DIVINE POEMS. By EDMOND WALLER Esq  
LICENCED, Octob. 3. 1685. Rob. Midgley.  
In the Savoy: Printed for Henry Herringman; and are to be sold by Jos. Knight and Fran. Saunders, at the Sign of the Anchor in the Lower Walk of the New-Exchange in the Strand. 1685.   

OF Divine Love.  

6. CANTO'S.  
1. ASserting the authority of the Scripture, in which this Love is revealed.  
2. The preference and Love of God to man in the Creation.  
3. The same Love more amply declared in our redemption.  
4. How necessary this Love is to reform Mankind, and how excellent in itself.  
5. Showing how happy the World would be if this Love were universally embraced.  
6. Of preserving this Love in our memory, and how useful the contemplation thereof is.   

CANTO I.  

THe Grecian Muse has all their Gods survived  
Nor Jove at us, nor Phoebus is arrived;  
Frail Deities, which first the Poets made,  
And then invoked, to give their Fancies aid!  
Yet if they still divert us with their Rage,  
What may be hoped for in a better Age?  
When not from Helicons Imagined Spring,  
But sacred Writ, we borrow what we Sing:  
This with the fabric of the World begun,  
Elder than Light, and shall outlast the Sun.   

Before this Oracle (like Dagon) all  
The false pretenders, Delphos, Hammon, fall;  
Long since despised, and silent they afford  
Honour and Triumph, to th' Eternal Word.   

As late Philosophy our Globe has graced,  
And rolling Earth among the Planets placed,  
So has this Book entitled us to Heaven,  
And rules to guide us to that Mansion given:  
Tells the conditions, how our Peace was made,  
And is our Pledge for the great Author's aid;  
His Power in nature's ampler Book we find,  
But the less Volume does express his mind;   

This Light unknown, bold Epicurus taught,  
That his blessed Gods vouchsafe us not a thought,  
But unconcerned, let all below them slide,  
As fortune does, or humane wisdom, guide.   

Religion thus removed, the sacred Yoke,  
And band of all Society is broke:  
What use of Oaths, of Promise, or of Test,  
Where men regard no God but Interest?  
What endless War would Jealous Nations tear,  
If none above, did witness what they swear?  
Sad fate of unbelievers, (and yet just,)  
Among themselves to find so little trust!  
Were Scripture silent nature would proclaim,  
Without a God, our falsehood and our shame,  
To know our thoughts, the Object of his Eyes,  
Is the first step, towards being good, or wise;  
For though with Judgement we on things reflect,  
Our Will determines, not our Intellect;  
Slaves to their Passion, Reason men employ,  
Only to compass what they would enjoy;  
His fear, to guard us from ourselves, we need,  
And sacred Writ, our Reason does exceed;   

For though Heaven shows the Glory of the Lord,  
Yet something shines more Glorious in his Word,  
His mercy this (which all his work excels)  
His tender kindness, and compassion tells,  
While we informed by that Celestial Book,  
Into the Bowels of our Maker look.   

Love there revealed, which never shall have end,  
Nor had beginning, shall our Song commend,  
Describe itself and warm us with that flame,  
Which first from Heaven, to make us Happy, came.    

CANTO II.  

THe fear of Hell, or aiming to be Blest,  
Savours too much of private Interest;  
This moved not Moses, nor the Zealous Paul,  
Who for their Friends abandoned Soul and all;  
A greater yet, from Heaven to Hell descends,  
To save and make his Enemies his Friends:  
What line of Praise can fathom such a Love,  
Which reached the lowest bottom from above?  
The Royal Prophet, that extended Grace,  
From heaven to earth, measured but half that space;  
The Law was regnant, and confined his thought,  
Hell was not conquered, when that Poet wrote;  
Heaven was scarce heard of, until he came down  
To make the Region, where love triumphs, known;   

That early Love of Creatures yet unmade,  
To frame the World th'Almighty did persuade;   

For Love it was, that first Created Light,  
Moved on the Waters, chased away the Night  
From the rude Chaos, and bestowed new Grace  
On things disposed of, to their proper place;  
Some to rest here, and some to shine above,  
Earth, Sea, and Heaven, were all th'Effects of Love.  
And Love would be returned; but there was none  
That to themselves, or others yet were known;  
The World a Palace was, without a Guest,  
Till one appears, that must excel the rest:  
One like the Author, whose Capacious mind,  
Might by the Glorious Work, the Maker find,  
Might measure Heaven, and give each Star a name,  
With Art and Courage the rough Ocean tame;  
Over the Globe, with swelling Sails might go,  
And that 'tis round, by his experience know,  
Make strongest Beasts obedient to his Will,  
And serve his use, the fertile Earth to Till.   

