness  
Of humane weakness, that my Pen (from thee)  
And Lines may borrow such a dignity,  
As may express in lofty quavering songs  
The lofty praise which unto thee belongs.  
But stay my Muse, and launch not to the Ocean  
Whose never ebbing Tide and restless motion  
No Pilot yet could know aright, or keep  
Himself from Naufrage in so vast a deep;  
For this is sure, That in this voyage stands  
Charybdis gulf, and Scilla's shelf and sands;  
'Twixt which, the whistlings of an easy gale  
Must guide thy Bark, and not a blusterous sale:  
Yet keep not always peace, my Muse, for now  
'Tis time to clear thy care-eclipsed brow,  
And by the numbers of thy sacred fury  
To stray along th'enamel coasts of Jury;  
Go then from Dan to Bethel, thence anon  
To Aroer, Keilah, Adullam, Ziff, Maone,  
To Shilo, Gilgall, Mizphe, Ramah, Nob,  
And these sky-threatning towrs, whose spires do rob  
Their white from Pelops shoulder, and their Ore  
From Peru, Ganges, and Hydaspes shore;  
And while thou viewst those coasts and pleasant fields  
Which milk and honey in abundance yields,  
Veil, veil thy topsail, and in reverence greet  
That sacred Flamyn, whose heav'n-ravished spirit  
Doth at Jove's Altar with a zeale-bred fire  
Evaporat his Souls sincere desire.   

Hail flowery Jordan then, and you sweet torrents  
Of christall-water, whose Meandring currents  
So many Saints have siped; and O thou soil,  
Whose arms gave rest from that tumultuous toil  
Wherein our Fathers forty years did stray;  
And O you sacred-walls, where eftsoon lay  
That mighty God and Man, whose crimson shower  
From out his side, made him our Saviour;  
Yea, O you hills, you dales and fields each one,  
Where Earths-sole- Phoenix, Heav'ns-true- Paragon  
Did, from his Cradle to his Cross, endure  
Our sinnes-disease, and griefs-distemp'rature:  
Hail, hail: I cry you all a glad good morrow,  
Let neither blustering winds, nor rain-bred sorrow  
Your Meads unflowre, or yet your woods disleave,  
Or choke your torrents in their bubbling grave:  
No, let nor hail, nor snow, nor frost, nor Ice,  
By their tumultuous violent prejudice  
Your brows enage, or yet your Tresses scorn,  
Till from your tops your golden fleece be shorn:  
But rather let the heavens, with smiling face,  
Your Nayids and your Napa's, so embrace,  
That by the tincture of their milk-sweet rain  
Your floury virdure may still fresh remain,  
As long as Titan takes delight to post  
From Japan to the great Herculaean coast.   

But above all; Hail, hail, thou ghostly-Father, 
Zachary.   
Th'Almighties Flamen, his anointed rather;  
Even thou, who by thy lot, within this shrine,  
With hallowed Judgement and with Art divine  
Attendst thy service, and observest thy station,  
To expiate Israel's sinful conversation.   

O how my ravished Soul doth now admire  
The glorious fabric of this glorious Choir  
Wherein thou stand'st! for Porphyr, Gold and Mabre  
Strive t'eternize the curious workman's-labor;  
No, whilst within this house, my greedy eye  
Doth glut herself on Arts brave industry,  
No sooner can I rest my thoughts upon  
This carved seiling, or that graven stone,  
But lo, a rare, rare Deity ties my Sense  
To ruminat his matchless eminence;  
For whilst I call that Majesty to mind,  
Whose grace and glory, peace and truth hath shined  
Within those walls, what need I more to seek  
Nile's Hyeroglyphicks, or the Delphian Creek,  
The Rabbi●-Talmud, characters of Perss,  
Turks Koran, or Sybillaean verse:  
No, those are all but fancies and inventions  
Of humane frailties, and of frail intentions,  
Which, like their owners, perish in that rust  
Which Time and Canker portrays in the dust:  
But here, and here alone, I know, within  
These vaulted-Arches; Man, infect with Sin,  
May read the Programs of th'Eternal's Love,  
Made manifest for Adam's sons behoove.   

Son, saith the Sire, what proud ambitious strain  
Hath led thee hither, that thou shouldst profane  
Jehovah's sacrifice and solemn Rite,  
With babbling Riddles of a brainsick spirit;  
Look but, I pray thee, what dread adorations  
The Idol godlings of the godless Nations  
Require within their shrines and shadowing Grove,  
And thence learn thou to dread th'Almighty Jove:  
Shall Jupiter, Ammonius or Apollo,  
Or wand'ring Cynthia, whom the Sylvans follow  
At Daphne's trypod; Dodona, or there  
Whereas th' Argolick sages did repair  
Require a grave and reverend Majesty  
To enact their hel-born magic mystery?  
And shall not he (who's one and trinally odd,  
Of kings chief King; and, above all gods, God)  
Receive a reverend form and sacred guise  
Of worship in his daily Sacrifice?  
Or tell me Son, have ne'er thy ears as yet  
Herd how his Ark did scaily Dagon smit,  
And all the Princes (with a deadly wound)  
In Ashdod, Gath, and Ekrons coasts confound?  
Or know'st thou not poor Vzzah's fatal story?  
Or Abthu, and Nadab's fatal glory?  
Who in their vain presumptions fell, and falling  
Bid man observe the compass of his calling?  
All those stand written in truth's sacred book  
That we may read (when upon them we look)  
His fearful glory, and unapproched might,  
Who sets us in his never slumbering sight;  
Out therefore, get thee out from hence, and stand  
With Israel, in his porch, whose heaved up hand,  
Dejected heart, and humbly-patient eye  
Attends the Missa of this Mystery.   

At this rebuke I go, yet scarce am gone,  
When lo, the relics of a mourning groan  
Cut in a thousand parcels, seems to call  
Me back, to gaze some divine spectacle;  
Returning then amazed, behold I find,  
After the rushing of a mighty wind  
A light o'ershadow Zachary more clear  
Than that which gilds our midday's hemispheere,  
In midst whereof, at Zacharies right hand,  
Behold a glorious Cherubin doth stand,  
Whose smiling eyes and countenance excels  
All human beauties, and all creatures else;  
About his head a semicircled Crown  
Of Iris particoloured coat was drawn,  
Which to my poor amazed wand'ring eyn  
Seemed died in opal, yellow, blue, and green:  
The curled hairs which on his head do grow,  
Are whiter far than new fallen flaughts of snow,  
'Twixt which the sparks of gold bespangled brands  
Makes Ganges blush, and Tagus loathe her sands;  
His eyes like stars, in dark Cimmerian night,  
Dart forth their flashings with a wondrous light,  
And like that troop which trips about the Pole,  
In restless wander here and there they role;  
Next this, with two Seraphic wings he flies,  
Whereon the heavens have deigned t'immortalize  
Their rarest beauties, in the rarest hue  
Of crimson red, and pure vermilion blue;  
Down from his middle, to his feet, is drawn  
A precious vail more clear than any lawn,  
On which stands portrayed, by celestial Art,  
That lovesick Fowl which tares her tender heart  
And yields a Runnall of her dearest blood  
To glut her Paricids amidst their food;  
A little lower, Jesse's son doth stand  
With peeble stones, and sling-staffe in his hand,  
Trampling Goliah's glory in the dust,  
Who in his strength and sinnewy force did trust:  
Lo here the Phoenix aromatic coal  
Burns her to dust, and yet revives her soul;  
And there Arachne from her belly spins  
The tissue-mantle that obscures our sins:  
These and a thousand other several passions  
Of several figures, several forms and fashions  
Stand chequered all, as emblems of that Love  
Which weds our frailties to a spotless Jove.   

At this great sight old Zachary stands mute,  
Confusedly amazed, amazedly irresolute,  
For, by a pallid ghostly fear, his sense  
Of speech and hearing, lose their influence,  
At last, like to the Delian Princess, when  
She fluttereth over the Atlantic Ocean,  
He curbs the fit that conquered him before,  
And to his reason thus he opes the door.   

O! what is this that I behold, faith he,  
Is this a feigned evanishing Majesty  
Of Molech, Milcom, Chamosh, Ashtaroth,  
Of Baal, Dagon, or that spirit which doth  
(Transformed in light) bewitch, with darkness spell,  
Those howling ghosts which on Earth's centre dwell?  
No, sure I am, those Idols are not such,  
They neither hear, nor see, nor talk, nor touch,  
They smell not, taste not, and in all their bands  
There is no heart that knows or understands:  
As for that hellish Prince, or fearful spirit,  
Lights hateful foe, who darkness doth inherit,  
I know that here he never dare aspire  
To view the secrets of this sacred fire,  
Whose Censers in their sweet exhaling cloud  
presignify, that Shiloe in his blood  
Shall such a fragrant Sacrifice reveal  
As shall bruise down the head that bites his heel.  
What then, it is some vision sent from heaven?  
But those have ceased, and our deserts have driven  
That sacred Chore and great Angelic train  
To shun the lewd societies of Men.   

Whilst thus old Zachary's mutinous thoughts are all  
Beleaguered by Opinion's General,  
Fear: He whose fear restrains the Lion's jaws,  
And curbs the rigour of the Tiger's paws  
Cries, by his Angel, Zachary fear no more,  
For lo thy prayer's heard, and come before  
His glorious eyes, who shuts our tears each one  
In bottles of due retribution:  
Recall therefore thy Spirits from gates of death,  
For, lo thy barren wife Elizabeth  
Shall bear a Son, and thou shalt call him John,  
Heavn's holy-Ghost shall always rest upon  
His head, and his celestial power shall sacre  
Thy Son, a Minion to the world's great Maker:  
Nor wine, nor strong drink shall he taste at all,  
Nor shall a razor make his tress to fall,  
But as a Nazarite both in name and spirit,  
He shall Eliah's talon re-inherit,  
And as a Lion he shall roar and cry,  
Prepare before Messiah's face the way.  
In him thou shalt rejoice; for many one,  
Jew, Prosolyte, and far-bred nation  
Shall joy in him, for by his heavenly Art  
He shall the sinner from his sins convert;  
He shall the father to the son rejoin,  
The son 'gainst father shall no more repine,  
Each lofty Mountain and declining valley  
Through which our bubbling brooks do crawl and dally,  
Shall change their state, for those shall be made low,  
And these exalted to an eminent show,  
Things rough shall be made smooth, things crooked straight,  
And on rous things shall lose their ponderous weight,  
And all the suckling's sleeps in nature's lap  
Shall see the lightning of his thunderclap,  
That all the world may learn t'adore and kiss  
Immanuel, whose harbinger he is.   

O how  be, says Zachary, that I  
Whose loins are fruitless, juceles, barren, dry;  
Or that my wife Elizabeth, whose reins  
Have stopped the fruitful current of their veins  
Should recollect, recover and rebring  
A living Runnal from a withered Spring.   

No Zachary, saith the Angel, know that he  
Whose glory, wisdom, power and Majesty  
Turns heaven's bright Spheres about earth's drossy ball,  
Shall make thy tragick-Theatre comical;  
And lest, that like a bull rush beaten reed,  
Thy faith should faint, or hope should lose her Creed,  
Recall the memoyr's of the days of old,  
How Nature hath been by his power controlled,  
And thou shalt see, that to the supreme powers  
We stand subjected, and what ere is our.   

For, let me ask, whence comes these Nectared drops?  
Which, like pure Balm, do drench Pomonaes' tops;  
Who makes the Ocean's mutinous waves reflote?  
Or who enamels Vesta's petticoat?  
Who doth the fields refresh, or flowers re-flowr?  
Who, Bridelike, busks Apollo's Paramour?  
Who leads brave Titan captive through the sky?  
Or who decks Cynthia with a silver die?  
Who brings old Boreas from his frozen Cave,  
Who makes his fury all the world outbrave?  
Who can command the light, in darkness Camp,  
To chequer portraits in a dornick Champ?  
Or who can shut again Lights glistering eye,  
To snort in midst of darkness Canopy?  
All these, like ancient Hieroglyphics, may  
God's wondrous power to the world display:  
But since thou by a faithless fear, wilt try  
His might, go manage thy security  
By Sarahs' loins, the faithful Abraham's wife,  
Whose barren belly is a well of life;  
Behold Rebecca, and the barren Anna  
Mother to Samuel, wife to Elkana;  
And by the histoyr ' of their strange exchange  
Command thy reason, and thy sense t'estrange  
Their course from Nature, and repose alone  
Thy faith and hope, even against hope, upon  
His never failing word, whose power can frame,  
From senseless stones, a seed to Abraham.  
'Tis true, that Nature, since the world began,  
Struggleth 'gainst Faith, within the natural man;  
And, like a mutinous Hagar, strives to steal  
The lot, from Isaac, to her Ishmael:  
And he, who hath not learned to deny  
Himself, his reason, wit, and industry,  
And with the welcome of affections kiss  
Submit himself to God, and all that's his;  
May well expect, but never shall embrace  
The dignities of Glory, or of Grace.  
And now, since by a further doubting thou  
Hast called his word in doubt, who's only true,  
Lo I, who stand before his glorious eyes  
Who, though unseen himself, yet all things sees,  
Must tell thee, that till these things come to pass  
Which he hath spoke, who shall be, is, and was,  
This just deserved Rod on thee shall fall,  
That thou shalt neither hear, nor speak at all,  
But shalt be dumb, till with thine eyes thou see  
Th'accomplishment of this my Heraldry.   

Thus, having with dread Majesty engraven  
In Zacharies heart, this sowre-sweet-newes from heaven,  
Like lightning, when it darts alongst the skies,  
His wings support him, and away he flies.    

The Annunciation.  
CANTO 3o.  

STay, stay your course, you crystal heavens; and you  
Swift rolling Spheres, whose vaulted Arches bow  
An azur'd brave Pavilion o'er Ear this bail:  
Stay, stay your motions, sweetly musical.  
Arrest your course likewise, you twinkling stars,  
Who dallying in your gold rich ammeled Cars  
Do, like brave Torches, and still burning Tapers,  
Light nature's Chapel at her evening Vespers;  
And Amphitrite, thou where Siren's dwells,  
And celebrate their Nymph-like festivals,  
Brawl thou no more in that tumultuous guise,  
That sacks the Merchant's far fetched Indian prize,  
But like a Bride, who knows her Bride-groom's diet,  
Greet thou thy Neptune with a sacred quiet;  
And whilst thy waiting hand maids-cristall brooks  
Desert their Fountains and their floury crooks,  
To bring a Consort of their watery Calls  
To gratulate thy Nymph-like Nuptials,  
Then clasp them in thine arms with joyful hest,  
And bid them welcome to thy Virgin feast,  
Till reconveyed with Tritons for their train  
Thou send'st them to their bubbling source again:  
Empampered Vesta, on whose embroidered kirtle  
Hangs Aloes, Cassia, Spicknard, Balm, and Myrtle,  
Carouse that Nectar which the heavens do weep  
To all those sucklings in thy lap do sleep,  
That they may dance, amidst thy pearl-like shower,  
A Masquedrade before thy Paramour.  
Thus, like a boldfaced Herald, I proclaim  
To Nature, and her Universal frame,  
Even from Boötes in his whirling Car,  
To pale Orion's tempest boding Star,  
A sacred quiet, and a sweet cessation  
From all their influence, course, and operation,  
Till he, whose Royal and Imperial Throne  
Transcends our azur'd skies, and heavens each one,  
Do, from the Senate of his own good pleasure  
Send Man the Message of his Souls rich treasure:  
Six times hath now fair Phoebe cut a caper  
In opposition to her brother's Taper;  
And six times couched again, within his arms,  
Sh'hath glut herself with his delightful charms,  
Since, erst, a heaven-born Legate hath declared  
To Zachary, That, for his faith's reward,  
From out his wife Eliz'beths' barren womb  
The great Messiahs' Prodrome, John, should come:  
Now, now, Time big with fullness, doth require  
That he, who first did blow our Souls bright fire,  
Should contribute truth, life, and light unto  
Those shady Tips which did his Son foreshow,  
That so the graceless World, by him, might plant  
Within their hearts his gracious Covenant.   

Time then being full, Night, in a sad Sea-green  
Or pitchy-purpled mantle, like Death's Queen,  
Had ta'en her Brother Morpheus Mace in hand,  
And sent a drowsy rest over all the Land:  
The ever-sacred, ever Virgin-mother,  
Whose glory neither heaven nor earth can smother,  
Great Arimathea's joy, and Bethels Crown,  
And Palestina's dread, sweet, rich Renown,  
Still ruminating heavens unshuned decree,  
How from a Virgin's belly there should flee  
A Soul dread Monarch, and Celestial Prince  
Whose blood should purge our leprous foul offence!  
Prevent the rosy morning's warbling train,  
And hies her to a neighbouring Grove amain,  
That there, in darkness shady lap, she might  
In divine contemplations spend the night.  
Yet stay, my Muse, stay but a little while,  
And view this grove, which Eden-like doth smile;  
That by the survey of so sweet a shade  
My muse may some way make my Reader glad.   

Near to that place whence hoary Jordane slides  
From Hermons hill, and makes his twin-born Tides  
To meet in Marons' lap, in view doth lie  
The ever fruitful pleasant Galily,  
Whose right hand's dipped in those tumultuous waves  
Which, by Tiberius' name, the world out-braves;  
And in her left hand, for a nosegay, hath  
The Cedar sweetl'ore shaded Nazareth:  
Here, scarce a furlong from her Eastern gates,  
Which on the newborn Titan's rays awaits,  
Nature hath form, though with artless Art,  
A Grove, in whose each portion and each part  
There's such a model of her power inborn,  
As, matched with this, laughs all the world to scorn:  
For, here, the climate sweetly tempered hot,  
Hath thrust away the winter's petticoat,  
And like a Lover, in a flourishing green,  
Makes lusty May continually be seen:  
Yet lest the scorching blinks of Titan's eye  
Should parch or whither Florae's tapestry,  
Sweet Zephyr sends a musky sighing breath  
To shelter Vesta from the Lion's wrath:  
Here long lived Oaks, and noble Palm-trees sprays,  
With amorous Myrtles, and immortal bays,  
Never disleaved, but still re-growing, new,  
Their clasped arms in thousand Arbours threw;  
There still did dangle to the gazers eyn  
A thousand fruits, some sweetly ripe, some green,  
Which in their colour, taste and shape did mock  
The Lemon, Orange, and the Apricock:  
air's daughter Echo, which the woods doth haunt,  
From high rebabling Rocks doth here rechaunt  
The sweet contempered Notes and married lays,  
Which Linots, Larks, and Nightingales displays;  
All which amidst their warble, flat and sharp,  
Exceeds Arion's, or the Thracian's harp,  
And yields a descant sweeter far than that  
Which Linus or Amphyon modulat:  
Anon, along this grove, in pomp doth slide  
A Runnell with a rofie broydered side,  
Whose sand's pure gold, whose peeble's precious stones,  
Whose chiding murmurs were majestic groans,  
And whose least draught is sweeter than that drink,  
That now, in Creta, decks Cerathus brink:  
Here down she lies, beside those streams, whose gushing  
Makes sweeter music with their gentle rushing  
Then Juballs hammers, when they framed that sound  
Whence Syren-musick's Gamut first was found;  
And sadly sitting in this grove alone,  
She lends her ear to that division  
Which from the murmuring brook's sad accent flows,  
And thence unto a higher strain she throws  
Her contemplation, yea, from thence she scales,  
And censures heavens imperial festivals.   

Father, says she, of light and learned Arts,  
Great all of all, who unto all imparts  
Some parcel of thyself, that thou alone  
Mayst still be all in all's Communion:  
Vouchsafe to hear thy handmaids voice a space,  
Who truly humbled, here, before thy face  
Doth lick the dust, at thy imperial feet  
To testify that her poor heart's contrite.   

Whence comthed that these poor drops of crystal water,  
Which Earth, from out her hollow breasts, doth scatter  
Can yield so sweet bewitching notes, and sound,  
As turns the wanton's-myrth, t'a-harts deep wound?  
Or whence com'thed that those birds, whose artless bill  
With Csol. Fa-uth's notes the Spheres do fill,  
Do greet th' approach of lights advanced career  
With sweeter strains than Art instructs his choir?  
What? have those creatures force, or power at all  
Coutched in their bosoms, that can either thrall  
The giddy mind to taste a sober quiet,  
Or rouse th' afflicted from their dismal diet?  
No no, 'tis thou (and thou alone) whose voice  
Can make the Soul to fear, or yet rejoice:  
For as thy hand hath formed the heart in Man,  
And as thy eyes from highest heavens do scan  
Our hidden reins; so, by thy power thou guides  
Our Souls swift current, in their several tides;  
For whilst thy iight and countenance doth shine  
With Sextile aspect, Quadrat, or with Trine,  
On our dark hearts; O how they joy t' advance  
Their light, before thy ' lightning countenance!  
And whilst, again, Sins drossy globe doth stand  
Just interposed betwixt thy shining brand  
And our dark hearts, O then Cymerian-night  
Succeeds in lieu of thy celestial light:  
Hence, by that sweetness which we find in thee,  
We loathe the blinks of nature's royalty,  
And find her treasures but a bubbling source,  
Which from thee, for thee, to thee bends its ' course:  
Hence flow our griefs, hence brooks and desert dales,  
With seeming murmurs, piteously bewails  
Thy absence, and their mourning sables wear  
Till thou return, and clear their hemispheere:  
Come therefore thou A lmighty-Spirit of spirits,  
Great-Light of lights, whose Majesty inherits  
That wondrous Light, to which, no flesh attains,  
Which in this muddy vail of flesh remains:  
Come, come I say, and by thy Spirit inspire  
This Spirit of mine with thy celestial fire;  
That in thy Light my Soul may clearly see  
That great unsearched Deep of Majesty,  
Which, dwelling in thee, doth exchange my story  
Of Death and Darkness, to true Light and Glory.   

Scarce hath she from the flames of zeale-bred fire  
Evaporat these accents of desire,  
When lo, from heaven's high Senate, there doth fly  
A Legate of Hierarkick Majesty,  
Who, with due reverence, and obsequious Rites,  
The blessed Virgin thus salutes and greets.   

Hail sacred Nymph; Hail Virgin-Bride, and thou  
On whom the heaven's dread Sovereign doth allow  
The favour of a freely-granted grace,  
The Lord's with thee, rest therefore still in peace;  
Blessed be thou, and blest beyond all those  
That ere from Grandam- Evahs loins arose:  
Let heavens thy bliss extend as fare, inscorn  
Of Earth's best hap, as e'er the pearly Morn,  
The radiant Noon, or rheumy Even can see  
Or Neptune's brawls, or Vesta's tapestry:  
For, from thy womb a Monarch-Prince shall spring,  
Sin, death, and hell's eternal taming King;  
The sacred Founder of man's Sovereign bliss,  
The world's rich Ransom, Peace, and Righteousness;  
He shall be called Great, and Strong of strongs,  
The most high Son, to whom of due belongs  
The keys of David, Solomon's Ivory Throne,  
And Jacob's Lot-divided-tents each one;  
His shafts shall thrill the foes which him assail,  
His force shall all th'infernal furies quail;  
Each knee in heaven and earth shall to him bow,  
And every tongue confess him God most true;  
For by his blood he reunites again  
Earth's wand'ring Subjects to their Sovereign.   

Look how one dazzled with the splendour bright  
Of Titan's rays, being lately brought to light  
From darkness of a black Cimmerian deep,  
Where never a Cranny suffered light to peep;  
Being too too soon recleered, stands gazing so  
As one disselfed, and doubtful where to go:  
Even so the Maid, at this unlooked-for tale,  
Half dead with terror, first grows ashy pale;  
Then recomforted, with dejected eyes  
First views her Nuntio, and then thus replies:   

O, how  be, that I, within whose breast  
Lusts sparkling flames did never plead for rest;  
Whose Virgin-modest, chaste, and tender ear  
Did never infamous Ruffian babble hear;  
Yea, I, whose thoughts unsported never was wed  
To th' wanton pleasures of a Marriage bed,  
Should bud such blossoms, or such fruits forth bring  
As makes the barren to rejoice and sing!   

Peace Mary, saith the Angel, peace, and fear not;  
The Holy Ghost ore-shaddowes thee; then dare not  
With curious search of humane Reason's strength  
To limit him, whose ways, for breadth and length,  
For height and depth, are all a boundless treasure,  
Acknowledging no limit, bound, nor measure:  
For, wilt thou look on his unsearched Spirit,  
Invisible, immortal, infinite,  
All Majesty, all self-omnipotent,  
Pure, wise, just, good, impassive, excellent,  
Eternal Monarch, All-commanding all,  
End of all ends, of Firsts th'original,  
Great Light of lights, 'Cause of all causes, and  
Chief Life of lives, unseen, allseeing brand,  
Who, e'er the World's Idea first was framed,  
E'er Eurus blew, e'er Seas or Earth was named;  
Even from Eternity, did in One combine  
One Trine-une essence, one essential Trine:  
Him shalt thou find, e'er Time could stretch his station,  
In unsearched, deep, eternal Observation  
Foreknow his creatures in their several ends  
And several courses, that the same attends;  
Yea, as his aye and all foreseeing eye,  
Fore-knew his creatures from eternity:  
So hath he made his pleasure and good will  
A still inflamed Limbeck, wherein till  
Man's ways are so confined, composed, controlled,  
That all his Mercure's turned to perfect gold:  
This is his work, though wondrous in our eyes,  
Even his whose throne transcends our starry skies,  
From contraires to extract a contrair ' story,  
Whose contestation still effects his glory:  
Thus did he, in the world's first birth, forth bring  
This universall-All from out nothing,  
And, by his word, he made lights glistering Lamp  
Shine in the midst of darkness shady Camp:  
Thus doth he now in times last time, from far,  
Call things that are not, even as though they were,  
And makes his Mercy sup'r abound in store,  
Where Sins abundant plenty dwelled before.  
No, hear me Virgin, pause; for pause thou must,  
He that revives the Phoenix from her dust,  
He that from darkness centre springs the day,  
He that from gates of death doth life display,  
And he, who, without woman, first did make  
Of Adam's rib, an Evah, for his sake,  
Shall without knowledge of a Man provide  
To make the asacred Mother, Virgin, Bride:  
Thus spoke he, and then disappears; and now  
The maid's alone, who on her knees doth bow,  
And with her hands lift up to heaven's high throne,  
She sighs this sacred exultation.   

Lo here I am, thy servant, mighty Lord,  
Be't unto me according to thy word,  
If thou on me hast placed thy heart's delight,  
Then let thy handmaid prosper in thy sight;  
Yet, O thou great and everlasting Father,  
How shall I wonder, or vanish rather  
At this thy wondrous work thou dost express  
On me, the chiefest worm of wretchedness!  
For thou hast looked upon the base condition  
Of me, thy servant, in so wondrous fashion,  
That henceforth all succeeding times shall call  
Me blessed, because of this memorial:  
Thy mighty hand hath done for me great things,  
And great's thy name, thou royal King of kings,  
For, by the strength of thy right hand, thou scatters  
Man's vain imaginations like spilt waters,  
Thou thrust'st the mighty down from Ivory seats,  
And mak'st the abject to possess their states,  
Thou fill'st the hungry with thy blessings store,  
And makest the full through penury to roar,  
Thou makest thy promise a continual creed  
To Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and their feed:  
Yea from the stem of Jesse thou makest known,  
To all that fear thee ' thy salvation:  
Blessed be thou then, thou God of Israel, who  
Hast visit and redeemed thy people, so  
That by the splendour of that Bright day star  
Which thou hast made to shine, both near and far,  
The tender mercies of our tender God  
In wondrous plenty visits us abroad,  
And gives us matter (while the world's great frame  
Endures) to praise and magnify thy Name.    

Immanuel, or Puerperie.  
CANTO 4ᵒ.  

GReat God, who by thy words great power brought  
From nothing's-Chaos this our all things by rth;  
Great Spirit, whose secret certain prescience  
Fore-knows and guides all humane accidents;  
Eternal Light, from whose allseeing eye  
Nothing is hid, no not eternity!  
If ere thou mad'st my silly simple Soul  
In sacred rage to rise above the Pole,  
Now, now reflect, bright Sun, thy golden rays  
On my poor Moon, eclipsed by thy delays;  
Ravish my Spirit, Life of my Soul, revive  
My starving thoughts, that I may truly give  
A perfect strain, and perfectly record  
The Incarnation of thy 'ternall Word,  
That so in sacred fury I may limb,  
Though with a coal, the firstborn Prince of Time;  
And to the after-age in verse express  
God living, suffering, rising, in the flesh.   

But, ay me! where shall stripling I begin  
T'unfold this Daedal' Labyriuth, wherein  
Nature shall sooner lose herself, then gain  
A steady course amidst this Ocean:  
For nature never hath as yet expressed  
His firstborn being in th'Eternal's breast,  
And how shall humane wisdom now forth tell  
The second birthright of Immanuel?  
'Tis true, some doting Atheists, big with tumours  
Of brainsick Heresies, impoys'ning humours,  
Like blind men, groping in the day, have run  
By light of Nature, to display this Sun;  
But all in vain: the more they scan this point,  
The more they find their judgements out of joint.   

Here one, conceiting, God cannot be born, 
Ebion.   
Hath therefore laughed his Deity to scorn:  
Another, seeing him true Gods true Son, 
Martion.   
Denieth him Man by Incarnation:  
A third, beholding him both God and Man, 
Eu●iches.   
Confounds his Natures by a natural span:  
A fourth, enforced by force of truth to see 
Nestor.   
God joined with man in Pers'nall unity,  
Hath, from his true distinguished Natures frame,  
Given him two Hypostatick persons theme,  
Which, like Hypocrates undissevered twins,  
Together quicken, live, die, ends, gins.  
But hath not Esay much more clearly told  
To Judah's King, that Time should once unfold 
Esay 7.14.   
From out a Virgin's womb, a glorious Prince,  
Whose Passion should expiate our offence,  
Immanuel, God with us, and even  
Man of the Virgin, and a God from Heaven;  
Not God alone, but Man also; or rather  
God of himself, Son gotten of the Father;  
Both God and Man; in whom, both real Natures  
Of God and Man, distinguished by true features  
And several functions, stands dissevered so,  
As no division can their seat o'erthrow;  
And so distinguished, that albeed there be  
Two Natures there distinguished really,  
Yet to aver two Persons thereupon  
Were Satan's dark prevarication.   

No, no, Immanuel, and that God with us,  
Our Advocate, our Judge, and our Jesus,  
Abiding what he was, e'er Time; become  
In Time, what he was not; and being the same  
Was in our flesh, without Confusion's wonder,  
Or rending of his Person e'er asunder;  
Inaugurate by heavens dread Monarches love,  
A Prophet, Priest, and Prince, for our behoof:  
A Prophet, by whose documents we learn  
The things which Nature never could discern  
By force of Reason; for th'Almighty did  
In secret silence his best Counsels hid,  
Till his Eternal word, made flesh, should frame  
The glorious promulgation of the same:  
A Priest also the Virgin's Son must be,  
T'accomplish the Almighty's dread Decree  
Of Mercy and of Justice both, so that  
Th' Almighty might in both b'inviolat:  
A Sovereign Prince he needs must be also,  
To lead Captivity captive, and o'erthrow  
That Prince of Darkness, who by Sin's proud hands  
Kept both our life and liberty in bands;  
That as by him, our fears, our foes, and all  
Captivities are captivate and thrall;  
So he, in God, may make us to possess  
True Joy, true Peace, true Life, and Righteousness.  
Stay then (poor Muse) thy course, soar not too high  
To search out that unsearched mystery,  
To know whose great unparalleled perfection  
No Flesh hath yet attained by flesh-direction:  
Content thyself in modesty to view  
His birth; and at his Pedestal to bow,  
Whose glorious light our darkness doth expel,  
And being God, youchsafes with Men to dwell.   

Come then, and in a safe approach behold  
Him whom the heaven of heavens could not enfold,  
Now couched within a Crib, and make poor beasts  
The witness of his Genethliack feasts:  
A wake then, Bethleem, let me ask thee where  
Are all thy pleasant shades, and dainty fare?  
Thy sumptuous tables, and thy quilt-strawd beds  
Whereon thy guests of late did rest their heads?  
Where's now thy pomp, thou house of David? where  
Are love and mercy banished, that there  
Where David's seed, and David's Lord likewise  
Should dwell, thou shouldst his Royalty despise?   

O, sure I am, it cannot be, but now  
The house of David only doth allow  
His name, but not his nature; for I see  
Ev n in the throng of his Posterity,  
His Darling thrust to doors, and forced to lay  
The world's dread Sovereign in a cratch of clay:  
But o the deepness, and the riches, both  
Of Wisdom and of Providence, that doth  
Shine in thy ways (o God) whilst thou dost make  
Thy Counsels known, for our salvations sake!  
This purblind world doth think that Fortune guides,  
And Chance governs the ever-changing tides  
Of humane actions, but 'tis nothing so;  
Live as we list, and go where ere we go,  
Th'o'erruling pleasure of thy secret will  
Governs our actions both in good and ill:  
In Nazareth Christ was conceived, but lo  
In Bethleem he must be born, and show  
Himself first Man, and there first breath our air,  
Who makes the bread of Life our Souls rich fare;  
That as he was a Naz'rite by conception,  
Both separate from sin and sins infection,  
So he, in Bethleems magazine, might len '  
The bread of life unto the sons of men:  
One place must not engross him, who was born  
For all; no, that were mock'ry and base scorn,  
T'intrench his splendour in one private place,  
Whose rays must cherish all the world with grace.   

Rome, then, was Stage where worldly honours grew;  
Athens the Ocean where the Arts did flow;  
Jerusalem the great Pontificate  
Where Rabbins in the Chair of Moses sat:  
But lo! for Bethleems sake he now disdains  
The trophies of those Metropolitans:  
Not that the place could add to his renown;  
For Place can neither dignify nor crown  
The Person; but the Person doth decore,  
And make the Place more splendid than before:  
So he, who from out Darkness did display  
The world's first lustre, and baptised it Day,  
Even he who from out Death's devouring jaws,  
And from the roaring Lions cruel paws  
Makes life's sweet wellspring richly to abonnd,  
From Penuries despised womb and wound;  
Makes Righteousness and Mercy, Truth and Peace  
Each one another sweetly to embrace:  
In whatsoever chance or change, therefore,  
This mortal life involve me; the rich store  
Of his refining Providence shall still  
Enrich my Table, and my Cup fulfil;  
Yea, make me sleep in safe and quiet rest,  
Because he turneth all things to my best.   

Yet let me stay a while, and view this change  
Which through the world in Triumphs pomp doth range  
And makes fair Zions sons, like Sinayes' Clown,  
To yield due homage to a Stranger's Crown:  
O God, whence comes this wondrous alteration?  
Whence springs the current of this desolation?  
That they who erst were blest in fleecy flocks,  
Whose Rivets were of milk, whose steepest Rocks  
Distilled a honey sweeter than the Mead  
Whereon their nibbling troops did prank and feed;  
Being blest at home, abroad, and in each plain,  
Blest by the air, by sunshine, and by rain,  
Whose force did daunt the Earth with trembling awe,  
Whose Sceptre writ their neighbouring States their law  
Whose terror made their proudest enemies then  
'Gainst them march one way, fly before them ten;  
Should now, as Vassals, sigh, and pant, and groan  
Under the load of strange Subjection;  
And bow their necks, to bear the grievous Loans  
Of Tributes, Taxes, Impositions?   

O, now I see, 'tis not so much thy Care,  
Great Caesar, to augment thy glories share,  
That these importning cruel Subsidies,  
Like roaring thunders, through the world now flies;  
As 'tis th' Almighty's pleasure, now, even now,  
Because the time is full, from heaven t'allow  
The world's great Monarchy to thee; that so  
The sons of Jacob may discern and know  
The visitation of their looked for Grace,  
And wisely learn the things which preach their Peace:  
For I must tell thee, Israel, that since  
Thy Diadem's subdued t'a foreign Prince,  
And since the Helm of thy Government stands  
Within the circuit of a Strangers hands,  
The time is come that Shilo's golden ray  
Should light thy darkness, and begild thy day;  
And that the Star of Jacob now should shine  
Not in an earthly grandeur, but divine:  
Hence, hence it comes; yet in obedience strain  
The Virgin goes to Nazareth amain;  
But o'ercharged by her burden, 's forced to stay  
And bear her Son at Bethleem by the way:  
Where, o, what's Caesar's, Caesar hath, and what  
Is due to God, to God is consecrate;  
For Caesar hath his penny, God his Son,  
The Devil his bane, Man his salvation.   

