THE IDEA OF Christian Love. Being a Translation, at the Instance of Mr. WALLER, of a Latin Sermon Upon john xiii. 34, 35. Preached by Mr. EDWARD YOUNG, PREBEND of SALISBURY. With a Large PARAPHRASE on Mr. Waller's POEM of Divine Love. To which are added some Copies of VERSES from that Excellent Poetess Mrs. Wharton, with others to her.  
— Hic ego rerum  
Fluctibus in mediis, & tempestatibus urbis,  
Verba Lyrae motura Sonum connectere dignor?  Hor. 
London, Printed for jonathan Robinson, at the Golden-Lion in St. Paul's Churchyard, 1688.   

THE TRANSLATOR TO THE AUTHOR.  
WHo Love, the Christian's Duty, and his Praise,  
In all the Beauties of your Pen surveys;  
Seeing my Rythms, may the just censure pass,  
That here's a Matchless Di'mond set in Brass:  
Yet Latin, the most elegant and pure;  
The Ignorance of most renders obscure.  
This may excuse my creeping English Style:  
The Jewel is enhansed thus by its Foil.  
Who propagated what our Savi'our taught,  
No Ornament from any Art had brought:  
Barely to represent such Truths as these,  
May be enough unbyass'd Minds to please:  
But most these Golden Rules so much forsake,  
That who applies them, Satyr's seems to make.  
The Christian's Character is now reversed,  
And Hatred for the truest Mark is nursed.  
The fiercest Heats are varnished o'er with Zeal;  
Each Party thinks God their Decrees will Seal.  
Were't in the Power of Man heavens Gate to close,  
Many would be shut out whom God has chose:  
Of Means which he appointed they'd deprive;  
And to block up the narrow Way they strive.  
Some to himself God from each Church does call,  
Delights to break down Man's Partiti'on-Wall;  
And will at last unite in a Peace,  
Where every Term, not made by Christ, shall cease.  
A Church is often a Procrusti'an Bed;  
Happy the Man! who there can rest his Head,  
Without the pain of being stretched out to reach  
His Length, who would impose his Form of Speech:  
Or else contracted to that scanty Size,  
Which to a few confines the common prize:  
While most, to whom the Terms appear less hard,  
Cannot but grieve, that others are debarred  
Of Benefits, increasing as they're shared.  
But Public Good a Sacrifice is made,  
To those, to whom Restraints become a Trade.  
Great is Diana, is the gen'ral Voice;  
For few observe what Craftsmen raised the Noise.  
Who at his Neighbour's Liberty repines,  
That gets no Profit by the Silver Shrines?  
Good God our Hearts so with thy Love inspire,  
That every Earthborn Ardour may expire:  
Let not a Flaming Sword forbid the Taste,  
Of the fair Fruit in thy new Eden placed.  
May we anticipate the State Above,  
Where all Things in an unforced Order move,  
Remote from all necessity but Love!   


To Mrs. WHARTON.  
WHen counterfeit Astraea's lustful Rage  
Joyns to Debauch the too Effem'nate Age;  
Draws an Embroidered Curtain over Sin,  
And jilts with Promises of Bliss within:  
'Tis time for you with all your Wealth of Thought,  
Forth from your loved Retirement to be brought:  
Those Thoughts which Pie'ty to yourself endear,  
Would strangely taking to the World appear.  
Who could be vicious, who had Virtue seen,  
By you dressed out, with its attractive Mien,  
Thousands of Graces hovering round the Scene?  
You best can tell the Charms of vertu'ous Joy;  
Despising Venus with her Wanton Boy.  
Your Fancy, which so much of Heaven does view,  
Could ne'er descend low Pleasures to pursue.  
And when to us you the warm Rays impart,  
Of Love Divine dancing about your Heart;  
You will convert faster than she seduce,  
Teaching the Epicure Life's noblest use.  
Far be that Scandal from Poetic Fires,  
As if best Poets had most loose Desires.  
If old Philosophy Purgati'ons taught,  
To fit the Mind for Loftiness of Thought:  
When 'twas no higher than dull Prose to rise,  
Prose which must keep below the Starry Skies:  
(For Verse the only Language is Above,  
Where all Things in Harmonious Numbers move):  
How purged, how undefiled should be the Mind,  
Which imitates the way of the Angelic kind!   

From Mrs. WHARTON.  
diamonds concealed, their Lustre may retain,  
But Sacred Wit can never, hid, remain:  
From what ere darkening Cloud it takes its Birth,  
It, like the Rising-Sun, glads half the Earth.  
True Poesy appears with decent Pride,  
Not puffed with Praise, nor grieved when Fools deride.  
Free and Secure in its own proper Merit;  
Scorns Envy (yet spurns back the flattering Spirit.)  
This makes me wonder you thus long concealed  
A Talon, which to all should be revealed:  
And bashfully decline the yielding Boughs,  
Which Daphne offers to adorn your Brows.  
Not but that Minds best taught are most afraid,  
To venture out when they for Glory trade.  
An humble Mind doth every Path survey,  
That leads to Fame, and sees how many stray:  
Observes the steep Ascent to th' Sacred Ground,  
Which Envy guards, and all newcomers wounds:  
Sees many when they are arrived so high,  
They seem to grasp at Fame, and touch the Sky.  
Whilst swelled with Vanity they all deride;  
Stumbling themselves upon the Rock of Pride:  
By some more silent Traveller are crossed,  
Thrown from the Top, and all their Hopes are lost.  
But let not this discourage, nor amaze  
That humble Mind, which frighted flies for ease,  
Unto the Cordial of reviving Praise.  
Praise is the sprightly Wine of growing Fame,  
Adding most Life to the most fertile Brain;  
(And like that always doth new Thought produce;  
So when 'tis bad the Wine is its Excuse.)  
A truly humble Mind knows what is just,  
When he seeks Praise through Vanity, or Thirst.  
And as he scorns the Fame that Flattery gives,  
He values what from Merit he receives.  
This forces me with grateful Thanks to own,  
I'm praised by one, whose Lines such Skill have shown,  
That I now ought to prize what he esteems,  
And think there is some worth in my dull Rhymes.   

To Mrs. WHARTON. Who with Verses to him, sent her Answer to Mr. WALLER.  
WHen that soft Hand whence Waller has his Dues,  
Strokes, and encourages my backward Muse;  
Feeds it with Praise, and teaches it to fly:  
Not to attempt would be Stupidity.  
She does the Reverend Poet's Age renew,  
With nobler Art than e'er Medea knew:  
'Twere hard if she should not the Young inspire,  
Whom with such blooming Thoughts the Old admire.  
See! how the Sacred Bard himself excels,  
While on the Wonders of your Verse he dwells.  
But his exalted Head how will it raise,  
To be caught up to Heaven by your Praise!  
To hear from Angel's Form an Angel's Voice  
Warble his Name, how much must he rejoice!  
Those Ani'mal Spirits which so closely join  
Unto his Earthy part, a Guest Divine;  
By this one Rapture strained and weakened more,  
Than by the shock of Time and Thought before;  
Not able to resist this added Force,  
May leave the Soul, 'tis likely, to its Course.  
Wing'd by your Praise 'twill to it's Rest retire,  
And, Phenix-like, in cheerful Flames expire.  
Forth from the kindling Spices you arise,  
And to give way to you the Elder dies:  
Your Rise Prophetic is of his Decay,  
Heaven has, to see your Birth, indulged his Stay.  
And, like Old Sime'on, now he'll go in Peace,  
When such a Crown he to his Wishes sees.  
In Verse's Empire, as of lower Things,  
Successors named, take from the present Kings:  
And thus this Prince of Verse divides his Fame,  
When he your Worth, and Title, does proclaim.  
While I, Prometheus-like, steal Fire from you,  
To my bold Theft, what Punishment is due?  
None can of you and Waller write in Prose;  
Yet none should do't but whom kind Nature chose.  
Like Icarus, with borrowed Wings I fly,  
And with his Fate I soon extended lie.  
I'th' Oce'an of your Praise I have been drowned,  
And am but floating on the Water found:  
No signs of true Poetic Life appear,  
But th' loss will not deserve a Lady's Tear;  
A Lady's Tear's a Pearl of greater price,  
Than any on the Eastern Shores there lies:  
But her esteems a Jewel far above  
Even her own Beauty, next unto her Love.  
To slight what's consecrated thus by you,  
Were both Injustice, and Profaneness too:  
Your Stamp, like Caesar's Head, does value give;  
Each Line approved by you, shall through all Ages live.   

From Mrs. WHARTON.  
SMall are the poor Returns which you receive,  
For all the Pleasure which your Verses give;  
Yet Gratitude obliges me to this;  
Tho for your Pearls, I but return you Glass.  
This Indi'an Traffic soon will tyre you quite,  
Unless you're pleased that others you delight.  
And, if your Generous Thoughts I rightly guess,  
They aim at pleasing, and they have Success:  
It is the Business, and the Scope of Wit;  
Poems are seldom for the Authors writ,  
But for the Readers; thus they labour still,  
Like harmless Bees, to serve another's Will.  
Whilst you I praise, Words flow methinks so fast,  
As if my working Thoughts were all in haste.  
Your Style I may commend, whilst your unknown:  
No breach of Modesty in this is shown.  
Your Worth will force this Tribute from my Heart,  
Nor can I backward be to praise Desert.   

Mrs. WHARTON'S PARAPHRASE Upon the 103d PSALM.  

ADvance my Soul, and all thy Powers incline,  
To praise the Lord, by whom those Grace's shine.   