When by his Word, God had accomplished all,  
Man to Create, he did a Council call;  
Employed his Hand, to give the Dust he took  
A graceful Figure, and Majestic Look;  
With his own breath, conveyed into his breast  
Life and a Soul, fit to command the rest,  
Worthy alone to Celebrate his Name  
For such a gift, and tell from whence it came;  
Birds sing his Praises, in a wilder note,  
But not with lasting numbers, and with thought:  
Man's great Prerogative; but above all  
His grace abounds, in his new favourites fall.   

If he Create, it is a World he makes;  
If he be ang'ry, the Creation shakes;  
From his just wrath our guilty Parents fled,  
He cursed the Earth, but bruised the Serpent's head.  
Amidst the storm, his bounty did exceed,  
In the rich promise of the Virgin's seed;  
Tho' Justice death, a satisfaction craves,  
Love finds a way to pluck us from our Graves.    

CANTO III.  

NOt willing Terror should his Image move,  
He giveth a pattern of Eternal Love;  
His Son descends, to treat a Peace with those,  
Which were, and must have ever been his foes;  
Poor he became, and left his Glorious seat,  
To make us humble, and to make us great;  
His business here was happiness to give  
To those, whose malice could not let him live;   

Legions of Angels, which he might have used,  
For us resolved to perish, he refused;  
While they stood ready to prevent his loss,  
Love took him up, and nailed him to the Cross.  
Immortal Love, which in his Bowels reigned,  
That we might be, by such a Love constrained  
To make return of Love; upon this Pole  
Our Duty does, and our Religion roll.  
To Love is to believe, to hope, to know,  
'Tis an Essay, a taste of Heaven below.   

He to proud Potentates would not be known,  
Of those that loved him, he was hid from none;  
Till love appear, we live in anxious doubt,  
But smoke will vanish, when that flame breaks out.  
This is the fire, that would consume our dross,  
Refine, and make us richer by the loss.   

Could we forbear dispute, and practice Love,  
We should agree, as Angels do above;  
Where Love presides; not Vice alone does find  
No entrance there, but Virtues stay behind:  
Both Faith and Hope, and all the meaner train  
Of moral virtues, at the door remain;  
Love only enters, as a native there,  
For born in Heaven, it does but sojourn here.   

He that alone, would wise and mighty be,  
Commands that others Love, as well as he:  
Love as he Loved, how can we soar so high?  
He can add wings, when he commands to fly:  
Nor should we be with this command dismayed,  
He that example gives, will give his aid;  
For he took flesh, that where his Precepts fail,  
His practice as a pattern may prevail;  
His love at once, and Dread instructs our thought,  
As man he suffered, and as God he taught;  
Will for the deed he takes, we may with ease  
Obedient be, for if we Love, we please;  
Weak though we are, to Love is no hard task,  
And Love for Love, is all that Heaven does ask:  
Love, that would all men just and temperate make,  
Kind to themselves, and others, for his sake,   

'tis with our minds, as with a fertile ground;  
Wanting this Love, they must with Weeds abound;  
Unruly Passions, whose effects are worse,  
Than Thorns and Thistles springing from the curse.    

CANTO IU.  

TO Glory man, or misery is born,  
Of his proud foe the Envy or the scorn;  
Wretched he is, or happy in extreme,  
Base in himself, but great in heavens esteem;  
With Love, of all created things, the best,  
Without it more pernicious than the rest;   

For greedy Wolves unguarded Sheep devour  
But while their hunger lasts, and then give o'er;  
Mans boundless Avarice his want exceeds,  
And on his Neighbours, round about him, feeds;   

His Pride, and vain Ambition are so vast,  
That Deluge-like, they lay whole Nations wast;  
Debauches and Excess, though with less noise,  
As great a portion of Mankind destroys.   

The Beasts and Monsters, Hercules oppressed,  
Might in that Age, some Provinces infest;  
These more destructive Monsters, are the bane  
Of every Age and in all Nations reign;  
But soon would vanish, if the World were blest  
With Sacred Love, by which they are repressed:   

Impendent death, and guilt that threatens Hell,  
Are dreadful guests, which here with mortals dwell,  
And a vexed Conscience mingling with their Joy  
Thoughts of despair, does their whole life annoy:  
But Love appearing, all those Terrors fly,  
We live contented, and contended die;  
They in whose breast, this sacred Love has place,  
Death as a passage to their Joy embrace.   