What, shall I then disknow thee, o thou Prince  
Of my salvation, since for my offence  
Thou art subjected to these foul despisings,  
That Sin or Satan send from their devisings?  
In this so great and rare Nativity  
Let Junctyne, Origen, or great Ptolemie,  
Copernicus, or Tich●bra, or they  
Who with the starry Influence do play,  
Look on this Non-such-birth, and, if they can,  
Display his midnight, or meridian:  
It fears me much, their judgements shall come short  
Of what this Theme and Birthright doth import;  
For, rule the Cusp of his eight house, who will,  
His death shall our deaths Dominator kill,  
And maugre hell and earth (which him assail)  
He breaks the Dragon's head, and curbs his tail; 
Isa. 7.14. Isa. 11.10. Gen. 49.9. Gen. 49.23.   
For Virgo bears him, he in Libra lives,  
The Archers wound him, Leo him revives:  
For though man's reason cannot think, but all  
His Stars were dignified, both great and small,  
Yet lo, his Mother, void of friend and Kin,  
Must make a Stable her bedchambers Inn;  
The Parlours all are filled with uncouth guests,  
Their Chambers all are stuffed with sumptuous feasts,  
Proud pomp, stern riot, foul and loathed excess  
Have took up Bethleems rooms both more and less,  
And Superfluity dances such a round,  
That for Necessity no place is found;  
But she whose table in the heavens was decked,  
Must bear her Son, disdained and disrespect:  
Now, now the Ox may say, I know my owner;  
Now says the Ass, This is my master's corner;  
But Israel and Bethleem cannot know  
What homage to their Saviour they owe:  
For every Prophet's honour, save at home;  
And he, although amongst his own he come,  
Yet was he not received; but despised,  
Although in him the Godhead be comprised.   

But, ay me! ay me! why should we rebuke  
Thee, Bethleem, for that thou didst o'erlook  
Thy long, long looked-for Monarch, and disdained  
That God within thy doors should be maintained?  
We, we ourselves are guilty, much, much more  
Of pride and lewd contempt, at whose hearts door  
He knocketh by his word each day we live,  
And yet the sluggards answer to him give,  
'Tis night, say we, from sleep why dost thou wake me?  
A Lion by the way shall tore and take me,  
My  are off, how can I put them on? 
Cant. 5.3.   
My feet are washed, and shall contagion  
Of Earth's bedurting puddle make them foul,  
And so my quiet and my rest control?  
No, no, this is no fitting time to talk,  
In bed I rest, go thou abroad and walk:  
O God of mercy, grant us mercy, for  
Our sins are risen to so huge a score,  
That perish needs we must, unless that thou  
Who made the Cock, for Peter's cause, to crow,  
Crow by thy Spirit in us, and so make clean  
Our hearts; that thou in them mayst still remain.   

Thus was my Saviour in disdain received,  
Whilst worms & wretches were with pomp embraved;  
He's made an abject, subject to disdain,  
That we poor wretches might be born again;  
He's wrapped in rags, his bed's a crib of Clay,  
That we might wear his Righteousness always;  
His harbour is a Cave, yet doth hee'nlarge  
The heaven of heavens to be our heritage,  
And he, who in himself is Lord of life,  
Hath but one maid, for mother and midwife;  
Man, when at first he sinned, did put on ,  
Yet such as subject were to dust and moths,  
But Christ new born is clothed with rags, though clean  
Yet, sure I am, both peevish, poor, and mean,  
And yet's no sooner clothed with our flesh,  
Than subject to our cursed nakedness:  
Jacob, to gain his Father isack's blessing,  
Arrayed in Esau's , obtained his wishing:  
But Christ, arrayed in my flesh, (that he  
Might steal a blessing from himself, to me)  
Takes on him both my curse, my sin, and shame,  
And joins me Coheir to his Diadem;  
That as my  do tell me, I am Man,  
His  may tell me, I'm a Christian:  
Up then, my Soul, up, up, and change thy cheer,  
For lo, how base so e'er this Babe appear,  
By him thy Manna from out heaven thou hast,  
And eke by him Rephydim to thy taste  
Sends out her cooling rills; Heavn's made thy house,  
The World thy walk, the Creatures serve thy use.   

Twice now hath Salem, by her Enemies,  
Sighed out her Funeral dying obsequies;  
First by the host of stern Nebuchadnezar,  
Then by the trophies of triumphing Caesar:  
An Idumaean now in Sion's known,  
Jordan now counts her streams no more her own;  
And, what's the worst of ills, Jury sits mute,  
Augustus taxeth, she doth contribute:  
Judge yet a righteous judgement sure will I,  
And rest upon God's providence, for why?  
He draws great Caesar here t'enact but that  
Which many Prophets erst prognostioat;  
And chief I will scan that sacred truth  
Which he, of old, proclaimed by Michu's mouth:  
For lo, 'tis written; Bethleem, though thou be 
Mich. 5.2.   
Despised in Judus void of Majesty,  
Yet out of thee shall rise that Ruler, who  
Shall by his wounds, and stripes, and bloody flow,  
As Judah's righteous Shepherd, strait regather  
All wand'ring Israel's flocks to their true Father.   

Then, O the deepness of thy ways, my God  
Who knows thy Paths, or treads thy Judgements road?  
How secret are thy Counsels, actions just,  
And favours great, to such as in thee trust!  
Where, but in Bethleem, that's the house of bread,  
Should our Souls bread of Life be harboured?  
Or where, but in the house of David, may  
The heir of David, David's Sceptre sway?   

No, holy David, now from fare I smell  
What made thee thirst to sip of Bethleems well, 
2 Sam. 23.   
And having got a draught from thence, didst yet  
Pour't on the ground, and wouldst not drink of it:  
Now, now I see, it was this living water  
Which Bethlehem doth from her bosom scatter  
That thou didst long for, and desire to taste,  
That it might give a cool refreshing Rest  
To those empoisoned scorchings which did burn  
In thy affections, and Souls sacred Urn;  
Yet wouldst thou not so much as drench thy lip  
Therewith, but made it on the ground to trip,  
That so a sweet drink-offring it might be  
For safety of their lives who brought it thee;  
Recalling to thy mind, that time drew near  
Wherein thy Son should in our flesh appear,  
And from thy Stem a glorious sprig should spring,  
Whose blood should quench the fiery Serpent's sting,  
And from his side should send the sweetest water  
That ever Fountain from her source should scatter.  
Come then, sweet babe, and by that nectared draught  
With which th' art richly furnished and fraught,  
Revive my Soul, refresh my scorched desires,  
Which thirst, for thee, more than the Hart requires  
To taste the current of those crystal brooks,  
Whose wind kiss the earth's meandring crooks;  
Come, come; and by this document of thine,  
Wherein thou layest aside thy glories shine,  
Teach us, who are but worms, and dust, and ashes,  
To lay aside our prides empampring flashes,  
Whose smoke of vanity and humane glory  
Do turn our best hopes to a tragic story;  
For, if the Master have no fit fare,  
Why should the servant grudge his sober share.  
No, no, my soul, content thyself, 'tis he  
Who knows no sin, that's now made sin for thee,  
And being richly-rich, is now made poor,  
That his distress might thy true wealth secure:  
he's base, that thou mayst be exalted; scorned,  
That thou with glory mayst be still adorned;  
He dies, that thou mayst live; and lies in grave,  
That death dominion o'er thee may not have:  
Why shouldst thou then or frown, or faint, or fret  
For change or alteration of thy state;  
No, know that thy Redeemer lives above,  
And that he doth chastise whom he doth love,  
For standing waters putrify and rot,  
When they who in a restless current trot  
Live to themselves, and also t' others use,  
Without contagious sench, or dregs abuse;  
If then we suffer with him, so shall we  
Reign with him, in his matchless royalty,  
And if his Cross we shall deny, he shall  
Deny us to his father's Angels all;  
Why should we then, for mis'rys blustering blasts,  
Quit-claim that glory which for ever lasts;  
No, let our Crown be here, like his, of Thorn,  
Glory thereafter shall our heads adorn,  
And if, with him, we taste a cup of gall,  
His bowls of new wine suit our festival.    

The Advent.  
CANTO 5ᵒ.  

AS they who for their Zenith have the Pole,  
When Titan first renews his Caprioll,  
In their Horizon, on their tiptoes stand,  
To get th' approach of his long looked for brand,  
And write the welcome of his good new year  
In bloody Rubrics of their Calendar:  
So now, whilst long and desolate night, of deep  
Discomforts, have made Syon's daughters weep;  
Their glorious newborn Titan's happy birth,  
A wakes the powers both of heaven and earth,  
In a melodious harmony to ring  
A peal of Halelujahs to their King.   

And so it is, for whiles these shepherd boys,  
Who Pan-like pipe their pastoral Odes and Joys  
On oaten reeds, had softly laid them down  
To watch their flocks from stealth's confusion,  
Lo! th'angel Gabriel, from heaven's glorious throne,  
Is sent t'unclasp heaven's long clasped sanction,  
And tell them that their greater Pan was borne,  
Whose stafe and sheephook should be made of thorn:  
Fear not, says he, my friends, I come t'unfold  
The sweetest news that ever yet was told  
In heaven's high Senate, or in earth's deaf-eare,  
Let such then as have ears to hear me, hear;  
For lo! In Bethlehem there's born, to day,  
That Hyerarchick-prince, whose hands must sway  
The trinall-Mace of heaven, of earth, and hell,  
And all those armies in then bosom dwell.   

Thus hath he spoke, and strait a glorious Chore  
Of Angels in a Diapason's loare  
Second his message, with the sweetest sound  
That in D-la-sol, or in Ela's found:  
Glory, say they, be to the Lord on high,  
To men all peace and all prosperity,  
And upon earth let blessings and goodwill  
Each hungry maw and empty cup fulfil:  
ne'er did the fractions of a rattling thunder,  
When first it bursts the roarid-clowd asunder,  
Bring more affrightening terror to the ear  
Of some weak stripling, conquered by fear,  
Then doth this Vision wound the soul and sense  
Of these poor shepherds, fraught with ignorance:   

Yet up, say they, go let us quickly try  
The truth of this so strange a Heraldry;  
For sure he must be some great Potentate,  
Of whom so great things be prognosticate,  
And he whom these Seraphic Chores adore  
Must own an earthly Monarchy, and more:  
To Bethleems walls then in all haste they run,  
Before Aurora could display the Sun,  
And find the Saviour of the world displayed,  
And in poor Bethleems arms despised and laid,  
Not ushered nor attended, but with wake,  
Neglect and penury, for our plenty's sake.   

Here, O what find they! or, what find they not?  
A Lamp of light, eclipsed with darkness blot;  
A newborn Babe, yet got before all time;  
A spotless Lamb, yet spotted with our crime;  
A King of Kings, yet served as a slave;  
A Lord of life, yet vassaled to the Grave?  
A very God, yet clothed with flesh and bone;  
A Prince, yet harboured in Confusion.  
What's here, I pray, that carnal eyes or sense  
Can honour with Religious reverence?  
A Carpenter, a Handmaid, and a child,  
A Cottage, and a Crib with beasts defiled;  
Yet lo! for all that baseness, they behold,  
They tell to Mary, what the heavens have told  
To them: whose heart doth all those say hid,  
Till God and Time her doubtings should decide.   

But, ay me! happy, happy Virgin-maid,  
Me thought of late my staggering Maze had strayed  
Too fare, in pointing out thy humbled station  
In thy Sons dark eclipsed Incarnation:  
But ah, I see sublunar griess do still  
Renew their Tides; for e'er they obbe, they fill  
And glut themselves with our afflictions load,  
Until our grave become our last abode:  
Needs therefore must I rouse, once more, my quill,  
And make her drink once more the Nectared rill  
Of divine Numbers, that I may express  
Those tears, that toil, and bitter woeful case  
With which thy harmless heart is pierced thorough,  
Whilst thy dear suckling our first griefs doth borrow.   

Seven times hath Titan now, with swift Career,  
Run all th'ecliptic of his bandilier;  
And couching seven times in th'atlantic deep,  
Hath lulled as oft Earth's drowsy globe asleep:  
Lo now his eight, and new approaching Ray  
Hath called on Phaeton to proclaim the Day;  
And by the sacred Ceremonious Rites  
Of Legal sanctions, now the Heaven invites  
The ever blessed Virgin-maid to sacre  
Her Son, by Circumcision, man's Peacemaker.   

But ah, great Nymph, what dost thou now? and why  
Greet'st thou thy Son with such a cruelty?  
That even in stead of those sweet warbling airs  
That should his griefs beguile, and charm his cares,  
Thou makest the Runnals of his precious blood  
Distain the ground in so impetuous flood?  
What, hast thou quite forgot that piteous strain,  
Which Nature, wafting in affections Main,  
On all that tender Progeny bestows,  
Which from her bowels and her belly flows?  
Or, tell me, dost thou think that this poor vail  
Of flesh, wherein th'eternal's Son doth dwell,  
Although it truly was assumed in thee,  
Can e'er partake thy sinful Leprosy?  
No, no, I fear, dread Nymph, I wrong too sore  
Thy Love's deep Ocean, and thy Faiths rich store;  
For ne'er a drop of that his Crimson dye  
Falls to the ground, but with a Sympathy  
Of griefs, of tears, and sorrow-ringing-knell,  
Thou didst his scrieching and his tears bewail:  
Yea, what is more, I find thee, Royal Dame,  
So wrapped 'twixt Faith and Fear's obstrep'rous flame,  
That whilst th'intend'st by Circumcisions stroke  
To consecrate thy Son to bear our yoke,  
No sooner dost thou precognosc his tears,  
Or yet presage his smart by thy weak fears,  
When lo, me thinks, I hear thee sweetly say,  
My hope, my help, my love, my life, my stay,  
Ah, shall I live, and be reserved to see  
My heart's delight, and Souls sole balm thus be  
Both cut and carved, by the butch'rous knife  
Of any Flamine, who did  take life?  
No, no, my Love, my Darling, my Delight,  
Love cannot so her Gordian knot bequite,  
As once to make thee but become a prey  
To bloody rigour in a legal way:  
Back Phoebus, back for shame, go hid thy head  
And golden Tress in Thetis watery shade,  
Look not on such a savage sight, nor see  
So foul a Scene presented unto thee:  
Earth, stop thy mouth, and do thou drink no more  
These crimson drops of blood, and spotless gore,  
Which my poor babe distils; but rather mourn,  
And to thy wont Chaos strait return:  
And, O thou Flamine, whosoever thou be,  
Whose hand's accustomed to this butchery,  
Here I adjure thee by that sumptuous All  
Which Heaven or Earth doth sacred count or call,  
Touch not my Son with such a bloody knife,  
For in his wound I bleed, and lose my life;  
But rather, kneeling at his De'ties' throne,  
Know that his wounds and scars should be thy own:  
Yet whilst again thou ruminat'st th' Abyss  
Of God's unshuned decree and Righteousness,  
O, how I see thee bound thy frail desire,  
And what thou canst not comprehend, admire.   

For since th'eternal gives this strict command,  
That every male inhabiting this Land  
Of Promise, should by Circumcisions badge  
Be known a Coheir of his heritage;  
O how thou daunt'st thy thoughts, and curb'st thy tongue  
As sacrilegious instruments of wrong,  
And though thy flesh a while had th'upper hand;  
Yet now I see the Spirit doth countermand  
The frail suggestions of thy natural will,  
And to his righteous lore subject them still.   

For thus, me thinks, I hear thee plead: Although  
'Tis hard to see my Son dismembered so;  
Yet since 'tis God, who hath my comfort been,  
Whose Love my life doth every way maintain,  
Whose never failing Care doth still advance  
My Cup, my Table, and Inheritance,  
Who thus exacts thy body to be rend,  
What am I, wormling, that I should relent  
The meanest parcel of his blessed pleasure  
For all the world's rich pomp and perishing treasure?  
No, no, I am no Zippora, to say,  
Thou art a bloody Mate to me this day:  
But since thy will must, or by us be done,  
Or else upon us, let Subjection  
Be our best service; for 'tis known that thou  
Exalt'st the humble, and the proud dost bow:  
No, no, my Son, bow, bow thyself, obey  
The yoke which he upon thy neck doth lay;  
He is thy Father, and thou art his Son,  
His grace must guide thee, till thy race be run:  
Cease therefore you my tears, my sighs, and all  
My sorrows, to your rest yourselves recall;  
For though my Son, my Love, and Darling rather  
Be dear to me, he must obey his Father,  
And by his sufferings in the flesh allay  
His fury, whose disdain works our decay:  
'Tis true, thou in thyself canst have no need  
By Circumcisions stroke and wound to bleed,  
For in thee no such sinful spot doth dwell  
As needeth Circumcision for a Seal;  
Only for us, poor sinners, thou'rt content  
To seal thyself with our sin's Sacrament,  
That as old Abraham was the first put on  
This, as the seal of his adoption,  
Thou by this Seal wilt show thyself that seed  
In whom our blessing first was promised:  
Next, that the Law in thee may clearly see  
Thou cam'st not to destroy its liberty,  
But to fulfil it; by the Laws great Seal  
Thou tak'st our debt on thee, and art our bail.  
Thirdly, that in thy Circumcision, we  
Our Forefathers salvations map might see,  
thou'rt made the whole world's Saviour altogether, 
Heb. 13.8. Rev. 3.8.   
To day, to morrow, and the same for ever.  
And what is more, thou must be circumcised,  
And in some short succeeding time baptised,  
That we may learn to circumcise our hearts  
As well's our outward and our carnal parts, 
Deut. 10.16.   
For God is no ways like to frantic man,  
Who only doth the outward countenance scan,  
But rather chooseth to behold the heart,  
And what in it doth sweetly smile or smart,  
That by a righteous recompense he may  
Our actions and affections both repay:  
And last of all, that all the world may learn  
Thy true humanity rightly to discern;  
Thou must be circumcised, and in the sight  
Of Priest and people both, declare the right,  
That thou art true man, having flesh and bone,  
Like us in all things save corruption.   

Thus have I weakly with a darkened coal  
Limned out the secret passions of the Soul  
Of this great Nymph, and hoped t'have bid farewell  
To all the terrors which her Soul could feel;  
But o I see myself entrenched again  
In those meandring paths of toil and pain,  
Wherein poor worldlings run a circled course  
Of joys and griefs, of better and of worse.   

O how my pen denies to point that story  
To which it cannot yield deserved glory,  
For in this Scene of hers nothing is common,  
But all dread wonders, she a wondrous woman:  
Come then, brave Nymph, come, let me ask thee why  
Thou dost in danger and difficulty  
Revisit Salems' sacred Temple, that  
With legal sanctions, and I wots not what  
A world of Ceremonious Rites, thou may  
Thy presupposed Impur'ty purge away?   

Well mightst thou, Marry, and besides thee none,  
Have claimed immunity and exemption  
From all those shadows and Levitick shows  
Which Sin and Trespass on their owner's throws;  
Not that thou in thyself art void and free  
From sins infective spot and leprosy;  
No, no, that were a grace of too great note  
For any Child that Adam e'er begot,  
Since all who from old Adam's loins descend  
In Adam's loins do still by sin offend,  
He only being except, who from thy womb,  
A second Adam, to the world hath come:  
No, this is all that I aver, That by  
That heavenly spring which from thy womb did fly  
There flowed no such contagious spot and stain  
As once could make thee legally unclean:  
'Tis true, those Mothers which in sin conceive  
A Race by sin re-obliged to the Grave,  
And by their sin unto the Law stand tied  
May by the Law seek to be purified:  
But since thy Darling by himself ne'er knew,  
Save for our sakes, how sin doth man subdue,  
What needest thou by Turtles of Purgation  
T'enact the Scene of thy Purification?   

Then, to unloose this riddle, let us look  
What Moses hath recorded, in that book  
Wherein Gods written Law doth give direction  
For the purgation of our sin's infection:  
There it is writ, that if a woman bear  
A manchild to the world, she shall appear  
Before the Lord, but not until the Sun  
Full forty times about the world have run;  
And when she dares t'approach and come before him,  
 she do bend her knees and go t'adore him,  
She must present a Lamb, and Pigeons two,  
The true confessors of her sinful flow,  
And these the Priest must on the Altar burn,  
And to true purity her impur'ty turn;  
And if she have no Lamb to sacrifice,  
Two Turtles or two Pigeons shall suffice:   

Here, here I see thee, Nymph, with severe awe  
Obtemper the strict sanction of this Law,  
And as thou hadst been by thy birth unclean,  
Thou wilt thyself thus purify again,  
Offering two Pigeons, void of gall or harm,  
And thy unspotted Lamb born in thine arm.   

O blessed Lamb of God, how dost thou now  
Turn these poor types to what is re'lly true,  
And as the Index of the clock doth tell  
The several motions of three, six, nine, twelve,  
So by these creatures, thou the great Creator  
Makest them be cyphers, thee significator.  
A Lamb did Abel, when the world began,  
First offer to thy Father; thou'rt the Man  
Presignified, whose blood hath better die  
Then Abel's, in his causeless butchery:  
 Noab from his pitched Ark came forth,  
He sent a Pigeon of unspotted worth  
To view the new workls state, she turns again  
The witness of a calm decreasing Main,  
And in her Bill, an olive-branch, to show  
Th'Almighties wrath had stopped his surious flow:  
Thou art the Man; aspotless Pigeon rather,  
Who in thy mouth bringst fromth'Eternall Father  
The unexpected Sacrament of Peace,  
That seals the Sermon of our Love and Grace,  
And as the Turtle in her widdow-while  
Is never seen so much as once to smile,  
But with continual mourning doth bemoan  
The loss of her enamoured Paragon;  
So thou bewailing that the masterpiece  
Thou didst, at first, seal with thy own impress  
Should, by a stranger's stamp, be stolen away,  
And in destruction's wand'ring paths to stray,  
Comest now at last, and over Bether trips  
With loves exulting scalads, shows and skips,  
And cannot rest, till in thy arms strict hold,  
Thou do thy dearest Minion reinfold.   

Hence, hence it is, dread Nymph, that sacred thou,  
Not for a new Moon's sake, nor for a vow,  
But for obedience to the Law wilt go  
To Salem's Temple, and in public show  
Be purified; and in thy arms, present  
The blessed seed that seals our Government:  
That as unto the firstborn did belong  
The double portion, and revenge of wrong;  
So in his double portion we may have  
Grace upon Grace, and our destroying Grave  
May so be shut, that we may sing and cry  
Death, where's thy sting? Grave, where's thy victory?  
And that this second Temples lofty frame  
May far exceed the first house prototheam;  
And that which God by Haggai's mouth did speak,  
May now, in time, a full perfection take:  
Lo here the man, to whom the hid desire  
Of all the nations, in a zeal-bred fire  
Are captivate; doth stand, that all th'oppressed  
By sin, in him, may find true ease and rest:  
The first house, sure, by ceremonious rites  
And Typick emblems of spiritual sweets  
Did lead the Priests and people both, to run  
And hope th'approach of this imperial Sun;  
But now the body's come, the shades vanish,  
And Titan's newborn rays night's clouds doth banish  
And though the Oracles be dumb, though th'Ark  
Preserve no Manna, nor no budding Mark  
Of Priesthood; for on him all those relied,  
He finished them, they him presignifyed:  
Yet lo, this day, the never erring Word  
Of God, is brought to pass, and doth afford  
More lively consolation to the Soul,  
And those sad raptures which our peace control,  
Then all the bathe, purge, exhalations  
That great Jedidiah put for expiations  
Can furnish to the sin perplexed hart,  
For Antimony 'gainst the Serpent's dart:  
For now the long contesting jar doth cease,  
That kept at odds, Truth, Mercy, Justice, Peace,  
Whilst in our flesh, our first begotten brother  
Makes all those Graces kiss each one another:  
Blessed then be God, who when his Church is tossed  
'Twixt swallowing Calpe and Abila's coast,  
Hath sent his Son as Palinure to guide  
And bring her safe to shore 'gainst Neptun's pride,  
And make her, when she's shut from out Shem's tents,  
In Japhet's statehouse hold her Parl'aments:  
For he hath sworn that he will ne'er forsake her  
Till, like a faithfull-Bridegroom, homehee take her.    

The Epiphany.  
CANTO 6ᵒ.  

WHere am I now! what splendour strangely rare  
Is this, which darting through the heavens and air  
Dazzles my sight with such a glorious ray,  
As makes my Muse to stumble at midday;  
For whilst of late my weakly warbling quill  
Did only from her Virgin-snowt distil  
The tear-drowned ditties of a Virgin mild,  
And woeful accents of a wailing Child;  
Lo now perforce I soar, and tread a march  
Alongst the confines of th' Etheraeal arch;  
And in th' abortive birth of rhyme, descry  
The radiant troops of heavens brave Infantry:  
Not that I mean by search of curious art,  
T'investigat each circle, zone and part,  
Wherewith our azur'd heavens being cut asunder  
Do parallel our earthly globe that's under;  
No, no, who shall with roving strains aspire  
To search these tapers of Celestial fire,  
T'unfold the Zodiac, in his fourfold Trine  
And heaven-divider, Equinoctial Line,  
Our Tropiques' colours, and our Zeniths height,  
Our Pole, Horizon, and our Nadir right,  
With Dand's daughters, may attempt to bring  
From Lethe's never emptied source and spring  
Their buckers full of water, but in vain,  
For by the way they empty still again.   

I cease therefore t'inquire why Saturn's sphere  
Revolves his course but once in thirty year;  
Why Jupiter, by twelve years mild aspect,  
Doth churlish Saturn's froward frowns correct;  
Why cruel Mars, with proud outbraving pace,  
Doth in two twelvemonth's moderate his race;  
Why Titan, heaven's Lieutenant, once a year  
Confines and crowns his still renewed Career;  
Why Paphian Venus, and old Juno's foe  
Are not ashamed once every year to go,  
And tread a March behind Apollo's wheels,  
Like lackeys waiting on their Master's heels;  
And why Luciva, in her Love-bred-passion,  
Should, each Month once, in fresh new-fangled fashion  
Greet her Apollo, that by his bright shine  
Of twelve stolen kisses she may make thirteen:  
No, leaving those, and their unsearehed sources,  
Their Apogae's and Pyrogae's in courses,  
Their Progress, Transits, and their Applications,  
Directions, Revolutions, Separations,  
Their Quadrats, Sextiles, Trines, and Oppositions,  
Conjunctions, Lights-translations, Prohibitions,  
Their House, their Exaltation, and Triplicity,  
Their Term, their Face, and such essential dignity,  
How Fortitude stands here, and doth importune,  
And how Debility, there, threats a misfortune,  
How this Star's fixed, that strays and proves erratic,  
How this Conjuction's partile, and that platique,  
I leave to Chalda-Star-gazers, and those  
Whom Nile and Tigris in their arms enclose;  
And in a modest path shall only bring  
My Muse to quiver on a maiden string,  
How he by whom heavn's stars both rise and fall  
Makes Stars do homage at his Pedestal.   

Come then, thou great irradiat morning Star,  
By whom Oryon and the Pleiads are;  
Thou Star of Jacob, by whose power and might  
The Stars were made 'gainst sisera to fight;  
Thou, thou whose dread and uncontrolled command  
Enforced the Sun in Gibeah to stand,  
And Moon i'th'Vaile of Aialon to stay  
Till thou thy force didst to thy foes display;  
Thou whose right hand seven rut'lant Stars dost hold,  
And crownest thy Church with radiant Stars of Gold;  
Even thou whose light so decks thy smallest Saint  
That he exceeds the Stars o'th'Firmament,  
And by thy light dost make their light more rare  
Than brave Aurora when she clears the air;  
And finally, Great thou, whose dreadful rage  
Hath thrust that wand'ring Star from out lights stage  
(Whose name is Wormwood) and hast placed his Cell  
In chains of darkness, and the depth of hell,  
Come thou, I say, and by that Spirit of thine  
Whose light lends light to every Star to shine,  
Rouse up my Muse to that all-conquering Verse  
Which may in sacred hymns and Odes rehearse  
The unmatched love, and the immortal glory  
Of thee my God, in pain-born Rhimes best story.   

For, when thou, like the Bridegroom of our Soul,  
Didst for our sake thy Majesty control,  
'Tis true that no external pomp or show  
Which lackeys humane greatness here below,  
Did wait upon thy birth, or yet advance  
Their footstools to support thy radiance;  
Thy head, no royal Diadem did wear;  
Thy back, no curious Tissue robe did bear;  
Thy bed did smell no incense; thy reposes  
Knew neither Turnsols, Lyllies, Pinks, nor Roses:  
But all thou hadst, thy nakedness t' o'er shade,  
Was a poor hole, to hid thy glorious head;  
Yet as the heavens of late, in love sent forth  
Their Gabriel, to Annunce thy wondrous birth;  
So now, in still unwearied love they send  
This blazing Star thy cradle to attend,  
By whose direction three great foreign Sages  
Scorning their homebred wealth and heritage's  
Are now content to come from fare, and see  
Earth wedded to th' Prince of Eternity:  
Thy star they saw, and wrapped with dread amaze  
To see a star dart forth so splendid rays,  
And smother all her neighbr'ing lamps as fare  
As Titan doth his sister Cynthia's car;  
Strait way they run, and with industrious care  
They search their ancient Annals, every where,  
Their Oracles, and Sibyls, more and less,  
Their Journals, and their Ephemerideses,  
To see from whence, and for what wondrous cause  
This radiant Torch so rich a splendour shows:  
But all's in vain, nor Art, nor Nature may  
I''s scite, light, motion, to the world display;  
For all of those are in this subject rare,  
Divine, miraculous, extraordinare:  
But he from whom Nature first begged her light  
And hidden Science, by his artless might  
Inspires those Sages, and doth make them see  
This Star's the Prodrome of that Majesty,  
By whom the Sons of Japhet now are led  
Within the Tents of Shem to hid their head.   

Fie on thee Juda; Salem fie on thee,  
Why didst not thou, as well as they, foresee  
The glorious sunshine of thy Visitation,  
And greet the worker of this great Salvation?  
But ah! thy snorting dreams did thee deceive,  
For thou didst still imagine thou shouldst have  
A Prince of such a temporal arm and power,  
As to a honny-sweet should change thy sour:  
But lo, whilst thou in darkness lov'st to sleep,  
A Nation com'th from fare, and stately keep  
Their festivals of Joy thy Tents about,  
Whilst thou, and eke thy children are thrust out.   

O God, whence com'thed, that those, above the rest,  
Have known thy Star, and so themselves addressed  
In paths of toil, and tedious pilgrimage  
To searrh thy birth, as they did see thy badge?  
Can Nature, or her handmaid Art discover  
Thy Star, or it distinguish from another?  
No surrely, no, Combine them both in one,  
And both shall teach us but confusion:  
For without grace, the natural Man's a fool:  
And Arts chief Doctor, when he sits at School,  
And doth investigate heavens, Earth, and Air,  
And all those hosts which Capriolls here or there  
In Nature's precincts, still the more he sees  
Arts hidden secrets, Nature's mysteries,  
And sees not God, the more his wit shall serve  
To glut his fancy, but his soul to starve:  
Thus they, being led by the Celestial light  
Through rocky Deserts, and the toils of night,  
Do come at last to Bethlehems' walls, and there  
This Torch stands fluttering o'er them in the air,  
Till by thy guiding grace they do espy  
The place wherein this Monarch-Prince doth lie.   

No sooner do they this sweet Babe behold,  
Then by heaven's inspiration they are bold  
T'unload their asses, and their Camels backs,  
Truss their farthels, and ungird their sacks,  
And lay these sumptuous presents, richly sweet,  
Gold, Myrrh, and Incense at the Sucklings feet:  
Whether they by Prophetic spirit did see  
His Kingdom, Priesthood, and his Prophecy,  
Or, if that by affections natural Vain  
They thus do greet him as their Sovereign,  
I struggle not too much; Let this suffice,  
That in Religious awe they bow their knees,  
And with a sacred sweet consorting voice  
Thus do they greet him, and thus they rejoice:  
Thrice great, thrice blessed, and thrice holy Lord,  
By whose Majestic uncontrolled Word  
What e'er was framed within the point of Time,  
Or hath a being in the a●●r'd Clime;  
Whose right hand doth from all Etern'ty bear  
Our clasped Issues unshuned Calendar;  
Whose wisdom, power, and deep providence guides  
The Delian Princess in her several tides:  
How boldly may we now rejoice and sing,  
And call the carroling beav'ns thy praise to ring,  
Who makest thy wondrous light to shine, even there  
Where death made darkness his Cubiculare:  
Of old, whilst Jacob was desired to bless  
joseph's two sons with a Prophetic kiss,  
He wisely crossed his arms, and his right hand  
He puts on Ephraim's head where he did stand,  
And on Manasseh made his left hand stay,  
And so, by practice, he did prophecy  
That Japhets' seed should dwell i'th' tents of Shem.  
And eke Manasseh bow to Ephraim:  
This day we see that Vaticiny true,  
Whilst we, wild prodigals, our necks subdue  
To thee our God, making Manasses share  
Rich as the vintage of Abiezer:  
Since Israel therefore will not hear, hear then  
You heavens and Earth, and shame the sons of Shem;  
For we will praise th'eternal, and record  
The never failing goodness of the Lord.   

O blessed Babe, how great art thou! what store  
Of blessings girds thy Loins for evermore!  
For thou art he who dost exalt the horn  
Of Judah, and his Palaces adorn  
With bowls of Nectar, and Ambrosian diet,  
And makest her graze in pastures of true quiet;  
The Sceptre of true Government's on thy shoulder,  
And thou shalt crush thy foes to dust and powder;  
On David's throne, thou, as his Son, shalt sit  
In Judgement and in Truth t'establish it:  
Yea, Peace and Plenty shall thy steps attend,  
And of thy Kingdom there shall be no end:  
O loving Child, how lovely-faire art thou!  
How sparkles are thy eyes, how sweet thy brow!  
How fragrant are the odours that distil  
On thee from Gilead and Hermonims hill!  
Amongst the flowrs thou'rt chief; the Rose, the Lily,  
The Pink, the Turn-sol, and the Daffodil  
Have no such odorif'rous smell or taste  
As thou reverb'rat'st from the West to th'East:  
Live ' then, sweet Babe, the miracle of Time,  
Earth's mighty Champion, Balm of humane crime;  
Let thy great voice, in Peace, resound throughout  
Earth's flowery kirtle, and Seas glassy spout,  
That so thy favour, in each part, may be  
Immortal Nectar to Posterity.  
O what are we, great God? what's our deserving?  
That, to confirm our faith so prone to swerving,  
Thou dost thus shake heavens solid Orb, and make  
Thyself a Vassal for a Vassals sake?  
O that we could discern aright, and know  
What duty, service, fear, and love we own  
Thee, for that endless love wherewith thou hast  
Reclaimed us from our wander to thy rest!  
Teach us, o teach us so to run our race  
In patience, and in patience to possess  
Our Souls, that thou, at thy great day, may'st clear  
Our Egypt to a Goshen's hemisphere;  
And change the tenor of our tragic story  
To the Catastroph ' of an endless glory.    

The Massacre.  
CANTO 7ᵒ.  

DIstraction, tumult, tears, oppression, jar,  
Wrath, causeless envy, cruel murder, war,  
Yea, all those woes which Fury can forth bring  
Are now the Discant which my Muse must sing:  
For whilst of late th'eternal did invite,  
By secret motions of his sacred Spirit,  
Three Eastern Sages wisely to embrace  
Th'occasion of their long long-look'd-for peace,  
Like to Apollo's Priests, intranc'd, they rove  
From Herod's Palace to the Courts of Jove,  
And with a thundering voice they roar and cry,  
Where's Juryes King? where, where's that Royal boy  
In whom the heavens have deigned t'exalt the Throne  
Of Zions hopeless Desolation?  
His Star hath brought us from our homebred joys,  
From ease, from rest, and from our quirks and toys,  
And made us tread those paths of sad exile,  
T'embrace the comforts of our widow-while.   