Praise him by whom are all those Mercies given,  
Forget not him who rules both Earth and Heaven:   

He who forgives, and heals the wounded Mind;  
He who to Mercy ever is inclined.   

Who saves thy Life, and blesseth it with Food:  
Who crowns thy Labours with abundant Good.   

Who makes thy Years renew, and keeps thee Young:  
Joyful as Health, and, as the Eagle, strong;   

The Lord who judges between wrong and right:   

To favour the Oppressed is his Delight.  
He who to Moses showed his wondrous Ways:  
And Isr'el taught to magnify his Praise.   

The Lord who always is to Peace inclined,  
Who suffers long, & bears with th'humble Mind.   

Gentle and Mild, unwilling yet to chide;  
Soon he forgives, long will his Anger hide.   

Tho we offend he will not punish straight:  
Our Sins are great before we feel their weight.   

See how the Heaven is far removed from Earth,  
The Heaven from which his Mercy takes its birth;  
So far is his Compassion raised above  
The feeble Workings of a Mortal Love.   

Wide is the Space through which the labouring Sun,  
From East to West his daily course doth run;  
Yet farther from us he our Sins hath placed,  
As willing to forget our Errors past.   

Paternal Kindness still in him remains,  
And his creating Favours he maintains.   

With those that fear him he'll not angry grow;  
For he considers whence our Nature's flow.  
Who made us, knows he took us from the Earth;  
Nor much expects to find from such a Birth.   

The same Original hath every Flower;  
And they, like us, have a short glori'ous Hour.   

But with the Winds their Glories fly away;  
They are not Proof against a Stormy Day.  
Nor we, however high our Hopes advance,  
Are Proof against a Blast of adverse Chance.   

His Mercy's lasting, and our Life is frail;  
Which makes the Lord his gracious Gifts entail  
On Child's Children, where his Laws are known,  
To them whose Works assent to Truths they own.   

From Age to Age his Goodness hath been shown,   

The mighty Lord, on High hath placed his Throne;  
Where he surveys the World which is his own.   

Too weak am I, to sing th' Eternal's Praise:  
Ye Angels, your Celestial Voices raise!  
Ye who excel in Strength, Wisdom, and Power,  
(Alas! the Life of Man is as an Hour:)  
Ye that have privilege to see and hear  
His wondrous Works, should wondrous Works declare.   

But yet poor Mortals who are placed below,  
May forward Wills by faint Endeavours show.  
We who are still in Danger and Alarms,  
Who against Temptati'ons always are in Arms;  
May yet endeavour to advance his Fame,  
And he'll be pleased while we invoke his Name,  
Whilst all his Works his Greatness do proclaim.   

But thou, my Soul! be never silent found:  
Above the Clouds let thy loud Music sound.  
Let all who come to thee, by thee be taught  
The mighty Works that by thy God are wrought.    

TO ORINDA Upon her PARAPHRASE on the 103d PSALMS, sent with Verses to Himself.  

I.  
IF Orpheus charmed the Stones into a Dance;  
He less the Power of Sacred Song did show,  
Than, fair Orinda, 's felt from you;  
Who to a Poet's Name,  
And to be Candidate for Fame,  
Even duller me advance.  
You, like my Genius, move unseen,  
Raise me, immersed in Business of the Bar,  
My Lyre untuned, the Strings at jar,  
(Suited unto that wrangling Scene)  
Compose the Discords in my tuneless Mind;  
A sudden Change I find:  
Earth I despise, and Earthly Things,  
And now, methinks, I mount before the King of Kings.   

II.  
He David taught to sing his Praise,  
Warming his Heart with true Celestial Fire:  
And you does raise,  
The Prophet's Steps so nigh to trace;  
That well we may,  
Without blaspheming say,  
You the same Spirit does delight t' inspire.  
We cannot say that Prophecies are ceased:  
God fills the pious Poet's Breast,  
Assists the Faculties, and though  
He dictate not the Words they write,  
Yet gives the Sense from which they flow;  
And when towards Heaven they rise,  
Still with new Force supplies,  
First raised them on the Wing, and guides them in their Flight.   

III.  
'Tis not in vain you bid the Angels sing,  
Th' Eternal's Praise, they minister to you:  
Yours and David's Harp they string,  
Mingle themselves with every Song,  
Keep off the Demons hovering in the Air,  
Distil themselves like Dew  
Of peaceful Night upon your Dreams;  
And to the Morning keep th' Impression strong,  
That Force, which makes the Powers of Hell despair  
Of a Diversion from your Heavenly Themes.  
What less than Angels can the Honour guard  
Of beauteous Ladies in the Flower of Youth;  
Midst all the Flatteries of deluding Sense,  
Teach them to value Truth,  
And Truth's Reward;  
Before the Pomp and Show,  
And every vain Pretence  
Of Pleasure here below.  
Blessed Souls in whom their Beauty thus does prove,  
The truest Image seen by Mortal Eye,  
Of the Perfections of our God most High,  
Feasting themselves and us with the Creator's Love!   

IV.  
If by this help I thus can rise  
Unto those Beauty's only Thought can reach;  
Thought, which but dully dictates to the Speech,  
(Yet Thought must here its Poverty confess)  
You need not blush should my enlightened Eyes,  
Behold that charming Dress,  
Your Soul put on when it came clothed to view;  
The Garment must its Innocence express;  
And, like your Lines, inspire  
With Love, and reverence too,  
A Love without a bold Desire;  
A Lambent Flame,  
Such as gives Light, and Warmth, but ne'er consumes:  
The Light of Heaven from whence it came.  
Here none t'approach presumes,  
With Fire less hallowed than he lays  
Upon the Altar when he prays:  
Incense more pure t'a sacred Poetess is due,  
Than from the Heathen-world their chaste Diana drew.   

V.  
Heaven seems to open, Angels to come down,  
In lovely Vehicles of thick'ned Air,  
And with a Glory, 'stead of Laurel, crown  
The Azure Temples of the teaching Fair:  
While Men with Ecstasy attend her Lays,  
Divinely set to the Almighty's Praise.  
As Grace on Earth of endless Bliss,  
Your happy Verse the Incoati'on is  
Of that, in which you shall with Angels join,  
When you above the Stars shall shine:  
Free from Pain, and free from Fear,  
With every Object of your Care;  
Where only Love and Harmony appear,  
The Love and Harmony Immortal and Divine.   

VI  
Sense of your own, Pity of others Wrong,  
Shall give no Interrupti'on to your Song.  
The ways of Providence so dark,  
Not to be touched by Hand profane;  
Lest we with Uzza's Gild, have Uzza's Pain,  
Who fond thought to help the tottering Ark;  
You there will see the Clouds away,  
In that bright everlasting Day;  
Worthy of God, and of that Love,  
With which he cherishes frail Mortal Race;  
Whom of the does with temporal Evils prove,  
Tries and Refines them in Afflicti'on's Fire;  
Until they're fitted for his Grace,  
And thrô'ly taught beyond this lower World t'aspire.     

ADVERTISEMENT.  
Through the Printer's Mistake, the Verses from pag. seven. are misplaced; having been intended to come in at the end.   

THE IDEA OF Christian Love.  

PROEM TO Mr. WALLER.  
THE Taper shining with diminished Rays,  
While Noonday Sun swallows its feeble Blaze;  
Not valued as considered for its Light,  
But what it shadows to th' internal Sight;  
May be my Emblem, who the most obscure,  
Of all who follow you their Cynosure,  
Within your Province, and at your Command,  
As a dim Taper on the Altar stand:  
Tho small's my Portion of Poetic Fire,  
I show to others how they should aspire:  
Love lights my Lamp, and gives it all its Flame,  
'Tis Love I breath, and seek, Love I proclaim:  
To think t' enlighten you when I have done,  
Would be to light a Candle to the Sun;  
If your Affections I can but excite,  
I have my end, nor can you miss Delight.   