Clouds and thick vapours which obscure the day  
The Sun's Victorious beams may chase away;  
Those which our life corrupt, and darken, Love  
The Nobler Star, must from the Soul remove;  
Spots are observed in that which bounds the year,  
This brighter Sun moves in a boundless Sphere;  
Of Heaven the Joy, the Glory, and the Light,  
Shines among Angels, and admits no night:    

CANTO V.  

THis Iron Age, so fraudulent and bold,  
Touched with this Love, would be an Age of Gold,  
Not as they feigned, that Oaks should honey drop,  
Or land neglected bear an unsown Crop:   

Love would make all things easy, safe, and cheap,  
None for himself, would either sow, or reap:  
Our ready help, and Mutual Love would yield  
A nobler Harvest, than the richest Field;   

Famine and Dearth, confined to certain parts,  
Extended are, by barrenness of hearts;  
Some pine for want, where others surfeit now,  
But then we should the use of plenty know;  
Love would betwixt the rich and needy stand,  
And spread heavens bounty with an equal hand;  
At once the givers, and receivers bless,  
Increase their Joy, and make their sufferings less.  
Who for himself no miracle would make,  
Dispensed with nature, for the people's sake;  
He that long fasting would no wonder show,  
Made Loaves and Fishes, as they eat them, grow;  
Of all his Power, which boundless was above,  
Here he used none, but to express his Love;  
And such a Love would make our Joy exceed,  
Not when our own, but other mouths, we feed.   

Laws would be useless which rude nature awe,  
Love changing nature, would prevent the Law;  
Tigers, and Lions, into Dens we thrust,  
But milder Creatures with their freedom trust.  
Devil's are Chained, and tremble; but the spouse  
No force but Love, nor bond, but bounty, knows:  
Men, whom we now, so fierce and daing'rous see,  
Would Guardian Angels to each other be:  
Such wonders can this mighty Love perform,  
Vultures to Doves, Wolves into Lambs transform.   

Love, what Isaiah prophesied, can do,  
Exalt the Valleys, lay the Mountains low;  
Humble the Lofty, the dejected raise,  
Smooth, and make straight, our rough and crooked ways.   

Love, strong as death, and like it, levels all,  
With that possessed, the great in Title fall;  
Themselves esteem, but equal to the least,  
Whom Heaven with that high Character has blest.   

This Love, the Centre of our union, can  
Alone bestow complete repose on man;  
Tame his wild Appetite, make inward peace,  
And foreign strife among the Nations, cease;   

No Martial Trumpet should disturb our rest,  
Nor Princes arm, though to subdue the East;  
Where for the Tomb, so many Hero's, taught  
By those that guided their Devotion, fought;   

Thrice Happy we, could we like Ardour have  
To gain his Love, as they to win his Grave!  
Love as he Loved, a Love so unconfined  
With arms extended would embrace Mankind,   

Self Love would cease, or be dilated, when  
We should behold, as many selves, as men,  
All of one family; in blood allied,  
His precious blood, that for our ransom died:    

CANTO VI.  

Tho' the Creation, so divinely taught,  
Prints such a lively Image in our thought,  
That the first spark, of new Created light  
From Chaos struck, affects our present sight:   

Yet the first Christians did Esteem more blest  
The day of rising, than the day of rest;  
That every week, might new occasion give,  
To make his Triumph in their memory live.   

Then let our Muse compose a Sacred Charm  
To keep his blood, among us, ever warm;  
And Singing, as the Blessed do above,  
With our last breath, dilate this flame of Love.   

But on so vast a subject, who can find  
Words that may reach th' Ideas of his mind?  
Our Language fails, or if it could supply,  
What Mortal Thought can raise itself so high?   

Despairing here, we might abandon Art,  
And only hope to have it in our heart;  
But though we find this Sacred Task too hard,  
Yet the Design, th' endeavour brings Reward;  
The Contemplation does suspend our Woe,  
And makes a Truce with all the Ills we know.   

As Saul's afflicted Spirit, from the sound  
Of David's Harp, a present Solace found;  
So on this Theme while we our Muse engage,  
〈◊〉 Wounds are felt, of Fortune, or of Age:  
〈◊〉 ●…e Love to Meditate is Peace,  
〈◊〉 makes all care of meaner things to cease.   

Amazed at once and comforted to find  
A boundless Power so infinitely kind;  
The Soul contending to that light to fly  
From ●…er dark Cell, we practise how to die;  
Employing thus the Poet's winged Art,  
To reach this Love, and grave it in our heart.   

Joy so complete, so solid and severe,  
Would leave no place for meaner Pleasures there;  
Pale they would look, as Stars that must be gone,  
When from the East the Rising Sun comes on.   