Scarce had they breathed those accents of unrest,  
When vulture-feare lays hold on Herod's breast  
In such a sort, that cursed Erynnis crew  
Do both his senses and his soul subdue:  
What's this I hear, quoth he, what threats be those  
Those wand'ring Pilgrims to the heaven's up-throwes?  
What brainsick tidings of a newborn King  
Are those which now through Jewryes' Coasts do ring?  
What, shall my eyes be thus reserved to gaze,  
Even in my glorious prime, the darkened rays  
Of black disgrace eclipse my glory so,  
That I from Honour, it from me must go?  
No, no, great Caesar hath, in due regard  
Of my deservings, for my sake ensnared  
Old Hircanus (by force of Parthian wrath)  
To drink his last draught in the Cup of Death:  
And have not all his offspring, which do wander  
About the Stygian lake, even Alexander,  
Antipater, and Aristobolus,  
With Mariamnes, and Antigonus,  
Fair Alexandra, and each Ghost elsewhere  
Who in the helm of Zion claimed a share,  
Been sent, as Vassals of my wrath, to plead  
In heritance in cloudy Death's dark shade?  
And lest that, Hydra-like, their power or wit  
Should breed a Rival on my Throne to sit,  
Have not my wits, more subtelized than theirs,  
Plucked up that grave Sanhaedrine, by whose cares  
The state of Salem fortified her stage  
Against the storms of Fortune's spiteful rage;  
So that no bud nor branch may thence re-spring,  
That may my power to a period bring:  
Whence com'th it then, that such a sad affright  
Of alteration turns my Day to Night,  
And makes a lightning flash of sad-●v'rthrow  
Disturb the Ocean where my hopes did flow?  
It may be that the heavens, whose boundless powers  
Controls these currents, and these tides of ours,  
Have grudged to see me great, and therefore send  
Those Heralds to proclaim my Glories end:  
For this I know (which former times have taught)  
That mortal men, whose minds are always fraught  
With care to conquer, in their deepest care  
Are but like bubbles blown alongst the air,  
Which by our breath's no sooner blown and cherished,  
Then by a counterp●ffe 'tis gone and perished;  
Else wherefore did the Fates so proudly thrust  
Great Niniveh and Babel to the dust?  
Why have they trod on Carthage with their foot,  
Or laughed to see brave Ilion's lights blown out?  
Yea, pushed at Croesus, and Darius' Crown,  
And thrust the Macedonian from his Throne?  
But that the world may learn, that honour's strain  
Is hardl'acquired, but quickly lost again:  
Shall I therefore, like to a Child, whose ear  
Hath tied him in the bands of causeless fear,  
By hearing of a foolish doting fable,  
Apprentice all my thoughts to this unstable  
Narration? and trust that for a truth  
Which hath no warrant, but a wanderers mouth?  
Or shall I, like Endymion, in the deep  
Of base security lie still and sleep;  
When heavens, by that great care of me they take,  
Do by these warnings bid me thus awake?  
No, 'gainst the heavens I spurn not, yet I scorn  
A Monarch, and much less a Babe new born  
Should in Judaea to that state arise  
As may my Glory and my Crown surprise:  
I will therefore look what a treacherous art  
Dissembling fury, in a hollow heart,  
Can add to high exploits, and then employ  
My wits to search the corner, where that boy  
Can lurk, whose fame thus makes the world aghast,  
And drunk with expectation: and at last,  
By sad experience I will make him hear  
That Crowns are weighty things for babes to wear.   

Whilst thus 'twixt Fear and Envy's mutinous host  
The subtelizing Tyrant's soul is tossed,  
Rage breaks, at last, the gap, and opes the way  
To vent the passions which his soul dismay:  
Go, saith the subtle fox, go, quickly call  
The Talmudists and Rabbins, great and small,  
The Priests, the Prophets, Pharises, and Scribes,  
Through all Judaea's several coasts and tribes;  
Make them revolve, consider, search, and try  
The time and place of his Nativity,  
Whom these distracted Pilgrims have so fare  
Searched, by prognostication of a star:  
For wheresoever, or whosoever he be  
Whose light thus threats t'obscure my Majesty,  
I can conform my mind unto my fate,  
And kiss the foot that tramples on my state;  
And if the heavens will needs blot out my name,  
I'll do him homage who procures the same.   

Thus hath the viper, big with fierce envy,  
Breathed out the flashes of his cruelty:  
But God, who dwelling in the heavens unfolds  
The heart's hid secrets, rheines, and deepest holds,  
Laughs this dissembling project all to scorn,  
And by his spirit doth secretly suborn  
The Sages to retire another way,  
That so he may the Tyrant's rage display;  
He warneth also Joseph and his Bride  
To take the child, and step a while aside  
To Egypt, that Gods will might so be done,  
Who says, From Egypt I have called my Son. 
Exod. 4. Hosea 11.    

O God, how deep's the Ocean, rich the store  
Of mercy, thou layest up for evermore  
To such as truly do rely upon  
Thy Providence, for their salvation!  
The Sword, by day, may fiercely rage's and smite,  
The Pestilence may rove abroad by night,  
The Cedars may be plucked up from their station,  
The Mountains may be hurled from their foundation,  
The winds may blow, the Seas may rage's, and even  
Black darkness may eclipse the lights of heaven;  
But he who with a fully fixed mind  
On thee doth stay his Soul, shall surely find  
He needs not fear the crafty hunter's snare,  
Which for his downfall's stretched here and there;  
For when the world was drowned by Nereus' waves,  
Thy Noah, like a Neptune, them outbraves;  
When fire sacked Sodom, lo, thy Lot survives,  
And in his Zoar, like a Vulcan, lives;  
When Jericho's vain trust o'returns her walls,  
Thy Rachab sits, and sings her festivals;  
When Syrian Captains would command thy Seer,  
Thy Seraphins do guard him in their Quire;  
When Babel's scorching flames shall threat thy Saints,  
They stand unstained, and all their Aetna daunts:  
And what needs more? the Lions in their den  
May ramp and roar against the sons of men,  
But he who shall within thy shadow hid  
His head, and in thy Tents and Courts abide;  
Though heavens, earth, air and seas, and all were shaken,  
Shall never perish, never be forsaken.   

Yet stay my muse, arrest thy course a space  
T'attend the tenor of this tragick-case,  
Which, with an unexpected troup of fears,  
From secret ambush doth assault my ears:  
What roaring griefs and tear-drownd plaints be those  
The neighbouring Echoes to the heaven's up-throwes?  
What mourning groans, and sad lamenting cries  
Be those, which over this high mountain flies?  
Ay me, what's this, be those the carolling voices  
Of a proud conquering army, whose rejoices  
Evaporate up to the azur'd round,  
Reverberat the earth's environed ground?  
Or is't the glean of that grievous cry  
Which conquer'd-wretches, in their butchery  
And soule-depriving smart, do cut asunder,  
Like clouds condensed, when they melt with thunder?  
No sure, it is no voice of triumph, nor  
The voice of such as are triumphed o'er;  
These woeful screeches rather represent  
The ditties of some harmless innocent  
Which by the torturing butchers butch'rous clap  
Are stabbed or stifled in the mother's lap:  
And so it is, for cruel Herod hath  
Subsigned and sealed a warrant for the death  
Of all those Infants, which in Bethleem's coast  
Of two year's time, or under age, can boast:  
For so the reverend Seer, Hieremie, 
Jer. 30.5.   
Hath in his never failing Prophecy  
Foretold; Behold a trembling voice of fear, 
Jer. 30.5.   
And not of peace, shall so assault the ear  
And inward parts of Israel, that lo  
The bravest worthy in her streets doth go  
Shall lay his hands upon his loyns, as she  
Who labours in her births perplexity: 
Jer. 31.15.   
But chief in poor Ramah shall they hear  
The voice of bitter weeping, and such dire  
Laments, that Rachel scorns to be comforted,  
Because her children are with death transported.   

Is't possible, o Sun, that thou shouldst see,  
Or yet behold such inhumanity?  
Is't possible, o Earth, thou canst sustain  
The burden of such soul-less wicked men?  
Or is it possible that a humane tongue  
Can be the trumpet of such monstrous wrong?  
Whilst harmless Infants on their mother's knees  
Join mouth to mouth, and wanton eyes to eyes,  
The smiling child cries to his Nurse, mam mam,  
And she replies, thy min and mam I am,  
They greet each other with a thousand toys,  
And still enjoy their still renewed joys,  
And in a speechless compact, promise never  
Their love-bred obligations to dissever:  
When lo like Tigers, or whelp-robbed Bears,  
Which in the fens of Caucasus appears,  
The cruel actors of this tragick-Scean,  
Do write the epacts of Death's last amen  
With bloody letters of Erynnis note,  
Upon the Dames and Nurse's petticoat;  
The child, not knowing what's the traitor's mind,  
First laughs upon him, like a Lamb inclined  
To doubt no evil, since no ill he knows,  
But being struck, his winding arms he throws  
About his mother's neck; she, for to save him,  
Doth, in her bosom, hug, at once, and grave him:  
Another, whilst he sleeps i'th' swaddling bands,  
Is fiercely plucked out by the Butcher's hands,  
And, as a Fawn or Kid, he's cut asunder,  
And made unto the world a woeful wonder:  
A third, plucked from his mother's twisting arms,  
For all her vows, her oaths, her cries, or charms,  
Is stabbed, and then disjointed, like that meat  
That Cooks and Bakers do prepare to eat:  
Thus, like the subtle spiders that do tear  
The flies they catch within their tifney snare,  
So do these damned Rascals dance a ring  
Of cruel murder, to their monstrous King.  
Woe, woe, now doth the childless mother cry,  
Why have the heavens reserved my tear-drowned eye:  
To be the sad spectator of this wrong?  
Or why do I possess my life so long,  
That I, to those who first did open my womb,  
Should in my arms behold a funeral tomb?  
Awake, awake, my deer and lovely Boy,  
My hope, my hap, my love, my life, my joy,  
What, dost not thou now hear me call upon thee?  
And knowst thou not that I'm enamoured on thee?  
What, shall I have for all my watchful care,  
Thy births hard labour, and my burdens share,  
Thy restless rocking, wiping, washing, wring,  
And cure of all thy wayward cries with singing,  
But dead dumb silence? wilt thou ne'er awake,  
And fain a smile for any poor comforts sake?  
Alas! thou canst not: now thy lips are pale,  
Thy eyes are blind, and stamp▪ d with deaths black seal,  
Now art thou cold, and weighty as a stone,  
And deaf unto thy woeful mother's groan,  
Like those who dwelling near to Nilus' fall  
Hear not his horrid Catadupes at all:  
Thrice cursed be the heart that first did breed  
The woeful sanction of thy homicide;  
And thrice, thrice cursed be the bloody hand  
Did execute the cruel cursed command  
Of that vile monster, whose unsatiate wrath  
Hath drunk my Darling's blood, and stopped his breath:  
But o how happy, happy thrice art thou,  
Poor tender babe, who, by this torture, now  
Hast entered in thy Master's rest, and made  
His arm the pillow that upholds thy head.   

And, woeful monster, Herod, though of late,  
For preservation of thy Crown and State,  
Thou hast triumphed on Bachels' children so,  
That thou dost laugh in scorn at their overthrow,  
Thinkest thou that he who first did form the eye  
Cannot the Centre of thy mischief see?  
And he whose finger first did plant the ear  
Cannot thy cursed souls hide whisper hear?  
Be not deceived, he who from heaven descries  
And fans the secrets which our hearts devise,  
Shall, in short time, repay thy murdering stroke  
With quenchless fire, and Conscience torturing yoke:  
Did not, of old, the Memphian Tyrant load  
The sons of Jacob with a grievous rod?  
And yet, when he esteemed his fury crowned,  
Jacob's redeemed, and Cairo's Monarch's drowned:  
And did not proud Adoni-bezek, by  
The stroke of an impetuous tyranny,  
Make seventy Kings, whose thumbs and toes were cut,  
Like dogs to snatch their crumbs before his foot?  
And yet, i'th'end, he reaped for his offence  
The selfsame strain of torturing recompense:  
And did not base Abim'lech, in desire  
To sit at Stern of Israel's Empire,  
Pour out, like water on a fatal stone,  
The blood of seventy Brothers, all save one?  
And yet a flash of Sechems' bramble, so  
Reverberat his pride, with just overthrow,  
That nothing could its rapid flame restrain,  
Till Thebes drank Abim'lech's blood again.  
Thus have we heard, thus do we wish and pray;  
But, knowing that Jehovah's just always,  
We stay our imprecations, and believe  
That he, in time, will our trespass forgive,  
And render thee thy just deserved doom,  
Both in this world, and in the world to come.   
Here ends URANIA, Or, The first week.  
Gloria Patri.    

ASTRAEA.  
On Jordan's sweet enamelled verge, a Dove  
Anoints our Saviour Prince of peace & love.  
He in the Desert's Hungry, Tempted, Fed.  
Sinay's deep-Riddle is interpreted.  
Heaven, earth, seas, air & hell confess their God.  
Nature's subdued b' a supernatural rod.  
Tabor's illuminat with an unwonted glory,  
And Salem's streets exalt Hosannah's story.  

The Unction.  
CANTO 1ᵒ.  

AS when a thick and foggy cloud of rain  
Locks up her sluices in their source again,  
Industrious Bees do haste from out their hives  
To seek that Nectar which preserves their lives,  
And suck from tops of many a fragrant flower  
A sugared syrup quintessenced from sour;  
So after all those tears and woeful toil,  
Those murdering blows, and that cursed damp & foil  
Which Herod's vultur-like ambition hath  
Poured out on Rachel's children in his wrath;  
Now, now 'tis more than time (my sacred Muse)  
That with a living touch thou shouldst peruse  
Those paths wherein the miracle of time  
Hath left us traces of our glories prime.   

Up, then, awake, and tell me, who is this  
That in Judaea's desert wilderness  
Doth, like a yawning Lion, roar and cry  
Make strait Messiah's path, prepare his way?  
What, hath the Thisbite re-appeared again,  
Whose heavenly message ne'er returned in vain,  
Whose voices dire event thrust down to hell  
The sin sold Ahab and his Jesabel,  
And made all Baal's Priests ashamed to see  
The dotage of their fond Idolatry?  
It seems 'tis he; for lo, his richest share  
Is but a Coat composed of Camel's hair,  
His girdle is of leather, his chief meat  
Are Locusts and wild honnies delicate;  
And for all this his poverty, he still  
Doth all the neighbouring dales and valleys fill  
With this sad accent, Turn, repent, amend,  
For lo! God's heavenly Kingdom is at hand:  
Yet 'tis not he; such transmigrations now  
Dare plead no place amidst a Christian crew;  
For, by th'Eternals uncontrol'd decree,  
As dust we are, so to the dust go we;  
And till the time that heavens shall be no more,  
Our bodies are not what they were before;  
Nor shall our souls, or life's true quickening spirit  
Their wont dwelling houses re-inherit.  
Who is it then? Now I perceive 'tis he  
Concerning whom the Prophet Malachy  
Hath, by a divine wisdom, thus foretold:  
(Wonder you fools; come, come you wise) Behold,  
Before the coming of that dreadful day  
Wherein the Lord his glory shall display,  
Eliah first shall come, and by his voice  
The father in his children shall rejoice,  
The children to their father's wiser Will  
Shall bow their necks, and be obedient still;  
Lest coming to them with a searching fan,  
His vengeance finish what their fins began:  
Yea, sure I am 'tis he, for now I find  
The Scribes and Pharises, whose judgement's blind, 
I. ●.   
Run to his Baptism, though in scorn, that so  
They may th' Eternals Counsel overthrow;  
But all in vain; he with a soaring eye  
Rips up their hidden deep hypocrisy,  
And by his threatening, duly mild, and grave,  
Their hid dissimulation doth outbrave.   

O viprous brood, o froward generation,  
O Serpent-Issue of a sinful Nation,  
Who hath forewarned you to eschew the doom  
And scape the scorching wrath that is to come?  
Bring forth therefore, bring forth, I charge you here,  
Those fruits of new-birth, which makes faith appear;  
And glory not, that Abraham's sons you are,  
For he who calls what's not, as though it were,  
Can make those senssesse stones, if he have need,  
Bring forth to Abra'm a Religious seed:  
No, rather know, that these be now the times  
Wherein the hand of Justice fans our crimes,  
And trenching axes, laid unto the Root,  
Cut down the withered sticks are void of fruit:  
'Tis true indeed, I baptise you with water,  
But lo! there's one to come, who, what I scatter  
Shall recollect; he reaps where none was sown,  
And but advantage, will not have his own;  
He's great indeed, and mightier fare than I,  
I am not worthy his shoo-straps t'untye,  
With water I baptise you, o but he  
Shall baptise with a fire of Deity,  
For in his hand he holds that searching fan  
Wherewith he doth his barn-floores treasure scan;  
If we be found true wheat, his hand shall keep  
Our souls from falling in th' infernal deep;  
But if like chaff we prove, his swallowing ire  
Shall thrust us headlong in a quenchless fire:  
Stray then no more through those poor desert fields  
Which neither state, nor pomp, nor glory yields,  
To gaze on me, a Reed tossed too and fro,  
Where any whirlwind's puff delights to blow;  
But rather, in a wise discretion, learn  
Your gracious Visitation to discern,  
For this is he that should be sent; expect  
None other to relieve your soul's defect,  
Look on his ways, and by his works go try  
The true prognostics of his Majesty;  
By him the blind have eyes, the lame their hands,  
The deaf their ears, the dead are loosed from bands,  
The Leaper's cleansed, and, what is more, the poor  
Receive the Gospel, and the Cross endure:  
And that your Judgements may lack all excuse,  
Behold, the stone you bvilders did refuse  
Shall be approved, and on the Corners top  
Shall stand, that there, by faith, by love, by hope,  
His children may a living house be made,  
To hold him for foundation and for head:  
Lo where he comes! my soul doth sweetly know him;  
Bow, bow your haughty necks, yield what you owe him,  
For he's that great immac'lat Lamb of God,  
Who having laid aside his wraths sharp rod,  
Doth by a lovesick Mercies bloody gore  
So purge our sins, that sin stands ours no more.   

ne'er did the swallowing Nilus' rapid waves,  
Provoked to anger by th' Aeolian slaves,  
Hurl down his streams to the Asphaltick lake  
With greater force, than doth the Baptist shake,  
By those his roaring thunders, the proud knees  
Of these dissembling Scribes and Pharisees:  
Yet scarce hath he, like that forerunning star  
Which doth proclaim th'approach of Titan's car,  
Forewarned the world of that Imperial Sun  
Whose race in Truth's eccliptick line is run,  
When lo, that spotless Lamb, whose spotless love  
And sufferings weds us to the Lord above,  
Comes strait unto him, and in modest fashion,  
Without or pomp, or pride, or ostentation,  
Requires to be baptised in Jordan's flood,  
The typick Emblem of his saving blood:  
But John remembering what he was, replies,  
O sacred thou, whose throne transcends our skies,  
Why dost thou crave to be baptised of me,  
Since I should rather be baptised of thee?  
The servants state is not above his Lord,  
Nor can my weakness that true strain afford  
Of due obedience that belongs unto thee,  
O get thee from me, for thy eyes undo me.  
Peace, saith Immanuel, John, thy flesh is weak  
Th'Eternals hidden Counsels to partake,  
For ne'er hath flesh his riddles truly viewed,  
But he who with his Heifer first hath ploughed.   

Wouldst thou then know wherefore I do desire  
To be baptised of thee, who can with fire  
Rebaptize thee? Know that my Charge is such  
As without Unction none usurps to touch;  
I do not run unsent, my Father hath  
Before all time decreed, That by my death  
The sting of death, and of death's Lords great power  
Should so be curbed, that they no more devour:  
That I may then obey my Father's will, 
Ambros. in Luc. c. 3.   
And all the law of Righteousness fulfil,  
Which may contemper Mercies mild sweet yoke  
To Justice proud, though just revenging stroke,  
And so become a righteous Mediator  
Betwixt the Creature and the dread Creator,  
I must be baptised first, that so I may  
My heavenly function to the world display:  
Add hereunto, that in this flesh of mine,  
Which from the earth is earth, from heaven divine,  
I must the state of of every thing renew,  
And to my Gospel Moses Law subdue;  
Man must be new, the old man now must perish,  
And by a newborn faith his soul must cherish;  
The heavens shall be renewed th'old fly away,  
The Earth renewed shall smell like maiden-May;  
The Law is old, a new command I give  
That men henceforth by faith, love, hope, must live;  
And as the Covenant's changed, so must the Seal  
Make room for Grace, and bid the Law farewell;  
And what is more; That Man may see I love  
To make his mansion in the heavens above,  
Lo here his badge and cognizance I take  
On me, not for my own, but for his sake,  
That when my father Man's great Seal shall see  
On my forehead, and man made one with me,  
He may from man his furious wrath withdraw,  
And make him Heir, by Grace, not by the Law;  
And that vain man may never scorn those rites  
By which as Canals of celestial sweets  
Th'Almighty pours his Grace upon their Soul,  
Men may their haughty hearts and necks control,  
To bow unto his Ordinances; for,  
No soul shall enter in at mercy's door  
But he that to the Gospel's folly shall  
Subdue his heart, and its affections all. 
1 Cor. 1.21.   
And finally, as for the Jews I have  
To Circumcision made myself a slave,  
So now by Baptism, for the Gentiles, I  
Must undergo this Jordan's watery die,  
That Jew and Gentile, bond and free, and all  
Who for Salvation hunger, thirst and call;  
By me may have a reconciling Peace,  
And, in me, access to the throne of Grace.  
No deeper blush hath golden Phoebus when  
He hides his head in Perus Ocean  
Then death o'ershade the Baptiist's face, while as  
His weakness is displayed in wisdom's glass;  
Submitting then himself his thoughts and all,  
To the injunctions of his General,  
They both go strait to Jordan, that therein  
Christ may be sealed a surety for our sin.  
No sooner hath this mild sweet-coupled pair  
Trod on the frizzled locks of Jordan's hair,  
When lo the Sun, forsaking th'opal morn  
Doth his meridian-poynt with pomp adorn,  
And, like a Prince, set in his royal throne,  
He calls his neighbouring tapers one by one,  
Who by their intermixed torches seven,  
With matchless-splendor, clear the cope of heaven.  
Those steep proud hills, whose lofty swelling tops  
Drink, for their mornings-draught, Aurora's drops;  
Such as the Law-graced Sinai, Carmell old,  
Where Seraphims God's Prophet did enfold;  
Horab and Nebo, whose soft arms do keep  
Moses and Aaron in their dusty sleep;  
Jegar-sha-duthae and mount Pisgah, whence  
Moses viewed Jacob's fair inheritance;  
The balm-rich Gilead, and mount Moriah, where  
The faith of Abram made him mercy's heir,  
Linked all together, clasped their hands to hand,  
And on their stately tiptoes trip, and stand  
To see him baptised, whose fierce indignation  
Subverts the Sinewy props of their foundation.   

Jordan himself, like Nereus' eldest son,  
Vvraped in a robe of pearl and Nacre's stone,  
No sooner sees his sweet approach, when lo,  
He curbs his streams from their accustomed flow,  
Who whilst they turn their back upon the deep,  
To see their maker, seemed for joy to weep:  
Strait way there com'th that dainty swelling stream  
That fatt'h and lean'th proud Misraims' Diadem,  
The fair Euphrates, and Hydaspes, who  
Through Media's channel joins with gentle Po;  
Chesel, Araxis, Volga, and that rill  
That waits on newborn Titan's hests and will,  
Rhine, Ister, Danube, Tanais, Tagus, Iber,  
Meander, Xanthus, Tigris, Po, and Tiber,  
Peneus, Orontes, and each Runnall else  
Which either softly slides, or proudly swells,  
Do all to Jrodans flowery bank repair,  
And of their intertexed locks and hair  
Compose a sumptuous Arrasse, richly sweet,  
To wipe the water off their Master's feet;  
In this enpampered crew great Jordan stands  
Bending his knees, and heaving up his hands,  
And to his Maker, in a pearl-like tear,  
Breathes this Congratulation in his ear:   

Eternal Issue of th'eternal Sire,  
Deep wisdom of that God whom th'heavens admire,  
Almighty Lord, allseeing God, all's Maker,  
Here at thy footstool we do humbly sacre  
Ourselves, our service, and our dearest love,  
As vassals to obey thy dread behoof.   

Whilst Nature, thus, and all her tender broods,  
Hills, valleys, deserts, silver brooks and floods,  
Intranc'd with joy, conspire to solemnize  
This mask before their glorious Maker's eyes,  
Behold our Shiloe, glad to undergo  
That state wherein he should our sins o'erthrow,  
Steps down to Jordan's silver streams, and there  
By John's installed Copartner of our Care;  
And now, no sooner doth he step from out  
The liquid Current, and the crystal Spout  
Of Jordan, when to all the people's eye  
heavens act their part in this festivity,  
And by their rich applause confirm and seal  
The Covenant of Mercies Commonweal;  
For lo, heaven's azur'd Arch is sloped in twain,  
And from Jehovah's throne comes down amain  
A silver-feathered Dove, who rests upon him,  
And hugs his head, as being enamoured on him;  
With all from heaven's high Senate comes a voice  
Inviting all the world thus to rejoice:  
Rejoice O heavens, be glad O earth, and all  
That in the world do creep, or breath, or crawl,  
For here's my well-beloved Son, in whom  
My wrath's appeased 'gainst sinners: Come, O come  
Today, if you will save your souls, draw near him,  
And whilst he opes his mouth in wisdom hear him.  
Now, now I see that harmless Dove un-stay'n,  
Who being sent out, returned home again,  
Holding within her bill an olive branch,  
To show that Neptune then his wrath did quench,  
Was but a Type sent to presignify  
The rest, the peace, the joy we have in thee.   

O how thou'rt fair, exceeding fair, my Dove,  
Thy eyes have made my Soul even sick with love,  
Thy neck is Ivory, Raven-black thy locks,  
Thy dwelling's in the top of Shenirs rocks;  
Fair Sharons' Rose, Engeddyes sweet Camphire,  
The dew of Hermon, Gileads dainty Myrrh,  
The Balm, the Aloes, and the Spice also  
Which Abanah, and Parphars valleys show,  
Yield not so sweet a smell as do thy lips,  
Whilst thou on Bethers tops makest known thy trips:  
Stay then my Darling, go not hence away,  
The shady night can no more wrong the day,  
Whilst with a sable fur she lops his eye  
To snort in midnight's velvet Canopy;  
Then thou shalt wound me to the death, if ever  
Thou shalt thy Rays from my pale Moon dissever:  
Stay then my dear, and by that Spirit of thine  
Repair, renew, reform this soul of mine,  
That like the harmless Dove, who without gall  
Still loves, and knows not how to hate at all,  
My Soul may by the radiance of thy love  
Still wed herself to thee, who from above  
Hast brought the sacred Olive of our Peace  
T'establish mercy, where fierce wrath had place.    

The Duel.  
CANTO 2ᵒ.  

OFt have mine ears been filled, and eyes been fed  
With Raptures of that highly honoured  
Al●mena's son, whose high and conquering hand  
By victories obtained by Sea and Land,  
Hath made the trophies of his praise appear  
In all the stamps of Titan's bandilier:  
Oft have I wondered at the martial acts,  
Heroic exploits, and same-famishing facts  
Of Hector and Achilles, and that crew  
Of Greeks' and Trojans, whose memorials grew  
To such a height, that Homer's golden pen  
Can never fully point them forth, but when  
He shut his eyes, lest by their active glory  
He should betray the tenor of their story:  
Oft have I stumbled to behold the great  
Distemper o'th' puissant Roman state,  
By Shylla and by Marius set on fire  
For satisfaction of their fond desire,  
Yet never quenched, or yet blown out again,  
For all the arms or arts of France and Spain,  
Till Pompey and great Caesar, by the streams  
Of Rubicone, drenched these Aetnaean flames:  
But wherefore do I gaze this heathen stage?  
Did not th'Almighty in that self same age  
Raise up a Theatre of brave Heroes, fare  
More eminent in Peace, more bold in war  
Then any heathen who did  make bold  
Or Mars his helm, or Mercur's pipe to hold:  
Great Joshuah, how didst thou stay the Sun  
In Gibeah; and in Ajalon, the Moon,  
Till jacob's wormlings to the ground down brings  
The pride of five combined Canaan's Kings?  
Shamgar, how did thy oxen-taming goad  
Serve 'gainst the Philistims for sword and rod,  
When Jabin's yoke the wearied necks did gall  
Of Jacob's seed, and gloried in their fall?  
How did brave Deborah by the conquering hand  
Of Barak, Jabin's boasting troops withstand,  
And made their General Siserah, in the tent  
Of Jael, try Ambitions just event?  
How did brave Gideon's barly-cake and lamp,  
Couched in an earthen-pitcher, daunt the Camp  
Of Midian, that so their night-bred dream,  
Proved but a presage to their morning's Scene?  
How did bold Samson, peerless-pearle of Arms,  
Burst Gazae's gate-bars, and unlock the charms  
Of Dalilah, and make an Ass jawbone  
Drunk with the blood of Gath and Askelon.  
In end, what Nymrod, or what Anak stern,  
Can e'er their fame or honour so etern  
As hath the Son of Jesse, who at first  
Did kill a Lion, and a wild Boar burst;  
Then, by a peeble, which he lately took  
From the sweet verge of a pure gliding brook,  
Did so subdue th'heathen Goliah's rage,  
Who did blaspheme th'Eternal's-heritage,  
That now we see nor bragging breaths nor boasts  
Can save or kill as doth the Lord of hosts:  
All those like stars in dark Cimmerian night  
Adorned their Orb with some small gleams of light,  
But being obfuscat by a clearer ray,  
Have been the Prodroms of this better day:  
Our never setting Sun is now arisen,  
And by his rays irradiats our Horizon  
In such a sort that those glow worms may go  
And spend their lustre and their per'shing show  
Amongst the purblind woeful ignorants  
Of Mexica or Magallanae's Tents:  
Our way's made known, why walk we not therein?  
Our Truth's declared, why live we then to sin?  
Our life's proclaimed, why are we then dismayed?  
Of death or hell why should we be afraid?  
Hath not our Goell, our great kinsman come,  
To pay our mortgage, and redeem our sum?  
And that upon our blood-shedder he may  
The stroke of Justice awfully repay,  
Lo to the desert now he hies him, (there  
In all our sufferings as copartiner,)  
That David like he may that Giant foil,  
Who in th'eternals host hath wrought such spoil,  
And ever blessed be his glorious Name,  
Who coming up from Jordan's crystal stream,  
No sooner from his foot doth wipe the water,  
When to th' Arabians desert wild Theatre  
He's led by that same spirit which like a Dove  
Did from the heavens proclaim him; our soul's Love,  
That in our flesh, as he our seal did take,  
So in it he might triumph for our sake:  
For no such mediator we must have  
As scorns our griefs, infirmities, or grave;  
But such a one, as being exempt from sin  
In all things else, must run the race we run.   

Thrice three ten years hath my Redeemer now  
Lived in the world, and yet for aught I know  
Satan, until this time, durst ne'er be bold,  
'Gainst him to set a snare, his foot t' enfold:  
His private life, it may be, procured his ease,  
His public charge, must taste of treacheries:  
Like Jacob, who with Laban whilst he stays  
Had Peace and rest, and amorous quirks, and plays;  
But being called by God, to get him home,  
False hearted Laban after him can come  
And search his stuff, prepared to do him wrong,  
Unless the mighty God, of strongs the strong,  
Had curbed him in his night bred Visions so,  
That maugre envy, he must let him go:  
Whilst Moses stays in Egypt, Pharo's daughter  
Preserves him safe from Pharoh's threatened slaughter;  
But when he comes for Israel's relief,  
He 'mongst the sons of persecution's chief:  
Whilst David kept his father's Ewes, in peace  
To God he warbled Hymns, and Odes of grace;  
But called to Court, and to the stage of fame,  
Wrath, rancour, envy, plies his Diadem:  
So whilst my Saviour, both by Incarnation  
And by the highest heavens Inauguration,  
Stands as the very son of God and Man,  
Anointed our Redeeming Sovereign,  
Lo, neither can the seal nor gift of grace,  
Exempt him from hells envy'n any case;  
For grace cannot prevent, it may repel  
The stratagems of Perdue Centivell,  
But still the more the Lord with grace decores us,  
The stronger fetters Satan sets before us:  
O God, therefore, since thy Son is not free,  
But grace itself must taste of enmity;  
What careful watch should we wormlings take  
'Gainst this perfidious spiritual Amaleck,  
Who daring to assail the head, shall sure  
The heels destruction, if he can, procure:  
Since than I see it is that glorious Spirit,  
Which he from all etern'ty did inherit;  
Even that great spirit, of th' Almighty God  
Whose word comforts us, under whose sharp rod  
The very hell doth tremble, whose high hand  
None of thy creatures could e'er yet withstand,  
Who rideth on the blustering winds swift wings,  
Who makes the Clouds his messengers, who brings  
Or penury, or plenty by his rain,  
Who walketh dryfoot on the Ocean,  
Why should we in tentations deepest jar  
Fear Chance or Fortunes lying Calendar?  
For, all the powers of darkness and of hell  
Cannot make one hair of our head to fall,  
Till he whose power and pleasure placed them there  
Bids either Justice smite, or Mercy spare;  
For he it is who leads us to our fight,  
And sends us blows according to our might,  
And wheresoever we fight, he goes along  
Both to encourage us, and make us strong,  
And when  fought our fight, gives us reward,  
As his deep wisdom hath for us prepared:  
I magnify my Saviour then, who here  
Doth boldly in Tentations lists appear,  
And by his rare example tells us how  
To keep our posture, and our foes subdue,  
The Philistims by Samson smarting sore  
And often, did his Dalilah implore  
She would by all means possible but try  
Wherein his strength and sinewy force did lie,  
That, knowing that, they might him so dis-arm,  
As never after they might fear his harm:  
Then, O how careful should we be to learn,  
And, in our halcyon days and times, discern  
The traps, the snares, and the bewitching tricks  
That's put before us by the Prince of Styx;  
That so, foreseeing his Engines, we may  
Or burst his snares, or safely fly away.   

Lo how, Colossus like, in Horebs plain  
He stands; thence skips to Neboes' top again;  
From thence to Zions pinnacle he flies,  
Like lightning's flashes, darting through the skies:  
Never did Proteus with more change of shape  
Beguile the world, than doth this trickling Ape  
With change of colours, feature, form, and all,  
My Master's fixed sense sense seek to enthrall;  
Three deeply poisoned darts are in his hand,  
Which flesh and blood alone could ne'er withstand;  
The lust of heart is one, Life's pride another,  
The lust of th'eye is third, their firstborn brother,  
And he who from all those can keep him free  
Hath more than flesh and bloods excellency;  
For he who in the Van doth play his part,  
May in the Main battalion shrink and smart;  
And who hath fought them both, may in the Rear  
Prove worthy nothing, but a sod Cashier.   

The first da●t, then, about his head he shakes,  
And'gainst our Master this assault he makes;  
If it be true that heaven hath spoke, saith he,  
If thou be Gods true Son, then let me see  
Some token of it, that I may believe  
He hath a care of thee, that thou mayst live:  
Full forty days thou hast been here alone,  
Wandering, and wondering in this Mansion;  
Earth yields no bread, the brooks do yield no water,  
The Downs no Locust, Combs no honey scatter,  
Clouds yield no Manna, Ravens take no care  
To feed thee with their fleshpots, late or ear,  
Sarepta's widow doth not break her Cake  
Which for her own last dinner she did bake:  
Is this th'Almighties care, is this his love,  
Which he of late did unto thee improve  
As to his Son; that thou shouldst starve, and die  
By famine and extreme necessity?  
No, get thee up, exchange these stones to bread,  
Eat freely then, and be thou satisfied;  
For skin to skin, and all the world's rich choice  
Man will renounce, before his life he lose.   