CHrist his Disciples with effect to move,  
To draw in the soft Yoke of Mutual Love;  
Did to his Precept and Example join  
The happy Fruit, By this 'tis known ye're mine,  
To love 'tis certain a Command requires,  
The Ardour of its self quickly expires:  
As much it does a great Example need,  
Its glimmering Light in others few will heed:  
Nor less Incitement wants the sluggish Mind,  
To climb to the Ascent of Love enjoined.  
Let's see the charming nature of this Love,  
Which does the Character of Christians prove,  
What in its self, to what our Hearts 'twould move.  
This his Command our Saviour marks for new,  
Not that its first Foundations there we view;  
But as a Sanction it from him obtains,  
And in each Age from him new Vigour gains:  
Men's Tempers and their Manners this require.  
Tho Love is the most natural Desire,  
Mixed with our Being's, and refreshing found  
In all the Exigencies Life surround,  
The gratefull'st Passion, and most friendly Power,  
The Minds serene, the Bodies verdant Flower,  
The Spirits poise, the Harmony o'th' whole;  
And when its opposite, takes the control,  
Disturbance, Torment, and Decay succeed:  
Tho mutual Aid common occasions need,  
And a Foundation of firm Union lay;  
Whence for united Hearts and Souls we pray;  
To this our public Vows and Reason tend,  
Nature to this seems with full course to bend;  
Yet Sin, and Satan, Nature's dangerous Foes,  
With such Impediments its way oppose,  
That rare's the Love which long continues fair,  
Time, and slight Accidents its force impair,  
Wear off the Paint, and drive the Smoke to Air.  
Self-Flatt'ry keeps to narrow Banks, confined,  
What to enrich the neighbouring Plain's designed;  
The Mind's Propensions, sweetening in a Stream,  
Stagnate within, and send forth noxious steam.  
How oft on Love does gnawing Envy prey,  
Whose Arbitrary Laws while Men obey,  
Against their dear Self-Love they blindly act,  
And waste those Bowels, which they thus contract!  
How oft does he whom Benefits have bound,  
Think the mere owning them would Honour wound!  
How oft Suspicion breeds ill-natured leaven!  
How oft an Injury received or given!  
To hurt one whom you hate, 's thought less unjust,  
Than one who in your Friendship places trust:  
And thence, to colour o'er the wrong you do,  
Your injured Friend is held for constant Foe.  
But only vulgar dregs thus meanly fail,  
These Blemishes can't o'er great Souls prevail:  
Yet these, alas! incur too often blame,  
For crim'nal stifling love's enobling Flame.  
Difference of Manners makes divided Minds,  
Of jerom and Ruffinus this one finds:  
Opin'ions disagreeing do the same.  
These tarnish Cyprian's and Stephen's Fame:  
Study of Parties, fatal oft to Love,  
Against Chrysostom did Epiphanius move.  
A Point of Ceremony unexpressed  
To Greg'ry, drove his Basil from his Breast.  
Even Paul and Barn'bas striving for control,  
Parted in Body; not to say, in Soul.  
Great Names, ye see, I on this Head produce,  
Specious Apologies for Love's abuse,  
Yet ought not they to serve for an Excuse:  
Tho they're great Instances that Love is frail;  
Yet ought our Saviour's Precept to prevail:  
Who from his Brother does his Love withdraw,  
In that's a Traitor to the Christian Law.  
The Lord commands, and wilt thou, Wretch! dispute?  
Wilt thou resist Command so absolute?  
Command, good Lord! effectually command,  
And grant I be not able to withstand.  
Atthy Command from the rude formless heap,  
Beauty and pleasing Order forth did leap;  
From Void came Solids, and from Nothing All,  
The Winds and raging Seas obey thy call.  
Thou dost the madness of the People quell;  
So tame my Heart! that there sweet Love may dwell:  
With his Example Christ this Precept binds,  
To imitate his Love would raise our Minds.  
Under the Jewish Institutes, we see  
Provision made for Love's Sincerity;  
Yet much the Duty wanted of its weight,  
When Self-Love only was to set the rate;  
Who makes in loving others this his bound,  
To come far short of Duty will be found:  
Themselves indeed all Men sincerely love,  
Blind and imprudent, yet that Love does prove;  
Fond indulging unrestrained Desires,  
Men think they answer what that Law requires,  
Flatter themselves, and blow up Nature's Fires;  
And this they think is justice to their Friend,  
When nothing's more perfidious in the end:  
Nothing more dangerously insinuates Vice,  
To which that mask of Friendship does entice.  
Sin in Self-Love thus propagates the Sin;  
Hence was a nobler Rule justly brought in.  
How to love others, ask not Flesh and Blood,  
Too often leading you from what is good;  
But let Christ's Love to you, your Pattern be,  
Contemplate that for Manner, and Degree:  
Let your Affections in that order lie,  
By that the Errors mend, Defects supply.  
See what Christ's Love to us does recommend,  
The Choice he made, the Measure, and the End.  
Choice did I say? 'twas rather without Choice;  
In that both High and Low, All, may rejoice.  
Tho weak and indigent, ungrateful too,  
He loved, nor doubt my Soul! but he loved you.  
Ye love, O Men, but with a Love so nice,  
Unjust, or cunning, that your Love's a Vice.  
Ye seek the Great, the Rich, the apt to lend,  
The cheerful, courteous, and facetious Friend:  
On these the Offices of Love ye spend.  
Advantages ye with each other shift,  
And that is made a Trade which should be Gift;  
Pleasure or Profit at the bottom lie,  
Without that Sauce your Appetites soon die.  
Can this a Virtue be, or Duty thought,  
Or th'imitation of what Christ has taught?  
Th'innate Propensions while they thus do flow,  
Mere Artifice, and Baits for Pleasure grow.  
Under Christ's Banner they that would be found,  
Him always for their Pattern must propound.  
He loved the poor, and destitute of Aid,  
Their want the only Obligation laid.  
Those who nor sought, nor merited, he loved,  
The motive to their Cure their Sickness proved.  
Those who resisted the blessed Aid he brought,  
Tho struggling, in his saving Arms he caught.  
No other Charms, or Shadows of Delight,  
Did his warm Love to Human Race invite.  
This, Christian! should thy sole inducement be,  
That Love's thy Duty, as thy Head loved thee;  
This Reason will to all Mankind extend:  
But if for grounds you cautiously suspend,  
For causes which Reason and Fancy weigh;  
Faction to Sides, Lightness to new will sway:  
And thus for Love you take its mere disguise,  
You labour for the Shadow of a Prize.  
Our Lord loved with an equal, constant Mind,  
No Age shall see his Love from his disjoined:  
But what is yours which wavers with the wind?  
Whom now into your greedy Arms you take,  
The subject of your Raill'ry soon you make:  
One for a Friend you out of Conscience choose,  
This in regard to Glory you refuse:  
You envy this Man's good, this Man's consult,  
Here at a loss you grieve, there you insult:  
To one you give, another's Fame you take;  
That Man you free, a Snare for others make.  
What means this double Dealing, double Heart?  
As much as may be Sir! act the same part.  
Be but one Man, either be wholly wise,  
Or wholly Wisdom's sacred Lore despise,  
(If as delightful 'tis to play the Fool,  
As glorious to improve in Wisdom's School;)  
If you'd have praise, act always by one Rule.  
St. Peter, when he would an Abstract show  
O'th' Life of Love incarnate, while below,  
Says his whole business lay in doing good;  
The bound, the end of Love's thus understood.  
They've felt no spark of this Celestial Fire,  
Who in their Love but gratify desire:  
Who trafficks with Affections, sells good turns,  
Little the end of Sacred Love discerns.  
That doing good its sole reward obtains:  
And this endears to us our Saviour's pains;  
Who gave himself to his, of his free Grace,  
No Caution, no Reserve with him had place.  
He loved through Midnight watchings, wasting Toil,  
Loss of Life's Comforts, and even Life's despoil.  
To thee, O Christian, Death, Life, Damage, Gain,  
Leasure, Turmoils, Disgrace, Fame, Quiet, Pain,  
Are all to be passed by without regard,  
When you're from doing good by either barred.  
Does this seem difficult? 'Twill less appear,  
If you consider what's the Fruit 'twill bear:  
Than Fame more fair, than Peace more void of Strife,  
Than Gain more gainful, Life has less of Life.  
And with this Thought support your sinking Mind,  
That he'll in's Trade sufficient profit find,  
Who has for Temporal Loss Eternal Goods consigned.  
But what in Love does so much pains require?  
Does the ignoble part draw forth desire?  
That which our Eyes discern, and Fingers feel?  
Must this be cultivated with such Zeal?  
This can't deserve all that is squandered thus,  
The Soul, 'tis evident, is all of us.  
These Offices he woefully mispends,  
Who ought beyond the Soul in Love intends:  
Does it in meeting, talking, laughing, lie?  
This they may do who ne'er its force did try.  
Is't the same Studies, Counsels, Joys t'approve?  
Ill Men do this, yet who can say they love?  
Is't liberally to give of fortune's store?  
Their Love's as rich who beg from door to door.  
What's all Men's duty they at home may view,  
Souls are Love's Subjects, and its Objects too.  
To guide the Deiform immortal Souls,  
Whose sinful Wander Satan here controls;  
This is a work which truly Love becomes,  
The best Account of our entrusted Sums.  
Christ who twice sent the Crowd well fed away,  
With Bread of Life feasted their Souls each day;  
Showing by an Example disesteemed,  
That those should the least benefits be deemed,  
Which turn to Fat, to Wealth, or pompous Train,  
Vain in themselves, in their Effects as vain.  
Those are the noblest instances of Love,  
Which cure Affections, & Men's minds improve.  
They cannot love, I'll own, who'r given to spare,  
For 'tis attended with the Body's care:  
Nor can the Wicked, who neglect the Mind:  
Their cost on Bodies they will useless find;  
The Gift is lost, which han't good counsel joined.  
True Love and Probity are always Twins,  
Neither alone increases, or begins:  
Leave loving, and your Probity is gone;  
Leave Probity, and what is Love alone?  
In proper Offices how can it shoot,  
Which thus lies withered at the very Root?  
The bad t' each other Pleasures may endear,  
Cheerful and entertaining they appear;  
But soon the Sky is clouded, now so clear.  
In Love ill-founded, and maintained with Sin,  
Soon Weariness, and then Contempt begin;  
True Love's more permanent, a Ray Divine,  
Shot down from Heaven, moves thither, there shall shine:  
Thither delights to lead the happy Friend,  
Afraid of all things that to ill may tend:  
Each Day improves the Solace of this Love,  
An Incoation of the State Above.  
O happy end of Love, worthy our pains!  
When thus Inhabitants for Heaven it gains:  
But Art is needful here as well as Will,  
If we'd the Laws of Christian Love fulfil.  
When Christ to draw Men to this Love did seek,  
Come learn of me he says, for I am meek.  
Meekness the gentlest Art, sweetest of Charms,  
All Power t' oppose insensibly disarms.  
Ill Vessels make most generous Wines decay,  
And good turns lose their value by their way;  
The manner of the doing gives the taste,  
A Gift given sourly, but runs out to waste:  
Who without Temper the best Counsel give,  
But irritate those they'd from ill retrieve.  
If Pride or Sharpness thus the Office blend,  
Who can expect to see a better end?  
If therefore well to act what's good you heed,  
And would have the best Offices succeed;  
Love mildly, nor believe Love can reside  
In Hearts stretcht-out with Anger, or with Pride.  
Oh! but you'll say, Religion lies at stake.  
Their Faith with God, & then with Men they break;  
Pity'ing the Men, you prosecute their Sin,  
And this does from a Christian Zeal begin,  
With this pretence a Liberty you'd find,  
For th' ebullitions of a bitter Mind:  
Your secret whisper, and clamorous noise,  
Produce effects at which your Foes rejoice.  
Is this your Zeal? did Christ in this precede,  
Who as thro' Crystal all Men's Hearts did read?  
Did he expose the Sins within his view?  
To open Railers he did pity show;  
Past by their Scoffs who would not him receive,  
The lapses too of them that did believe,  
Tho they his Spired did every moment grieve:  
To his Betrayer Lenity did show,  
Which might all Malice less than his subdue.  
How mildly he reproved! pardoned how soon!  
The quick and winning manner crowned the Boon.  
He ne'er Indulgence gave to the least Lust,  
Yet was a Judge as Merciful as Just:  
With ill, though not permitted, yet did bear,  
Waiting a time when they Love's call might hear:  
Well knowing human Pravity, like Fire  
Concealed, will often of itself expire:  
But when exposed to Air, and Wind, it lay,  
The rising Flame devoured all in'ts way.  
Thus in faint Shadows I Christ's Love describe:  
If you'll be his Disciples him transcribe.  
What! Christ's Disciples! 'tis a Name so great,  
With Glory the Relation so replete;  
Titles to Crowns, and all that glitters here,  
Compared with this, fall far below your care.  
Ambition here is honest, worthy praise;  
Nothing but Love can to this Honour raise:  
When at the Heart Love takes a quickening Root,  
Discipleship will in fair Branches shoot:  
The Man in every Virtue will improve,  
Distinguished by Protection from Above:  
And Love, indeed, is of a wondrous force,  
To carry on the Soul in Virtue's course.  
Called by th'Apostle, who its Nature saw,  
Perfections Bond, Falfiller of the Law:  
It of a sudden mounts us to the Skies,  
And without Prophets, Miracles supplies.  
This like Elisha's Salt tinging the Springs, 
2 King. 2. 21.   
A Sovereign sweetness to the Fountain brings:  
Rivers of Pleasures thence come streaming out,  
Grateful to Men, refreshing all about.  
About soft Love how many Grace's dance!  
How patiently does it Requests advance!  
With how great Fortitude bears each Event!  
How liberally both spends it! and is spent!  
How piously, while it does God regard,  
It acts what human Reas'ning reckon hard!  
Routs, Riots, Quarrels, causes of Offence,  
To be in Manners stiff, perverse in Sense,  
In Love's unnatural, as for flame to fall,  
Or Sunbeams mix with Filth from th' Earthly Ball.  
This in a word the Christian's form is known,  
By this distinction to the World they're shown;  
From this the nature Christ requires they take;  
This makes them, what nothing but this can make.  
Knowledge may want of Duty, Zeal be blind,  
And warmest Hope a disappointment find:  
Not so with Love; it knows, performs, obtains,  
And what's equivalent to all, it gains,  
The blessed assurance o'th' Almighty's Smiles,  
Earnest of future Pay, Reward of present Toils.  
How great God's sacred Family appeared!  
How strong its Constitution! How revered!  
To th'Envy of its Foes, and Satan's shame,  
When Heathens did their fervent Love proclaim!  
Without the force of Arms, flourish of Arts,  
Or sly Contrivances, they conquered Hearts.  
Religion guarded with the Heavenly Aid,  
And armed with Love, vast Acquisitions made.  
But when thro' Wealth, and Pride, Faith grew exiled,  
To see the Christians arm the Ethnics smiled.  
All things from that time Retrograde became,  
The Date of Antichrist we this may name.  
Nor better Chances should those Servants meet,  
Whose Master does in vain command, entreat:  
While they prefer their slavish vain Desires,  
Before the generous Freedom he requires:  
Then did the Church of Ephesus decline;  
That Church which in full Lustre once did shine,  
When its first Love maintained less vigorous heat,  
That Sign St. john marked of the Spi'rit's Retreat,  
This may to others om'nous Aspect bear,  
T'avert the Omen well deserves their care.  
Methinks I hear one whisper, Look at home,  
Guard well the Ark, the Philistines are come.  
If so it is, How think you to preserve  
Religion, and the Altars where you serve?  
Let's worship God with undivided Hearts,  
And love each other, free from soothing Arts;  
No other Counsel, Skill, or Troops we need,  
Love unarrayed did always best succeed.  
This private Men, and Churches know, for true:  
Thus with God's Aid we shall our Foes subdue,  
(If by soft Methods we can't win them all)  
Or with like Glory triumph, though we fall.  
Thou, Lord most merciful! whose pity'ing Eye,  
Sees with what Needs and Frailties pressed we lie!  
Prepare our Hearts to fear with Filial Awe,  
And duly mourn the Breaches of thy Law;  
Give us at last, what thou dost first command,  
To love, that in thy Love we ever blest may stand    