Floriferis ut Apes in saltibus omnia libant,  
Sic nos Scripturae depascimur aurea dicta;  
Aurea perpetuâ semper dignissima vitâ.  
Nam Divinus Amor, cum caepit vociferari,  
Diffugiunt Animi Terrores:—— Lucr.   

Exul eram, requiesque mihi, non Fama petita est,  
Mens intenta suis ne foret usque malis.  
Namque ubi mota calent Sacrâmea Pectora Musâ,  
Altior humano Spiritus ille malo est.  
De Trist.     

OF Divine Poesy.  
Two Cantos, Occasioned upon sight of the 53d Chapter of Isaiah turned into Verse by Mrs. Wharton.  

CANTO I.  

POets we prise, when in their verse we find  
Some great employment of a worthy mind.  
Angels have been inquisitive to know  
The secret, which this Oracle does show.   

What was to come Isaiah did declare,  
Which she describes, as if she had been there;  
Had seen the Wounds, which to the reader's view,  
She draws so lively, that they Bleed anew.   

As Ivy thrives, which on the Oak takes hold,  
So with the Prophets may her lines grow old,  
If they should die, who can the World forgive?  
Such Pious Lines! When wanton Sapho's live.  
Who with his Breath his Image did inspire,  
Expects it should foment a Nobler fire:  
Not Love which Brutes as well as Men may know,  
But Love like his, to whom that Breath we owe.   

Verse so designed, on that high Subject wrote,  
Is the Perfection of an ardent thought:  
The Smoke which we from burning Incense raise,  
When we complete the Sacrifice of Praise.   

In boundless verse the Fancy soars too high,  
For any Object, but the Deity.  
What Mortal can with Heaven pretend to share  
In the Superlatives of Wise and Fair?  
A meaner Subject when with these we grace,  
A Giant's habit on a Dwarf, we place.   

Sacred should be the product of our Muse,  
Like that sweet Oil, above all private use:  
On pain of Death forbidden to be made,  
But when it should be on the Altar laid.  
Verse shows a rich inestimable Vein,  
When dropped from Heaven, 'tis thither sent again.   

Of Bounty 'tis that he admits our Praise,  
Which does not him, but us that yield it raise.  
For as that Angel up to Heaven did rise,  
Born on the Flame of Manoah's Sacrifice.  
So winged with Praise, we penetrate the Sky,  
Teach Clouds and Stars to praise him as we fly:  
The whole Creation, by our fall made groan,  
His Praise to Echo, and suspend their Moan.  
For that he reigns, all Creatures should rejoice,  
And we with Songs supply their want of voice,   

The Church Triumphant, and the Church below  
In Songs of Praise a present Union show:  
Their Joys are full, our expectation long;  
In Life we differ, but we join in Song.  
Angels, and we, assisted by this Art,  
May Sing together, though we dwell apart.   

Thus we reach Heaven, while vainer Poems must  
No higher rise, than Winds may lift the Dust.  
From that they spring; this from his breath that gave  
To the first Dust, th'Immortal Soul we have,  
His Praise well sung, our great endeavour here,  
Shakes off the Dust, and makes that breath appear.    

CANTO II.  

HE that did first this way of Writing grace,  
Conversed with the Almighty face to face.  
Wonders he did in sacred verse unfold,  
When he had more than Eighty Winters told:  
The Writer feels no dire effects of Age,  
Nor verse that flows from so Divine a rage.   

Eldest of Poets, he beheld the Light,  
When first it triumphed o'er eternal Night.  
Chaos he saw, and could distinctly tell  
How that confusion into Order fell.  
As if consulted with, he has expressed  
The Work of the Creator and his rest.  
How the flood drowned the first offending Race,  
Which might the figure of our Globe deface.  
For new made Earth, so even and so fair,  
Less equal now, uncertain makes the Air:  
Surprised with heat, and unexpected cold  
Early distempers make our Youth look old.  
Our Days so evil, and so few, may tell  
That on the ruins of that World we dwell.   

Strong as the Oaks that nourished them, and high,  
That long-lived Race did on their force rely,  
Neglecting Heaven: but we of shorter date,  
Should be more mindful of impendent fate.  
To Worms that crawl upon this Rubbish here,  
This Span of Life may yet too long appear.  
Enough to humble, and to make us great,  
If it prepare us for a Nobler seat.  
Which well observing, he in Numerous Lines,  
Taught wretched man, how fast his Life declines:  
In whom he dwelled, before the World was made,  
And may again retire, when that shall fade.   