Full forty days I have been here (proud Clown) 
R.   
Replies my Saviour, and have beaten down  
This flesh of mine, with fasting all the while,  
That in this Lent of mine I might beguile  
Thy purblind eyes, whose chiefest aim and strain  
Is but to crush my flesh, because humane:  
Moses my servant, near this place, before  
Fasted as long, whilst Sinay's tops did roar:  
And he who Baal's folly did proclaim,  
Full forty days did try the same extreme;  
Yet neither th'one nor th'other sought to thee  
For help in their extreme necessity;  
But, by my Father's strengthening power, they  
Were without outward means maintained always:  
My Father without bread or water can  
Maintain that life which he hath given to man:  
The heavens on Israel did Manna pour,  
Like Coriander, in a snow-white shower;  
To some he doth life's means, miraculously  
Beyond their expectation, multiply,  
That when they looked t'have kept nothing in store,  
Their nothing still increased and grew the more:  
Then, to distrust my Father's providence,  
T'abuse my power, and under the pretence  
Of working miracles t'obey thy will,  
Were base in me, and a prodigious ill:  
Indeed man lives by bread, but that's not all,  
Each word which from my Father's mouth doth fall  
Must either bless the bread to man, or then  
It shall not nourish him, it shall prove his bane.   

Thus hath the venomous snake his first dart fling,  
Yet hath it neither wounded, hurt, nor stung  
My Saviour, for his still uncharmed ear,  
Without impression, that assault did hear:  
A second dart therefore the Traitor tries,  
And that it may prevail, he proudly flies  
Unto the top of Salems' Temple, there  
To crush by pride, what's not crushed by despair;  
The first tentation's ground was starving want,  
Now doth presumptuous plenty charm in chant,  
For where one poor extreme can never do it,  
He hath another, and he puts us to it:  
Jerusalem is now the world's chief glory,  
The Temple is Jerus'lems' highest story,  
The Pinacle's the loftiest step of that,  
There is my Saviour by the Tempter set.   

I have desired thee to make bread of stones,  
Saith the proud murderer; but behold, at once  
Thou didst reply; Thy Father's providence  
Would shelter thee from Nature's indigence:  
Come then, come, let us try thy Father's power;  
Cast thyself down from top of this high tower,  
For well I know what's writ in David's book,  
And thou mayst learn it, when thou list to look,  
That he hath given his Angel's astrict charge  
To bear thee in their arms, as in a Barge,  
To keep thee safe and sound in flesh and bone, 
Psal. 81.   
Lest thou shouldst dash thy foot against a stone.   

How long shall I now suffer thee (damn d dog) 
R.   
Saith my Redeemer, like a wallowing hog  
Disturb my sacred Cisterns? by such wiles  
The Sons of Adam always thou beguiles,  
It is no new thing to hear thee blaspheme,  
This is the program of thy Academe,  
Grace hath abounded, man may sinne the more;  
Elected and Redeemed, trip still therefore;  
The spirit of bondage and of fear is gone,  
Burst then the fetters of Adoption:  
O how it wounds me, thus to hear thee tore  
My sacred Oracles with poisoned air,  
As if in them there were not couched such truth  
As could both comfort age, and confound youth!  
I know 'tis written, but I know as well  
There's something written there thou dost conceal,  
And darest not utter, for it would declare  
The snaky sophism of thy subtle snare;  
[In all thy ways] thou dost omit this stance,  
Yet here's the rule of God's great providence;  
If man would wish, or hopefully expect  
The safe protection of the blessed elect,  
He must not wander in his fancy's measure,  
Or tread the wand'ring path of his own pleasure,  
But in the path of that Saint-beaten road  
That's pointed out unto him by his God,  
If so he walk, he shall be safe and sure,  
If otherwise, his death he shall procure.  
Art not thou now ashamed, so treacherously  
To wrest th'Eternals truth, impudently  
To cut asunder that which God conjoins,  
And with an endless falsehood gird thy loins?  
Take then from out that sacred Scriptures fountain  
A stone cut without hands, from out the mountain,  
To split thy forehead from out David's sling,  
And curb the poisoned venom of thy sting:  
Behold it's written both to man and thee,  
Tremble and fear, do not presume too high;  
For who so wanders from this beaten road,  
Doth tempt the Lord, and lift his heel 'gainst God. 
Deut. 6.16    

Yet once more must this murderer go fling  
His last and final dart against our King:  
The blast of fainting, and of black despair,  
Nor of presumptions fireball, thrown i'th'aire,  
Have not prevailed; yet will he not be quiet,  
But aiming at his envies richer diet,  
He sets my Saviour on a steep high mountain,  
From which each river, and each bubbling fountain,  
Each pearly mead, and shady sheltering grove  
Where either Serpent's hiss, or Satyrs rove,  
Each vineyard drunk with grapes, or cloyed with clusters,  
And every place where pleasure makes her musters,  
And every other sense-contenting thing  
Which to a carnal mind content can bring,  
Are in an eyes short twinkling set before him,  
And promised to him, if he would adore him:  
See'st thou not those, says he, all those be mine,  
View, take, possess them, I will make them thine,  
And with their title I will here endow thee?  
If thou wilt once but bow thy knees unto me.   

Now, now, and ne'er till now, did my Redeemer  
Wax fierce with fury 'gainst this bold blasphemer: 
R.   
What? Bow to thee, thou foul abortive slave?  
Thou dust eater? thou canker of the grave?  
Thou downfallen star? thou filthy proud glow-worm?  
Whose fall yet fills both Earth and Seas with storm:  
Proud beggar slave, thou sayest the world is thine;  
And yet it is the Lords, and all therein,  
The treasures of the winds, the clouds of Rain,  
The wine pressed grapes, and all the sheaves of grain,  
The fishes of the Sea, the fowls o' th' air,  
The beasts o' th' Earth that nibble here and there,  
The floods, the rivers, watery ponds and lakes  
Which from the clouds, or ocean, wellspring takes,  
The walled Cities, and rich stored shops,  
The honey combs, and those Elixared drops  
Of balm, myrrh, incense, Nard, and sweet perfume  
That serves to deck the bride and the bridegroom,  
The warrior, the master of the school,  
The young, the old, the wise, and eke the fool,  
The Counsel tables, and the Courts of Kings,  
And all the treasures that the earth forth brings  
Are only his; he giveth them, and when  
He thinks it fitting, takes them back again:  
Those thou hast set before me, yet dost hid  
The hidden moths that frets their inner side;  
As if I did not know, what weal and woe  
Dance in a circle wheresoever they go;  
What? can our wealth or want my mind betray?  
Can peace bewitch me, or can war affray  
My fixed thoughts? thy eyes are cloyed with gravel,  
And so thou losest both thy toil and travel:  
Can sickness, health, life, death, vain glory, shame,  
Or any other worldly anatheme  
Make me forget my Father, or forgot  
One jot of that true worship which I own  
Unto him? No, go, get thee gone, avoid  
Proud Satan, for thou know'st not things of God,  
But things of men; from this I will not swerve,  
That's writ, The Lord thy God alone go serve,  
And worship; yea, beside him worship none,  
For that shall turn to thy confusion.    

The Doctor  
CANTO 3o.  

AS when the Sun, obliqu'ly looking on  
A roride cloud, frames a Parelion;  
But looking with a straight opposed aspect  
On Phoebe, makes herhiss full rays reflect;  
So when from Jordan's streams our great Messiah  
Went to the desert; our late born Eliah,  
Although the bridegrooms friend, yet seemed to weep  
For fear a hireling should disperse his sheep:  
But seeing him victoriously return,  
This joy-bred fire doth in's bosom burn;  
O how my Soul doth now rejoice (saith he)  
To see the Son of Man march valiantly,  
Returning from the desert, Satan's den,  
Clothed with the spoil of sin, for sinful men!  
Lo where he cometh, full of grace and truth,  
No man in such abundance opes his mouth;  
He was before me, though he now doth follow,  
Eternity his Majesty doth hollow,  
From out his fullness we do all receive  
Grace upon grace, and what good else we have;  
The Law was given by Moses, but by him  
Comes grace, and truth, and peace, wherein we swim:  
No man at any time hath seen the Father,  
Save this his son, from whose hid hands we gather  
That hidden Manna, and those Quails by which  
Our souls are fed, and we to life made rich:  
He cometh to the world, for it he made,  
Yet in it hath no place to rest his head;  
He cometh to his own, yet they refuse him;  
He cometh to the bvilders, they abuse him:  
But unto all that do receive him, he  
Shall give this glory and prime dignity,  
That they the sons of God shall all be called,  
And, as true heirs of heaven, be there installed;  
Even unto such as in his name believe,  
To whom nor Nature, flesh, nor blood can give  
The new-births note, but only that great God  
Who in our flesh hath made his full abode:  
And that it may be known that this is he,  
Go you my sons, go, get you up, draw nigh  
Unto him, clasp him in your souls soft arms,  
For he's the Antidote for all your harms.   

At these fore-warnings John and Andrew go  
And greet him thus: Great Rabbi, let us know  
Where thou dost dwell? so shall we joy to see  
The mansion of thy true felicity.  
Where I do dwell? saith he; let him that would  
My dwelling know, look on the foxes hold  
And sparrows nests; for they have rooms wherein  
Their young ones nestle, and their down begin;  
O but the Son of man hath no place where  
To rest his head, save only this poor air  
That every creature breaths, and this is all  
He counteth his; and this at last shall fall:  
If you will therefore follow me, quit-clame  
What ever in this world doth sumptuous seem,  
Take up your cross and follow me, and so  
You shall my dwelling, and my riches know;  
For who so shall reject my Cross, and blameed,  
Of him in glory I shall be ashamed;  
But who so shall my Cross with patience bear.  
He shall with me in glory rest coheir.   

No sooner hath he spoke these words, when lo  
As swift as arrow shot from Indian bow,  
Andrew doth to his brother Simon run,  
And with these tidings of Salvation  
Accosts him; Brother, I have found the great  
Messith, whom the world expected of late,  
The Saviour Christ, the holy, and th'anointed  
Great Peacemaker, by Prophets all forth pointed;  
Come, come, I pray th' let our hearts draw near him,  
And while 'tis called to day, o let us hear him.  
Simon ariseth, and with Andrew goeth  
To see the miracle of Time and Truth;  
But ere he can within true distance come,  
Christ calls him by his name; thou'rt welcome home  
Thou son of Jonah, saith he, this thy name  
Of Simon, hence I change, with better fame,  
Thou shalt be called Cephas, that is, a Stone,  
For thou shalt help to lay a foundation,  
'Gainst which the Devil and the gates of hell  
May freely push, but never shall prevail.   

A little after this, in Galilee  
As Jesus walked, he did Philip see,  
And bids him follow him; he strait obeyeth,  
But by the way Nathaniel he espieth;  
Nathaniel, saith he, come, we have sound  
The man, of whom the Scriptures do abound,  
Whom Moses and the Prophets have foretell  
According to the promises of old:  
Nathaniel gladly girdeth up his loins,  
And with his fellow Philip journey joins;  
But e'er Nathaniel can come near unto him,  
Christ spies him, and with these sweet words doth woe him:  
Come, come Nathaniel, come thou void of guile,  
The Sun on such another doth not smile  
In all Judaea's Coasts. What's this I hear,  
Saith just Nathaniel? e'er I can come near  
One calls me by my name: whence dost thou know me?  
For in the face, till now, I never saw thee.  
Nathaniel, saith Christ, that's nothing; for,  
 Philip called thee, I thee knew before,  
When under the figtree thou naked stood,  
Copartiner with Adam in his blood.  
O now, my God, Nathaniel saith, I see  
Thou art the very Son of the most High,  
And promised King of Israel, who should give  
Life to all such as in thee do believe.   

The night now come, Christ to the mountain goeth,  
Where all the while he to the heaven upthroweth  
His supplications, with strong cries and tears,  
And graciously is heard in what he fears:  
Next morning to his service he doth call  
Matthew, and Thomas, Barthol mew, and all  
The rest of those Disciples, whom he meant  
To make the Preachers of his Covenant?   

O happy, blessed, blessed, happy Call!  
It doth no sooner touch their ears at all,  
When strait it doth their starving souls renew,  
And their affections to his will subdue:  
Speak always so my God, and by thy grace  
Say to my fainting Soul, seek thou my face;  
And my poor Soul shall answer as appear'th,  
Speak what thou wilt o Lord, thy servant heareth:  
When thou at first didst lay the world's foundation  
Thou didst but speak, and all this all's creation  
Did to thy great Imperial word obey,  
Lo, here shined light, their shady darkness lay;  
Here Hill's proud tops did on their tiptoes stand,  
There did the Ocean roar against the sand;  
Here on the floury bottoms fragrant mead  
The nibbling troops securely prank and feed;  
There in the bosom of the glassy deep  
The scaly nations softly swim and creep;  
The airy legions scud along the skies,  
As if they meant the Welkin to surprise;  
And every thing that hath or life, or sense,  
To thy commandment gave obedience:  
And whilst thou comest an old world new to make,  
No other tool nor mattock thou wilt take  
But that same word of thine, that thou may'st still  
By thy great Word thy glorious Will fulfil.  
Since by thy Word then, which is only wise.  
Thou dostillighten thy Disciples eyes,  
O let me hear thee, in great Moses chair,  
Confound those Rabbins whom the world admire,  
That by thy Doctrine I may learn that wit  
Which never natural man could teach as yet.  
To Nazareth he goeth, and entering there,  
Unto their Synagogue he doth repair,  
And reads in Esayes volume, this sweet text; 
Esay 61.1.   
Jehovahs' Spirit is me, let all vexed  
With sin afflicted hearts, come hear my word,  
For I am the anointed of the Lord,  
Whom he hath sent his Gospel to proclaim,  
To free the Captives, and restore the lame,  
Give sight unto the blind, bind up the bruised,  
And give them grace, who do not quite refuse it.   

This day, saith he, this Text is now fulfilled,  
This day is grace down from the heavens distilled,  
And happy he, who heareth and believeth  
In him who this Salvation freely giveth;  
But vengeance shall his portion be, who stops  
His ears against my heaven elixered drops:  
Do not you call to mind, how that of old  
From Ebals threatening tops it was foretold,  
A thousand curses should fall down upon  
A sinful froward generation;  
But who so should their soul's enclinet obey  
The sacred Sanctions of the mount Siney,  
Ten thousand blessings from Gerizims' store  
Should on their heads be multiplied, and more:  
Now is the time, and here am I the man  
From out whose mouth or curse, or blessings can  
Receive effect or force to save or kill,  
They hear my word, and they obey my will.   

Blessed is he therefore, whose heart is pure,  
For of my heavenly kingdom he is sure;  
Blessed are they who hunger for my grace,  
They shall be filled, and satisfied with peace;  
Blessed are they who do in secret mourn,  
Their sorrows to their solace shall return;  
Blessed be you, when men, for my name sake.  
Shall of your life and goods proud havoc make;  
Blessed be you, when 'gainst you men speak evil,  
And call you sons of belial and the Devil,  
For what they deerogate from your regard  
They add against their will to your reward,  
Yea blessed, and more than blessed shall you be  
When you be thrust from their society,  
Thrust from their Synagogus, excommunicate,  
Rebuked, blasphemed, and all disconsolate,  
Be not dismayed, but rather be you glad,  
The Prophet's old no better service had,  
The Son of man himself shall so be used,  
Contemned, reproached, disdained, and foully bruised,  
And sure I am, that when the master hath  
No softer shelter, and no surer path,  
The servant should not grudge, nor yet disdain  
If with his master he shall share like pain:  
But woe to such whose riches shall abound,  
Whose heart and hands are in their store house sound;  
I tell you truly, they have their reward,  
No after pleasure is for them prepared:  
Woe, woe to those who laugh, and never weep,  
Destruction to their souls doth softly creep:  
Woe, woe to such as vainly cry, peace, peace,  
Thinking the mountain cannot change his place;  
For sorrow, grief, and plagues shall on them come  
Like travel on a woman's burth'ned womb;  
Stolen bread and water sweet are to the taste,  
But gall and worm-wood's easier to digest:  
Bless you therefore such as do curse you, for  
If you shall bless your friends, and do no more,  
What honour can you crave of God, by them  
Who live estranged from God? they do the same:  
Do good to those who harm you; pray for those  
Who persecute your Souls with griefs and woes;  
Give to all such as ask you, freely len▪,  
And look for no requital back again;  
So shall you show yourselves th' Almighty's sons,  
When you be clothed with his perfections:  
You are this world's chief salt; while you have savour  
Your work with God and Men shall find true favour;  
But if you lose your savour, than your taste  
Shall all your service to the dunghill cast:  
You are a City, set upon a hill,  
Which to the world's proud gaze stands object still;  
Dream not you can be hid, all eyes are on you,  
And all men's motions do depend upon you;  
If whilst they wander in an obliqne Car,  
Your course prove constant, like a fixed Star;  
If whilst they stumble in Cimmerian night,  
You walk in Goshen, like the sons of light;  
Whilst muddy cares do their best joys control,  
If your affections rest above the Pole;  
If whilst their runnalls, Marah like, prove tart,  
Your springs drink sweet, and so rejoice the heart;  
If whilst they hold in hand a fruitless goad,  
You bud ripe Almonds, like to Aaron's rod;  
If whilst a stranger calls you, you repine,  
And know no shepherd's voice but only mine;  
In all your ways if you shall still intent  
Your master's glory and no other end,  
Then o how happy, happy thrice you be!  
Life is your lot, your term eternity.   

Then fear not man, whose hand can do no more  
But kill the body; fear God rather, for  
When he hath killed the body, yet he can  
Pour out destruction on the soul of man,  
And send both soul and body down to hell.  
In chains of darkness, and of death to dwell.  
'Tis true, those precepts which I now do Preach  
Exceed the narrow bounds of humane reach;  
Yet though the flesh be weak, the Spirit's strong,  
And grace can rectify stern natures wrong:  
Think not I come to put the law at under,  
Or what the Lord hath joined to cut asunder;  
No, no, the Law and Gospel be two brothers,  
The sons of one man, though of several mothers,  
That, Hagars' brood, who unto bondage beareth,  
This Sarahs' son, who's free, and nothing feareth;  
That's Sinays' suckling, who with terror shaketh,  
This Zion's nursling, whom no fear awaketh;  
That first, this last, that strong, but this the stronger,  
And so the elder must needs serve the younger;  
The Law requireth works, the Gospel's Faith,  
Both have one aim, though in a several path,  
For he who sweetly speaketh in them both  
Is but one God, and one same spirit of truth;  
Works without faith are like to figtree leaves,  
Which seem to shelter, but in end deceive's;  
And faith, unless good works do crown her head,  
May seem to live, yet's spirit'ally dead;  
For as faith laying hold on th' Mediator,  
Makes man stand just before the just Creator,  
So works joined unto faith, tells, that faith's true  
Which works by love, and doth men's lusts subdue:  
Then preach them both, keep both, and so you shall  
Yourselves and others both to rest recall.   

Do not you know when many run a Race  
With panting breasts, and sweat-besmeared face,  
He only who proves constant to the end  
Obtains the Crown; but if he shall offend  
And stumble at the stumbling stones i'th' way,  
His stumbling makes his honour to decay:  
If men, then, for a temporal Crown take pain,  
And strive so hardly for a sading gain,  
How much more should the uncorrupted Crown  
Of glory, honour, and dominion,  
Make you to run your race without cessation,  
Since your reward's eternal consolation:  
Be careful therefore that your master's name  
By your neglect be not exposed to shame;  
And that whilst others by your words be saved,  
You of your master's joy be not be reaved.   

A certain Sower on a time went forth  
To sow his seed of rich and pretions worth;  
And as he sowed, some by the wayside fell,  
And that the souls of th'air did quickly smell,  
And picked it up; Some fell in stony ground,  
That took no root, because no earth it found;  
Some amongst thorns did fall, that strait did spring,  
And yet was choked by their o're-shadowing;  
Some fell in fertile ground, and taking root,  
Did to the Sower bring expected fruit  
According to his travel, toil, and pain,  
The thirty, sixty, and the hundreth grain.  
I am the husbandman, my word's the seed;  
If that doth perish, it doth not proceed  
From Sower, from the seed, or from the season,  
For those were all combined in right and reason  
To work a happy harvest, But man's heart  
Is that unhappy ground, in whose each part  
Such hidden store of deep corruptions lie  
As turn'th my toil unto fond vanrtie:  
For sometime Satan vultur-like doth pray  
Upon the word, and bears it quite away;  
Sometime man's obdured heart more hard than stone  
Rejects my word by induration;  
Sometime the thorny cares of humane life  
Mixed with the word, are at such mutual strife,  
That what at first takes root, doth very now  
To persecutions storm and tempest bow,  
In such a sort, that root, and stalk, and blade  
In this their conflicts quickly vanquished;  
The fertile ground's the faithful heart, that doth  
Return unto th'industrious hand that sow'th  
So rich an increase, that for every ten  
The master hath a thousand back again:  
Watch therefore, lest while as you sleep there come  
The envious man, who in the good seeds room  
Sow's darnel, cockle, and those cursed tares  
Which cursed and malignant ground forth-beares:  
For to your master you must make account  
Of what you sow, and eke what doth surmount,  
He will not have his own true seed alone,  
He needs must have reduplication;  
The heavens and earth may perish, but one jot  
Of this my Doctrine shall not be forgot,  
Till all things be accomplished, which either  
Concerns my glory, or my glorious Father.    

The Powers  
CANTO 4ᵒ.  

WHen Moses followed Jethroes fleecy flocks,  
And made them graze on Horebs golden locks,  
At unawares he looked aside, and spies  
A bush on fire, whose flame to heaven up flies,  
The bush still burns, and yet remains unburned,  
To dust and ashes it can not be turned:  
O what a strange, prodigious sight, saith he,  
Is this which now's presented to mine eye!  
A crackling thorn, a fierce consuming fire  
In mutual conflict, yet do both conspire  
To show the world the strangest, rarest theme  
That e'er was tossed in natures A cadeam!  
I will therefore go view it; but by the way  
A voice proceeding from the bush can say,  
Stay Moses, stay, do not approach too nigh,  
Corruptions can not dwell with Majesty;  
Cast thy shoes off thy feet, for it is found  
The place whereon thou standest is holy ground;  
Yet since I see thee beg with fresh desire,  
To search the secrets of this scorching fire,  
Hear what I tell thee: Lo, this burning bush  
Doth represent my Church, which by the push  
Of Pharoah's proud oppression's brought so low,  
That she doth almost faint by his ov'rthrow,  
Yea, that she's not consumed in that flame  
Comes from my power, who am what I am;  
Her hid corruptions call for my corrections,  
My promise to her Fathers pleads protection;  
The one she bears, the other in short time  
Shall wound her foes, and expiate her crime;  
My word shall teach her, and my power shall heal  
The wounds and bruises of my Israel:  
What here was promised to the Church before  
The Law from Sinay's thundering tops did roar,  
Is now accomplished in the Gospel's day,  
For by his word he points her first the way,  
Then by his dread miraculous power doth cure  
The sad distempers of her imposture:  
Who doubts his power, let him but make bold,  
And view the wondrous works he wrought of old;  
Consider Moses hand put in his bosom  
By Leprosy tnrned white like April's blossom,  
Consider Nilus' streams turned unto blood,  
Consider Israel fed with Angel's food,  
Remember how Rephidim's rock's a pool,  
And Mara's rill made sweet in Israel's bowl,  
The Sun in Gibeah stands a whole day still;  
An Ass controls her foolish riders will;  
Fire comes from Heaven, and dries Eliahs' trench;  
A son is given to Shunamed gracious wench;  
Jonah's preserved by a swallowing Whale;  
The Lion's stoop and crouch to Daniel;  
Three children walking in a fiery flame  
Lose not one hair, their clothes are free from th' same:  
All those as wonders did attend his Law,  
And to his word did yield respective awe;  
And shall the Gospel's message of our peace  
Lack her attendants? no, in any case,  
His power shall still accompany his word,  
And by those two shall all things be restored,  
That mans endured heart, by those two, may  
Read Lectures of his truth, and love each way:   

Come then proud Scribe, come doting Pharisee,  
Come wrangling Lawyer, come along with me,  
And see what wonders are in Juda done,  
Then judge, if your Messiah be not come:  
In Cana's village, last day there was made  
A Nuptial banquet richly furnished,  
Not with luxurious superflu'ties' store,  
But with satieties plenty, and no more;  
The bidden guests do come, 'mongst many other  
Christ Jesus cometh, and his Virgin Mother,  
That by his presence he might sanctify  
God's Ordinance, and Man's society;  
The friends are placed, the tables richly cloyed,  
The bowls of wine are here and there convoyed,  
And no things lack, that true content would have,  
Or measure wish, or moderation crave,  
Yet as it often unto men befalls,  
Some cross doth still attend their festivals,  
Their wines are spent, his mother tells him so;  
Woman, saith he, what's this I have ado  
With thee? my appointed time is not yet come,  
Yet for thy sake I'll show myself to some;  
Cause bring me here fix water-pots of stone  
Which you use for Purification:  
They bring them to him: Fill them now, saith he,  
With fountain water, that I may them see;  
Fill, fill them full, fill them unto the brim,  
And with true fountain water make them swim:  
'Tis done: he looketh on them, and anon,  
O strange, miraculous, rare Conversion!  
Without his word the water's turned to wine,  
Sweet as the Malmsey, rich as Muscadine:  
Drink woman now faith he, drink, drink, and fill  
To others also; Cana's grapes distil  
Not such a wine as doth my word, therefore  
Bid them come drink who love to thirst no more:  
But all's in vain, I bid men drink: for why?  
Nothing but blood will man's souls thirst allay.  
O God, what heavenly hierogly phicks here  
Of that sweet Nectar, and Ambrosian cheer  
Which thou, our soul's Bridegroom, shalt for us make  
When to thy Cana thou shalt us home take!  
For there our mariage-supper is prepared,  
Legions of Angels shall thy Bride still guard,  
The fatling's killed, thy bowls of wine are drawn,  
Thy tableclothes are dainty Cyprian lawn,  
Thy bed of love is made, and richlier hung  
Then that where th'Epithalamy was sung  
To Solomon and Pharoh's daughter, for  
Their best magnificence and proudest store  
Endured but for a time; but this for ever  
Shall satiate his guests, and finish never:  
In Cana water was exchanged to wine,  
But in thy house whoso shall sit and dine  
Shall with the fatness of thy house be filled,  
And drunk with that sweet rill thy side distilled  
Whilst on the Cross thou stretched thy arms abroad  
T'embrace thy Bride, and heave her to her God:  
O then, since all things that be necessare  
For such a wedding feast, thou dost prepare,  
Prepare our hearts also to meet thee, when  
Thou call'st us from out Meshechs sinful den,  
That so the Bridegroom and his Virgin-bride  
May in the Tents of love for ever bide.   

From Cana to Capernaum next day  
My blessed Saviour undertakes his way,  
Where dwelled a reverend grave Centurion  
Whose servant's sick; in whose compassion  
The Captain coming unto Christ, doth thus  
Entreat him: Master, master pity us,  
For lo my servant's with a Palsy taken,  
And of all hopes of health is quite forsaken;  
Since then all hopes of humane helps be gone,  
And we be left to mourn his griefs alone,  
I pray thee let thy helping hand supply  
His great distemper and necessity.  
Go, saith my Saviour, get thee home, for I  
Will quickly come, and cure his malady.  
No, saith the grave Centurion, take no pain  
Great master, to turmoil thyself in vain,  
I am not worthy that thou (glorious thou)  
To come within my roof thyself shouldst bow,  
Speak but the word alone, and he shall live,  
For, that thy word can heal him I believe;  
Lo, I am one set in authority,  
Subdued to one, and many unto me;  
To one I say, go hither, and he goeth;  
T' another, do this, and that strait he doth;  
Unto a third, I say come, and he cometh;  
Thus what I will is done, and none presumeth  
To disobey what I command, my word  
For their obedience is a law assured.  
When Jesus hears those words, he stands amazed,  
And on the following troops a while he gazed,  
And saith at length, In truth and verity  
Such faith in Israel I did never see;  
But this I tell you, that the time's at hand,  
When many from the West and East shall stand  
Within my Churches faithful glorious pale,  
And be baptised as sons of Israel,  
And with old Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, they  
Shall eternize a solemn holy day;  
While as the children of the kingdom shall  
In utter darkness mourn a Madrigal:  
Go, therefore saith he, to the Captain, go  
And as thou hast believed, even so  
Be it to thee: and at that very hour,  
The servants life and health was made secure:  
O God, how dost thou by this grave dispute  
To Japhets' children freely contribute  
The promise of eternal life, if they  
By faith shall on thy words their rest rely:  
Give us therefore what of us thou requirest,  
And then require of us what thou desir'st.   

Now babbling fame hath took her wings to fly  
Through all the neighbouring Regions fare and nigh,  
And make the glorious powers of this man  
Control the Earth, and daunt the Ocean,  
For whatsoever he doth is quickly told,  
And in fame's Ephemerideses enrolled.  
To shun therefore the people's vain applause,  
Whose changing currents oftener ebbs than flows,  
Down to Tiberi●'s sea he goes, that thence  
He may show favour to the Gadarens:  
But whilst he's in the ship, his former toil  
Persuades him in a sleep to rest a while;  
His eyes are scarcely shut, when lo, dark clouds  
Obscure the heaven, and proud Aeolian thuds  
Distemper so the Main, that Neptune's locks  
Wax hoary-white with dashing 'gainst the rocks;  
Here one proud wave doth Babel-like arise,  
And with tumultuous threats affronts the skies;  
Another, here, falls to so vast a deep,  
That Pluto's wakened from his morning sleep:  
A midst this surly gust the poor ship's rossed,  
And with impetuous winds and tides so crossed,  
That his Disciples in their fear do roar,  
And for their health their masters help implore,  
Help, help great master (say they) help, awake,  
And on thy perishing train some pity take,  
For if thou do not now extend thy power,  
This swallowing tempest will our souls devour:  
He strait awakes, and unto them he saith,  
O you of trembling hearts, and fainting faith!  
What do you fear? Peace winds, faith he, th' are still,  
Peace raging Seas; and they grow calm at will;  
By this the Ship is brought unto the shore,  
And neither winds nor seas molest them more.   

O thou controller of the winds commotion!  
O thou dread daunter of th' undaunted Ocean!  
Speak peace to our tumultuous souls, for why,  
Unless our spiritual tempests thou alloy,  
Unless thou suage and calm their storms in time,  
We sink and perish, for we cannot swim.   

No sooner were the winds by is word appeased,  
No soon's Neptune by his word assuaged,  
When Jesus with his few Disciples go  
To Gadara, that they his power might know:  
But by the way, that Spirit who works our spite,  
And in our ruins takes his chief delight,  
Having entrenched in his prodigious rolls,  
The mortal bodies, not th' immortal souls  
Of two poor men, while as they see him come  
Like ramping Lions, and like Boars in foam,  
Th' approach his presence, and in fury cry,  
Jesus thou son of God, who dwellest on high,  
What have we here to do with thee? for this  
Of our just torment in the deep abyss  
Is not the full time, and we suffer wrong  
If there before due time thoudost us throng.  
What is your name? saith he: they answer, Legion,  
For we be many in this humane region,  
And as thy Father is the Lord of hosts  
So we, as many, love to scour their coasts:  
Come out, come out saith he, you cursed crew,  
And of these wretches take your last adiews.  
If we must needs go out, then let us go  
Say they, and enter in those swine, for lo  
When thou ejects us from this Isle of man,  
Thy little world, we must do what we can  
To rob him of his best approved pulse,  
And nestle there because we lose himself.  
Go, go saith he; they go, and take possession  
Of those poor beasts, and in so fearful fashion,  
That they no sooner feel their grievous yoke,  
But to the Sea they run, and there they choke:  
O glorious thou, who to the world didst come  
T' unlose those snares which Satan thrusts on some,  
And leav'st some others to those spiritual bands  
Which in eternal darkness prison stands,  
Restrain our enemy's rage, control his power,  
Lest his assaults do our poor souls devour.   

Ne'er did a swarm of honey sucking Bees  
Pursue a Wasp from out their Colonies  
With greater spite, or more enraged spleen,  
Then doth that blockish beastly Gadaren.  
Republic thrust my Saviour from their coast,  
Because of these few swine which they had lost:  
O the blind change and choice o'th' sons of men,  
Who ere they lose this world's poor pelf, will len '  
Their Souls a pray to Satan and betray  
A lasting glory for a moment's pay!  
With speed therefore my Saviour homeward goeth,  
Because they loathed his power and his truth;  
And there behold a crowd of sick folks lie  
A waiting him to cure their Malady;  
For some even from their mother's womb lay lame,  
Some Leprous, some Lethargique and some maim,  
Some with an Apoplexy were o'ertaken,  
Some with a paralitiove blow were shaken,  
Some with a dysentery do decay,  
Some with a Calcule on their reins do cry,  
Here one had eyes, but now he's dark and blind,  
Here one was wise, but now's distracted in mind,  
A menstrual flux doth here distain a woman,  
A burning Ague to another's common;  
All those he healeth, and so doing hath  
Gained many a Pros'lyte to the Christian faith:  
But above all, I stand amazed to spy  
How at Bethesdaes' pool huge heaps do lie  
Of poor, weak, sick, diseased persons, who  
Attend her motions and her watery flow,  
For here an Angel, at some special season,  
Beyond all reach of humane sense and reason,  
By moving of the waters gave release  
To all that were diseased in any case,  
Providing always, that they stepping down  
Should drench themselves in her first motion:  
An hieroglyphic of our Baptims washing,  
Whose watery streams can never cleanse our tashing  
Unless th'archangel of the Covenant  
Join his dread power to the Element,  
A man oppressed full eight and thirty year  
With strange diseases, is at last brought here,  
On whom Christ Jesus having fixed his eyes,  
Doth not inquire what were his maladies,  
Where those his griefs did hold him, or how long  
He had been bound with that infirm'ties' thong?  
But only asks him if he would be cured?  
Of that, saith he, great Master be assured,  
I hunger for my health, but can not stir  
To taste this waters first distemperature,  
I cannot help myself, and none I have  
To help me, when their helping hand I crave,  
Another always stepping down before me  
Is cured; and I, as if all did abhor me,  
Must this my grief and languishing sustain,  
Till he who wounds me bind me up again:  
Rise, rise, then saith my Saviour, rise and walk,  
I pity thy distress, I hear thy talk;  
The poor man riseth as Christ doth appoint,  
And is restored to health in every joint:  
Behold, saith Christ, poor man, now thou art whole,  
And from thy crown unto thy very sole  
There is no bruise; go, go, and sin no more  
Lest worse befall thee, than thou feltst before.   

Glad should I be, if my poor Muse had breath  
To follow my Redeemer in that path  
Of strange stupendious miracles, whereby  
In flesh he did express his Deity:  
But wearied now, she needs must rest a while,  
And draw away her Pencil from that toil  
Which he from place to place did undertake,  
To ease our sorrows for his mercy's sake:  
Only this one poor thing she must relate,  
How he did L●●arus re-animate,  
That in his Resurrection we may see  
Our Resurrections rich felicity.   

As Chyrstall brooks have still the broader course  
The nearer they approach great Neptune's source;  
So now the nearer that my Saviour's days  
Draw to an end, the more he still displays  
His heavenly wisdom, and miraculous power,  
When opportun'ty did the same procure.  
Sickness to man is prodrom of his death,  
From which no natural man exemption hath:  
Even Lazarus, whom Jesus loved, is now  
Sick to the death, and to the grave must bow:  
Whilst he is sick, his sister Mary sendeth  
A messenger to Christ, who first attendeth  
Him in his doctrine; and thereafter saith,  
Sir, he whom thou dost love now almost pay'th  
His debt to Nature by his death, for lo  
A burning Ague worketh his overthrow:  
I know thou lov'st him, and he loveth chee,  
Let then thy love to him extended be,  
For thou art love itself, and from thy love  
It is, that we do live, or breath, or move.  
I know, saith Christ, he's sick, but not to death,  
Although this fit of Fever out his breath,  
Yet shall the glory of the Lord appear  
In his return to this life's hemisphere;  
And that the Son of God may glory have,  
Let him be sick, yea, sick unto the grave:  
A little after, to his friends he saith  
Let us go hence, my staying here delay'th  
The work of God; for L●zarus our friend  
Lies fast asleep, and I do fully mind  
T'awake him up again, for none but I  
Can rouse him from the graves deep Lethargy:  
If he do sleep, say his Disciples, than  
He shall be well, for sleep doth soften pain:  
But here they do mistake, they meant that sleep  
Which on our wearied eyes doth softly creep;  
But Christ did mean that sleep which in the grave  
Shall on each mortal man dominion have:  
No, no, saith Christ, to speak the truth, indeed  
Our brother's dead, and death doth on him feed,  
And I am glad, for your sakes, that I was  
Not there, when death o'erturned his short hourglass.   