OF Divine Love.  

Mr. WALLER.  
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 Helicon's imagined Spring,  
But Sacred Writ, we borrow what we sing.   

Paraphr. I.  
The Grecian Gods are known mere Fables all,  
The Poets who invoked their Aid,  
And seemed from thence to fetch that Fire,  
Which warmed their Verse, or moved their Lyre,  
Themselves those Deities had made;  
And did before their own Creation fall.  
Out of their Brains those Gods did spring,  
What e'er of Pallas out of Jove's they sing:  
Tho these their Figments now are gone,  
And all their Altars trampled on;  
Yet still they please us with their lofty Vein,  
There's something in their Verse which ever shall remain.  
If fancied Gods such Heats could raise,  
As even to us a warmth convey;  
With what exalted Numbers should we praise  
The Father of Eternal Life and Day!  
How great Advantages have we to rise!  
Who have the Image of the Heavenly Mind  
In Sacred Writ to us consigned,  
Where th' length, and breadth, and depth of Love Divine, surprise!   

Mr. Waller.  
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.   

Paraphr. II.  
As soon as Nature's outward Vest was made,  
Before it was embroidered o'er with Light,  
A large Foundation for my Verse was laid:  
The Beams of Goodness then expressed,  
Made even the Morning Stars more blessed, 
job. 38. 7.   
And filled that glittering Host with new delight.  
The Sons of God in Consort sang,  
And Anthems through the Empyrean rang.  
But when the Lamp of Heaven expires,  
And the account of Time is gone,  
Matter of Praise to God shall still run on,  
And Man shall join with the immortal Quires.  
The Devil, in Delphic Oracles admired,  
While with Events their doubtful Sense complied,  
At God's bright Word embodied, soon retired,  
Forced in his own Abyss his Head to hide:  
Yet thither did its Influence descend,  
And in new Fetters bound the gnashing Fiend.  
The Progress of that Soul of Love,  
With all its Triumphs over Death and Hell,  
We have recorded from Above,  
In Transcripts which the Sibyls Leaves excel.  
Before these Oracles the thundering Baal,  
And all the Heathen Gods do fall;  
For here the Spirit of our God does dwell:  
Th' eternal Word, which spoke the Universe,  
Affords the hallowed Theme of my aspiring Verse.   

Mr. Waller.  
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.   

Paraph. III.  
Some late Philosophers raise Earth to Heaven,  
While it they amongst the wand'ring Planets place:  
But Heaven to Earth extended is by Grace,  
Not only in a fair description given,  
For Faith to feast upon  
(Such as our finite Sense can bear)  
Of the unbounded Pleasures there,  
Which of itself is some Fruition:  
But th' emanations of the Light Divine,  
Which in the Gospel shine,  
Make out our Title to that bliss,  
Where God himself circled with Glory is.  
Invite and Led us to the promised Land,  
And are an earnest Penny given in Hand,  
Of that most gracious Aid,  
By which God loves to perfect what he made:  
For Humane Breast he ne'er would fire,  
With thoughts of Immortality,  
But with design to crown desire,  
Which he himself had raised so high.  
The Works of the Almighty's Hand,  
In Nature's massy Book recorded stand:  
But that great Mind,  
Which those stupendious Works designed,  
In the less Volume is expressed;  
The Footsteps of our God are there confessed;  
Where Mercy ruling over all his Works we find.   

Mr. Waller.  
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 Human Wisdom guide.  
Religion thus removed, the Sacred Yoke,  
And Band of all Society is broke.  
What use of Oaths, of Promise, or of Test,  
When Men regard no God but Interest?  
What endless Wars 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.   

Paraph. IU.  
When Man came warm from his Creator's Hand,  
Before he yielded to his tempting Wife,  
And Clouds had dampt the Breath of Life,  
How fair an Emblem of his Maker did he stand!  
Not Aaron's Breastplate, nor yet Moses' Face,  
When from the Holy Hill  
He brought the Transcript of the Laws Divine,  
Did with such Glory shine,  
As Man before he fell from Grace,  
When him, his always present God, did fill.  
The Laws which Moses brought  
Into his very Frame were wrought,  
His Duty was Divinely taught:  
Tho then his Heart no Table were of Stone,  
It might have kept till now the bright Inscription:  
But sensual Love did more with Man prevail,  
Than all the Powers of Hell could do.  
Did not the Woman woe,  
The lively Stamp of Heaven sure could not fail.  
Against all other Ills Man might provide;  
Who could suspect a Dart from his own Side?  
Or a foul Asmodeus with a Bride?  
From his own Rib, dressed by an Hand Divine,  
So very beautiful, so wondrous fine,  
How could he Ruin fear?  
But such Divinity below,  
Man from his unseen God did bear,  
Who Ignorance of his Duty chose, for what he there did know.   