The lasting Iliads have not liveed so long,  
As his and Deborah's triumphant Song.  
Delphos unknown, no Muse could them inspire,  
But that which governs the Celestial Quire.  
Heaven to the Pious did this art reveal;  
And from their store succeeding Poets steal.   

Homer's Scamand●…r for the Trojans fought,  
And swelled so high, by her old Kishon taught:  
His River scarce could fierce Achilles' stay;  
Hers more successful, swept her Foes away.  
The Host of Heaven, his Phoebus and his Mars,  
He Arms, instructed by her fight Stars.  
She led them all against the common foe:  
But he misled by what he saw below,  
The Powers above, like wretched men, divides,  
And breaks their Union into different sides.   

The Noblest parts which in his Hero's shine,  
May be but Copies of that Heroine.  
Homer himself, and Agam●…mnon, she  
The Writer could, and the Commander, be.   

Truth she relates, in a sublimer strain  
Than all the Tales the boldest Greek could feign.  
For what she sung, that Spirit did indite,  
Which gave her courage, and success in fight.  
A double Garland Crowns the Matchless Dame;  
From Heaven her Poem, and her Conquest came.   

Tho' of the Jews she merit most esteem:  
Yet here the Christian has the greater Theme.  
Her martial song describes how Sisera fell,  
This sings our Triumph over Death and Hell.   

The rising Light employed the sacred breath  
Of the blessed Virgin and Elizabeth,  
In Songs of Joy, the Angels sung his Birth:  
Here, how he treated was upon the Earth  
Trembling we read; th'affliction and the scorn,  
Which for our Gild, so patiently was born.   

Conception, Birth, and suffering, all belong  
Tho various Parts, to one Celestial Song:  
And She, well using so divine an art,  
Has in this consort, Sung the Tragic part.   

As Hannah's seed was vowed to sacred use,  
So here this Lady consecrates her Muse.  
With like reward may Heaven her bed adorn,  
With fruit as fair as by her Muse is born.    

Of the Paraphrase on the Lord's Prayer,  Written by Mrs. Wharton. 

SIlence, you Winds, listen Etherial Lights,  
While our Urania sings what Heaven indites;  
The Numbers are the Nymphs, but from above  
Descends the Pledge of that Eternal Love.   

Here wretched Mortals have not leave alone,  
But are instructed to approach his Throne;  
And how can he to miserable Men  
Deny Requests, which his own Hand did Pen?   

In the Evangelists we find the Prose,  
Which paraphrased by her a Poem grows;  
A devout Rapture, so divine a Hymn,  
It may become the highest Seraphim;  
For they like her in that Celestial Choir,  
Sing only what the Spirit does inspire.  
Taught by our Lord and theirs, with us they may  
For all, but pardon for Offences, pray.    

Some Reflections of his upon the several Petitions in the same Prayer.  

I.  
HIS sacred Name, with reverence profound,  
Should mentioned be, and trembling at the sound,  
It was Jehovah, 'tis our Father now,  
So low to us, does Heaven vouchsafe to bow,  
Brethren to him that taught us how to pray,  
And did so dearly for our Ransom pay.   

II.  
His Kingdom come: For this we pray in vain,  
Unless he does in our affections reign:  
Absurd it were to wish for such a King,  
And not Obedience to his Sceptre bring.   

III.  
His Will be done; In fact 'tis always done,  
But as in Heaven, it must be made our own:  
His Will should all our Inclinations sway,  
Whom Nature and the Universe obey.   

IV.  
It is not what our Avarice hoards up,  
'Tis he that feeds us, and that fills our Cup,  
Like newborn Babes, depending on the Breast,  
From day to day we on his Bounty feast;  
Nor should the Soul expect above a day  
To dwell in her frail Tenament of Clay:  
The setting Sun should seem to bond our Race,  
And the new day a gift of special Grace.   

V.  
That he should all our Trespasses forgive,  
While we in hatred with our Neighbours live;  
Though so to pray, may seem an easy task,  
We curse ourselves when thus inclined we ask:  
This Prayer to use, we ought with equal care  
Our Souls as to the Sacrament prepare:  
The Noblest Worship of the Power above,  
Is to extol, and imitate his Love:  
Not to forgive our Enemies alone,  
But use our Bounty that they may be won.   

VI  
Guard us from all Temptations of the Foe,  
And those we may in several stations know:  
The Rich and Poor in slippery places stand,  
Give us enough, but with a sparing Hand;  
Not ill-perswading want, nor wanton Wealth,  
But what proportioned is to Life and Health:  
For not the Dead, but Living sing thy Praise,  
Exalt thy Kingdom, and thy Glory raise.   

— Favete Linguis—  
Virginibus Puerisque Canto, Horat.    
FINIS.