Alas, my Saviour, how canst thou be glad  
To see man under his afflictions sad!  
Dost thou delight in our distresses? no,  
Thou tak'st no pleasure in our griefs or woe;  
But as a loving father, who doth see  
His only son in that perplexity  
Where wounds and blows on th'one side threaten death,  
And Triumph on the other promiseth  
Eternal honour, hath more joy to know  
The fame which from out those his wounds shall flow,  
Than he is sad to see his crimson blood  
Expatiat like a Dalmatian flood:  
So, from our light afflictions whilst thou spies  
The trophies of thy glory to arise,  
Thou dost much more rejoice, than thou canst grieve,  
To see us wrestle, and in end survive.   

To Bethany he hasteth then, for there  
Mary and Martha had their chief repair;  
And being come, Mary with speed doth run  
To greet th'approach of this Imperial Sun,  
She sees him, and down at his feet doth fall,  
Master, saith she, hadst thou been here at all  
My brother had not died: Marry, saith he,  
Thy brother shall rise up again, trust me:  
I know, saith she, that at the general doom  
He shall arise, and unto Judgement come:  
Marry, saith he, hold but thy peace, and thou  
Shalt see God's glory manifested now;  
Where have you laid him? come, come, let me see;  
They point the place: He, with a tear-drowned eye  
Weeps out his souls sad sorrows, but for what  
They neither know, nor can prognosticat:  
Is this the grave, saith he, where Laz'rus lieth?  
Is this the Tomb which his dead corpse implieth?  
It is, say they: then roll away this stone  
Which holds him in his dusty mansion:  
No, no, saith Martha, now the time is past,  
This is the fourth day since we made it fast,  
Corruption e'er now hath made him stench,  
His putrefaction no perfume can quench:  
What, Martha, saith he, have not I e'er now  
Told thee, that if by faith thou shouldst subdue  
Thy soul, thou shouldst behold the power of God  
Change Moses serpent to an useful rod:  
They roll away the stone; to heaven doth he  
Lift up his heart, his hand, and weeping eye,  
And with a loud voice he doth thus encall  
His Father's hearing; O great All of all,  
O dread Creator, and o loving Father,  
From whom all creatures do their essence gather,  
I thank thee that thou now hast heard me, nay  
I know that thou dost hear me every way;  
But that this people may believe, that thou  
Who in thyself art very truth, and true,  
Hast sent me thy right hands great strength to prove,  
And to the sons of men make known thy love,  
To thee I cried, and yet to thee do cry,  
That thou wouldst their hard hearts once mollify:  
This said, he strait on Lazarus doth call,  
Come forth, come forth, stay no more there at all,  
I have the keys of life and death, therefore  
To thee my quickening spirit I restore.  
No sooner hath he spoke these words, than he  
Who lay in death and graves captivity  
Comes forth bound hand and foot with those poor ties  
Which laugh to scorn life's superfluities:  
Now lose him, saith he, lose him, let him go,  
For God is Lord of life and death also.   

O what a world of miracles do here  
In coacervat troops of power appear!  
He weeps and spends his tears, this tells he's Man;  
His word awakes the dead, God only can;  
He makes the bound to walk, and blind to see,  
All this t'express his sacred Deity;  
Yet will not lose the bonds, nor move the stone  
Himself, but gives to men direction  
To act that part, that by this Riddle he  
May teach the sons of men a mystery,  
That he who without man did man first make  
Will not man, but by man, save or forsake, 
Qui fecit te sine te, non servat te sine te.   
For though God works his work mirac'lously,  
Yet t'ordinary means he doth man tie.   

And now in end, to show how Christ of late  
The deaf and dumb did both re-consolate,  
How for the payment of a Tributes penny  
A Dolphin from the deep affords him money,  
How graciously th'adulteress is freed  
And both from sin and shame stands purified,  
How that poor man who from the womb was blind  
By clay and spittle doth his eyesight find,  
How Jairus daughter and the widow's son  
Of Naine were revived, how he alone  
Did feed five thousand with five barley loaves,  
How dryfoot on the Seas, proud waves he roaves:  
I dare not longer undertake to tell,  
Lest under such a weight my spirits fail:  
Let this suffice; those few which here be shown  
Make both his Godhead and his manhood known.    

The Proselyt's.  
CANTO 5ᵒ.  

AS when a grave and sage Gymnosophist,  
Minding to put his Scholar to the list  
Of public dispute, whence he hopes to gain  
The honour of his long turmoiling pain,  
Prescribes him first some disputable Theme,  
To be contested in the Acadeam;  
Which being tossed in Dialectique manner,  
By quirks and Sophisms of a subtle strainer,  
Gives correspondent hopes, or fears of what  
The public The'ter can emarginat:  
So Nicodemus having oft times heard  
Of that rich glory, and that rich reward  
Which Christ had promised to all such as should  
By his directions be governed and ruled,  
Goes privily by night to him, to try  
Who was the stronger, Christ, or th' Pharisee?  
Master, saith he, I see thou art a man  
Come out from God, for certainly none can  
Or speak, or do, as thou hast spoke and done,  
Without some divine inspiration.  
Is't so, saith Christ, brave Nicodemus? now  
I needs must tell thee what thou dost not know:  
Except a man be born again, 'tis sure  
He shall not enter in at Glories door.  
Be born again! saith he, what's this I hear?  
What man can make this paradox appear?  
Can he that's old return to is mother's womb,  
And thence, being born again, a child become?  
This Maxim seemeth very strange to me,  
It over-tops my weak capacity.  
What, dost thou think this strange, doth Christ then say,  
That man must needs be born again? Nay, nay,  
Unless a man be born again by water  
And by the Spirits inward hid lavacre,  
He cannot enter in God's kingdom, for  
What's born of flesh, is flesh; and what is more,  
What is born of the Spirit 's likewise Spirit,  
Without this birth no man can heaven inherit;  
The wind blows where it lists, thou hearest the sound  
Thereof, but canst not tell where't may be found,  
From whence it comes, or whither it doth go,  
So hidden are his waves who makes it blow:  
Come, come, saith Necodemus, tell me where  
Thou canst be bold this Doctrine to aver?  
Thou speakest to me of being born again,  
But of a new birth I conceive no strain,  
Thou prat'st to me of heaven's great Kingdom, but  
Of that Monarchick state I see no jot;  
Make me then see a reason and a cause  
Of what thou speakest, else hold thy peace and pause.   

Well Nicodemus, now of truth I see  
That Nature is to Grace an Enemy,  
And what the natural man thinks wisdom, that  
Doth God as folly excommunicate;  
And what the Lord counts wisdom, that doth Nature  
Abhor, as void of her perfections feature:  
What if I should be bold but to demand  
Of thee this question; what strong power and hand  
Did frame thee in thy mother's womb, when yet  
In darkness, as a Nonens, thou didst sit?  
Whose fingers there condensed thy bones? what power  
Did fill thy veins with Bozra's crimson shower?  
Who made thy nerves and artyrs so to tie  
Thy bodies compact and society?  
Who framed thy brains great Chaos, liver, spleen,  
Thy boiling choler, or thy moyst'ning phleagm?  
Who made thy eyes so watchful Sentinels?  
Who made thy nose Judge of so various smells?  
Who made thy tongue to speak, or ears to hear?  
Who made thy knees to bow, or back to bear?  
And last of all, whence hadst thou that poor breath  
Whose presence lends thee life, whose absence death,  
Whose influence warms thee with celestial fire,  
And whose unmoved motion doth aspire  
In a poor minute to run round about  
Earth's drossy globe, and Seas green glassy spout,  
Then in an eyes poor twinkle strives to know  
The treasures of the winds, hail, rain, and snow,  
Thence falling down doth view that woeful deep,  
Wherein the Vessels of God's wrath do weep;  
Thence scaling all the heavens, doth scan the course  
Of all the Stars in their imperial source;  
Thence soaring higher, flies above the Pole,  
And all the Stars where Charles great wain doth role,  
And in the highest heavens doth steal a glance  
Of great Jehova's glorious countenance,  
And with a ravished strain doth strive to see  
His one true Essence, and his persons three;  
That in the volume of his face she may  
The programs of his frowns and favour spy:  
All those within thy hollow bosom dwell,  
And yet by nature's help thou canst not tell  
Nor when, nor where, nor how this bulk was made,  
Begun, advanced, enlarged, or finished:  
Why dost thou then require that nature should  
Investigate or labour to unfold  
The secret footsteps and that hidden way  
Wherein th' Almighty doth his power display?  
Dost thou not know that in thee two men dwell,  
The spirit and the flesh, whose tides do swell  
So boisterously each one against the other,  
That cruel Cain when he had killed his brother  
Was never stuffed with more vindictive spleen,  
Then do these two betwixt them entertain;  
Water hath no more force to drown the fire,  
Fire to drink water doth no more aspire,  
Air in earth's caverns hath not such a roar,  
Earth doth no more airs levity abhor,  
Heat against cold, and moisture against drought  
Doth not so largely open their yawning mouth,  
The light with darkness keeps no better coil,  
Death striving against life hath no such toil  
As have these two, whilst their unstay'd desire  
To ruin one another doth aspire;  
Hence doth arise so fierce a conflict, that  
Unless the one the other subjugat,  
With labouring Rebecca, in her push,  
Man may exclaim, If so, why am I thus?  
For lo, the good man would, he cannot do;  
And th' ill he would not, that he's thrust unto:  
Yet whosoever to the flesh shall give  
Obedience, and in her Statutes live,  
Shall from the flesh reap nothing but corruption,  
And drink the bitter dregs of her destruction;  
But he who by the spirit is made free  
From carnal lusts and their captivity,  
Shall by th' obedience of the Spirit have peace  
When all the turmoils of the flesh shall cease:  
But ay me! now I see this world is gone,  
And drowned i'th' deep of induration;  
For though the light hath plentifully shined  
In all her corners, yet men have repined  
Against the light, and made their deeds so evil,  
That they are slaves to Belial and the Devil.  
Thus hath he graveled Nicodemus spirit,  
And of a Pharisee made a Proselyte:  
For nature being convinced must hold her peace,  
And humane reason unto God give place.  
Hence forth from Judah he doth take his way,  
And in Samaria purposeth to stay:  
Faint in his journey by the extreme heat,  
Which Earth to Titan did reveberat,  
He comes to Sichars well, but all in vain,  
One drop of water he can not obtain:  
Here down he sits, strait from Samaria come  
A woman to draw water for her home,  
Woman saith he, I thirst extremely, pray  
Lend me some water, this my thirst t' allay,  
The jorney's long, and eke the season hot,  
Let me then drink some water from thy pot?  
Some water, saith she, that is strange o man,  
That thou a Jew, I a Samaritan,  
Canst seek refreshment or a drink from me,  
Those keep no commerce nor society:  
Woman saith he, o that thou couldst but know  
That gift of God, and who it is that now  
Doth beg of thee some water for his thirst,  
Surely thou shouldst have been my beggar first,  
And I to thy petition, would have given  
A cup of better water brought from Heaven;  
For who so drinks this water, thirsts again,  
But who tastes my unemptied Ocean  
Shall never thirst; for from th' Eternal's throne  
It spring'th, and tak'th eternal motion:  
Master, saith she, you talk to me of water  
Whose bubbling source some better streams doth scatter;  
But to my taste I never yet could see  
A wellspring of more precious dignity;  
Our Father Jacob digged this well of old,  
He drunk of it, his childs als' were bold  
To fet it to their Cattles use, art thou  
Greater than they? I pray thee let me know,  
That when I thirst hereafter, I may drink  
And draw the waters of that better brink:  
Go, saith he then, and make thy husband come,  
That when thou drinkest he also may have some:  
I have no husband, saith she. Now I hear  
Thee speak the truth; for it is more than clear  
That husbands five thou hast already had,  
And he whom now thou hast, thou hast not wed;  
Thus hast thou sinned, and in thy sin dost lie,  
Drunk with the dregs of sin's security;  
Yet though sin's seed time seem a delicate,  
Her harvest and her gleaning's desolate:  
Master, saith she, a Prophet now thou art,  
For thou display'st the secrets of my heart,  
Messiah when he comes can do no more,  
But tell us all things; this thou dost before:  
I am the man, saith he, expect no other  
The only son of God, by flesh thy brother;  
Yea, amongst many brethren the first borne  
And of great David's house th' exalted horn.   

She hears those words, and leaves her water pot  
Behind her, and to poor Samaria's lot  
She hies herself with all the speed she can,  
And calls them from their trades, each man by man:  
Come, come saith she, now blessed be the Lord  
He hath made true the tenure of his word,  
Which promiseth, that in the end of time  
Messiah's blood should expiate our crime;  
Come, I have found him; and what's strange behold,  
What I have done in all my life, he hath told,  
Yea, he hath fanned the secrets of my heart,  
And made my soul, by grief, for sin to smart,  
I never heard so grave and learned a Preacher,  
So strict a schoolman, and so wise a Teacher.  
ne'er doth the Phoenix, when she first doth fly  
From out her Urn, with self-bred infancy,  
With richer troops attempt her first-winged march  
Along the conclave of th'ethereal Arch,  
Than now my Saviour from Samaria ●●th  
T'attend his doctrine, and enrich their faith;  
He seethe them hunger, and he opes his mouth  
To feed them with those clusters of his truth:  
Your fathers, saith he, worshipped in this mountain,  
Here did they dig sweet water from this fountain,  
But now the time draws near, and is at hand,  
When neither here, nor in Judaea's land  
God shall be served alone; through all the world  
The chariot of his glory shall be hurled:  
God is a Spirit, all that do him fear  
In spirit and truth unto him must draw near;  
You worship what you know not, o but we  
Know whom we worship in sincerity,  
And though salvation's to the Jews first shown,  
Yet shall the Gentiles for God's sons be known.  
O now, say they unto the woman, we  
Believe him not for what you testify,  
But having heard him with our ears ourself,  
On him we build our souls eternal health,  
For now we see he is that Christ should come  
To ransom Israel with a precious sum.   

Thus turning to Judaea's coasts again  
Great multitudes do follow him amain,  
For they by him mirac'lously were fed  
When in the desert they were hungered:  
But whilst he doth their hidden thoughts espy,  
With a loud voice he boldly thus doth say;  
Alas! I now perceive it for a truth,  
This people do draw near me with their mouth,  
Whilst as their hearts are fare from me, for lo  
Not for my Doctrine sake they do me know,  
But for the barley loaves they did partake,  
When I did feed them, for my mercy sake:  
But travel not I pray you, for that meat  
Which is as quickly gone, as it is eat;  
But labour for that bread, which lasts for ever,  
Which I the son of man to you deliver:  
Your Fathers in the deserts did eat Manna,  
And praised the giver with a loud Hosanna,  
Yet did they perish, die, and eke consume  
In their stiffnecked murmuring A mertume;  
But he who eats the bread that I shall give him,  
Shall never perish; for it shall revive him:  
I am the bread of life, which came from heaven,  
My father unto you this bread hath given;  
That by his bread of life, which is supernal,  
He may your souls maintain to life Eternal:  
As many then as come to me shall neither  
Have thirst nor hunger, for my glorious Father  
Sent me from heaven, not my own will to do,  
But man's hard heart unto his yoke to bow;  
That so man may eschew his burning wrath,  
And scape the sorrows of the second death:  
No man hath seen the Father, but the Son  
Who in the Father's bosom dwells alone,  
He doth reveal him unto whom he pleaseth,  
Whose cross he lighteneth, and whose soul he easeth:  
No man ascendeth unto heaven but he  
Who came from heaven, and doth in Majesty,  
(Though base on earth) yet when he thinketh sit,  
Doth on his Father's right hands glory sit;  
And at his second coming saves his sheep  
From sinking in that never fathomed deep,  
Whereas the sulphur of th'eternals breathe  
Lays hold upon the vessels of his wrath,  
And makes the faithful and the righteous all  
Be filled with glories endless festival.    

The Metamorphose.  
CANTO 6ᵒ.  

FOre-chosen Jacob, Isaac's second Swain,  
Jah-struggling champion and victorious man,  
Thou royal she apheard, and tresprudent Siere,  
Whom Palestina's Princes did admire,  
Vouchsafe me but t' approach thy dying throne,  
And charge thee with this Gordian knot alone,  
And like Apollo thou thy front shalt see  
Decked with a garland from the Laurel tree.   

Whence come th' Enthusiasm, and that sacred fury,  
Which made thee all thy carnal senses bury  
In Lethe's lap, and with religious rage  
Divide Cham's tents to Israel's heritage.  
Whence hadst thou wisdom and sweet inspiration  
To precognose, and with true divination  
Foretell that Judas tribe should bear the sway  
Till Shilo should eclipse his Majesty?  
How madest thou Joseph, like a fruitful Vine,  
That doth her arms about her Bridegroom twine,  
Drunk with the grapes of Ephraim's royal cup,  
Which weak Manassehs hands could not bear up?  
But above all, I stand amazed to see  
Lewd Levi's scatt'rings dare t' approach so nigh  
To Jove's ariel, offering there upon  
For sin and sinner's expiation!  
Is Dinah dead, or Sechem's blood gone dry,  
That thou dost thus forget his villainy,  
And without smarting for his foul offence  
Exalt him to the high-Priests eminence?  
'Tis strange that divine Justice should permit,  
Him who i'th' chair of sinners so hath sit,  
Without corrections rod possess the throne,  
And sing the carols of exemption!  
O now I see, thy tongue was not thy own!  
A higher power hath it ruled and thrown,  
Even He, great He, whose ways we cannot spy,  
Because his will's the square he worketh by;  
Who where he will have mercy, there he pardons,  
And where he will with draw his grace, he hardens:  
From his good pleasure then, and no where else,  
It is, that Levi's tribe the rest excels,  
And on his Ephod, whiter than the snow,  
Hath tied his breast plate, where in sumptuous show  
Stands Vrim and great Thummims true direction  
For light of knowledge, and for life's perfection:  
So then from loins of that unhallowed stem  
Which Jacob thrust from Israel's diadem,  
The Lord hath chosen a successive race  
Of royal Priesthood, who before his face,  
Shall in that course which David did prescribe,  
Burn incense and their sacrifice contrive,  
With never altered, though alternat order,  
Till Melchizedeck come and crush their border:  
All those, like Comets when they first appear  
In our sublunar regions hemisphere,  
Did draw men's wand'ring eyes and wondering hearts,  
To scan their sequels, whether smiles or smarts;  
But all in vain, nature can ne'er untie  
The clasped books of heavens great mystery;  
For till the Word was Flesh, great Judah's throne  
Ne'er knew her perfect exaltation;  
And Aaron's rod did ne'er her top bow down  
With reverence to Melchizedecks' Crown:  
But when thou cam'st, those figures, types, and tropes  
Had real Essence, for unreall hopes;  
For where the Sun doth shine in lights array,  
All clouds vanish, night gives place to day:  
Since than thou art true light, and since with thee  
Darkness dare plead for no society,  
O let me but be bold this once to follow  
Thee to thy Tabor, that my spirit being shallow,  
May by the lustre of thy glories shine  
Taste of that light that never shall decline.   

But ay me! whilst I see the hill so steep,  
The gulf of my poor misery so deep,  
The flesh so frail, the spirit so soon o'retak'n,  
The flax so quenched, the bruised reed so shaken,  
The load of sin so great, my faith so faint,  
So strict the forfeit, of the Covenant,  
I cannot choose but fear, lest by the way  
My hasting do defraud me of my prey,  
Unless thou help who helped the faithful thief,  
For I believe, Lord help my unbelief:  
Come then dread Saviour, let me search the time  
Wherein thou didst to Tabors fastege climb;  
Thy scriveners differ, many therefore doubt  
Thy journey's Epoch how they shall find out;  
One says that it was fully six days after  
That thou didst make their souls o'erflow with laughter,  
By promising that some who stood thee by  
Should not see death, nor taste mortality  
Till they, being witness of thy raptures story,  
Should see the Son of man come in his glory;  
Another saith, the days were almost eight  
After that promise, that thou scal'dst this height;  
Thus do some weak minds stumble, whilst they spy  
Amidst thy truth, so great variety:  
But foolish we, in vanity still wallow,  
We strain a Gnat, yet do a Camel swallow;  
We grope at noon day, and make known our blot,  
Whilst in a rush we seek a Gordian knot,  
For where the eight day's near and six are spent,  
By true arithmetic the seventh is meant;  
Upon this day when heavens and earth were made,  
And all their frame and fabric finished,  
Th'eternal seeing all his creatures good,  
Proclaimed the seventh day's rest, and so it stood;  
Upon this day, from Mysraims' darkened Cell  
God did redeem his first born Israel;  
Upon this day, from Baalz phons shore  
To Migdoll, he his people dryfoot bore;  
Upon this day, from Syna's thundering jaw,  
He gave the Sanctions of his sacred Law;  
Upon this day, in Cana's wedding shrine  
He turned fountain water unto wine;  
And as upon this day he next shall come  
To Judge the world, and render life to some,  
So on this day he takes delight to go  
To Tabors top, that there he might forth show  
A glance of that great glory which we shall  
One day possess in his great marriage hall;  
For, when six ages of the world are run,  
The seventh shall finish our Redemption.   

Thus having found the time, we next must view  
The place wherein Christ Jesus doth allow  
To  himself with glory, for a while,  
And cover jacob's hands with Esau's guile:  
The place is Tabors mountain top, whereon  
He manifests his glory's vision;  
For till we climb above earth's drossy ball,  
We are not fit t' enjoy heaven's Festival:  
On top of Moriahs' mountain Abram reared  
An altar to that God he loved and feared;  
On Carmels' top Eliah, pray'th for fire  
And heavens obtemper his devout desire;  
On Horebs top, and in that hollow cave,  
Whilst he from Jesabel his life doth save,  
Earth trembleth, winds do roar, and flaming coals  
Of fire, for his protection raves and rolls;  
On Pisgahs' top, meek Moses lieth down,  
And sleepeth in his first corruption;  
On Nebo's top did Aaron sweetly lay  
His bones, whilst as his soul to heaven did stray;  
So on mount Tabor will my blessed Saviour  
First pray, and then transform his true behaviour,  
That by him we may learn, when we draw near  
To God in aspirituall Hemisphere,  
To cast distractions, worldly cares and pains  
Behind our backs, and make our chiefest strains  
To rest on high; and whilst we talk with God,  
T' obnubilate our heads within his cloud,  
Leaving our Asses on the plain below,  
Whilst we to heaven our sighs and sobs upthrow,   

The circumstance of time and place descried,  
Wherein the Son of Man was clarified,  
'Tis fit we look on his attendants next,  
That so our swarving faith may once grow fixed;  
Those were three great ones, Peter, James, and John,  
Those sons of thunder, this a precious stone;  
If any shall inquire, why to those three  
My Master manifests his Majesty?  
I answer, first, that Scripture doth command  
That every Truth accomplished shall stand,  
By Declaration of some two or three,  
And from their mouth receive stability:  
Next unto this, to them he showeth indeed,  
His future sufferings should no way proceed  
From lack of power to confound his foes,  
But from his love to mankind, hence he throws  
A way his robe of weakness, and grows rich  
In glories vesture, whose embroidered stitch  
Bezaleel, for all his skill and art,  
Ne'er paralleled in whole, or yet in part:  
And finally, to those three first is shown  
His glory; for they be the first must own  
His fellow sufferings: lest then orfling they  
Should sear his Cross, and so his cause betray,  
He gives them here a glance of that reward  
Which for their after sufferings was prepared;  
Thus on Mount Tabors top and lofty stage,  
Those three receive the greatest privilege  
That ever mortals in the flesh did see,  
Being chained in bonds of base mortality;  
But o! no sooner have they climbed up there,  
When lo, their Master kneeling in his prayer,  
They fall asleep, so weak is this our flesh,  
That what the spirit desires, it doth empoish;  
Yet seldom doth the flesh in quiet sleep,  
But some distemper to the soul doth creep;  
Whilst Adam slept, his rib was stolen away;  
And sleep did Noah's nakedness display;  
Whilst Samson slept, his Nazarisme's gone;  
The Church asleep, disknow'th her holy one;  
In Jaels' tent while Sisara sleeps, he's killed;  
Jonah from sleep must wake ere th' sea be stilled;  
Yea, if the master of the house do snort,  
The thief digs thorough, and the goods transport;  
'Tis good therefore that men should watch and pray,  
That Christ may be their light, both night and day:  
From sleep then can those three no sooner wake,  
When of their Master they do notice take,  
And find his count nance clarified as fare:  
Beyond his wont feature, as that star  
Which gilds our midday, doth exceed that lamp  
That cuts her capers in our midnight Camp;  
And all his body decked with brighter beams  
Than Cynthia, when she's drunk with Neptune's streams:  
The new fallen snow was never half so white,  
The Fuller's soap makes nothing so perfect;  
Jobs snowy water, David's hyssop drops,  
When from th' Alembics cloud it softly hops,  
Can never make a cloth so fresh and new,  
As are his vestures in Celestial hue;  
Yea, with him Moses and Eliah walk  
In glory, and comfort him with their talk  
Concerning those dread sufferings which he was  
T' endure, by Pilate and by Caiaphas:  
Ne'er could the heavens afford two fit guests,  
To talk with him of fastings or of feasts,  
Then were those two; for Moses gave the Law,  
And with Eliahs' heaven commanding awe  
The following Prophets made the world to try  
The power of th' Eternals verity;  
Yet unto Christ both Law and Prophets tend,  
From him they had beginning, he's their end:  
Now, to the world I see he did not come  
T'undo the Law, or Prophets, but to sum  
Them both together, that to both he might  
Be guide by day, and lodestar in the night:  
Wherhfore then should we in our deepest joys,  
Forget our Cross, or in our crossing toys  
Forget our glory, since our Saviour  
Amidst his richest glory can endure  
To hear of crosses, sorrows, stripes and wrongs,  
In stead of trophies, triumphs, shows, and songs;  
'Tis fitting then that in our peace we think  
Upon that wormwood cup we once must drink,  
For humane minds do best digest their gall,  
When expectation cooks their Madrigal.  
Peter awake, beholds this glorious Trine,  
And like a man awaked from out his wine,  
Cries to his master, 'tis good we be here,  
O that I could three tabernacles rear,  
The first for thee, my Shilo and Messiah,  
Then one for Moses, than one for Eliah;  
So should we spend our time in rest and peace,  
Feeding upon the glory of thy face,  
And being satiat with thy glories store,  
Return to our sublunar toils no more:  
Now Peter tell me, art thou truly ' wake,  
Or sleepest thou still, that thus thou dost mistake?  
Shall Tabor be thy dwelling place for ay?  
Or shall my Saviour from his sufferings stay?  
Shall Moses and Eliah still remain  
On Tabors top, and not return again  
To that Celestial joy from whence they came?  
Fie on those staggering wishes, fie for shame,  
'Tis shame that men should give their fancy's scope,  
But greater shame to sleep their eyes being ;  
Or therefore speak the truth, or sleep thou still,  
A drowsy brain doth judgements project spill;  
And yet I pardon thy ecstatique mood,  
What thou didst speak, thou no ways understood.  
Now scarce hath Peter from a zeal bred fire  
Evaporat those accents of desire,  
When lo, from heaven a bright irradiat cloud  
O'reshades the place whereas my Saviour stood,  
And from on high did sound this loud, loud voice,  
Be glad o heavens, and o thou Earth rejoice,  
For here's my first born son, my best beloved  
Hear him, for in him only, y'are approved:  
At this dread sight, and at this roaring call,  
The three Disciples to the earth down fall;  
And like a man who with the Palsie taken,  
Their spirits are troubled, and their senses shaken:  
But he who's rich in mercy, drawing near,  
First touches them, and so disbands their fear;  
Then bids them rise, they by's word made strong,  
Do hope their former comforts to prolong:  
But ah, in vain! Jesus stands there alone,  
His Glory, Moses, and Eliah's gone.   

O what a cloud of witness standing here,  
Our humane frailty to the world mak'th clear  
Those Saints of late did sleep, then were o'er joyed  
Then with a quivering fear were overcloyed:  
Now recomforted, but God knoweth how long:  
'Tis strange to see what a tumultuous throng  
Of changes and vicissitudes lay'th hold  
On him who lives and moves upon the mould!  
For nothing's stable here beneath the sun,  
Perfection's cloyed with imperfection,  
Strength is contempered with humane weakness,  
Wisdom with folly, health with smarting sickness:  
But when we shall arise to our better rest,  
And in our Master's glory shall be placed,  
Then shall our imperfections fly away,  
And true perfection shall recleare our day,  
For then the glory of our God shall hid  
The spots and wrinkles of his virgin-bride,  
And what in her is now with weakness mixed  
Shall then in never fading strength be fixed;  
For being changed unto his image, we  
Shall sigh no more because of misery,  
But being exalted to our all in all,  
Our joys shall flourish still, and never fall.    

The Hosanna.  
CANTO 7ᵒ.  

NE'er did my Saviour keep such pomp and state,  
Ne'er was his train so populous and great,  
Ne'er did he take such Majesty upon him,  
Ne'er was so many eyes at once fixed on him,  
As now, while as the day draw'th near wherein  
His night of death should our life's day begin.   

Till now he pathed his journeys all on foot,  
And measured Judah's cirruits all about  
Without or noise, or train, or Princelike stage  
To attend him in a royal equipage;  
But now being ready his pure blood to spend,  
And bring our soul's Redemption to an end,  
He cloaths himself with Majesty indeed,  
As best befitted royal David's seed:  
From Bethphage therefore he two servants sends  
To Zion's suburbs, and thus saith, There stands  
An Ass, and by her side her Colt untie de,  
Go bring them hither, for I now must ride;  
If any ask of you, why do you so?  
Say, I have need; and they shall let you go:  
His two disciples go, and as he told  
So find they all things, therefore they make bold,  
And bring the Ass unto him with all haste,  
So forth he goeth to keep the Passeov'rs feast:  
The ass and colt whereon he rides, his store  
Of pomp and acclamations were before  
Prognosticat by Zachary, and all  
According to the Scriptures verdict fall;  
The Colt whereon he rides, did ne'er till now  
Her tender back to any burden bow,  
Yet to his burden now she stoopeth down  
As one accustomed to subjection;  
The best apparel which the people wore  
Are made his foot-cloths; Some do run before,  
Some follow after; bows are plucked from trees,  
Applauding clangor to the heaven up-flies,  
And noble Palmtree sprigs are thrown i'th' way,  
That all succeeding times may bless that day;  
Hosannah to the Highest, is their word,  
And blessed be he that cometh from the Lord:  
And yet in all this mask and royal guise  
There's nothing but a crowd of mysteries;  
For, by the Ass the Jews are understood,  
And by the Colt the Gentiles: for, the food  
Of spiritual bread and water first must flow  
From Judah's fountain, and thereafter go  
Unto the way of all the Gentiles, that  
God may, in both, be truly celebrate;  
The Jews indeed, like to this Ass, even now  
Their necks to Moses legal yoke did bow,  
The Gentiles, like the Colt, have not as yet  
Submitted their proud necks t'obtemper it, 
Chrysostom.   
But having snuffed the wind up at their pleasure, 
Hieronim.   
Now in their month are catched, tothth' Gospel's treasure:  
The garments with the which th'Apostles loathed  
Those beasts, declare their doctrine, which betrothed 
Remigius.   
Both Jew and Gentile to espouse that Lamb  
Who into th' world for their reunion came: 
Hilarius.   
The garments which the people throw i'th' way,  
That after-love unto the Truth display,  
Whereby th'Apostles and the Martyrs shall  
Seal with their blood Truth's testimonial:  
The Palmtree sprigs which from their stems are cut  
And cast into the way, do point us out  
The Father's faith and constant hope, who by  
The storms of worldly torments though they die,  
Yet cannot be cut from that root and stem  
From which they hope an eternal di'dem:  
Hosanna to the Son of David; shew'th  
That he is true man: and what more he ow'th  
To heaven, by's heavenly generation,  
Is shut up in [the highest] acclamation.  
O thou the fairest 'mongst the sons of men  
In majesty and triumph ride thou then,  
Because that truth and righteousness thou brings,  
And thy right hand shall teach terrible things.   

In this so rich a pomp, and pompous store  
Unto jerusalem rides my Saviour:  
jerusalem was of old the royal seat  
Of Kings, Priests, Prophets, dul'inaugurat;  
Kings there did reign, for there was David's throne;  
Priest there did offer their oblation;  
A midst their streers, and on their sacred Temple  
The Prophets fixed their oracles so ample:  
Hither doth now the great Messiah come,  
King, Priest, and Prophet, that to all, and some  
He might make known the path of life, and be  
King, Priest, and Prophet to eternity:  
As King he rides along their streets, and there  
The clangors of Hosanna pierce the air;  
As Priest unto the Temple strait he goes,  
And thence the Rancour table he o'erthrows;  
And as a Prophet there he doth foretell  
The final fall and foil of Israel.   

Oft hath he viewed Jerusalem ere now  
With small regard, or aspect of her crew;  
But now the City's moved, both more and less,  
And earnestly do cry, who's this? who's this?  
As when the Sages, at the first, brought news  
That there was born a Monarch to the Jews,  
Herod, and all the town were in commotion,  
To hear from stranger's mouths so strange a notion,  
So now, while as they see him cast aside  
The rags of baseness, and in pomp to ride,  
In fear, and in commotions path they range,  
And what before seemed nought, doth now seem strange:  
Such be our souls in their still changing state,  
While as we sit secure and desolate,  
Bound in the fetters of iniquity,  
We dream no change nor new oeconomy;  
But when with our corruptions Grace doth ruffle,  
And our impostors she to door doth shuffle,  
Strait all the anvels of our trembling heart  
Do from their rest retire, and find it smart:  
What mean'th this strangeness, Suleme tell menow,  
With bays hath he not crowned thy wrinkled brow?  
Hath he not wedded thee for his true Bride,  
And left the widow-world to weep? beside,  
Hath he not given thee thy wedding token?  
Hath he not earl' and late in thy street spoken?  
Hath he not, as the hen, sought t'over-shade  
Thy chicks under his wings? hath be not fed  
Thy starving troops, and thy diseases healed,  
And unto thee his Fathers will revealed?  
Why dost thou then disknow him? O, look on him,  
And fix thy soul's affections still upon him;  
Ask Moses what he is, and he shall say  
The woman's seed, who should the Serpent slay:  
Ask Abra'm, he shall say he is the Pram  
Who made his Isaac scape the knife and flame:  
Ask Jacob, he will tell you that 'tis be  
Who Shilo-like gives Judah liberties  
Ask David, and he truly shall declare  
He is his Grandchild, and his righteous heir:  
Ask Esay, and his Prophecy shall tell  
He's very God and man, Immanuel:  
Ask Jeremy, he calls him Righteous branch:  
Ask Daniel, he tells you he did quench  
The fiery fomace, and's the stone that's cut  
From out the mount without man's hand or foot,  
And boldly daunteth all the world's Empire,  
And at his next return shall burn it with fire:  
Ask John the Baptist, he shall tell you that  
He is the Lamb of God, immaculate:  
Ask God himself; he cries, This is my Son:  
Ask of the Devil, he harps the selfsame tune:  
Ask of the winds, and seas, and rotten grave,  
The sun, the moon, and all the world can have,  
And they shall all confess him to be God,  
Who in our flesh doth make his true abode.  
Amidst this cloud of witness, how canst thou  
Great Salem, so disknow thy Bridegroom now?  
Thy eyes are blind, thy ears are deaf, thy heart  
Is hard as flint, lest he should thee convert:  
But since all things acknowledge him as God,  
I see not how thou canst escape his rod,  
Who in so clear a night dost undervalue  
The Son of God, and countest his Counsels shallow.   