V.  
God's Spirit thence became estranged,  
The kind Familiar with Regret withdrew,  
Man's Heart & Countenance were so much changed,  
That his own handy work God hardly knew:  
Yet still the Beams of Light Divine  
God did not to his Heaven confine;  
Where e'er the Holy Patriarches went  
Its welcome Warmth was lent.  
That which to Israel's chosen Race  
A Pillar was of Fire,  
Leading them o'er the Scorching Plain;  
Until the Son of God was slain,  
Far from their Tents did ne'er retire;  
But still in various ways God showed his stinted Grace;  
But when the stubborn jews  
Did the last proffer of that Grace refuse,  
Whereby he did them his peculiar People choose;  
Eternal Love broke from its narrow bound,  
And visited the cheerful World around;  
It Lighted up in every Breast  
That Candle of the Lord,  
Reason, which soon those Truths confessed,  
Contained in the Divine Record,  
Which did the vain Disputers of the World confound.   

VI  
Had Epicurus once beheld  
So much of God below,  
As Holy Writ does show;  
It had his dangerous Errors quelled:  
He could not then have thought that Chance,  
Had made the World through Atoms lucky dance:  
And that th' Eternal Power had left to Fate,  
What he did neither order nor create.  
Had this Philosophy prevailed,  
Mankind ere this had failed,  
Or turned to Brutes, had on each other preyed:  
In vain were any Compacts made,  
When there were nought but human Power to awe;  
Each would his Neighbour's Right invade,  
When Art or Force could free him from the Law.  
Religion is the Bond of Peace;  
The want of that dissolv's Societies.  
An humble Love, and awful Dread,  
Of th' unseen Power, secures us here.  
While 'tis a Judgement, and the Consequence,  
Upon men's Unbelief,  
(Which they deserve, and whence they justly fear)  
What e'er they have lies without Fence;  
And if it fail, their Hopes have no relief:  
But what hereafter must the faithless Wretches bear.   

VII.  
Take but the thoughts of Heaven away,  
And Earth would turn to an Akeldama.  
Yet while Men hurried on to Sin,  
Something would whisper them within,  
And bid them mind a sacred Guest;  
Which sighs and grieves to turn a Slave,  
Where Nature it an Empire gave,  
And till it conquers Hyle cannot rest.  
The first assistance which it has to rise,  
In the Belief of th' Godhead lies.  
Philosophy a God may find,  
Before it can discern the Ill  
Of all things that oppose his Will;  
Or read the Lines he wrote upon the Mind.  
Self-Love arising from our Flesh and Blood,  
Darkens the Characters of good.  
When present Pleasure courts the easy Sense,  
'Tis hard to think it sinful to comply:  
But in the thought of God a Charm does lie;  
The Contemplation of his Purity,  
Affords a strong Defence.  
Our Souls we thence as by a Mirror dress;  
And this does many'a wandering Thought repress.  
Yet after all uncertain is th' Effect,  
Since Will determines, not the Intellect.  
And Men, enslaved to Passion's sway,  
Use Reason but to progg for Appetite;  
And carried on with warm Delight,  
Make the poor Captive Sovereign obey:  
Till Scripture working on our Passions too,  
Prevailing on our Hope or Fear  
(Those Tyrants which so domineer)  
Laying the Misery and Bliss in view,  
As we the broad or narrow Path pursue;  
Charms us into an happy State,  
To which for all Mankind it opens wide the Gate.   

Mr. Waller.  
For though Heaven shows the Glory of the Lord,  
Yet something shines more glorious in his Word:  
His Mercy this, (which all his Works 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.   

Paraph. VIII.  
God's Glory, Heaven, that does his Love declare;  
Love, which is God, does open lie,  
Exhibited to Mortal Eye,  
Within th' instructing Pages there.  
That Attribute which was our God's Delight,  
Before he made the Sons of Light,  
While the Immense, Three One,  
Did entertain Himself alone,  
And shall for ever with him stay,  
When there's no Change of Night and Day:  
That Essence of the Deity,  
Which in a Living Flame,  
From Heaven to bless us came,  
Shall be the Subject of my Poetry;  
That shall itself describe, warming my Verse & Me.   

Mr. Waller.  
The fear of Hell, or aiming to be blessed,  
Savour's 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 Earth 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?   

Paraph. IX.  
They're narrow Souls who seek their private ends,  
Without regard to Relatives, or Friends.  
Not so did Moses, and the Zealous Paul,  
Who of th' Extent of human Kindness stand,  
Examples to us all.  
Meek Moses was content to see the Land,  
Towards which his murmuring Friends he led,  
And then laid down his Aged Head,  
Singing his Requiem; for his Work was done,  
As soon as Israel's Rest begun.  
But, as'tis thought, this humble Soul  
Much farther yet did reach,  
While he by Love was carried on;  
And though by Faith he knew  
Of an Immortal Roll,  
Where he stood Entered with the chosen few,  
Ordained to be transported o'er,  
From off this horrid Shore,  
Against which so many Tempests roar,  
Unto a Land of endless Life and Bliss;  
Yet trembling on the naked Beach,  
Under a careless Preterition,  
Contented was to lie,  
Left destitute of more than common Aid,  
To struggle for that blessed Eternity,  
Which the Decree of Heaven to him had certain made.   

X.  
St. Paul a Man of warmer Temper was:  
Yet this degree of Love he could not pass:  
Finding his Brethren shut without the Pail,  
Deprived of that peculiar Grace,  
Which ne'er th' enclosed within the Church can fail;  
In pious Rant he wished with them to change his Place.  
But how much greater was that Love,  
Which the Eternal Word did move,  
Quitting the full Possession  
Of all the Glories of his Father's Throne,  
To take our Flesh, and suffer Pain,  
That he his Enemies might gain,  
And all their Obstacles to Bliss remove?  
Who can his Thoughts to height sufficient raise?  
Or what Expressions can he find,  
To suit th' Ideas floating in his Mind,  
When he this unexampled Act of Love would praise?   

Mr. Waller.  
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.   

Paraph. XI.  
The ancient Prophets, that Seraphic Tribe,  
Who did Divine Benignity describe,  
While the Dominion of the Law did last,  
And Clouds the Sun of Righteousness o'er cast;  
Had more contracted Themes,  
To influence their Holy Dreams:  
Through Heaven and Earth God's Grace itself had shown;  
But Heil its Power had never known,  
And Heaven itself was darkly drawn,  
Till the bright Day did down,  
Which showed on Earth God's only Son;  
He a free Prospect of that Region brought,  
Where Light, and Joy, and Love, do far exceed all Thought.   

Mr. Waller.  
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 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—   

Paraph. XII.  
Love in the Bosom of the Godhead lay,  
Before the Creatures into Being rose:  
Through this to frame the World he chose;  
He spoke, and passive Matter did obey.  
That Spirit which did on the Waters move,  
And with its brooding Wings hatched Vital Heat,  
Which spreading o'er the formless Deep,  
Did the World's outward Lines complete;  
Was nothing else but mighty Love,  
Whence charming Symmetry did smiling leap,  
And through the gloomy heap,  
Diffused a grateful Light,  
That Banished Chaos with its horrid Night  
When the Proportions finished were,  
Love then the Features and the Graces drew,  
About the rising World it flew,  
Distinguished and adorned, the Waters, Earth, and Air.  
A Stately Palace it did build,  
And furnished to amazement every Room;  
Curious Plantations round about it made,  
With Grassy Walks, which ever Green's did shade;  
And Fruit-Trees interspersed were,  
Enriched with Fruit, or gay with Bloom,  
Each Herb, and Plant, and Flower was there;  
With many an Avi'ary 'twas filled,  
And Entertainments for the Eye,  
Of all the Beasts that move, or Birds that fly,  
And Creeping things in vast variety,  
As if to Court some great Inhabitant, were laid.   

XIII.  
This glorious Scene, with more than Verse can sing,  
Being prepared by the Eternal King;  
Man newly cast i'th' Heavenly Mould,  
From off his flowery Bed does rise,  
He casts about his wondering Eyes,  
And does with springing Joy behold  
Th' unsullied Beauties on Earth's Bosom spread:  
But as to Heaven h●●is'd his Head,  
And saw that Orb of Light,  
Which shot itself into his sight;  
Unpractised Reason rose above that Sphere:  
Then wheresoever he looked he found  
The presence of a God appear,  
Who from his Holy Seat touched Adah's Heart,  
And did Devotion's warmth impart,  
As Phoebus' Beams from Heaven do strike the Ground.  
What's for Man's Use or his Diversion here,  
From God's mere Word and careless Fiat came:  
But Man, his Image, his own Hand did frame,  
By the Idea he is Counsel wrought;  
Th' Effect of calm Debate, and deepest Thought:  
He filled his working Breast  
With an Etherial Flame,  
And with the Breath of Life he had himself impressed.   