In this his pomp and royal acclamation  
He at the Temple makes his journey's station:  
And surely now his Temple hath most need  
Of any thing, to be first purified;  
Her gold was turned to dross, her watchmen were  
Become dumb dogs, and merely secular,  
Her bvilders were destroyers, and her chief  
Governors loved to play the wolse and thief,  
Her Nazarites are black as any coal,  
Her high-Priests zeal unto the world is stole,  
And this her hid empoisoned source and spring  
To all the Kingdom doth corruption bring;  
For as the brains, the liver, and the heart  
Being wholesome kept, and sound in every part,  
The body in true life and vigour standeth,  
And every joint it's several use commandeth;  
But those being once exulcerat, than all  
The body by Tabasick tumors fall:  
So, while God's house her purity doth keep,  
Religion makes the land in peace to sleep;  
But if the Altars once become impure,  
The Commonwealth dy'th of an Imposture:  
Here therefore doth my Saviour first dispose  
His father's house in order, and disclose  
The hidden fraud and sacrilegious strain  
That Priest and People there did entertain.   

Here did the bankrup and the money-cheater,  
Erect their reckon, and their lewd Theatre;  
Here did the shepherd bring his sheep to sell,  
Here made the drover all his oxen dwell;  
Here did the pigeons, there the turtles lie,  
And so the Temples turned t'a butchery;  
And what's the worst of ills, all this is done  
Under the pretext of Religion:  
Ah me! how fair is the pretext, but foul  
The practices of this Levitique School?  
When Simoon and Levi meant to slay  
The Sechemites, Religion opened their way;  
When Saul saves Agag and his flocks alive,  
Religion did to's sin a cloak contrive;  
When Herod meant our Saviour's blood to spill,  
His words spoke Worship, but his heart said Kill:  
Those be the ways of Man, but ah, 'tis shame  
That when man sinneth God should bear the blame:  
A three fold whip therefore my Saviour makes,  
And whips their beasts from their empayling stakes,  
Their doves and pigeons he let lose to fl●e,  
The Colybists proud banque o'er turneth he;  
And to the rod he doth this word conjoin,  
Take those things hence, and some where else purloyn,  
For it is written, This my father's house  
Should serve for prayer, not for Merchants use:  
But where your fathers did my father fear  
As in a den of thiefs, you rob and tear.  
But tell me, Saviour, wherefore flame thine eyes,  
Whence doth this spleen and agony arise,  
How is the Lamb now changed into a Lion,  
And who hath changed to Sinai our calm Zion?  
O pardon me me my God, those lashing strokes,  
Those whips, those blows, those soul-subduing yokes  
Which those poor sacrilegious Ruffians bear,  
Do make it as a lantern shine most clear,  
That as in Justice thou dost mercy show,  
So in thy mercy thou dost Justice know,  
For both in thee do from Etern'ty dwell,  
They neither ebb too much, nor too much swell;  
But by a due contemp'rature they shined,  
Mercy with Judgement, wrath with love combined.   

Ne'er did a Planet of so mild aspect  
Infuse so strange an influence and effect  
On a sublunar or an earthly theme,  
As doth this Reformations rapid stream  
Work upon some who did behold it: for  
No sooner hath my blessed Saviour  
Joined to the rod and whip of his correction  
The salutary motto of instruction,  
Then lo, his twelve Disciples strait are led  
To rouse their memyr's from oblivions shade,  
And call to mind, what David doth record,  
Thy houses zeal hath eat me up o Lord,  
And by beholding of that fact and place  
They know their Master for the Prince of peace;  
But on the hardened heart of th' abject Jew,  
Whose sides and backs were with his blows yet ble●,  
It worketh nothing but a deep disdain,  
Rancour, revenge, and all that cursed train  
Of furies, which Erynnis in her Cell  
Can beg or borrow from the deep of hell.   

Master, say they, what sign dost thou now show  
That thou dost those things? we would gladly know  
By what authority, or sovereign might  
Thou bringst thy Reformation to this height?   

A sign? saith he; o froward generation!  
O serpent-issue of a sinful Nation!  
You seek a sign, as if you would believe,  
But this I tell you, you no thing shall have  
Save that of Jonah; for as three days he  
Was swallowed by a whale i'th' depth o'th' Sea,  
So shall the son of man for man's trespass  
Lie buried in the Earth for three day's space;  
Destroy therefore this Temple, and behold  
Within three days I will the same rebuild,  
And rear it up again, as free from sin  
So free from all corruptions withering.  
Thus having spoke, his eyes which did of late  
Flash forth the flames of fury and of state,  
Drowned now in brinish tears, do still encall  
His sorrowing soul to sigh this madrigal:  
Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who kills  
The Prophets, and dost make their bloody rills  
Distain thy ground, and grind'st their fainting face  
Who all the day long preach to thee thy Peace,  
Would God thou couldst acknowledge in thy day  
The things that point thy peace, or thy decay!  
So desolation should not lift her hand  
Against this City, nor against this Land:  
But ah! those things are hidden from thine eyes,  
And thou art drunk, yea, drowned in miseries;  
For God who always doth thy sins abhor,  
Takes no delight to chastise ever more,  
And always chide with man; yet one sound blow  
Of Justice shall repay what he doth owe  
To men's forgot prevarication,  
So righteous is his rod and indignation,  
That when men's Cup of sin doth over-top,  
He fills his Cup of wrath, and man drinksed up.   
Here ends ASTRAEA, OR The second week.  
Gloria Patri & Filio.    

MELPOMENE.  
On this last Scene we read a Tragic story:  
How Judas did betray the Lord of Glory,  
How in Gethseman's garden Christ sweat blood,  
How he was taken bya multitude,  
How he was judged and condemned to die,  
How he was racked and nailed t'a cursed tree,  
How from the grave he riseth up again,  
And scales the heavens, Melpom'ne maketh plain.  

The Conspiracy.  
CANTO 1ᵒ.  

WHEN Hannibal at Canna did overcome  
Terentiu● Varro General of Rome;  
When Caesar in Pharselia did defeit  
Great Pompey, fautor of the Marian state,  
No bigger waxed their fame and praise abroad,  
Nor did at home their mutinous envies load:  
For seldom doth fair Rachel gain the day,  
But squint-eyed Leah steal'th the night away:  
So whilst Christ Jesos in Judaea doth  
Display his divine and his humane truth,  
By stilling of the Ocean's untamed stage,  
By curbing of the Hyperborean rage,  
By raising of the dead from deaths cold hands,  
By losing men and women from hell's bands,  
By purging of his Father's glorious Temple,  
Whose Reformation makes his fame more ample:  
But strait as did his fame mount to a top,  
Right so did envy strive to break it up:  
The Pharisees, the Scribes, and Priests therefore  
Conveen a Council, wherein they deplore  
The sad succeeding ills which might ensue,  
If they his speedy fame should not subdue:  
Satan hath once already sought t'assail,  
The crazy bulwarks, and the battered wall  
Of humane nature, wherein God doth show  
The great affection he to man doth owe;  
Here once again, with a redoubled wrong,  
He makes his front more fierce, redoubts more strong,  
And, as a recrue, bring'th with him a main  
Battalion of Churchmen for his train;  
For what one cannot do, that many may,  
And sad experience teacheth this always:  
They come together then, unto one place,  
Whom love did never join i'th' bond of peace;  
For they the ways of peace have never known,  
They sought not what was Gods but what's their own:  
Who can but wonder at this Convocation,  
And foul discording concord's combination?  
Though Cain did his brother Abel kill,  
Although 'gainst Isaac rise an Ishmael,  
Though Esau do his brother Jacob hate,  
Though Saul envy the happy David's state,  
Though Simeon and Levi Joseph knit,  
And thrust him in a deep and hopeless pit,  
Though cruel Jesabel, proud Achabs' wife,  
For Naboths vineyard do take Naboth's life,  
It is not strange for since th' Eternal did  
The woman's seed from Satan's seed divide,  
There hath been, is, and ever shall remain  
A horrid gulf of hatred them between,  
And till th' eternal Conqueror gain the field  
Their conflicts cannot e'er be reconciled:  
Whilst then we see the world's great Monarches all,  
Kingdoms, Empires, Republics great and small  
Combine themselves against the Lords anointed,  
As though Earth's axletree were all disjointed;  
Yet let no man who's born a son of thunder,  
Be brought to gaze it with the eyes of wonder,  
For though the counsels of Achitophel,  
The threats of Saul, and Achabs Josabel,  
The fiery furnace, and the Lion's den,  
Do rage and roar against the sons of men,  
Yet shall the sons of God, by his great might,  
Shine as the Sun in his Meridian light;  
Their flesh may perish by the fire and sword,  
But God preserves their souls alive by is word.   

What shall we do, say they, if this man live?  
The world runs after him, he will deprive  
Us of our honour, and the Roman Nation  
Shall quickly drive us from this habitation;  
We have nor eyes to see, nor ears to hear,  
Nor hearts to understand what danger's near,  
Saith Caiaphas, for 'tis more fitting fane  
That one should perish, than the jaws of was  
Should swallow upon Nation round about,  
Disturb our altars, and our liver put out:  
This spoke he, not so much of his own wit,  
As he, who in the heaven of heavens doth sit,  
Did by this High Priests mouth his truth foretell,  
And how he meant to save his Israel.   

O God how wondrous strange and different be  
The different actors of this Tragedy?  
For in this plot I do perceive still four  
Opposed aspects, on my Saviour;  
Th' Almighty in it hath his right hand first,  
Satan his left hand next and that's accursed;  
The great Sauhedrim for the third room plead,  
And Judas last, for gain, will lose his head.  
God had decreed from all Eternity,  
To pay the ransom of our misery  
In his son's blood; yet sure they needs must fin,  
Whose fingers had the deepest touch therein;  
For whilst they, in a hid intent do mind  
The son of God in darkness bonds to bind,  
Th' Almighty doth their rapid rage ov's throw,  
And ties themselves unto Eternal woe:  
For as the moistening hope of cloud bred rain  
Here drown'th a field, there doth refresh the grain;  
Or as the warming blinks of Furan's ray  
Makes this flower flourish, that to shrink away;  
So what the world and Satan minds to harm,  
God's providence doth so 〈◊〉 their charm,  
That what they for our prejudice intent,  
His wisdom turneth to a bless●●●●●   

O what a world of wonders do concur  
While as th' Almighty's hand o'rerules the stir  
Of humane actions for his unseen singers  
Do curb the station of their strongest hingers:  
Sometimes he suffers sin, and lends her being,  
Then takes she Ic'rus wings, and soars a fleeing;  
Sometimes he stops her course, and makes her stay,  
And then for her intent she finds no way;  
Sometime he sers about her such a border,  
That she cannot transgress her lim'ted order;  
Sometime he sits at helm, and, set at stern,  
Doth her unequal motions so govern,  
That in her proudest strains, let her do what  
She will, he still doth stand immaculate,  
Leaving foul sin to Satan's foul direction,  
Whilst he lends only nerves unto the action.  
As when the sun hath on a dunghill shined  
Where many hid corruptions lay combined,  
The stench proceeds not from the Sun's pure ray,  
But from the hid corruption therein lay:  
So, whilst by sin man doth transgress God's laws,  
God, of the sin, must not be called the cause;  
But man, abusing his licentiat will  
By concupiscence, doth prove guiley still:  
O God, how hid's thy way? who can beguile  
Thy frown of justice, or thy meicies smile?  
For man, amidst them both, is bound and free,  
Enfranchiled, and in captivity;  
His will is free, for it is no ways tied,  
Yet notwithstanding, all his works beside  
Aretina captivat; for, man can do no more  
Than thy good pleasure pre- 〈…〉 before.   

Thus be those hellish hounds with envy big  
'Gainst David's righteous heir, and Jesse's sprig;  
And that they may the better act their parts,  
They charge their Sergeants, with diffembling hearts,  
To go and take him where soe'er they could,  
And for their pains do promise heaps of gold:  
Me thinks I see that foul malignant spirit  
Who doth eternal darkness pit inherit,  
Sitting at top of this lewd Council-table,  
Breath this advice to his unhallowed rabble;  
My friends, saith he, you descant on a theme  
Whereon depends or ignominious shame,  
Or never fading honour; strive therefore  
T'acquit yourselves as men, for I bhorre  
That, in such exploits, those which follow me  
Should faint for fear, or swerve for infamy;  
Dally no more with strangers for this fact,  
A homebred traitor's fittest for this act,  
For when a stranger stands afar for fear,  
A bold Dome stique dar'th, and draweth near;  
'Tis long since I did know the ways of man,  
'Tis long since I his greatest strength did scan,  
Yet did I never find so safe a way  
As by a friend upon a friend to pray:  
With Adam when at first I meant to wrestle,  
I caught the Linot in his breast did nestle,  
And by that rib which from his side was taken  
I knocked his pate, since then 'tis always shaken:  
Whilst Samson, as a Na●'rite, kept his hair,  
Nor Gath nor Ekron could with him compare;  
But when in Gaza Dalilah pinned his harp,  
He found that Sorecks Scissors were 〈◊〉 sharp:  
When no man could prevail for Ahais fall  
At Ramoth Gilead, then did I install  
A lying spirit in Zedekiah's mouth,  
He played the Prophet, Achab felt the truth:  
In vain therefore you do this man assail  
By strength of hand: Desire you to prevail?  
Conduce with Judas, let him have some gain;  
I fire the match, he blowsed, lay you the train.  
This spoke, like to a Persian Decree,  
Dagon doth seal the Statute, hence goeth he:  
But o, how woeful wretches be all you  
Who to this statute and decree do how!  
It had been good, that you had ne'er been born,  
Better not be at all, than be forlorn.  
They call anon for Judas, he doth come,  
They greet him with applauding welcome home,  
They do entreat him that he would betray  
His master to them? he at first says nay;  
But being urged, he says, what will you give,  
And I shall bring him to you safe alive?  
They give him thirty silv'rings for his pay,  
And he to catch his master goes away.  
Of late, that spirit who feeds on endless fire,  
Did put a snare of Mammon's foul desire  
Before my Master, that world's plenteous store  
Might make him worship him: and what is more,  
Of late, I heard thee, very Judas, say  
To Mary Magdalen, what means this pray  
And store of precious ointment? were it sold,  
And put in treasure for the poor, it would  
Afford three hundred pence to ease their need,  
Their backs to cover, and their bellies feed:  
Where's now thy Piety, and pirty gone?  
How is thy soft heart turned ha' heart of stone?  
Ah now I see thou'rt sent to Mammon's school,  
For he is pe●●●y-wi●e, and thou pound-foole:  
[I will deliver him to you] thou sayest,  
But this is more, proud wormling, than thou may'st,  
Had not his Father given him by Decree,  
Had he not given himself most willingly,  
Had not the holy Ghost anointed him  
To be a sacrifice for human crime,  
Nor damned thou, nor all the devils of hell  
Can make one hair from off his head to fall:  
But now the bargain's made, the price is paid,  
The Son of Man to sinners is betrayed;  
The Passeover that night must needs be killed,  
And so th' Almighty-father's will sufilled:  
No man doth show himself more apt or bend  
To snatch the seal of the old Testament,  
Then he whostands the better Covenants foe,  
That he partakes, and lets this other go;  
O foul hypocrisy I deep induration!  
That cares not for true piety, but fashion,  
And by hid fraud seeks to blindfold the eyes  
Of that great God, who, unseen, all things sees,  
They sit at table; and, the Passeov'r eat,  
Jesus beholding this white devil at meat,  
Cries, Verily some one that sits nigh by  
Hath sold me, and this night shall me betray:  
Who would not think, but shame in Judas face  
Should have bewrayed both him and his trespass?  
But sins bad custom hath so steeled his brow,  
That he, to blush for shame, forgetteth now:  
Of all the rest, each one can search, and say  
Tell me, good Master, is it I, or I?  
The Master for a time doth hold his peace,  
Then opes his mouth, and boldly to his face  
Lays down the model of his treacherous way,  
That so his future state he might display;  
It cannot be, saith Christ, but needs must come  
Offences; but woe to the man by whom  
The son of man shall be berrayed, it had  
Been good for him, a millstone had been laid  
About his neck, and then perfidiou he  
Should have been thrown into the deepest Sea;  
Yea, good it had been for him, that his mother  
Had never borne him: All this he doth smother,  
And with a bold out facing count'nar cecry  
Speak plainly, Master, rell me, is it I?  
Christ having charged him by his accusation,  
For his indictment adds this affirmation:  
Now thou hast said it; what thou dost, go do,  
Take here the sop I reach thee, go, go too,  
And what thou dost, do quickly, for the will  
Of my great Father I thirst to fulfil,  
Nor will I drink more of this grape of wine  
Till in the heavens I drink it fresh and fine.  
No sooner hath he spoke those words, when lo  
Satan, man's hateful and orewarching foe,  
Entereth in Judas, and doth take possession  
Of his foul heart, for all his fair profession:  
Some ignorant by slander would have thought,  
Surely this man some special good hath wrought,  
That thus his Master doth the rest overtop,  
And only greet him with this speel all sop:  
O, but by outward gifts no man can prove  
Either Gods righteous justice, or his love;  
For many times the wicked have excess,  
While as the righteous perish its distress;  
Better it had been for that false Disciple  
That he no lamb should eat, or wine could tipple,  
Then that by their big morsels Bathan should  
Make his foul heart his secret den and hold:  
Not that or bread or wine could keep within  
Their secret bosoms such a snare for fin;  
Or that a sop, dipped in so four a sauce,  
Of such a bad effect could be the cause;  
No, that were hard, no man should then digest  
His daily bread, but Satan should arrest  
Their souls, as caprives act him, were it so  
That by their food he could their soul's ov'rthrow:  
No, no, that bread and wine were then no more  
A common diet, as they were before,  
But Sacramental than they were, and thus  
Exchanged from common, to a sacred use;  
He who did eat them without faith and love,  
Did reap no profit to his souls behoove;  
But he who in true faith those morsels ear,  
Received a better and spiritual meat,  
Even that true bread of life that came from heaven,  
And that true wine which to the Saints is given:  
Judas foul heart being emptled of all grace,  
It was no wonder though the devil rook place  
Within his soul, and made him seven times more  
The son of Sathow, than he was before.  
Let all such then as in God's house appear  
Eat of his bread, and drink his wine with fear,  
For as one house together cannot hold  
The God of Jacob, and base Dagons' mould,  
So, in man's secret soul or hidden heart  
God will have nothing, if the devil have part:  
If Jerubbael serve the Lord above,  
He must cut down his father's heathenish grove;  
If Tarshish ships would safe sale home to shore,  
A flying Ionas they must hug no more;  
And if a Lawyer would go safe to heaven,  
He must forget or five, or six, or seven;  
For God is one, and loveth no division,  
A gracious Union is his best provision:  
Were Achan living, he would tell thee truth,  
That poverty excels that wealth which doth  
Man's honour unto shame and sorrow sell,  
And well-nigh makes his soul a slave to hell:  
Rejected Saul, who spared Am'lecks' flock,  
Were he alive, would still hold samuel's cloak,  
And never let him go, till he got grace  
By true repentance to redeem his race.  
Blessed is the man, who, since he naked come  
Into the world, and naked must turn home,  
Doth, by the shelter of his quiet fire,  
Make food and raiment curb his vast desire:  
For Worlds, Empires, & Courts, & Crowns, & Kings  
Are rich in cares, when Rest hath better things;  
But peace of Conscience makes the soul rejoice  
More than the world and all her fading toys.    

The Agony.  
CANTO 2ᵒ.  

WHat man is he would truly know Christ's Passion,  
Then let him read that Lecture in this fashion;  
First, as a Story; next a Gospel; then  
A Pattern; last, a Benefit to men:  
A story first it is, where men may know  
That God in heaven governs the world below;  
A Gospel 'tis, which teacheth us how God  
Converts our serpents to an useful rod;  
A pattern 'tis, which doth in all our crosses  
Command that patience counterpoise our losses;  
A benefit at last it brings to such  
As by true faith his garments hem do touch:  
O that we could first know aright, then trust,  
Then imitate, then hold him, as he's just!  
So should we be learned Scholars, faithful Saints,  
Obsequious Servants, rich Participants:  
But ah, our wishes and our weak desires  
Cannot suffice to blow those zeal-bred fires  
Which on Jove's sacred altars still should burn,  
And our oblations unto ashes turn:  
Come therefore, let us view that Paschall Lamb  
Whose blood disdained the cursed tents of Ham,  
And drenching Goshens doors with wraths proud hand  
Did smite the firstborn in all Misraims' land:  
But ay me, where shall I begin to wonder  
At thee, dread Monarch, mighty son of thunder,  
Eternity's sole word, and firstborn son,  
heavens promised, Earth accomplished Holy one?  
Thy majesty the very heavens admire,  
Thy power in the world doth still appear,  
Thy Justice all the damned in hell do know,  
Only to man thou dost thy Mercy show:  
Come then, great thou, man's preordained peacemaker,  
Teach me the fittest way how I may sacre  
My pen, r'expresle the fearful agony  
Thou suffer'dst for us in Gethsemanie:  
Time, place, and person are the fittest square  
To make this building truly regular:  
If any shall inquire the period when  
Thou didst begin to suffer for us men,  
Scripture doth say, it was a darkened hour,  
While as the sons of darkness had most power:  
The place is known, Gethsemans' garden, for  
'Twas meet, that where Adam did fall before,  
There thou, the second, shouldst in bloody sweat  
Repair the forfeit of our lost estate:  
The person who sustains this weight of woe,  
Is very God, and very Man also,  
God, that his worth might God's wrath sarisfie,  
Man, that in weakness he might smart and die:  
O but this time and hour must yet be shown  
A little more; sometimes 'tis called thy own,  
Sometime 'tis theirs; That we may know the right,  
Disperse our cloudy doubt, and give us light:  
To speak the truth, at first this hour was theirs,  
Then thine, then ours; on these three pair of stair's  
Time tripping up and down, hath made the source  
Of our redemption to perfect her course:  
Their time it was of sin and sinful wrath,  
Such was the power both of sin and death;  
Thy hour it was of suffering and of smart,  
For fear and anguish did oppress thy heart;  
Our hour it also was, for than began  
The expiation of the sins of man;  
Their hour of darkness, and thy hour of death,  
Our hour of life, and liberty from wrath:  
When thou (great master) first at Cene's wedding  
Turned water into wine, at Mary's bidding,  
I heard thee check her, and in seeming wrath,  
As if she had even sinned to the death,  
Say, woman, what have I to do with thee?  
My hour is not yet come, get thee from me:  
Of late, when from a steep high mountain they  
Intent to throw thee down, thou shrunk'st away,  
And giving place unto their furious sum,  
Thou told'st them that thy hour was not yet come:  
Since then, when high-Priests, Pharisees, and all  
Thy foes together did conspire thy fall.  
Thou told'st them, as a program of their doom,  
They toiled in vain, thy hour was not yet come;  
How many hours of honour hast thou had?  
How many times hast thou been worshipped?  
When Sages from the East did presents bring,  
And laid them at thy feet, as Juries King;  
When in the desert Angels brought thee meat,  
And by their service did proclaim thy State;  
When on mount Tabor thy bright face did shine,  
And heavens proclaimed thee heir of their divine  
Inheritance; when Salems' strders didring,  
With loud Hosannaes' to thee as their King;  
Although those hours were all, and always great,  
Yet didst thou not account their pomp or state  
Worthy to have the note of thy great hour;  
But when thou comest to make our sweet thy sour,  
That hour thou tak'st, and only counts it thine,  
Because in it thy Father did propine  
That cup of wrath to thee, men should have drunk,  
If thou from his fierce wrath hadst fled or shrunk.   

While thou, with thy great Father, and his Spirit,  
Before all time didst all times praise inherit,  
All hours were thine, all times; and all times motion  
Did bow their knees to thee at thy devotion;  
Yea, when unto thy Image man was made,  
And for his use the world was furnished,  
Thou mad'st the Stars, the Sun, and Moon to shine,  
And servefor poor man's use, but not for thine  
Man had, and hath all times at his command;  
Sometime he sits, and sometime he doth stand,  
Sometime he laugh'st, and sometime sadly weeps,  
Sometime he watcheth, some time sweetly sleeps,  
Sometime he builds, sometime he doth destroy,  
Sometime he's dumpish, sometime rapt with joy;  
All those do stand subdued unto man's will,  
At his direction their tides band fill:  
But thou no time hast chosen, save this one  
Poor hour of darkness, this thou call'st thine own;  
Nor dost thou so for thine own sake, but that  
Thou being a Lamb of God immaculate,  
In this dark hour of suffring thou mightst be  
The Asahel of God, the seepe-goat We;  
Ne'er did the wounded Deer with more desire  
Run to the water brooks to queuch his fire,  
Then thou dost thirst to taste that woeful cup  
Which Adam's withered hand could not bear up;  
Man thou didst make at first, and him so loved,  
That for his rescue from God's wrath, it be hoved  
Thee to be Man, and all his sins sustain  
To reunite him to his God again:  
Such leve as this hath not as yet been known,  
As thou unto the sonnies of men hast shown;  
The love that Danid did to Jou'than bear,  
Or to proud Absoloms' gold-locks of hair,  
With this thy love cannot be paralleled,  
Thy love's epcinall, mahs by time is quelled.  
The old Passeover being finished, now  
The Eucharist succeedeth in that lieu;  
They sing a Psalm, and praise that mighty God  
Who brought his Isr'el out from Egypt's rod:  
Then saith my Saviour, Now the hour draw'th near  
Of my dread sufferings, all of you stands here,  
By me this night shall be offended, for  
'Tis writ, The shepherd I will smite, therefore  
The sheep shall all be scattered anon,  
And I to sorrow shall be left alone;  
Yet come, thus, thus it needs must be, for so  
The Prophets have forespoken long ago.  
This Peter heareth, and with pride oppressed,  
As if his heart were steeled, his bones were brassed,  
He saith, though vainly, Master, whither shall  
We run from thee? though all the world should fail,  
And shrink from thee, yet will I never leave thee  
Till dust and earth do of my life bereave me.  
Peace Peter, saith my Saviour, hold thy peace,  
Before the Cock crowtwice, even to my face  
Thou shalt deny me thrice, and by base fear  
Of this thy life, thou shalt my love forswear.  
Thus out they go, and over Kedrons' brook,  
Whereas Mounr Olive; overshading look  
Covers Gethseman's garden, there they stay,  
But Jesus goeth aside, and thus doth pray:   

Father, the hour is come, now glorify  
Thy Son, as he hath glory given to thee;  
All such as thou didst give me, I have kept,  
And none of them hath perished, save that sheep  
Or rather child of wrath and of perdition,  
For him thou didst nor give to my tuition;  
This is eternal life, that man should know  
Thee for true God, and me thy Son also;  
This I have taught them, this do they believe,  
Eternal life by this do thou them give;  
I pray not for the world, for them I pray  
That they in me by faith may always stay,  
I do not pray that from the world thou take there,  
But that thou in the world do ne'er forsake them,  
For while they in the world remain, they're hated,  
And for my name's sake shall be ill entreated;  
But I have kept them in thy name, and they  
Both know thee, do believe, and thee obey;  
Keep them therefore, o Father, by thy truth,  
Thy word is truth, they have it from my month  
Nor do I pray for them alone, but eke  
For all these Prof lyres, who salvation seek  
By faith (begotten by their word) in me:  
O let them share in my felicity,  
For thou and I, o righteous God, are one,  
Let them with us have also union;  
That as thou art in me, and I in thee,  
So they may be made one with us truly,  
And by their jointure with us two may shun  
Sin, death, and hell, and condemnation.   

Thus hath he prayed, and now returning, he  
To Peter, James, and John, familiarly  
Gives this forewarning, Watch and pray, lest that  
Your restless foe do catch you in his net:  
He goeth again unto his former station,  
To taste the first fruits of his bitter passion;  
He kneeleth down to pray, but sense of wrath  
Makes him to cry, My soul unto the death  
Is heavy; Father, if it be thy will  
Take this cup from me, let not thy wrath's rill  
Lay more upon me than my strength can bear,  
O hear me, Father, bow thine ears and hear.  
But ah! his Agony waxing still more great,  
Through his pure veins and pores, a bloody sweat  
Doth from his body so bedew the ground,  
As if from Eor●●a's presseh ' had got a wound:  
Three several times in this perplexed state  
Doth Christ the self same words reiterate;  
Father, he cryeth still, O let this cup  
Pass from inde, for I cannot drink it up;  
Yet if it be thy will, let it be so,  
Thy will, and not my own, I came to do,  
Father, again I pray thee let this hour  
Pass from me, for 'tis tart above my power;  
Yet for this hour into the would come I;  
Why should I then decline, an piety?  
No, though I smart in this my passion,  
Not my will, Father, but thy will be done.   

Now all this while do his Disciples fleep,  
A Lethargy upon their souls did creep;  
And though he waked them thrice yet thrice again  
They do return to their Lethargiovest into  
But heavens amazed to see his soul so sad,  
Do by an Angels comfore make him glad:  
Who can behold the passage of this story,  
And see the dumpish fits o'th' God of glory,  
And not be struck with more than admiration,  
To view the son of God's evacuation?  
What grief, what fear, what blood, what sweat is this,  
Which wallowing like the Ocean's vast abyss,  
Can find no bottom, nor restraining brink,  
To curb his woes or make his sorrows shrink?  
O Bozra, now I see thy robes are read!  
O Ramah, now thy joys are banished!  
O Rachel, now thy children are transperted,  
And justly thou disdainist to becomforted  
From Edom's winepress whilst of late the come,  
Hoping to find somesweet refresh o● home,  
Thou couldst find none, thou trodst that press of wine  
Alone, and therefore no man's greises like thine:  
But ah me blessed Soviour! where be now  
Thy wont comforts, and that strengthening crew  
Of consolations, which thou gavist of late  
To thy Disciples in their woeful state?  
Where's now the comforts which the Scriptures say  
Thy presence doth for evermore display?  
Where's now th●● hope, which in death's valley, from  
Thy rod and shepherd's crook were wont to come?  
Where's now the promise of that great comforter  
Which thou didst promise as our soul's supporter?  
What shall become of us poor withered shrubs!  
Of hyssop how shall we endure the rubs,  
And counter-pusss of fact all lictions, when  
Thou, lofty Cedar, lours and bows for men,  
Under that burden and that load of wrath  
That should press man down to the second death?  
What was it Saviour, tell me, that thus lay  
Upon thy back with such impetuous sway?  
That made thee, with a sad redoubled groan,  
Say that thy soul to th'gates of death was thrown?  
What? was it fear of death, and fore felt-paine  
That madethee in such measure to complain?  
Or was't the shame of thy ensuing Cross,  
That made thee utter this distempered voice?  
No, no, fare be't from me to wrong thee so;  
Those sighs, those groans, and grief's redoubled woe,  
Did from another deeper source and spring  
Send forth their runnaiss woeful bubbling:  
It was the woeful burden of man's fin,  
Joined with th'Eternall wrath, that did begin  
This woeful combat in thy soul; for lo,  
What we should suffer, thou didst undergo!  
Hence were thy griefs, thy bloody sweats, and tears,  
Hence were thy supplicavions and thy fears,  
Hence were th' affrighting passions of thy soul,  
As man alone, thou couldst not them control;  
The spirit of man infirm'ty may sustain,  
But who can bear th' Almighty's deep disdain?  
To see the Son of God sweat drops of blood,  
〈…〉  
And yet no wonder though ● wondrous cause  
Produce effect that reason quite diss●nowes;  
If hell and death, have pains in tolerable,  
If flesh be weak, and humane faith be feeble,  
What wonder was it, though, with flesh arrayed,  
Thou of th'eternals wrath waste so dismayed:  
The wonder is, how thou our true Physician  
Knowing our sickness and our sad condition,  
Cor Id'st by the drinking of our poisoned Cap  
Refresh our souls and eke revive our hope  
O that in this thy woeful agony  
We could but read our own perplexity!  
So should our sighs and tears in time prevent  
Th'eternal throbbings of death's punishment;  
But since we cannot, as we would, recall  
Our misspent time, and so repair our fall,  
O teach us in our lives to follow thee,  
That with thee we may find conformity  
Of comfort in our cross, so shall thy grace  
Once make us to enjoy thee face to face;  
Yea, let the path or way be what it will,  
Let grief, and toil, and tears, and torment, still  
Beat down our outward Man, yet let us make  
Our inner man more strong by faith, and take  
Example by thee, both in life and death,  
To seek God's favour and to 〈◊〉 his wrath.    

The surprise.  
CANTO 3o.  

THrice hath the Son of righteousness displayed  
The soure-sweet symptoms of a soul dismayed;  
And thrice hath zeale-bred prayers prevailing power  
Recleered th'eclipses of his darkened hour;  
Thrice hath he bidden his disciples pray,  
Lest to tentation they should one the way;  
But while he checks their watch, they're still asleep,  
Drowned in the bottom of secur'ties deep,  
So frequent are our foils, our faith ● unsteady  
That flesh is ever weak, though th'spirit's ready;  
Yet once more will he rouse them from their rest,  
And print this farewell, Sermon in their breast:  
My friends, saith he, oft have, I bid you watch,  
Lest Satan in his snare your souls should catch,  
But you havedrouped you have been drowsy still,  
Hence forth go sleep, and take your rest at will,  
For th' hour is come. The Son of Man's betrayed  
The Traitounis at hand and for his aude.  
An armed Legion com'th, yet none can take  
My life from me; but for my poor sheep's sake  
I lay it down, and take it up again,  
And by my willing death, you life retain:  
Arise, let us go hence: Scarce are they gone  
When lo the traitor and his legion  
Come all along, and to my Saviour go,  
First to surprise him, then work his o'er throw,  
And first comes Judus, in a poor Lamb's fleece,  
Though inwardly a raying Wolf be is,  
Throwing his arms about his Master's neck.  
Doth greet him with this foul dissembling check;  
Hail Master; to his word he joins a kiss,  
And by that signal tells the troop who he's:  
But, o my Saviour meekly doth inquire,  
Friend, wherefore comest thou so? dost thou desire  
By this thy kiss to kill the Son of Man?  
The task is foul, go on, do what thou can;  
Hadst thou but as a stranger been suborned  
Thus to betray me, I could well have born it,  
Or hadst thou as a causeless hateful foe  
Conspired to work and perpetrate my woe,  
I would not then have grudged, But to see  
Him who did dip his hand i'th' dish with me,  
And him who in my bosom lately lay,  
Lift up his heel against me, and betray  
Me to the death, 'tis strange! but Father, what  
Thou hast begun, continue, consummate.   

Fie on thee Judas, Satan's first born son,  
Hadst thou but kept one spark of grace within  
Thy hellish breast, these words of friendly love  
Might have sufficed, thy treacherous heart to move,  
And pulled thee down upon thy souls bowed knees  
To beg the pardon of thy treacheries:  
But ah! as one poor bubbling drop alone  
Can hardly gutter flint, or Porphire stone;  
So, hardly can one word, though ne'er so ●●ue,  
An endured heart to sense of sin subdue.  
Whilst thus he sp●●ks to Judas, all the ●est  
Of that proud rabble have themselves addressed  
To apprehend him strait way, He but saith,  
Whom seek you friends? Jesus of Nar, ar  
Say they: he answers, Surely I am he,  
Which words import, he's God and Man truly;  
jam, did from the burning bush foretell  
The safe redemption of his Israel,  
And this word, He doth his human'ty show,  
Who by his death should satisfy the Law;  
For he's the Man, and truly only He,  
Who gives man life and immortality:  
No sooner hath he spoke ●hose words, I'm he,  
When by those words, confounded, back they fly,  
And to the ground do fall, such was the power  
And piercing virtue of my Saviour:  
He doth inquire again, Whom would you have?  
Jesus, say they, the man of Naxareth:  
I surely am the man, saith he, the truth  
I have already told you from my mouth,  
If me you seek, then let those go their way,  
From you I shall not fly, but with you stay,  
For what is writ of me, fulfil I must,  
Let those go safe, lot me sustain the worst.   

Not long ago my Saviour hath foretold  
The times were coming, in the which men should  
Of two coats sell the one, and buy a sword;  
Peter remembreth this Prophetione Word,  
And seeing Matchas proudly lay his hand  
Upon his Master, draweth forth his brand,  
And ayminght proud Malchus head, that blow  
Did crop his ear, and cut it quite in two:  
Surely the sword of Peter was but just,  
Who stops his ear to God, and man doth trust,  
May justly lose his ear, his eye, his hand,  
And all his body that doth God withstand:  
But Peter here doth wrong, could he but know't,  
He beats the stone, and quts the hand did throwed;  
The blow on Judas should have been moresure,  
Who th' Author was of this distemperature;  
Malchus but acts false Judas falser plot,  
'Tis pity Judas had not Malchus lot:  
Yet, that poor Peter now may wisely know  
That good intentions not enough to show  
The actions good; and, that shows cannot hid  
The hidden frailty of a self-sick pride,  
Christ bids him put his transhing sword again  
Into his place, for humane streng this vain,  
And he who by the sword his will doth cherish,  
Shall sometime by the sword both fall and perish;  
Dost thou not know, saith he, that, what a cup  
My father doth propine, I must drink up  
Thouh it were ne'er so bitter? were't not so,  
This world should perish in an endless woe:  
Or dost thou think, that if I pleased t'escape,  
I could not this earth's drossy globe ov'rleap,  
And riding on a thousand Cherubs wings  
Prepareany ineseve with the King of Kings?  
Or thinkest thou not, but if I loved t'remove,  
I could command the wings o'th' morning dove,  
And flying hence, could ease myself, and rest  
Or in the Opal morn, or Amber west?  
Cannot he who upon the winds doth ride,  
And makes his clouds his messengers beside;  
Cannot he who on th'ocean's waves doth trip,  
And lets his footsteps neither sink nor slip,  
From out a wormlings paws himself our wring,  
Like David's pebble from his whirling sling?  
Or thinkest thou that I am left alone?  
No sure, I and my Father both are one;  
And for my rescue, if I loved to fight,  
And show my unresisted power and might,  
No earthly Monarch can on earth command  
So many millions for his guard to stand,  
As I have Angels ready at my call,  
To bear me in their arms lest I should fall;  
O weak Disciple, thou hast had true zeal,  
But lack of knowledge makes thy love to fail?  
Thou canst not interrupt that great decree  
My Father hath proposed from 'ternitie;  
What, shall my Father's Justice always smoke?  
Or shall his indignations heavy ycak  
Still lie on Man? shall never mercy, peace,  
And righteousness poor Adam's seed embrace?  
No, if poor man's falvation could be wrought  
Without my sufferings, or his soul be brought  
Back from the gates of death without my blood,  
Then surely this contest might have seemed good;  
But since no man on earth, or Spirit in heaven  
Can finish that contract which ondewas driven  
'Twixt God and Man in Paradise, but I,  
I see no reason, or occasion why  
Thou shouldst so good a-work withstand, unless  
Thou shouldst in very pride of heart profess  
Thy wisdom can outreach th'eternal story,  
Of Man's salvation, and my Father's glory.   

Thus having checked poor Peter, now at last  
The Ruffians seize upon him, make him fast;  
But ere he goes with them, he doth repair  
The wound that Peter made on Malchus ear;  
For lo he doth but touch it with his hand,  
And, as the other, it rejoined doth stand:  
Many great wonders hath he wrought ere while,  
But such as this did never time beguile;  
In all the rest he refcued still the poor,  
And such as sought him for their body's cure;  
But here he is found of them that seek him not,  
And heal'th the rascal would have cut his throat:  
O great, o deep, o never matched love,  
Which burning in th' Almighty's breast above,  
Hath not to strangers only his love shown,  
But also to his enemies made it known!  
Even so it is, and so hath always been,  
He makes his rain to fall, and sun to shine  
Both on the wicked and the righteous, that  
To God they both may sing Magnificat.  
Now, now me thinks I see poor Abel fall  
By Cain's hand, without a cause at all;  
And spotless Jo seph to a Midian sold,  
Blasphemed, and cast in prison's deepest hold:  
Now, now the Ark of jacob's God is taken,  
And by a cursed ●hilistim is shaken:  
Now, now, 'gainst Samson, Timnahs' sons do rage,  
And now the vineyards hirelings act their stage  
Against the owner and his son, 've vowed  
In his best blood to have their hands imbrued;  
But he, like to a Lambeled dumb before  
His shearer, opes his coral lips no more;  
But only this, How often have I taught  
Both in your streets and Synagogues? and nought  
You either did, or spoke against me, Now  
With swords, and staves, and spears, I know not how,  
You come to take me as I were a thief,  
And none hath pity, none shows me relief.   

How joyful now be all that rascal rout,  
Who have beleaguered the poor Lamb about?  
How many Io Paeans do they sing?  
How do their chimes and bells their praises ring?  
How many wags and wantoness now do run  
To greet the Scene of this confusion?  
But whither do the Lions drag their prey,  
But to their den, that it devour they may?  
And whither do these mastiffs draw this Lamb,  
But to the High Priests house from whence they came?  
All his Disciples now are fled and gone,  
Only doth Peter follow him alone,  
That by experience he might search and try  
What should be th'issue of this tragedy:  
Now Christ unto the High Priests house is fet,  
And in a squalid corner bench is set,  
Peter stands in the ponch, but doth not enter  
For fear his life, within, should go t'adventer;  
But night is dark, and Morphe●● lulls asleep  
The eyes of such as to his lap do creep,  
The air growth strange, and Bo●●as from his hold  
Makes Flora's flock to shake, his breath's so cold,  
A fire is therefore made of burning coals  
To warm their bodies, whose inflamed souls.  
Burned hotter with the flames of envies fire  
Then doth Vesuvius in his fiercest ire;  
Here do they warm, here tauntingly they talk  
Concerning cold Gethsemans' secret walk,  
Peter comes in to warm himself a space,  
And lo, a handmaid flouts him to the face,  
My friend, says she, or I am much deceived,  
Or you are one of those who lately braved  
Along our streets, whilst yonder fellow road  
Upon his Ass like to a Demigod:  
What do you mean, saith Peter, sure not I,  
I do not know the man, or's company:  
Again, the dam'sell hearing him faith so,  
Veilard, saith she, I do for certain know  
thou'rt one of those who with him still did live  
Thy very Sibbols do this witness give:  
Thou wrong'st me much, saith Peter, this is true,  
That yonder man I never saw till now:  
But last of all, a man who stood nigh by,  
Doth thus affront him, Do not thou deny  
His late acquaintance, for it is not long  
Since in Gethseman thou didst Malchus wrong;  
By this, the Cock, day's Herald, claps his wings,  
And crowing, doth proclaim, the morning springs,  
And not content with one poor small alarm,  
He crows again, and multiplies his charm;  
Peter hears this, and softly shrinks a way,  
The secret cock that in his bosom lay  
Crows louder to him (a great deal) then that  
Which lately, did the day prognosticat,  
And whilst he softly steps aside to fly,  
His Master looks upon him with his eye,  
And by that gracious look doth now recall  
To Peter's fainting souls memorial,  
How he had said, Before the cock crow twice  
Peter shall swear, and eke deny me thrice:  
By this rememb'rance, he who late did sleep,  
Now waked, goes out, and bitterly doth weep:  
O gracious Master, o ingrate Disciple!  
How do thy favours and thy frailties triple  
Their contrair combinations one t'another?  
'Tis strange to see such contrairs dwell together.   

Of old, while Sin●y gave that thundering Law  
Which led all Israel to a trembling awe,  
The heavens, the earth, and all that was therein  
Did seem to threaten Isr'el for her sin,  
For there the thunderings, lightnings, trumpets, fires  
So thrilled the eyes, the ears, and hid desires  
Of jacob's seed, that now for fear they cry  
Let Moses speak, not God, for else we die;  
But now by thee Mount Zion opes her door,  
Which since the world's first birth was shut before,  
And by thee, as his son, he doth declare  
Mercy to those who Judgements children were:  
But Peter, whilst I do behold thy fall  
From off that top which thou didst lately sail,  
What wonder is't though stripling I be shaken,  
And with a tempest trespass be ov'rtaken?  
But blessed be God, thy fall was not so soul,  
But true repentance hath restored thy soul;  
That all the world may know, As sin breeds death,  
The promise of true life Repentanee hath.   

Look how a will-rigged Pinnace set to sea  
With blind, and Maine, and Misaens liberty,  
Lacking a Pilot, who by due regard  
Should sit at stern, and point her trembling card,  
Whilst Dolphin-like she skips against the skies,  
As if she would Joves starry throne surprise,  
And like a Triton, in the glassy field  
Dives down again, and being forced to yield  
To Neptune's rage, she visits Pluto's cell,  
As if she sought Eurydice from hell;  
But recomforted by sweet Zephyr's gailes,  
Whose following favours fill her empty sails,  
In short time she attains her wished shore,  
Where winters tempests threaten her no more:  
So fareth it with the irres'lute breasts  
Of Adam's offspring, who do build their rests  
On their own strength, no sooner do they scale  
The Barracad's of Fortune's slippery ball,  
When either fainting fear be-leads their heels,  
And so they sink; Or else their Chariot wheels  
Drawn by presumptuous Palfreys, troth so fast,  
That hardly can they shun a fall at last,  
Unless some strong, strong hand do curb their rain,  
And so their ruin and their shame restrain;  
For whilst th'impetuous fancies of frail man  
Sets him to try the world's vain Ocean,  
Unless a steddier hand than is his own  
do guide his course, he's either quite o'erthrown,  
Or dashed in pieces 'gainst some sturdy rock,  
So furious be the flames of Satan's shock:  
Thrice happy he, whom jacob's God doth guide,  
And in his secret tent doth always hid;  
Thrice happy he, whose heart kept in God's hand  
Doth neither faintly fall, nor proudly stand,  
But in a due contemp'rature of Grace,  
'Twixt faith and fear doth wisely run his race;  
O, surely such a one, when winds do blow,  
When seas do rage, and earth no rest doth know,  
Shall by the secret influence of heaven  
So steer his course, and hold his balance even,  
That neither death, nor life, nor wealth, nor want,  
Nor weal, nor woe can crush his Covenant,  
But holding still the gripes of grace h'hath got,  
Still eyes his Pole, and so he sinketh not.    

The Assize.  
CANTO 4ᵒ.  

OF late I heard the High Priests Cock crow day,  
Of late I saw Aurora shrink away  
From Darkness centre, to th' Eoan plain,  
T'enamell heavens, and gild the Ocean;  
But, ay me! scarcely could the pearly morn  
With opal light our earthly globe adorn,  
When lo, Ixyons' dark condensat cloud  
Did Pha'ton (Titan's Coachman) so oreshroud,  
That one should think, two nights combined in ire  
Had met together to drown out Sols fire;  
A presage, sure, that ere that Sun should set,  
A brighter Sun should be exanimat:  
Yet hopeful day hath over come that shade,  
And Titan's rays, recleared, made Flora glad:  
But all this while, since yesternights surprise  
Till now that Phoebus begins to deck the skies,  
My Saviour hath been bound with twisted cords,  
Beaten with blows, wronged by sarcastic words!   

Fond Jews, and foolish Soldiers, tell me why  
You do outbrave him with such cruelty?  
Had he not by his own will more been tied,  
Then by the Cart-ropes of your swelling pride,  
He, like to Samson, might have burst your flax,  
And made your bonds to melt away like wax:  
But now, what eye can choose but weep to see  
Those hands which framed the heavens, the earth, the sea,  
And by his dainty singers framed man  
More nearly fine than art or nature can,  
Thus wrung and wrested with a cord or rope,  
Even whilst Arachne-like he spins our hope?  
But ah me! Man's hard heart's endured so,  
That he can no compassions strain allow  
On him, who from the heavens vouchsafes to take  
Our nature, for our Souls redemptions sake.   

Now Anna's Highpriest, and his son in law  
Great Caiaphas, unto a Council draw  
The whole Sanhaedrin, Pharisees, and all  
Whose suffrage can or life or death impale,  
To judge the just one by injustice; He  
Submits himself to all their tyranny:  
But o you fools and hypocrites, wherefore  
Serves all this tumult, and this mutinous stir?  
One blow in secret might have finished  
Your wrath against him; such the Baptist had:  
But now I see, Envy and Malice both  
Concur together to oppress the Truth,  
And under show of truth and justice, must  
Sentence be given unjustly 'gainst the just,  
And since the Scriptures be not yet fulfilled,  
His blood in secret must not now be spilled.  
The Bench is set, the Judges are conveen'd,  
The guiltless is accused, and guilty deemed,  
False witness now are sought, and many come,  
The hall is full, there is no empty room;  
At last two sons of Bielal are brought,  
They witness 'gainst him what he never thought,  
Thou saidst (deceiver) say they, Let this Temple  
Be quite destroyed, and in three days, more ample  
I will rebuild it, Forty years and six  
Were spent in squaring stones, and carving sticks,  
To build it first; and now thou sayest, in three  
Day's space thou wilt repaired more sumptuously;  
What, canst thou do it? But he holds his peace,  
And answers not to that their forged case,  
And wisely doth he so; for, bruise a fool  
Even in a mortar, yet his folly still  
Shall cleave unto him; wrangling is a vice,  
And to the truth brings often prejudice:  
The Highpriest seeing this, saith, I adjure  
Thee, by the living God, to tell me sure  
If that thou be the Christ, the son of God,  
Say either yea or nay? (and there he stood:)  
Jesus replies, Thou sayest it, I am he,  
This world another Saviour shall not see;  
And that thou may'st my words the more believe,  
I tell thee, that hereafter God shall give  
The Son of Man this honour, to sit down  
At his right hand, in glory and renown;  
And thou shalt see him come again from thence  
To judge this world, by righteous recompense  
At those words Caiaphas his  doth rend  
Even from their top unto their lower end,  
Although against the laws express commend, 
Leu. 21. ●●.   
Which to the contrair ties the High Priests hand●  
O, now I see there's an appointed time,  
And for each thing beneath the Sun a Prime,  
A time to laugh, and so a time to weep,  
A time to travel, and a time to sleep,  
A time to build, a time eke to destroy,  
A time to sorrow, and a time to joy,  
A time to rest, a time to run our race,  
A time to speak, a time to hold our peace;  
Whilst foolish Ruffians did their cavil spew,  
He neither said that they were false or true,  
But now whilst he his Father's name doth hear,  
Setting aside of humane force all fear,  
He boldly speaks the truth, and doth display  
The hidden Godhead in his flesh did lie:  
The High Priest hath his robe no sooner tore,  
When thus he speaks; What need we any more  
To cite a witness 'gainst him; hath not he  
Blasphemed God before us, impiously?  
I know not what you think him worthy, sure  
I think him guilty, shameful death t' endure:  
To this they all applaud, with acclamation,  
O let him die, and perish from this Nation:  
Yet once more proudly doth the Priest inquire  
Him of his Doctrine, and Disciples; Ire  
And rapid rage doth to his soul possess,  
That Truth and Conscience with him have no place.   

Christ answers; In your Synagogues have I  
Still taught; and by me nothing secretly  
Is done or said, inquire of them therefore  
Who heard me, let them witness less or more.  
By this, one of those slaves who stood near by  
Doth smite him on the face, most vil'nously,  
And adds this motto to his cruel blow,  
What, Villain? dost thou answer th' Highpriest so?  
Christ meekly replies, If I have spoke wrong  
Bear witness of it; but if thus my tongue  
Hath spoke the truth, why smitest thou me? it may be  
Some higher hand repay thy villainy.   

Ah me! my God, how hath this High Priest still  
Spoke prophecy, although against his will?  
Of late he said, it was expedient that  
One for the nation should be immolat;  
And now he says, he's guilty to the death,  
And so both truth and lie pronounced hath:  
O what a vaticiny, what a word  
Is this that Caiaphas doth now afford?  
Guilty he was, to die the death he come,  
And yet not guilty to the death; as some  
Man born in sin, to die the death is born,  
Because by sin he's guilty, and forlorn;  
But he did neither sin, nor know trespass,  
For, God's 〈◊〉 ' ●● Lamb, and Son he was;  
And therefore since he knew not sin, no death  
O'er him or power or jurisdiction hath:  
Yet guilty was he, for 〈◊〉 guilt he took,  
And by the way for 〈…〉 of the brook,  
And so was guilty made to death, for lo,  
His body's death must our soul's death ov'rthrow;  
Thus was he guilty to the death, and yet  
Nor guilt, nor death his innocence did fit,  
His was the death, the guilt was ours, and so  
Both from the guilt and death weare free to go.   

Next to this censure, all those catyss still  
With excrements his glorious face do spill;  
And though the glorious host of heaven are bold  
In him to gaze God's wisdom manifold,  
Yet, muffling up his face, they hood-wink's eyes,  
Then crave, in scorn, to hear his Prophecies:  
This not enough, they be not yet content  
T'afflict his body, and his soul torment,  
But what is more, to Pilat's civil power  
They lead him, there to have his death made sure:  
From out the High Priests house and hall he's led,  
And unto Pilat's hall is carried;  
Tumultuous crowds of people run along,  
To make their malice, and their grief more strong,  
And in judibrious manner thus do cry,  
Here's Naz'reths Prophet, pray you make him way:  
Pilate affrighted with the Convocation,  
Comes forth and calls the head o' th' Combination,  
And asks the cause of this their concourse, for  
Such stir jerusalem had not seen before;  
Yet ere the Roman Depute will approve  
Their combination, he doth gravely move  
This question to them; What hath this man done,  
Or 'gainst the State, or 'gainst Religion?  
If he had nor a malefactor been,  
Say they to Pilate, sure thou hadst not seen  
Us stand as supplicants before thy door,  
Nor had we ever judged him by thy power:  
O cruel catiffes, irreligious you,  
Who act such murder under piety's show!  
To Pilat's house you come, but will not enter,  
As if his house were hell's condemning centre:  
Woe, woe to you, Scribes, Pharisees, and Priests,  
You ravening Wolves, dissembling Hypocrites,  
Why do you think by 'xternall rites and shows  
To purge that poison in your hearts ov'rflowes?  
Why do you make your platter clean without  
While as the fountain's poisoned round about?  
Why do you gild your graves with precious stones,  
Whose richest linings are but rotten bones?  
Why do you wash your hands so oft with water,  
While as your hearts be lust and pride's Theatre?  
It is not Pilat's roof, nor Pilat's wall,  
Nor the corruption of his Judgements hall  
Can make you so unclean, or so impure  
As doth your sinful soul's distemperature;  
For what is from without, cannot so much  
Defile the Man, as doth the hearts hide touch:  
But thus th' Almighty hath decreed, and thus,  
You have determined; by a secret push  
To catch the innocent unto your snare,  
While as your words be soft, and smoothly fair;  
But he who in the highest heavens doth dwell,  
Can both your fraud detect, and pride repel,  
And will in his own time your plots repay  
Upon your pates, with woe and weal-away.  
Jesus now stands before the Pagan Judge,  
And from his fury findeth no refuge,  
Pilate inquires him, Art thou Juries King?  
I am, saith he, without dissembling;  
But in this world my Kingdom hath no place,  
Nor hath this world a portion of my grace:  
Pilate then on his Judgements feat fits down,  
And once more asks him, of Judaeas' Crown,  
And tells him that if he that Crown should claim  
Then should he wrong Augustus' Diadem:  
Not I, saith he, let Caesar have what's his  
And God what's God's; no other thing I wish:  
But while this Roman on his bench doth sit,  
His wife did by her letter him entreat,  
Yea, she adjures him that he should not touch  
That just man; for, saith she, I've suffered much  
Concerning him, this last night in my sleep,  
The gods preserve thee, and thy conscience keep,  
That unto him thou do not wrong nor harm,  
For fear hath given my soul a sad alarm:   

This Pilate reads, but's deaf to such a tale,  
Where will doth govern, words will not prevail;  
He therefore calls the multitude aloud,  
Hear mutinous you, and hark you envious crowd,  
Whom will you that at this your solemn feast  
I should let lose to you? what think you best?  
Here have we Barrabas, a murdering thief,  
Will you that he go lose and have relief,  
Or, shall we let this Jesus go, pray tell,  
For your desire shall be my Sentinel.  
O, Barrabas, say they, let him go free,  
But for this Jesus, him let's Crucify:  
Well then, saith Pilat, since it must be so,  
Him shall you have, and Barrabas shall go,  
Yet bring me here some water? water's brought,  
And for dissimulation lacketh nought:  
His hands he washeth; his dissembling heart  
Stands still corrupt and foul in every part,  
Yet doth he call, Come malcontented you,  
To this just man take heed what you shall do,  
For in him I do find no fault at all,  
Why one hair of his head to ground should fall;  
I therefore to your conscience do appeal,  
To Church, to Council, and to Commonweal,  
That from his blood I stand this day as free  
As be my hands from their impurity.  
Alas vain Pilot! hadst thou cleansed thy heart,  
As thou hast washed thy hands, then sure no part  
Of this man's blood should have against thee cried,  
Then should both heart and hand been purified;  
But since one thing thou sayest; and dost another,  
Thy words shall not thy foul transgression smother,  
In short time thou shalt find what 'tis to shroud  
A bloody heart under thy washed hands cloud,  
Water hath but a superficial strain,  
It cannot purge the heart, nor make it clean,  
No, David's hyssop water, nor Jobs snow,  
Though ne'er so well dissolved in their thaw,  
Nor Abanah, nor Parphars gliding streams,  
Nor hoary Jordan, whose author'ry claims  
Pre-eminence above all rills; because  
In her the Syrians leprosy did pause,  
Shall not be able to dissolve that spot  
Which by this jurisdiction thou hast got:  
And thrice unhaphy, cruel-hearted Jews,  
Had you the wit to pr●c●gnosce the news  
That this man's blood shall, as a passing bell,  
One day against your souls and bodies knell,  
You neither should have wished his blood to fall  
On you, nor on your seeds memorial.   

Hence is my Saviour from the bench forth sent,  
That with a lashing whips sad chastisement  
His back and belly, in a bloody gore,  
Of forty stripes save one may feel the sore;  
And reconveyed to Pilat's house again,  
As if he had not suffered wrong nor pain,  
He's stripped naked, Adam-like, while as  
He blushed for shame because he naked was;  
But figtree leaves there covered Adam's skin,  
Here no figtree can lend a leaf, wherein  
My Saviour can enwrap his bleeding wound,  
Whose gutt'ring drops distains the very ground:  
Pilate beholding this, gins to halt,  
(Such was the rancour of his false hearts fault)  
For sin at first doth to the sense seem sweet,  
But tart as gall in end, saith th'hypocrite;  
He laboured therefore much to let him go,  
But neither heaven nor earth will now say so,  
But still, the more that Pilate pleads him free,  
The more they thirst the Christ to crucify;  
And that his royal dignities they may  
Though in a sarcasme, to the world display,  
They with a Crown of thorns do deck his head,  
His Royalty by this stands signified,  
And he who in our flesh our head became,  
In bloody letters writes our anagram:  
Next this, a scarlet robe they put upon him,  
And in his hand a Rood; then gazing on him,  
With [ecce homo] they do bend their knees,  
And greet him with those incongrueties;  
Hail Master, say they, hail thou Juries King,  
Thy Crown and Sceptre tells us thou must ring:  
But ay me! gracious Saviour, whilst they now  
Enact the Scene of thy dishonour, how  
Do heaven and earth declare thy glorious worth,  
And unto thee true Majesty bring forth?  
Their Crown of thorns confesseth thou art King,  
Their purpure robes, our sins true covering,  
The reed put in thy hand, as Sceptre, showeth  
What heaven, and earth, and hell unto thee oweth,  
And whilst in scorn to thee they bend their knees,  
They show that all the world's chief royalties  
Shall do thee worship, for the Lord once swore,  
And it shall come to pass, Each creature  
In heaven and earth shall bow before thy rod,  
And every tongue confess thee to be God;  
And their last ecce homo, shall at last  
Through heaven and earth's whole fabric so be cast,  
That such as stripped, and scourged, and pierced thee, shall  
Before thy footstool with great terror fall,  
And learn, unto their grief, that thou art King,  
Whilst all thy Saints shall hallelujahs sing  
To thee, whose cross, whose cares, whose pains, whose shame  
Procures their light, their life, their Diadem.    

The Cross.  
CANTO 5ᵒ.  

THrough many sad afflictions, and at last  
Through gates of death the righteous man is cast;  
Yet never man hath tasted of so many  
Sad tribulations, nor was death, by any  
So born, as by my Saviour, from whose birth  
Until his sad return unto the earth,  
He never found a place wherein to hid  
His head from malice, envy, wrath, and pride,  
And yet, for all those sufferings which be gone,  
He doth but now begin his Passion:  
Pilate hath judged, and condemned him too,  
His heart still saying that his tongue's untrue;  
And now at last like Abel, to the field  
Though innocent, he must be led, and killed:  
The place wherein his Cross is made to stand  
Is Golgotha, a place infamous, and  
All putrified with dead men's skulls and bones  
And loathsome vapours of corruptions,  
Yet here, and no where else, must he be made  
A sweet-smelled savour both for quick and dead,  
And if we to traditions may give trust,  
Where the first Adam lay, the second must  
By his dread suffering and his woes make full  
The hollow caverns of first Adam's skull,  
That as in Adam's name's four letters, lie  
The hidden riddle of his Empery. 
A 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. D 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. A 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. M 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.   
So by that selfsame word and borrowed name  
The Second must his Gospel's bounds proclaim.   

The Jewish criminations, though unjust,  
Have made him now a vassal to their lust;  
Not to the Altar, but to Calvary,  
Not to the Temple, but the Cursed tree,  
Not in the City, but without the gate,  
Not in a corner, but in public hate,  
Not in a valley, but upon a mountain  
His precious blood must bubble from its fountain,  
That to all corners of the Earth, great he  
May offer mercy's liberality:  
When first his Parents to the Temple went,  
And him unto the Lord did represent,  
He in that morning, morning-like, was made  
A morning sacrifice for quick and dead;  
Now in the evening of his life must he  
An evening offering and oblation be,  
That by his quiet rest and evening sleep  
He might us in perpetual quiet keep:  
Now is our Isaac on his way, and bears  
Upon his back the symbol of our fears,  
In such a patiented way, th●● Nature might  
Have been ashamed to see so sad a sight:  
If faintings, watch, bloody swears, and blows,  
If stripes, and plaited thorns, and such like throws  
Of inhuman'ty might 'gainst man prevail,  
It was no wonder though his spirits did fail:  
Of old, when Moses sent twelve men to try  
Canaan's forces and fertility,  
Two of those twelve from Eschol did re-bring,  
As first fruits of fair Palestina's spring,  
Some pomgranats, some figs, and grapes; which, tied  
Unto a pole, and on their shoulders laid,  
They to the Camp of Israel did show,  
As pledges of that good Lands fruitful flow,  
The man who walked before, did well resemble  
The sons of Sinai, who by weakne● tremble  
Under th'imperial Law's ov'rburthening yoke,  
Which galls the necks of israels fainting flock;  
He who did walk behind, is Zions child,  
His burden's light, his yoke is undefiled;  
His foot nor faints, nor shrinketh in his way,  
Till in his Camp his burden down he lay;  
The burden of rich grapes which 'twixt them hangs,  
Is Jesus Christ, from out whose cluster springs  
The Law and Gospel, in a golden cup,  
Making men drunk with faith, with love, with hope:  
But here before our eyes is truly set  
A real emblem, and no counterfeit  
Proposed hieroglyphic, of that case  
Which all the faithful do in Christ embrace;  
My Saviour goes before, and willingly  
Takes up his Cross, and bears it patiently,  
Till fainting by the way, he's forced to lend  
Unto an alien his Cross lightest end.   

Do not we know what discrepance of old  
The name of Jew and Gentile did unfold?  
For whilst unto the Law's empire, the Jew  
Did both his heart and haughty neck subdue,  
Rebellious Japhet wand'ring in his pride,  
Like to the wild Ass turned his neck aside,  
But now by this sole cross they're reconciled,  
And unto Japhets' sons is how revealed  
The mystery of godsinesse in such store,  
That whilst Christ, as a Jew, doth go before,  
Cyrene's Gentile sweetly walks behind,  
And in the Cross doth consolation find;  
That Jew and Gentile, bound and free, and all  
Who for salvation hunger, thirst, and call,  
May know, that by the cross of Christ alone  
The way is opened to Salvation.   

Thus hath he bore his cross, it him must bear,  
He under it did groan, it him must rear,  
And he whose power the world doth underprop,  
Must by a cursed tree be now born up;  
This engine of the cross was strange and rare,  
Appointed by the Romans, in their war,  
For such as with a proud uplifted hand  
Their higher pow is injunctions did withstand,  
And for all such whose hand did foil or slain  
Their Temples, or their Idols did profane;  
This Cross along the ground is laid, and on  
Its torturing rack, and large dimension  
Of height, of breadth, and length, the glorious Christ  
Must be out stretched in every joint and wrest,  
That as the heavens are high above our head,  
And as the East from Welt's distinguished,  
And Hell's deep centre is contrived below,  
So in his torturing Crucifix they show  
The program of their 〈◊〉 tyranny,  
And the great patience of his De●●●e.  
Whilst we poor men draw near unto our death,  
We wish that Nature's hand should stop our breath,  
We wish that pain and shame should not at tend,  
Nor prove the Lackeys of our latter end;  
And last of all, we wish that our last stage  
Should have the blessing of God's heritage:  
Of all those favours his Crosse's deprived,  
And all their contrairs stand on it subscribed; 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉   
For violence doth curb dame Nature's hands,  
And shame and torture at her right hand stands,  
And where a blessing should have said farewell,  
The cursed tree doth make that prop, to fail;  
All those beyond all humane trust do run  
Against my Saviour with confusion:  
Never did fountain from its bubbling spout  
So rich a runnall to the world send out,  
As did the Cinque ports of his body's wound,  
While perforat he lay upon the ground;  
Never such shame did any man sustain  
As he, yet never did he once complain;  
And last of all, what curse is like to that  
Where heaven rejects him who's immaculate?  
Those, and all those, my Saviour beyond measure  
Hath tasted, at his glorious Father's pleasore,  
That had not he been very God and Man  
He surely should have perished in his pang,  
But that great Godhead which in him did dwell,  
Upholds him still and makes him to prevail:  
Thus to the Cross he's nailed, and with him two  
Base murdering malefactors in a row  
Were to their crosses also tied, that they  
By their just sufferings, in some fashion may  
His innocence obscure, and make men think  
That he with them deserved like cup to drink;  
Yet so hath Isay prophesied before,  
And so it needs must come to pass; what's more,  
His Cross must over head import his Theme,  
Jesus of nazareth, Juries King by Name,  
Whose four acrostic letters do imply  
This Hierogly prick stamp, J. N. R. J.  
O how those three accursed crosses now  
Stand in resemblance! that 'tis hard to know  
Who in the trespass or transgression's chief,  
The Lamb, or Lion, th' innocent, or thief?  
But heavens do fully know it, for from thence  
Thrice hath he had applause and eminence;  
Earth knoweth him also, for his divine power  
Hath many times to sweet exchanged their sour;  
Devils of hell did also know'm, for lo,  
His own words power their legion did ov'rthrow:  
So heaven, and earth, and hell, and all must grant,  
'Tis not the Cross, but Cause that makes the Saint:  
O happy thrice, and thrice thrice happy tree!  
Though cursed to some, yet art thou blessed to me,  
For never man yet reaped or could forth bring  
So blessed a harvest from so cursed a spring,  
As thou hast done, while death from thee did wrangle  
A blessed Quadrat from a cursed Triangle.   

Many sweet trees have grown up, since the first  
Adam did by a trees fruit quench his thirst,  
But never tree did any such fruit bear  
As on thy branches at this time appear,  
Fair Eden's fig tree lent her leaves to hid  
The first man's sinful, stranefull outer side;  
An Olive branch to Noah first displayed  
The Ocean's rage was stilled and quite allayed;  
Aaron's poor rod had such a secret worth,  
That in one night it budded and brought forth  
Ripe Almonds; Moses rod did smite the rock,  
And living waters followed all the flock;  
A piece of wood is cast in Mara's spring,  
And sweeter draughts ne'er fountain did forth bring;  
A wooden pole a serpent doth uphold,  
And who so by the Serpent's stung, makes bold  
To look upon it; straightway is made whole  
From all that poison in his bones did role;  
But all of those compared with thee proves naught,  
No such a relish, no such suggered draught  
Can man bring from them, as is brought from thee,  
Immortal life from cursed mortality;  
Yet do not I or praise thyself, or ground  
Whereon thou stand'st, for better may be found,  
But blessed be the Gardener's hand, for that  
Sweet bud he did in thee inoculat,  
For such a fruit as thine was never seen;  
The balm's blood-red, the virtue's always green.  
Whilst thus he stands, or hangs upon his cross,  
Some woeful women did bewail his loss,  
But thus he doth entreat them, Weep no more  
For me, you Daughters of jerusalem, for  
To wail my sufferings thus is always vain,  
heavens have ordained it, I do not complain;  
But if you weep, weep for those woes which shall  
Upon this perverse generation fall,  
For since the days of Noah till this hour,  
Yea, since fierce fire foul Sodom did devour,  
So deep a wrath, and such consuming fire  
Was never kindled in th' Almighty's ire,  
Nor did his wrath burn ever half so hot  
Against a Nation for her Leprous spot,  
As shall against this Nation shortly burn,  
Till heaven's high wrath their pride to ashes turn;  
But o thou heavenly and most gracious Father,  
Pardon their sins, forgive their trespass, rather  
Than punish this their fault; for, Father, now  
I do perceive some know not what they do.  
Whilst thus he hangs, and pays our bloody ransom,  
Hot in the conflict, like another Samson,  
He cries, I thirst, strait do they fill a cup  
With Wine and Myrrh, to him they reach it up,  
He smelleth it, but would nor drink at all,  
For now he spies their mercy's mixed with gall:  
This being done, his soul is sore perplexed,  
And with his Father's frowns, for us, so vexed,  
That he is forced to cry to th'ears of many,  
O Eli, Eli, lamma Sabachthani!  
Which by interpretation is thus taken,  
My God, my God, why hast thou me forsaken?  
One saith he calls Eliah, stand aside,  
And let us see what Saint in heaven can guide  
Him from this cross, surely if any come,  
We will believe him, we will make him room;  
Not only do those Burreaves him revile,  
And 'gainst that holy one lift up their heel;  
But also that proud mastive, who did at  
His left hand suffer, as he perpetrat,  
Calls to him, and in proud ludibrious manner  
Commands him to display his powerful banner,  
And as he had saved others, save himself,  
And him likewise from splitting on this shelf;  
But Jesus holds his peace, to make it plain  
That he reviled, did not revile again;  
Though Jesus hold his peace, yet doth that mate  
Which on his right hand hung, thus open the gate  
To his just ire, and rebukes his brother,  
He can his fury now no longer smother;  
Proud railing rascal, saith he, we be here  
To suffer for our sins, as doth appear  
By all the Legends of our murdering ditty,  
Justly do men therefore withdraw their pity  
From us; but this just man, what hath he done?  
His innocence is clear, as middayes Sun;  
Why dost not thou fear God, and in this station  
Beg shelter from a deeper condemnation?  
But what thou wilt not do, behold I will,  
Lord look upon me in thy mercy still,  
And when thou comest unto thy kingdom, then  
Remember me in mercy, heal my pain;  
Jesus beholding this his faith, replies,  
Man, I do tell thee, that in Paradise  
This night thou shalt be with me, and shalt taste  
The glorious Nectar of my Father's feast:   

Father, once more, all thing are finished,  
Which thy great law requires; diminished  
Is nothing which her Sanctions did crave,  
And now I'm ready to be laid in grave,  
I therefore come to thee, Into thy hands  
I recommend my Spirit, let not deaths bands  
Triumph o'er me, for it I vanquished have,  
Yet I'll subject myself unto the grave:  
By this he bows his head, and giveth up  
The Ghost; and so hath drunken up his cup.   