XIV.  
Him his Vicegerent o'er the World did make:  
And Marks of Empire in his Face,  
And Countenance erect did place,  
Which also Monitors might prove,  
To mind him of his Debt to praise that Love,  
From whence he did, what e'er he is, partake,  
Next to the Angels, Man alone  
Is fit to aim at Praises due  
To that blessed Power, who from his Starry Throne,  
Surveys, and blesses, what through him we do.  
The Birds do warble out his Praise  
In pretty tuneful Notes;  
They to his Glory strain their Throats,  
And even in us an Emulation raise.  
Yet here 'tis Man alone can Tribute bring,  
Of lasting Numbers, and of weighty Thought,  
Unto the Altars of the Heavenly King,  
Who will no Service pay but what sound Reason brought.  
Angels which struggle not with Flesh and Blood,  
To whom it is their Nature to be good,  
Can be but what they are;  
While Man with Reason rises by Degrees,  
Feels with his Love his Happiness increase,  
And still comes nigher Heaven till he at last be there.   

XV.  
Man, in his better part,  
Little inferior to the Powers Above,  
In full Fruition of Eternal Love;  
Upon the Wings of Thought aspires,  
To warm himself with the bright Heavenly Fires:  
And with a wondrous Art  
Derives from thence  
Some knowledge of their secret Influence;  
By Numbers sacred Magic views,  
The Heights and Distances which each obtain;  
And the Directions learns to use,  
Of Leda's Sons, and Charles his Wain,  
On the unbeaten Paths of the tempestu'ous Main.   

XVI.  
But when the Lamps of Heaven enclosed  
Within the Sable Curtains of the Night,  
Afford no friendly Light,  
But leave him to wide Seas exposed;  
Through Natural Magic, then succeeding to Divine,  
The trembling Needle proves a steady Guide;  
As that does to its Pole incline,  
He finds where's shattered Ship does ride.  
Thus Love, the Loadstone of alluring Love,  
Touching the tender Heart,  
Glides with a gentle trembling thro' each part;  
And a safe Guide to Happiness does prove:  
Where this Magnetic Force prevails,  
There needs no Cynosure,  
The Passage to secure,  
As through Life's troubled Seas one sails:  
Yet no true Harbour can be found,  
Where all the Labours of the wandering Soul,  
Can with Success be crowned,  
Until it ever rest fixed to its radiant Pole.   

Mr. Waller.  
— But above all  
His Grace abounds in his new Favourites fall.  
If he creates, it is a World he makes:  
If he be angry, 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.   

Paraph. XVII.  
That Love which takes the whole Creation in,  
Strange Paradox! chiefly abounds  
In the new favourites shameful sin,  
When Satan first began his Rounds.  
Without a Fall Man ne'er to Heaven could rise:  
'Tis from the Brink of Hell we reach the Skies.  
Had Man in Paradise continued still,  
He never had unhappy been;  
His Mind had always been serene.  
Not taken up with care to live,  
Or any Accident to make him grieve:  
Yet this would not have given the Soul its fill.  
That which brought Love to dwell on Earth,  
And from a Virgin have its glorious Birth,  
Did justly raise our Hopes to such Degree,  
That we may say, Bliss came from Misery.  
The Serpent's Poison brought the Spirit of Life:  
Nor could we ever have received a Crown,  
Unless the fatal Strife.  
Had brought the Son of God, to Raise us when w'were down.   

Mr. Waller.  
Tho Justice Death, as Satisfaction craves,  
Love finds a Way to pluck us from our Graves;  
Not willing Terror should his Image move:  
He gives 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 would not let him live.   

Paraph. XVIII.  
God's Image planted in the Human Breast,  
Sin had defaced, and Misery oppress't;  
Nor could they look for less to come,  
Than an Eternity of Woes,  
Who of themselves were thus become,  
To the Almighty Power perpetual Foes;  
Yet for their sake the Darling Son,  
Who in his Bosom equal lay;  
Through Love prevailing on his Choice, was won,  
Here to possess an House of Clay;  
And bear all Incidents to Mortal State.  
To Pescue us from our deserved Fare.  
Man's Sin did interrupt his Bliss;  
As by Earth's Vapours Heaven beclouded is.  
Nor could the Throne of Glory please,  
With all the Happiness Above,  
Whilst us in Sin he weltering sees,  
An Object which might well Divine Compassion move!  
Himself he humbled, to exalt  
Those who lay low through their own Fault,  
When first they did from Heaven, and Him, revolt.  
His only Business, while he sojourned here,  
Was Happiness to give  
To those, who would not let him live,  
Nor the Reproach of his unspotted Life could bear.   

Mr. Waller.  
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.   

Paraph. XIX.  
In vain had all the Powers of Earth, and Hell,  
Against his Life conspired,  
Had he the Ministry required  
Of the bright Troop, made to Attend his Will:  
He suffered Men his Blood to spill;  
And for their Sins a willing Sacrifice he fell.  
When from this Vale of Miseries,  
He might have gone directly to the Skies,  
And th' utmost Regions of Eternal Day;  
Love nailed him to the Cross, & stopped him by the way.  
Shall not such Love as this constrain,  
To make Return of Love again?  
Was Love for Love ever a Pain?  
And shall our Saviour Love and die for us, in vain?  
Hardhearted Man, who when his Duty lies  
In ans'ering Nature's most delightful Ties;  
Cannot be soft enough to Love, and to be wise!  
Love is the whole of Man;  
'Tis Faith, 'tis Hope, 'tis Knowledge too;  
'Tis an Essay of Heaven below:  
Who Loves most warmly is the truest Christian.   

Mr. Waller.  
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.   

XX.  
The Great Men's Favour, or Applause,  
Christ sought not, but contemned their Noise:  
Did for Disciples take  
Men of low Fortunes, but exalted Minds  
(Where Love the heartiest welcome finds:)  
Their Love in them the Object of his Love did make.  
Proud Potentates, with all their Train,  
Did unsuccessfully pursue,  
While Curiosity, or Hate  
Did their Inquiries animate;  
Which better than themselves he knew:  
But th' humble Lover never sought in vain.  
Love gives assurance to the pious Mind,  
And does the Clouds of Doubts dispel  
From the glad Heart, which was a Smoky Cell.  
Our Dross is by this Fire refined;  
And how much more of that we lose,  
The well-tried Soul the richer grows:  
How great's the Price when nought but Love is left behind!   

Mr. Waller.  
Could we forbear Dispute, and practise 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.   

Paraph. XXI.  
How blessed were our Earthly State!  
How like to Angels should we be!  
If we could lay aside Debate,  
And in Celestial Love agree!  
Love which does even in Heaven preside,  
And there flows in with Glory's constant Tide!  
From whence not Vice alone must fly,  
But all the meaner Train  
Of Virtues must behind remain:  
Both Faith and Hope must die,  
While Love for ever lives in Ecstasy.  
It does but wander here from home,  
Not having where to rest its Head,  
‛ E'er since the Son of God was dead,  
When fair Astraea truly fled;  
A Native 'tis of Heaven, & mourns till there it come.   

Mr. Waller.  
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.   

Paraph. XXII.  
Our God bears no Competitour,  
In Wisdom, or in Power;  
But is so kind to make our Duty lie,  
In rivalling that Love,  
Which does from him its Fountain flow;  
Whose Streams in us he will improve,  
Till we with him one Ocean grow.  
Perfection he would have in Love,  
And though our Mortal Powers can't mount so high,  
To reach the Nature of the Deity;  
Yet he sufficient Strength inspires,  
Out of ourselves enabling us to move.  
Himself traced out the Paths he'd have us take;  
Suffered as Man, while yet as God he spoke:  
To show that Man may do what God requires.  
Where he Commands he gives the Power t'obey;  
And if to him he bids us rise,  
He readily with Wings supplies;  
And guides us on our way.  
Nothing is Man's but his Free Will,  
He of himself is impotent to Good:  
When our Good Will is understood,  
Assistnces Divine our Faculties will fill.  
We may obedient be with ease,  
For, if we love, we please.  
Love is the whole of us desired,  
We're Objects which the Godhead move,  
When once our Hearts with that are fired:  
And sure 'tis no hard Task to render Love for Love.   

Mr. Waller.  
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.   

Paraph. XXIII.  
Love is a Deity in Mortal Breast,  
Working it up to full Perfection;  
Nor can the Sacred Inmate rest,  
Till it the Man divest  
Of every surly Passion.  
It makes us temperate, makes us just;  
Raises from grovelling in the Dust:  
Through that we are afraid,  
To violate what God has made:  
We hurt not others, not defile  
God's Image stamped on our own Souls;  
But that, (Alas! too fertile Soil)  
Unless sweet Love controls,  
The other Passions Earthy in allay,  
In their Effects much worse,  
Than Thorns & Thistles springing from the Curse;  
Will run up too too fast, and bear a fatal Sway.   

Mr. Waller.  
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' ore.  
Man's 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 waste.   

Paraph. XXIV.  
Man of a middle Nature is,  
And trembling stands betwixt two vast Extremes,  
Ready to fall to Hell, or rise to Bliss;  
As Love withdraws, or yields its quick'ning Beams:  
That, to the envy of our Spiritual Foe,  
Array's us in pure Robes of Light,  
If that forsake us, we're a dismal Sight,  
And into Scorn, and a mere Byword grow:  
The Devil can scarce vouchsafe a Look so low.  
But yet how vile soe'er we are;  
If Love but shoot its generous Flame  
Through our complying Frame,  
We in the Eye of Heaven are Great, and Fair.  
Of all the Creatures here,  
The Human Nature's nighest the Divine,  
While Love's within the Shrine,  
Without it the remotest does appear.  
When Savage Beasts pursue,  
But while they're hungry, or their Prey in view;  
And never hunt about for more than Food:  
Man, boundless in his Appetite,  
Even in the Mischief does delight,  
And frames unto himself a Good,  
Which Nature never understood;  
In laying Plots but to destroy,  
What he himself cannot enjoy.  
The ruin of the weeping Neighbours round,  
To Avarice, or the Ambitious Thought,  
Is a too narrow Bound:  
A Deluge of Destruction brought,  
To take whole Nations in,  
And swallow up the public Peace,  
With them's a glorious Sin;  
They hug themselves in such Contrivances as these.   

Mr. Waller.  
Debauches and Excess, though with less Noise,  
As great a portion of Mankind destroy's.  
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 blessed  
With Sacred Love, by which they are repressed.   

Paraph. XXV.  
Love clears the Earthly dregs away,  
Which would ferment within,  
Making us eager with tumult'ous Sin,  
Which brings our fretting Bodies to decay.  
Debauches, more destructive far,  
Than livid Plague, or bloody War;  
In every Nation sway.  
Tho Hercules might Monsters quell,  
And the Augoean Stables clean,  
From horrid Filth, and Beasts obscene:  
His Labours were much more confined  
Than Love's, whose Task is all Mankind;  
The Place less foul, Monsters less fell,  
Than what Love cleanses, and subdues in Humane Mind.   

Mr. Waller.  
Impendent Death, and Gild that threatens Hell,  
Are dreadful Guests, which here with Mortals dwell.  
And a vexed Conscience mingling with their Joy,  
Thoughts of Dispair does their whole Life annoy.  
But Love appearing, all those Terrors fly;  
We live contented, and contented die.  
They in whose Breast this Sacred Love has place,  
Death, as a Passage to their Joy, embrace.   

Paraph. XXVI.  
When the first Clouds o'er Human Mind were spread,  
And Vapours from the Earth pressed Love Divine,  
Which kept, with Innocence, a constant shine;  
Man's humble Confidence and Courage fled:  
Darkness and Terror seized his Soul;  
He felt within a gnawing Pain;  
An Omen, and an Earnest too,  
Of Death, and that ensuing Woe,  
In which he must for ever roll;  
If Love resign him to a worse control,  
Leaving his ravenous Lusts to reign:  
Yet all the Anguish and Dispair,  
Which here the Wretch's Entrails tear,  
But a faint prospect show,  
Of what for him hereafter must remain.  
All other Comforts do with Love retire,  
'Tis that which keeps our Spirits up,  
And sweetens the most bitter Cup:  
And did not Grace renew its Fire  
After Man's Fall, all Travellers Below would tyre:  
Nor can they mount Above,  
But on the Wings of Love:  
That does with Comforts here supply,  
And carries us to Heaven when we die:  
Whither we oft before in Flames of Love did fly.   

Mr. Waller.  
Clouds and thick Vapours which obscure the Day,  
The Sun's Victor'ous 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.   

Paraph. XXVII.  
As the Sun Vapours, Love does us exhale,  
Does by Degrees refine,  
And make us all Divine;  
Melting away what e'er was frail.  
That which at first was cloud,  
And did the Lightsome Body shroud,  
Will turn into that active Orb,  
Which never leaves its course till it the whole absorb.  
Whatever Spots may in that Sun appear;  
Which guides the Day, and bounds the Year,  
The Sun of Love, in Heaven its Sphere,  
Is with unblemished Lustre, bright:  
It here but a weak Twilight keeps,  
And Day through Cloudy Curtains peeps:  
What thought can reach those Raptures of Delight,  
Which do those blessed Souls await,  
Who freed from every Earthly weight,  
And all the Seeds of dull Mortality,  
In an Eternal Sunshine lie,  
Under great Love's transforming Eye;  
Which works their Bodies to a spiritual Frame,  
And guilds them over with that Flame,  
Which does th' Angelique Host array!  
That Joy, that Glory, that perpetual Day,  
Of which an adequate Ideae were  
Even Heaven itself Below,  
Does from the Beatific Vision flow,  
Of Everlasting Love, smiling from's Starry Chair.   

Mr. Waller.  
This Iron Age so fradulent 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.   

Paraph. XXVIII.  
This Iron Age, the very Dross of Time,  
Love would with alterative touch sublime,  
And bring again the Golden Prime:  
Not such as lazy Poets idly feign  
In Phlegmatic Old Saturn's Reign;  
While Nature, prodigal o'th' beauteous store,  
Required no Courtship to unlock her Heart,  
But like a Prostitute, and easy Whore,  
Did to each Comer all her Wealth impart.  
But though Dame Nature's more reserved and coy,  
And looks for Labour and the utmost Care,  
Of them who would her Favours share:  
And many after all cannot the least enjoy:  
Love, which diffused, is Charity,  
Would all Mankind supply;  
While he who did successful prove;  
(And here Success is all)  
Being taught Humanity by Godlike Love,  
Would think himself bound to divide,  
To them whose Needs did call;  
As much as to prevent his own Child's fall.  
A Plank cast out to sinking Men,  
Bore down ill Fortune's unresisted Tide,  
With a rich Lading does return again.  
What solid Joy! what sober Pride,  
From a good Act effective springs!  
Nor Field, nor Traffic, such Improvement brings.  
A charitable Man's a God Below:  
And with his raised Head does touch the Sky:  
While others turned to Beasts of Prey,  
Upon the Ground in wait for Mischief lie;  
Nor Pleasures more exalted know,  
Than what a Wolf enjoys tearing a bleating Stray.   

Mr. Waller.  
Love would make all things easy, safe, and cheap;  
None for himself would either Sow of 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.   

Paraph. XXIX.  
'Twas want of Love which first gave price to Gold,  
When they to whom kind Heaven did lend,  
More than their Families could spend,  
And of the Overplus its Stewards made;  
The Sacred Trust betrayed,  
And what they should distribute basely sold.  
This put the Sceptre into Fortune's Hand,  
And she who was despised before,  
By Man's consent a Crown Imperi'al wore;  
With Life and Death put under her Command.  
Her Frown gave Ruin to whole Families,  
Without her Favour none could rise.  
While Men might takeout of the common Store,  
And no Man treasured for himself alone,  
Nor ought beyond his Needs esteemed his own;  
None were unfortunate, or poor.  
Nature is bountiful, Man is not so:  
But when her flatt'ning Streams would flow,  
Enriching all the Plains below;  
Men with their Damns divert her Course,  
And into narrow Bounds diffusive Nature force.   

XXX.  
All things would easy be and cheap,  
Did Love the Key of the great Storehouse keep:  
If here the Earth deceive the labourers Toil,  
Another meets with more returning Soil.  
Famine and Dearth never from Nature came,  
She always gave enough for all:  
If to engrossing Hands it fall;  
'Tis not the barren Land, but barren Heart,  
Which ought to bear the blame;  
The Heart where Love did never shine,  
Or one compassio'nating Ray impart.  
Love would not suffer some for Want to pine,  
While others Surfeit with excess;  
And turn into a Curse, what was ordained to bless.  
Love like a Favourite Minister of Heaven,  
That ne'er to execute its Wrath was sent,  
But many he threatening Vial did prevent,  
With Power Divine of Blessing given;  
Betwixt the Scramblers of the Earth would stand,  
And spread its Riches with an equal Hand.  
He whose Endeavours did the best succeed,  
Would think his Riches lay in helping others need.   

Mr. Waller.  
Who for himself no Miracle would make,  
Dispensed with Nature for the People's sake.   

Paraph. XXXI.  
The Lord of all things while he travelled here,  
Found the whole World was Cantoned out;  
And nothing left for th'Universal Heir,  
Besides a breathing Place i'th' open Air.  
Not having where to rest his Head,  
Or Table for his Hunger spread:  
With Pilgrim's Weed, and Fare, wand'ring about.  
Yet Nature but his Handmaid was,  
Nor could have disobeyed his Voice;  
If of her Stock he had but made his Choice,  
The Stewards must have let it pass.  
Nay Stony Hearts, or Doors of Brass,  
Could not the winged Wealth have kept;  
All things would to their Lord have gladly leapt.  
Were the Earth's Fruits not fit for taste;  
Even at his Touch they'd into Ripeness haste.  
A Miracle was nothing more,  
Than an exertion of his Natural Power.  
Yet freely did he rigid Chances bear,  
And, but for others wants, would not a God appear.   

Mr. Waller.  
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.   

Paraph. XXXII.  
When th' utmost Stress on's Human Nature lay,  
Through Fasting ready just to faint away;  
While Satan o'er him did insulting stand,  
Hoping when spent he'd fall his Prey;  
He would not the least Miracle command.  
But when desire of spiritual Food  
Drew to his Side the hungry Multitude;  
Love soon engaged his Power Divine;  
And then he was a God indeed,  
When he created Food unto their need;  
And did by wonderful Production Thousands dine.  
What e'er he did while here Below,  
Came from the Principle of Love.  
Love was the Virtue which did from him flow.  
His Meat, and Drink, were to fulfil  
His Heavenly Father's Will,  
Of doing good to Men.  
If his Disciples we'd ourselves approve,  
No Victory would yield us so much Joy,  
As taking from ill Fate Power to destroy  
Those, whom the Monster hurried to its Den:  
Bringing most comfortable Aid,  
To them were posting to th' Infernal Shade;  
Worn out with wasting Woes, yet still of worse afraid.   

Mr. Waller.  
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.  
Devils are chained and tremble: But the Spouse  
No Force but Love, nor Bond but Bounty, knows.  
Men whom we now so fierce and dangerous 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 esteemed 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.   