One of those Soldiers who did him attend,  
Hoping to gain some honour in the end,  
Takes up his Spear to try if Christ were dead,  
And in his side doth thrust it over head:  
Strait, from the wound doth flow both blood and water,  
Whose still dissevered streams themselves so scatter,  
As never Tigris and Euphrates did  
More th'one from th'other at their source divide;  
When the first Adam snorted in his sleep,  
Great israels Watchman, who poor man doth keep,  
Took from his side a rib, of which he made  
An help unto the man, who was her head:  
And now the second Adam on his Cross  
Lacks not a bone, but to repair that loss  
From out his side, whereon his bride now stands,  
Sends forth pure water first to wash her hands,  
And that clean hands may have as clean a heart,  
He sends her blood to purge her better part,  
His water purgeth and refresheth more  
Than that which from Rephidims' rock did roar;  
His blood speaks better things than Abel's did,  
When she in Vesta's lap her head did hid;  
And truly, such a water, or such blood,  
Nor Baalzephom shore, nor Ganges flood  
Did ever borrow from earth's bubbling vain,  
While as they pard their tribute to the Main.   

Lo, how the son of God in human nature,  
Lo, how for Man poor creature, the Creator,  
Lo, for the guilty, how the innocent,  
Lo, how the lowly, for the insolent  
Suffers, pays, covers, satisfies at once  
Death, debt, shame, wrath, for our exemptions!  
Come wayward Gentile, come rebellious Jew,  
Come scoffing Atheist, Semichristian, thou  
Prodigious misbeliever, nature's slave,  
Blasphemous mockers of the cross and grave:  
Come, come, I say, and if you needs must scorn  
Those hands, those feet, this heart, that crown of thorn,  
From whence my Saviour in such several rills  
Celestial Nectar to the world distils;  
If nothing here on earth, you see below,  
Can your hard hearts to his obedience bow,  
Look up above your head, and see what strange  
Commotions through th'heavenly regions range,  
And from their troubles learn in time to tremble,  
Lest those their palsies prove your death's preamble;  
For whilst his soul doth to the heavens ascend,  
Which to his Father, he did recommend,  
Strait with his last gasp, earth's round globe doth shake,  
As if her engines axletree should break;  
The broad enamelled courtaine of the sky,  
Obfuscat with dark clouds, doth droop and die;  
And since he whose right hand first form Nature,  
Hath so much suffered for a sinful creature,  
The frame of Nature now hath sworn to show  
That nature's God hath suffered here below;  
Hence hoary Saturn turns his face awry,  
And scorns to gaze so great a butchery;  
The bounteous Jupiter now amazed stands,  
And scorns with Amalthaea to shake hands;  
Blood-thirsting Mars throws down his dart, and cries  
What Phlegra's this whose Typhon scales our skies?  
The wanton now betakes her to her heels,  
And pulls her Pigeons from Apollo's wheels,  
The witty Merc'ry throws his pen aside,  
He cannot see to write for nights black pride,  
And Cynthia now beholding Titan's Car  
Eclipsed by a brighter morning star,  
Runs from th' Eoan, to th' Hesperian coast,  
And grapleth Titan in her arms so fast,  
That brave Latona's son nor can, nor may,  
But through her sad embrace, take leave of day:  
Now is the Temples veil rend quite in twain,  
And Jew and Gentile reconciled again;  
Now are the flint-hard rocks found cut asunder  
That man's hard heart might at its hardness wonder;  
Now are the graves devouring gates cast up,  
And long interred dust drinks new lives cup,  
That heavens, and earth, and hell, and all may see  
That power of th'eternals victory,  
Whereby he hath, as both true God and Man,  
For man subbued Deaths great Leviathan.    

The Triumph.  
CANTO 6ᵒ.  

ERE Cairo's Monarch would let Isr'el go  
From out the furnace of affliction, lo,  
The holy one of Israel, big with ire,  
Is forced in wrath to blow so fierce a fire  
Against him, that a Decad of stern woes  
Must fall upon him, ere he melt his snows,  
So deeply were they froze amidst his heart  
That nothing but deep wrath can him convert.  
Of all those plagues which did on Misraim fall,  
Me thinks the last save one was worst of all;  
For what are fields, or fruits, or brooks, or trees,  
In respect of man's gracious faculties?  
And life itself is small, being compared  
With utter darkness, wherein man ensnared  
By living death and dark Cimmerian mist,  
Of Goshens child is made a Memphytist:  
Such were the foggy mists that now do stand  
For three hours' space through all Judaea's land,  
So that th'inhabitants do gaze with wonder  
To see the sun obscured from his splendour:  
But Titan once more doth reclear his eye,  
And shuffling off his Sister's canopy,  
Doth joy to see his eldest brothers bed  
With such triumphing trophies honoured.   

Now whilst the stern Centurion sees the damp  
That Christ his death hath wrought in Nature's camp,  
He shrinks away for fear, and doth profess  
Surely this man hath been God's son, no less,  
For who did ever see so firm and strong  
Expressions of Deity, even among  
Infirmities and weakness saddest strains,  
As now burst forth in Naturesbubling veins?  
By this, just Joseph, Arimathea's Lord,  
Hath begged of Pilate, by submissive word,  
That he Christ's body might have power to take  
Down from the Cross, and in his grave to make  
Him rest, who rest and peace had promised  
Unto all such as sought to him for aid:  
Pilate yields to it; Joseph's quickly gone  
Through Salems' streets and rich stored shops each one,  
And of pure balm and myrhs elixared Nard  
A hundred weight he buys, and afterward  
Embalmes my Saviour's body, and doth bind  
It in a Tyrian lawn, more dainty fined  
Than that which Venus putteth on the eyes  
Of Cupid, to obscure his leacheries;  
Then in his Garden corner, with all haste,  
In his new-digged tomb he hath it placed,  
And that the body there might rest secure,  
He puts a stone upon the Sepulture.  
'Mongst many passions of the soul, by which  
Man doth his guilty mind surcharge too much,  
Whilst he doth wander in that desert, where  
Nothing is reaped in end but grief and care,  
That poltroon Fear, for most part, leads the ring,  
Where Cruelty hath harped on Envies string,  
For nothing can secure that sordid mind  
Where wrath and malice are in one combined:  
Hence doth the High Priest and his rascall-train  
To Pilat's hall return yet once again,  
And under colour of a wise prevention,  
Belch out the vomit of their foul intention:  
This fellow (say they) while he lived, did say,  
Pull down this Temple, and on the third day  
I will rebuild it: Lest therefore by night  
Some steal him from his grave, and so affright  
The world with frantic tales of's resurrection,  
Let us walk wisely; and 'gainst this infection  
Prepare an an tidote; for by such toys  
The weaker may be led to great annoys:  
Go, go, saith Pilus, do what ere you list,  
Hath not his blood yet satisfied your thirst?  
'Tis strange to see, that death cannot put end  
Unto that wrath which doth on rage depend;  
The very beasts that live by cruel prey,  
Drink blood, eat flesh, but cast the bones away.   

But ay me! poor faint-hearted Muse, how long  
Wilt thou sigh forth his obsequies? whose wrong,  
Though all the Main were turned to tears and ink,  
Can not suffice to write them on her brink:  
Weep therefore, weep a space; and weeping, look  
Not like a runnall or a bubbling brook,  
Whose proudest swell we no sooner spy  
But strait they are exhausted, their channel's dry;  
But like the Ocean, whose unfathomed deep  
Sends forth those restless streams which never sleep,  
For here thou hast the deepest, deep distress  
That ever heart could think, or tongue express;  
The son of God, heaven's masterpiece, the bright  
Transplendent glory of th'Almighties light,  
Th'eternal Word, which was  time began,  
In time, for man, made man, nay, not a man,  
A worm, a wretch, a servant, nay, a slave  
To calumny, contempt, to cross, to grave!  
Yet peace my Muse, and let not grief exile  
Thee from due comfort; let a blushing smile  
Comfort thee rather; for, those wounds which stands  
Imprinted in his heart, his feet, his hands,  
Make him (although despised and disdained  
To carnal eyes, where sin and shame's maintained)  
A precious Victim, off red up for thee,  
To whom of due belonged the cursed tree;  
Yea, he is that great star of Jacob, who  
Makes Japhet unto Shem's sweet tents to go,  
And bids the world writ anthems of Rejoices  
Because his grave makes ours a bed of Roses,  
Where though he for a season rest and sleep,  
Yet shall not earth him in her arms long keep,  
But, as the Son of God, he thence shall rise,  
And lead Captiv'ty captive through the skies,  
And thence ascending to his glorious throne  
Shall be our all in all, and all in One;  
For notwithstanding all that stamp and stir  
Whereby his grave is sealed and made sure,  
Up, up again he shall, God's holy one  
Can in the grave take no corruption,  
But by his Resurrection makes our faith  
Triumph the more o'er sin, o'er hell, and death;  
The former times prefigured have this truth:  
Did he not save one from the Lion's mouth?  
Was not another thrown amidst the Sea,  
And after three days set at liberty?  
Yea, were not three at one thrown in the fire,  
As vassals of a Tyrant's proud desire,  
Yet by his power so preserved, that the flame  
Did neither harm their hairs, nor garments seam?  
Did not he by his mighty power, ere now,  
Naims poor widow's son to life renew?  
When Lazarus had four days lain in grave,  
Did he not, by his word, his soul receive?  
When as the good Centurion's daughter lay  
Asleep, did he not turn her night to day?  
When Eutichus did from his third loft fall,  
Did not his quickening spirit his spirit recall?  
And when Tabytha (jappa's Nymph) lay dead,  
Did not his [Cumi] strait lift up her head?  
Those, and a thousand more than those, do stand  
As great Herculean trophces in his hand;  
Those were but shadows, he the substance is,  
The type was theirs, the antitipe is his,  
And all of those bear witness that his power  
Can kill and quicken, rescue and devour.   

Now doth the date of that appointed time  
Wherein he should arise from Death's dark clime,  
Draw near, for from the sixth day's afternoon,  
The Sabbaths whole day he did rest eft soon;  
The eight day's morn no sooner'gins to break,  
But lo the son of Righteousness doth wake,  
And with a better light the world recleare,  
Then ever Titan brought t'our Hemisphere;  
And as that God who did the world create,  
Upon the sixth day did man animate,  
And on the seventh day, celebrate his rest,  
A type of our Eternal heavenly feast:  
So did my Souls most grarious Redeemer  
Crush on the sixth day my souls sad blasphemer;  
And on the seventh day resting in the grave,  
Did from Goliahs' hand his Isr'el save;  
And rising on the eight day's morn, hath made  
The woman's heel to bruise the serpent's head;  
This day of old had small or no respect,  
But now to heaven it doth our hearts erect,  
And justly makes his Gods a there the Sun,  
Who in th'ecliptic of true light doth run,  
This day more sacred should be kept then any,  
Because by it Salvation spiring to many,  
And therefore 〈…〉 as fare,  
As Titan hath beyond 〈…〉 sta●re●  
For look how much our second birth is more  
Than our first birth, 〈◊〉 is our Sabbath, for  
Upon the sixth day we had our Creation,  
But on this Sabbath, light, life, and salvation;  
And since upon this day, we from our fall  
With him have rise, it is Dominical,  
And merits to be signed with ink that's red,  
Because his blood our debt hath can celled:  
Th'intended period of the time now come,  
The son of Jesse, Israel's bird egroome  
Comes from his late bedchamber, richly decked  
With Majesty, with glory and respect,  
His wedding garments, robes, and rings are on,  
His griefs, his passions, and his woes are gone,  
His foes are filled with fear, amaze, and wonder,  
Like Latmos rend with heaven's high rattling thunder;  
Seraphic Spirits bow before his face,  
Mortality to glory now gives place,  
And all the Children of his wedding Chamber  
Whose lips are Coral, and whose locks are Amber,  
Whose eyes Carbuncles are in dark of night,  
Gladly do now attend this morning's light,  
And from the grave they role away that stone  
Which Caiaphas had fet his seal upon;  
'Twere strange to see, that was could make that sure  
That heavens had destined to distemp'tature!  
But now the Scriptures are fulfilled; which say,  
He giveth his Angels charge 〈◊〉 thy way  
To keep thee, lest thy foot should either slip,  
Or'gainst a stone at any time should trip:  
Yet was it neither Angel's might nor power  
That did return life to my Saviour,  
But that same Godhead which in him did dwell,  
Restored his life, and did his death expel;  
For, though his soul was from his body cut,  
His Godhead from his Man hood was not shut;  
For, that great tye of Hypostatick union  
Shall never be dissolved, or lose communion:  
No, no, Man's nature which he did assume,  
And unite to the Word i'th' Virgin's womb,  
Shall in no after time, or taste Confusion, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.   
Or by a stronger hand' plain of Division,  
Or by a change smell any Alteration,  
Or by or death or life have Separation,  
But shall for ay that union retain  
Where three are one, and one is three again:  
No sooner doth my Souls brave Samson draw  
Gaza's gate-barrs asunder, than his awe  
Maketh earth's wieghty globe to reach and reel  
About him, like Ixyons' giddy wheel,  
The dead arise and to the City go,  
As witness of his great triumphing show;  
The Lions to their dens return apace,  
Because great Judah's Lion shakes his tress,  
And all the beasts of neighbouring Forests fear,  
Whilst they this matchless Lion's roaring hair;  
The chirping birds, whose sweet melodious notes  
Bring sweeter crotchets from their carr'ling throats  
Then all Apollo's nymphs can strain or sing  
Unto his Harps delicious fingering,  
Betake themselves unto their wings to fly,  
Rather than in an Earthquakes arms to die;  
The nibbling Lambs which graze on Vesta's kirtle,  
And sips her honey, suckles, and her myrtle  
Leaving their breakfast, bleat, and cry, and call  
Each one to gaze another's festival;  
Great Neptune and his Thetye now sing dumb,  
Because the Sovereign of the Seas is come  
To put a hook in their nostrils, and draw  
Leucotheo from Achelous' maw:  
But above all, the long-lived Phoenix seems,  
As freshly waked from her reviving flames,  
To greet him with the rarest welcome that  
 Lark, or Finch, or Linot modulat;  
And at his foot her starry Spangled Crown,  
As to the righteous owner, she throws down;  
For she revived, hath thousand years in store,  
But he requickneth lives for evermore:  
In end comes Titan, days bright shining eye,  
Who lately slept in darkness Canopy,  
And from his Orient or Eoan wave,  
Where Neptune doth his steps in pearl engrave,  
Seeing a clearer Sun i'th' West arise  
To all his Naids and his Napaeis, cries  
Look here, and see the rare, yea rarest wonder  
That ever Earth held up, or heavens kept under;  
Two Suns arise at once, and in one day  
Two Titans to the world their lights display;  
The one whereof, although he rise, must fall,  
The other knows no Occident at all:  
Thus is my Saviour up, and mangre hell  
And all the powers of darkness there do dwell,  
A new light, life, and liberty is given  
To all that hunger for the light of Heaven;  
'Tis true, no article o'th' Christian faith,  
More faithless or reluctant enemies hath,  
Then hath the Doctrine of the Resurrection  
Whilst it stands canvased by humane direction;  
Yea, nature ne'er required a better sport  
Then toss this Ball within her Tennis-court;  
For faith itself can hardly sound this deep,  
How a scattered non ens to an ens can creep,  
Although that Nature and the Scriptures both  
Have writ the hieroglyphics of this truth;  
The Phoenix spicy nest her Mistress burneth,  
Yet she from out her fatal Urn returneth;  
When length of time sun-staring Eagles spills,  
They do revive by casting off their bills;  
Herbs, trees, and plants, which in the winter whither,  
I'th' spring receive both sap and life together;  
The Corn we sow doth first corrupt and die,  
Yet from that death their grains do multiply;  
And if't be true, Medea for the sake  
Of Jason, made old Aesons youth t' awake:  
But Scripture tells us, that the first man hath  
By sin subdued all mankind unto death,  
And that the second man doth yield more grace,  
Requickning that which died by our trespass;  
And unto Abrams seed the Lord hath said,  
I am the live God, and not the dead;  
Add unto this, that he who first did make  
All things of nothing, can from something take  
With lesser pain, this little world of Man,  
Then when at first he from the dust it span,  
Nor is it just, that any coupled pair  
Who work together, should not have like share  
Of glory after death, who in their life  
'Gainst Sin and Satan kept a conjunct strife:  
Why art thou then so sad my Soul? and why  
Art thou cast down with such anxiety?  
Dost not thou know that Christ is made thy head,  
And thou by faith his living member made;  
He is thy husband, thou his wedded wife,  
Whilst he doth live, how canst thou doubt of life?  
He is the root, and thou his ingraft-branch,  
When thou art judged, he sitteth on the bench;  
He is our Main, which by our faith's hid pores  
Refreshing waters to our springs restores,  
And till his never ebbing streams go dry  
We need not fear to lack a new supply;  
Naked from out our mother's womb we come,  
And thither naked must we once go home,  
Yet we believe earth shall not still enfold  
Us in her arms, that were too base a hold  
For any, in whose soul the spirit of grace  
Hath made his mansion or a dwelling place:  
No sure, suppose these putrid tents of clay  
Wherein we sojourn for a night or day,  
Must be dissolved, better buildings we  
In heaven shall have: For Immortality  
Shall this our Mortal swallow and devour  
Our weakness then shall be exchanged to power,  
Corruption shall to incorruption turn,  
And, shame shaked off, we shall no longer mourn;  
For what by Nature we do here inherit,  
Shall there renewed be by th'Eternals Spirit:  
Though then the grave, unto weak natures taste,  
Relish no better than the hemlocks feast,  
Yet from her arms we reap a richer store  
Then ever nature did possess before;  
For there the poor have peace from their oppression,  
There earth's horsleeches shrink from their possession,  
There rich and poor, the high, the low, and all  
To earthly tempest lie no more made thrall,  
But waiting for the return of their Judge,  
In secret, for a while, lie still and lodge;  
Since than I know that my Redeemer liveth,  
And that he shall perform what faith believeth,  
In all the periods of my life's poor date  
I for my last and glorious change shall wait,  
For He who was dead, is alive, and shall  
To me be Alpha and Omega, All.    

The Trophy.  
CANTO 7ᵒ.  

CHrist had not come from heaven to earth, but that  
He might our dying souls re-animat;  
He had not lived on earth so long, to try  
Cares, watches, griefs, reproaches, misery.  
Had he not meant to write us an example  
In patience upon their necks to trample;  
Nor had he took our flesh, if not to die,  
That by his sufferings he might satisfy  
The wrath of God due unto man's offence,  
And reconcile that sin-bred difference;  
Nor had he died, were't not to rise again  
And reunite us to our Sovereign;  
Nor did he rise, but that he might ascend,  
And so bring our Redemptions to an end;  
Thus was he born, thus did he live, and thus  
He hath both died and risen again for us,  
That our new birth, new life, and new death may  
By him be turned to an eternal day:  
Now if that any ask, who shall persuade  
Weak man, that he such mighty power had?  
The trembling earth, the darkened sun, the grave,  
The quickened dead, the rend veil, and that slave  
Which in earth's centres dwells, can all declare  
The Virgin's son, and eke th' Almighty's heir,  
True God and Man, earth's Monarch, heaven's great King  
Did those stupendious works t' effect forth bring:  
But if sublunar things subject to error  
Can neither work our joy, nor strike with terror  
Our hardened hearts, let glorious Angels than  
Serve to extirpate misbelief from men,  
For they did by their presence shake those fools,  
Who by their spears, and staves, and murdering tools  
Sought to detain the Lord of Life i'th' grave;  
Let all such guardians such reward still have:  
Then to some weaker women, whose true care  
And love to life had quickly brought them there,  
They furnish matter of true consolation,  
Declaring his true life, whose death and passion  
Had but of late their soul so pierced with woe,  
That natural comfort could not cure their blow.  
Such as our conscience is, or good or bad,  
Accordingly we are rejoiced or sad:  
When God to us his countenance doth show  
Or in a cheerful smile, or frowning awe,  
The righteous Man is like the Lion bold,  
The wicked shrink for fear within their hold,  
And one day, when their joys away shall fly,  
Then shall they shrink and fear eternally.   

One woman there was of a special note,  
The Magdalen of late known by her spot,  
But now, by penitential tears made clean,  
She greater grace and favour doth obtain;  
For he whodwelleth in the heavens, doth weigh  
The hearts of men in scales of Verity,  
And looks not on our outward carnal things,  
But on that treasure which the heart forth brings:  
To this poor woman than they first do talk,  
And with her in the way of comfort walk,  
That she who sometime was a sinner, might  
To after-sinners show the wondrous height,  
The depth, the length, and breadth of mercy, that  
Unto the penitent's accumulat;  
For God doth not take heed to what we were,  
But unto what we by adoption are;  
For still his mercies supr'abound, and more  
Where sins abundant plenty dwelled before,  
If he can see our tears our cheeks distain,  
And bubble up from true repentance vain.   

Some eight days hence, this Nymph began to weep  
And make her tears bedew her Master's feet,  
Her eyes as yet have not shut up their sluices,  
So deep's the memoyr of her youths abuses,  
And eke so fresh the relish of his smart,  
Who spent his blood to purge her sinful heart,  
That she cannot her throbbing sighs restrain,  
Nor from her restless seas of tears refrain,  
But when sh'ath weeped enough, she still weeps more,  
And 'gainst her sorrows cannot shut the door:  
Whilst thus she weeps, she turns unto her stay,  
And bowing down, beholds where Jesus lay,  
And lo, two Angels there do sit; the one  
Where Jesus head did lie and rest; anon  
Another she espies there where his feet  
Had their impression in the hard rock set;  
They see the woman weep, and thus inquire,  
Woman, why weep'st thou? what dost thou desire?  
She answers, Sure I weep not without cause,  
For here of late in deaths devouring jaws  
My Lord did lie; but now alas he's gone,  
And none can tell me whither, no, not one:  
They thus reply; what fool art thou to seek  
The living 'mongst the dead? did he not speak,  
And preach to you, last day, in Galilee,  
The son of man must suffer, and third day  
Rise up again; he is not here, go, go,  
Tell his Disciples that he's rise: But lo,  
Whilst thus they parley, Jesus comes, and still  
Rebukes her for her misinformed will;  
Woman, saith he, woman, what dost thou mean?  
What, wilt thou never from thy tears abstain?  
She takes him for the Gardener, and saith, Sir,  
If you have took him hence, pray let me hear  
Where you have laid him? and be sure, from thence  
I will re-bring him, at whatever expense:  
To those fond words my Saviour saith, But Mary?  
She answers him, Rabboni; Without tarry  
Falls down before his feet to kiss them; but  
He to that fond affection yields not:  
O do not touch me, Marry, saith he, for  
I am not yet ascended: but what's more  
Expedient for the world, go quickly tell  
My weak Disciples, that the gates of hell  
Which gaped against me, now have no more power  
To hedge me in, for I have broke their door,  
And to my members do propine Life's cup,  
That they may dine with me, I with them sup.  
O what a mass or magazine is here  
Of precious comfort, by a Gardener  
Breathed to a woman! O what large extent  
Of pardon's sealed to a Peniten●●  
For whilst I see her thus so sadly weep,  
And him comfort her 'gainst her griefs, I keep  
In mind that Program which of late he told,  
Blessed are they who mourn; for lo, behold  
They shall reap comfort: and thrice blessed they  
Who ask, seek, knock; for verily I say  
They shall receive, and find, and enter, for  
To such my Father doth not shut his door.  
Next this, whilst I behold the great mistake  
Wherein her true affection, although weak,  
Made her believe, a Gardener she had seen,  
I do impute it to her tear-drowned eyn,  
I cannot choose but make my soul to smile  
At this so happy fraud and sweet beguile,  
For never man did (to my weak esteem)  
Give him a fit stile, or truer name,  
For where did ever garden, in the stower  
Of stormy rage, produce so sweet a flower?  
Or where did ever Gardner plant or frame  
So rich an imp in such a withring stem?  
Did he not first in Paradise re-plant  
The promised Primrose of the Covenant?  
In Baal-haman grafted he not that Vine  
About the which the Saints their arms do twine?  
Is not he Sharons' Rose, the Valleys Lily,  
Engeddies Camphire, Bethleems Daffodil,  
Gethsemans' Gilly-flow'r, and Golgaths Rheu,  
And Arimathea's Turn-sol, ever true?  
It is not then a great mistake to call  
Him Gardner, who makes those to rise and fall:  
O glorious Gardner! whose right hand doth plant  
The rut'lant stars amidst the Firmament,  
Who pav'st the Ocean with thy orient gem,  
Plant in my soul thy Artimesian stem,  
And, like the lotos in Euphrates bosom,  
Be thou the Sun that still re-clears my blossom.   

But ay me! what is this I now do hear  
Thee say to Mary? Marry, come not near,  
And touch me not: Art thou that fiery bush  
Which made old Moses stand afar? no, tush,  
The flames and threats of Sinai now are gone,  
And thou art made our very flesh and bone;  
Yea, thou hast bid us touch, and taste, and feel  
How good thou art to Isr'els' Commonweal;  
And yet, as if thou wouldst some distance try,  
Thou stopp'st our wont famil'arity:  
It is not long since thou endur'dst a touch,  
Which justly termed might have been, Non-such;  
A Traitor kissed thee, a Rascal knave  
Did with his buffet and his spit outbrave  
Thy glorious face; thy head was crowned with thorns,  
Thy hands and feet were pierced, and with proud scorns  
Of thy unlooked for death, a spear did part  
The water and the blood from out thy heart:  
Those touches thou endur'dst; but, ay me▪ now  
Thou call'st for distance; but I know not how  
It can subsist with thy unchanged love,  
To change a sweet imbracet'a sad remove:  
But pardon me, my God, for now I find  
That too much love hath made her judgement blind,  
For since she saw thee put in porta mortis,  
Her eyes have still been drowned in aqua fortis,  
And in her rapture, whilst she cries Rabboni,  
She turns her Benjamini to Benoni;  
For though thou still be what thou wast before,  
True God and Man, yet art thou now some more  
Than man and mortal, but immortal, now  
Kodesh laihova is writ on thy brow.  
The Vrim and the Thummim on thy breast  
Tells, Aaron's dead, and Melchisedeck ●s Priest;  
And since true life hath triumph over death,  
Now must we live no more by sense, but faith;  
And by the spirit, not the flesh, must we  
Now seek our God, and his felicity.   

Some eight days hence Christ's Disciples meet,  
And in a private chamber closely sit,  
The doors being shut, Christ Jesus cometh in,  
And greets them with his 〈◊〉; then doth begin  
To rouz their 〈…〉 Soulles from ●eare to ●aith  
Which o● salvation 〈…〉 promise hath,  
To waken Thomas from his misbelief,  
For lack of faith 'mongst many sins is chief;  
Thomas, saith he, thou hast of late denied  
To trust my Resurrection, till my side,  
My hands, my feet, and all my wounds do give  
Thee (by thy touch) true reason to believe;  
I pity this thy weakness, for I know  
The source and fountain whence this stream doth flow  
Is not proud malice, but infirmity,  
The spirit speaks faith, flesh infidelity,  
'tis true, that when those wounds I did receive,  
And from my Cross was carried to my grave,  
Thou didst not see me, for thou ran'st away  
When Judas by his kiss did me betray,  
But now thou art returned, and so am I,  
Thou from thy fears, I from mortality,  
And since I see, upon thy fingers end  
Thy faith and resolution doth depend,  
Come, come, thy touch not only shall be fed,  
But als' thy other senses satisfied;  
Come, come, I say, behold those wounds of mine  
And let not misbelief 'gainst faith repine,  
Reach here thy fingers, boldly touch my hands,  
Touch those my feet, see how my side yet stands  
Wide open with those wounds which did of late  
My harmless body cru'ly penetrate;  
And be not thou a faith less Did'mus more,  
But make true faith ov'rflow thy hard hearts shore:  
Thomas no sooner doth stretch out his fingers  
To touch Christ's side, when lo, from off her hingers  
Christ pulls his heart, which then was hard as stone,  
And with the touch of true contrition  
Makes him bewail his infidel'ty more  
Than he was bend to harden it before:  
O now I find, saith he, and cries aloud,  
Thou art the Christ, my very Lord, my God.  
O happy Thomas! what a happy change  
Is this, which now doth in thy bosom range?  
Of late thou saidst, Unless I surely see  
The stamps of death in his mortality,  
I will not trust (what ever can be said,)  
That he from death can be recovered:  
But now behold, what nature could not see,  
Faith doth perceive; behold, that Mustard tree  
Of faith, in thee hath been most shrewdly shaken,  
Yet from the root it hath not quite been taken:  
O what a forceless force of heaven's high thought  
This alteration in thy breast hath wrought!  
For one thing thou didst see, believe another,  
And this made Faith and Nature join together;  
One thing thy eyes did see, that he was Man,  
Thy heart believes him God, 'tis more than can  
By nature's rules, or documents of art  
Couch in thy conscience, or confirm thy heart;  
But o the power of the Almighty, who  
Unto the weak joins grace and nature so,  
That what weak nature cannot work for want  
Of strength, grace there doth furnish supplement,  
And though that faith doth build her house on that  
Which to the natural eye's unseen, yet what  
May help weak nature and procure her strength  
She doth amass together, and at length  
From both their Magazens draws forth that store  
Of grace, which Satan can deface no more.  
Thrice happy Thomas, who didst thus believe  
Because thou saw'st: but, if that God shall give  
The grace to such as never saw, to trust,  
Thrice happy they, their faith shall make them just;  
For when they by the heaven's great power shall  
Arise to make their last Judicial-  
Account, their unseen faith shall make them see  
Death hath no sting, Grave hath no vietorie.  
Thus standeth Thomas to the faith converted,  
From him a hard heart by a touch is parted:  
Christ to the rest of those his brethren saith,  
Brethren, these times require much strength of faith,  
Hearken therefore to what I to you say:  
'Tis long since I first said, I go my way,  
And you were heavy that I so should speak,  
For then your faith was wavering, faint, and weak;  
But now your ears have heard, yove eyes have seen  
What I have suffered, yet my wounds be green;  
Gird up your loins therefore, henceforth be strong,  
For he who wrongeth you, to me doth wrong,  
And whoso harmeth you, he harmeth me;  
I love you, as the apple of mine eye,  
Yet must not I always on earth remain,  
I to my Father must return again,  
And to your Father; to my God I go,  
And to your holy one, and God also;  
My God is your God, and my Father's yours,  
The gates of hell, and all their darkened powers  
Shall not be able 'gainst you to prevail,  
My Sceptre and my Rod their strength shall quail.  
Full forty times brave Titan now hath run  
About the world, and stayed where he begun;  
Full forty days hath he, yea, each day once  
Saluted and adieued both Orisons;  
Full forty times hath Pha'ton's Chariots wheel  
Bid Flora both good morrow, and farewell:  
Now, now 'tis time that Jesus should go hence,  
T'enjoy the throne of his magnificence;  
Not like Duke Joshuah's Sun, which did not set  
Till he proud Am●lecks forces did defeat;  
Nor like to Hezekiah's Sun, whose rays  
Went back on Aha's dial ten degrees;  
No, no, this Sun in Gibeah must not stand,  
His foes are foiled already by his hand;  
Nor will he now turn back on Aha's dial,  
To give us of our health a second trial;  
But like his Grandsire, David's Sun, he now  
Come from his late bedchamber, needs-must bow  
The heavens, and all their vaulted arches, that  
He may regain his first Magnificat,  
Unto the mount of Olives out goes he,  
And with him his Disciples, four times three  
Save one; and many others of both sexes  
He with his poor Disciples intermixes:  
There doth he pause a little, and anon  
To him his Scholars move this question;  
Master, say they; 'tis long since we expected  
T'have seen Judaea's kingdom re-erected:  
But still our expectation hath been vain,  
Our hoped freedom we cannot obtain,  
Wilt thou at this time that our state restore,  
Once let us know, and we inquire no more?  
Poor, weak, and wayward Orphans, he replies,  
'Tis not for you to know the mysteries  
Of times and Seasons, which my Father yet  
In his unclasped Calendar keeps knit;  
But what's more fitting for you I reveal,  
Go back to Jerusalem there stay still,  
And I to you the Comforter shall send,  
Who shall you govern unto the world's end;  
For as my Father sent me, I send you,  
O that his grace your souls may so endue,  
That your sweet savour, wheresoever you go  
May like the Balm of Gilead still flow,  
And by your preaching my poor Gospel may  
Celestial glory to the world display:  
Then stretching out his hands, he doth them bliss,  
And greets them with this sweet Cignaean kiss;  
O great, o holy, o righteous, o allseeing  
Father, in whom we live and have our being,  
Now come I to thee, where I was before  
The earth had limits, or the sea had shore,  
For thou and I are one, thou art in me,  
And from Eternity I was in thee,  
One glory with thy coeternal Spirit  
Did thou and I before all time inherit;  
We all are one, that one is blessed three,  
A blessed Union of blessed Trinity;  
I pray thee, and I know thou dost me hear,  
Keep those thy servants hearts in thy true fear,  
Thy word is truth, and truth is in thy word,  
Besides thy word, nothing can truth afford;  
Satan did lie against us at the first,  
And by his lie, hath made man's soul to thirst  
After a lying vanity, but I  
Have come from thee, by truth to edify  
Their ruin'd souls, and make thy truth again  
Repair thy image in their hearts hide plain,  
The world shall hate them for thy truth, o then  
Strengthen their hearts against the threats of men,  
That in true wisdom they may boldly tell  
When I am gone, that I Immanuel  
Th' Eternal word, yea, thy Eternal son,  
Being flesh of their flesh, bone of their bone,  
Have in the flesh, by my sad sufferings, paid  
What e'er was due to sin, and so allayed  
The fury of thy wrath, unto all such  
As by true faith my garments hem shall touch;  
Give grace also unto that word which they  
Shall in my name or Preach or Prophecy,  
That in their hearers hearts it may take root,  
And in convenient time bring forth good fruit,  
That so good works and faith their souls may cure,  
And they may of Salvation be made sure.  
This said, he with a sweet and dear embrace  
Joyns hand to hand, his face unto their face,  
And breathing on them, bids them all farewell  
Till he return their glory to reveal:  
He by a bright oreshading cloud is strait  
Heaved up, and taken quite out of their sight;  
Thus doth a shining cloud to heaven up-cary  
The Son of God born of the Virgin Mary,  
On whom while as the people fix their eyes  
Two glorious Angels from heaven's Senate flies,  
And standing by them, with a sweet empire  
Thus do correct their vain and vast desire,  
You men of Galilee, why stand you here  
Groping at noonday in your Hemisphere?  
This very Jesus whom you now behold  
Within a clouds bright canopy enrolled,  
Shall from the heavens in this same manner come  
To give the world her last and righteous doom,  
Thousands, yea, thousand thousands Angels than  
Shall shout before the glorious Son of man;  
Upon the Cherubs and the Seraphs he  
Shall ride, and on the winds swift wings shall flee;  
He shall no rapture, nor no whirlwind crave  
To raise his Saints from out their snorting grave,  
But, as the world's great owner, he shall make  
The Earth's foundation like a whirl-gig quake,  
The Sun shall lose his light, the Moon her Ore,  
The stars shall fall from heaven, the Sea shall roar,  
And every soul that hah or breath or sense  
Shall stand before his great Omnipotence;  
For He, the righteous Judge, to them shall render  
(Both to th'Apostate, and the faithful slander)  
Due retribution of what they have wrought  
In public word and deed, or private thought:  
But since nor Man, nor Angel knows that hour,  
Let all flesh labour their peace to procure,  
Yea, let them watch and pray, and still take heed,  
Lest while they think to live, they prove not dead.  
Here, with this Cloud in which He did ascend,  
I wrap my Raptures, and my Verse shall end.   
Here ends MELPOMENE, or, the third Week  
Gloria Patri, & Filio, & Spiritui Sancto.    
FINIS.