Paraph. XXXIII.  
As Love decayed, Men sunk below their kind,  
Thence to Humanity they're Strangers found,  
The Brutal part Superior to the Mind:  
Where generous Lions spare, they meanly wound,  
And their wild Lusts spread Death and Plagues around.  
The Hopes or Terrors of a Future State,  
Have with the most but little weight;  
If they can solace here, they'll leave the rest to Fate.  
Wherefore 'twas needful sudden Pain,  
And Punishment expected here,  
Should the bold Headstrong Bruits restrain.  
A Lion or a Bear i'th' way,  
Would stop a Passion in its full Carrier:  
And what Temptation could prevail,  
When all the Spirits sink and fail;  
The Pleasure dissipated by the Fear?  
This made the thinking part of Human kind,  
Who had observed each turning of the Mind;  
And could the Wilder into Tameness stroke,  
Devise, with Laws, the stubborn Necks to Yoke:  
With Spikes of Steel the Yokes were set;  
Mars did not struggle more in vain,  
When caught in sooty Vulcan's Net,  
Than they to break what they themselves ordain:  
With Mulcts ill-Habits, by degrees, are broke:  
But as poor Lunatic, that feels his fit  
From lucid Intervals, his Spirits alarm;  
Does to those welcome Cords submit,  
Which may prevent his threatened Harm:  
Yet at full-Tide of the Disease,  
Whatever keeps from Mischief does displease:  
So 'tis with Man in yielding to the Law,  
Which does th' Impulses of depraved Nature awe.   

XXXIV.  
But Love all this would supersede,  
That is a gentle Law within,  
Which with sweet Force subdues the Law of Sin:  
Love's Votaries no Rigours need:  
All things are quiet where its Halcyons breed.  
A smiling Calm does smooth the Face,  
Where Love sits brooding at the Heart:  
Where e'er it comes it scatters many'a Grace;  
And does a melting Warmth impart,  
Which would dissolve the hardest Stone:  
But with what Radiancy it shines,  
When it has Female Wax to work upon!  
Where it from little Coynesses refines,  
And in one Will the Wife and Husband joins.  
All Ties but Love are laid aside,  
Duty's a Word that would divide;  
What's asked in Love, was ne'er by Love denied.  
A pleasing Symphony each other charms,  
As they go bound one in the others Arms,  
While Devils are chained, and Devil like Men,  
In loathsome Prisons lie confined;  
And like fierce Tigers shut up in a Den;  
With their vain Rave spent, sullenly grieve;  
Where Love emancipates the Mind,  
The Man's as free as unpent Air,  
Yet can no more Love's Object leave;  
When he has chose the good and fair,  
Than he to taste Joys unforbidden can forbear.   

XXXV.  
For working Wonders Love has mighty Power,  
Strange Transformations it can make;  
They whose Delight was to devour,  
A different gentle Nature take:  
From Beasts to Men, from Men t'Angellick kind,  
By that we Changes in an Instant find.  
heavens winged Ministers, sent out to guard  
The chosen few to Mansions there prepared;  
Hardly more vigilant and tender prove,  
Than they who Metamorphosed are by Love.  
Love can Isaiah's Prophecy fulfil,  
Exalt the Vale, lay low the Hill;  
Raise them that are Below, and humble those Above.  
No Man so high, but would rejoice to fall  
To a great Soul, who stands the Mark of Fate;  
Yet, spite of envious Fortune, will be Great:  
And God himself to th' Spectacle does call,  
To see him, like an unmoved Rock,  
Stand the rude Billows empty shock,  
And dash them back into the Face of Heaven:  
Until, so well such brave Adventures please,  
God smooths the Surface of the raging Seas;  
And lets him reach Love's Haven then with ease.  
Through Love alone our Happiness is given,  
Our Glory there, and here our Peace.  
And did this Rule, Wars would amongst the Nations cease.   

Mr. Waller.  
No Martial Trumpet should disturb our Rest,  
Nor Princes Arm, though to subdue the East;  
Where for the Tomb so many Heros 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.   

Paraph. XXXVI.  
The Drums or Trumpets horrid sound  
Would not the boding Heart with Terror wound;  
Nor would the Princes cloth themselves with Steel,  
(While they, than that, no more relent feel)  
Tho 'twere to gain our Saviour's Monument:  
And, like the Ark from the cursed Philistines,  
To bring it unto Israel's happy Tent.  
Many brave Lives were lost in such Designs,  
Whilst subtle Men, wheadling the Heros in,  
Did unobserved to Empire rise;  
These did some useless Laurels win:  
But they enjoyed the solid Prize.  
How might we pity such misguided Zeal!  
How much these Heros would behind us come!  
If we like Transports of Desire could feel  
To gain his Love, as they to win his Tomb.  
And if his Love could ours excite  
To labour at an equal height,  
With that which would embrace Mankind;  
And grieves to see so many lagg behind,  
For want of Love to Wing them to his Arms.  
Did we that Pattern emulate,  
Self-Love would wholly cease;  
Or else itself o'er Human Race dilate,  
While each another Self in's Neighbour sees,  
Whose every Vein the same Blood warms;  
That Blood which virt'ally was shed,  
An Antidote, as soon as Sin's first Poison spread.   

Mr. Waller.  
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.   

Paraph. XXXVII.  
To make the World, and in it Man,  
Th' Almighty Architect t' Adore,  
Does less of Love Divine declare,  
Than his decayed Image to repair;  
And when with Sins 'twas sullied o'er,  
It's former Luster to restore.  
Tho the Description given us from Above,  
Of God's first Workmanship does strongly move;  
And 'tis so lively drawn,  
That even the first Days dawn,  
Seems to affect our present Sight,  
As if we saw the new created Light  
Just out of Chaos raise its beamy Head;  
While, as the Hemisphere it smiling spread,  
In haste the frightful Shadows fled,  
And the approach of unknown Day,  
Dispersed the Doemons which here wall'wing lay:  
Yet the first Christians justly chose,  
To praise that Day when God from's Grave arose;  
Before his Rest, when the great Work was done:  
And thus each Week they celebrate the rising Sun.   

Mr. Waller.  
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.   

Paraph. XXXVIII.  
Then let our Muse transported with his praise,  
Unto his Memory an Altar raise,  
And each Lord's Day offer devoted Lays.  
Singing and spreading out the Flame of Love,  
Until it touch the Flaming Seat Above;  
Where in its Element the Soul shall rest,  
With the Reward of Love for ever blest;  
Love, the Ambrosia at the Heavenly Feast.  
Who can those thronging Images express,  
That fill the Mind intent on such a Theme?  
We here must needs our Poverty confess,  
Where what we think is less than what we feel.  
An Angel's Hand with a Sun Beam,  
Might such a Subject trace:  
While we poor Earthborn Race,  
Despairing to describe its meanest Grace;  
Contentedly may rest,  
Having this Deity within our Breast:  
Tho meanly lodged, there it delights to dwell,  
If we cherish it with care;  
Th' Endearments passing there,  
No Tongue can tell,  
No Thought can reach;  
The Mind's confounded when 'twould dictate to the Speech.   

Mr. Waller.  
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,  
No Wounds are felt of Fortune, or of Age.  
On Divine Love to meditate, is Peace,  
And makes all care of meaner things to cease.   

Paraph. XXXIX.  
Yet the Design, the bare Endeavour brings  
Reward, beyond the Crowns of Kings:  
The Swan can feel no Pain, that dying sings.  
And he who thinks of Sacred Love,  
Does with that Contemplation tune his Mind;  
Nor can what from without does move,  
Disturb the Music he within does find.  
While that about the Soul does play,  
All Ills and Evil Spirits keep away.  
Not David's Harp with sweeter ease,  
Did charm the Furious Saul,  
And make his ravished Madness fall;  
Than this suspends our raging Woes:  
We know not how we lose  
The Thoughts of what we were before.  
And, while that Harmony takes up the Soul,  
Nothing about us can displease:  
Love to itself converts the whole.  
We just are knocking at heavens Door,  
Being with all the World at Peace;  
Just, just approaching to become mere Deities.   

Mr. Waller.  
Amazed at once, and comforted, to find  
A boundless Power so infinitely kind.  
The Soul contending to that Light to fly,  
From her dark Cell, we practise how to die:  
Emplying 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.   

Paraph. XL.  
With what surprise of Joy do we admire  
Infinite Love, mixed with unbounded Power?  
The Flames all Lambent, which might well devour  
Us, who lay under the Almighty's Ire;  
Till he the Image of his Love Divine,  
Sent down on Earth to shine;  
And be a Leading Light,  
To them that groap'd in gloomy Night;  
Where Spectres of Eternal Death affright:  
And raise them to Love's Glorious Throne,  
Whither the Soul may often fly  
Upon the Wings of Contemplation,  
Abstracted from its sordid Cell;  
And that blessed Time anticipate,  
When free from every Weight,  
Nor subject more to Fate,  
We shall to live for ever die;  
And leave our Inn Below, in Heaven to dwell,  
The noblest Rise, and boldest Flights  
That thitherward are made,  
Are by the Muse's Aid.  
Verse softens, and prepares for those Delights,  
Which Angels do in Numbers sing:  
Numbers, which raise the Soul upon the Wing,  
And to the Beatific view,  
Of Love's bright Face, do bring:  
Where Holy David singing to his Lyre,  
Sits with the highest of the Heavenly Choir;  
Telling his Bliss in Verses ever new.  
The thoughts of Joys, so solid and severe,  
Aimed at in Verse by Mortal Poets here,  
Make meaner Pleasures shrink away;  
As the less Lights, the Stars, when Phoebus brings the Day.   
FINIS.