CARMEN DEO NOSTRO, TE DECET Hymnus SACRED POEMS, COLLECTED, CORRECTED, augmented, Most humbly Presented. TO MY LADY THE countsse OF DENBIGH BY Her most devoted servant. R. C. IN heaty acknowledgement of his immortal obligation to her goodness & Charity.  
AT PARIS, By PETER TARGA, Printer to the archbishop of Paris, in S. victor's street at the golden sun. M.DC.LII.   

CRASHAWE, THE ANAGRAMME. HE WAS CAR.  
WAS CAR then Crashawe; or WAS Crashawe CAR,  
Since both within one name combined are?  
Yes, Car's Crashawe, he Car; 'tis love alone  
Which melts two hearts, of both composing one.  
So Crashawe's still the same: so much desired  
By strongest wits; so honoured so admired  
CAR WAS but HE that entered as afriend  
With whom he shared his thoughts, and did commend  
(While yet he lived) this work; they loved each other:  
Sweet Crashawe was his friend; he crashawes' brother.  
So Car hath Title then; 'twas his intent  
That what his riches penned, poor Car should print.  
Nor fears he check praising that happy one  
Who was beloved by all; dispraised by none.  
To wit, being pleased with all things, he pleased all.  
Nor would he give, nor take offence; befall  
What might; he would possess himself: and live  
As dead (Devoyde of interest) t'all might give  
Disease t'his well composed mind; forestaled  
With heavenly riches: which had wholly called  
His thoughts from earth, to live above in'th air  
A very bird of paradise. No care  
Had he of earthly trash. What might suffice  
To fit his soul to heavenly exercise.  
Sufficed him: and may we guess his heart  
By what his lips brings forth, his only part  
Is God and godly thoughts. Leaves doubt to none  
But that to whom one God is all; all's one.  
What he might eat or wear he took no thought.  
His needful food he rather found then sought.  
He seeks no downs, no sheets, his bed's still made  
If he can find, a chair or stool, he's laid,  
When day peeps in, he quits his rest less rest.  
And still, poor soul, before he's up he's dressed.  
Thus dying did he live, yet lived to die  
In the virgins lap, to whom he did apply  
His virgin thoughts and words, and thence was styld  
By foes, the chaplain of the virgin mild  
While yet he lived without: His modesty  
Imparted this to some, and they to me.  
Live happy then, dear soul; enjoy the rest  
Eternally by pains thou purchacedest,  
While Car must live in care, who was thy friend  
Nor cares he how he live, so in the end,  
He may enjoy his dearest Lord and thee;  
And sit and singe more skilful songs eternally.   

AN epigram upon the pictures in the following poems which the author first made with his own hand, admirably well, as may be seen in his Manuscript dedicated to the right honourable Lady the L. Denbigh.  
Twixt pen and pencil rose a holy strife  
Which might draw virtue better to the life.  
Best wits gave votes to that: but painters swore  
They never saw pieces so sweet before  
As thes: fruits of pure nature; where no art  
Did lead the untaught pencil, nor had part  
In th'work.  
The hand grown bold, with wit will needs contest.  
Doth it prevail? ah woe: say each is best.  
This to the ear speaks wonders; that will try  
To speak the same, yet louder, to the eye.  
Both their aims are holy, both conspire  
To wound, to burn the heart with heavenly fire.  
This then's the doom, to do both parties right:  
This, to the ear speaks best; that, to the sight.  
THOMAS CAR.   

NON VI.  
'Tis not the work of force but skill  
To find the way into man's will.  
'Tis love alone can hearts unlock.  
Who knows the WORD, he needs not knock.  
TO THE Noblest & best of Ladies, the Countess of Denbigh. Persuading her to Resolution in Religion, & to render herself without further delay into the Communion of the Catholic Church.  
WHat heau'n-intreated HEART is This?  
Stands trembling at the gate of bliss;  
Holds fast the door, yet dares not venture  
Fairly to open it, and enter.  
Whose DEFINITION is à doubt  
Twixt life & death, twixt in & out.  
Say, lingering fair! why comes the birth  
Of your brave soul so slowly forth?  
Plead your pretences (o you strong  
In weakness! why you choose so long  
In labour of yourself to lie,  
Nor daring quite to live nor die?  
Ah linger not, loved soul! à slow  
And late consent was a long no,  
Who grants at last, long time tried  
And did his best to have denied,  
What magic bolts, what mystic bars  
Maintain the will in these strange wars!  
What fatal, yet fantastic, bands  
Keep The free Heart from its own hands!  
So when the year takes cold, we see  
Poor waters their own prisoners be.  
Fettered, & locked up fast they lie  
In a sad self-captivity.  
The astonished nymphs their flood's strange fate deplore,  
To see themselves their own severer shore.  
Thou that alone canst thaw this cold,  
And fetch the heart from it's strong Hold;  
All mighty LOVE! end this long war,  
And of a meteor make a star.  
O fix this fair INDEFINITE.  
And 'mongst thy shafts of sovereign light  
Choose out that sure decisive dart  
Which has the Key of this close heart,  
Knows all the corners of't, & can control  
The self-shut cabinet of an unsearched soul.  
O let it be at last, love's hour▪  
Raise this tall trophy of thy power;  
Come once the conquering way; not to confute  
But kill this rebel-word, irresolute  
That so, in spite of all this peevish strength  
Of weakness, she may write resolved AT LENGTH,  
Unfold at length, unfold fair flower  
And use the season of love's shower,  
Meet his well-meaning Wounds, wise heart!  
And hast to drink the wholesome dart.  
That healing shaft, which heaven till now  
Hath in love's quiver hid for you.  
O Dart of love! arrow of light!  
O happy you, if it hit right,  
It must not fall in vain, it must  
Not mark the dry regardless dust.  
Fair one, it is your fate; and brings  
Eternal worlds upon its wings.  
Meet it with wide-spread arms; & see  
It's scat your soul's just centre be.  
Disband dull fears; give faith the day.  
To save your life, kill your delay  
It is love's siege; and sure to be  
Your triumph, though his victory.  
'Tis cowardice that keeps this field  
And want of courage not to yield.  
Yield then, o yield. that love may win  
The Fort at last, and let life in.  
Yield quickly. Lest perhaps you prove  
Death's prey, before the prize of love.  
This Fort of your fair self, if't be not won,  
He is repulsed indeed; But youare undone.   

TO THE NAME ABOVE EVERY NAME, THE NAME OF Jesus A HYMN.  
I Sing the NAME which None can say  
But touched with An interior RAY:  
The Name of our New PEACE; our Good:  
Our bliss: & supernatural Blood:  
The Name of All our lives & loves.  
harken, And Help, ye holy doves!  
The high-born Brood of Day; you bright  
Candidates of blissful Light,  
The HEIRS Elect of love; whose Names belong  
Unto The everlasting life of Song;  
All ye wise souls, who in the wealthy breast  
Of This unbounded NAME build your warm Nest.  
Awake, MY glory. Soul, (if such thou be,  
And That fair WORD at all refer to Thee)  
Awake & sing  
And be All wing;  
Bring hither thy whole SELF; & let me see.  
What of thy Parent heaven yet speaks in thee.  
O thou art poor  
Of noble powers, I see,  
And full of nothing else but empty ME,  
Narrow, & low, & infinitely less  
Than this GREAT morning's mighty business.  
One little WORLD or two  
(Alas) will never do.  
We must have store.  
Go, soul, out of thyself, & seek for More.  
Go & request  
Great nature for the KEY of her huge Chest  
Of Heauns, the self inuoluing set of spheres  
(Which dull mortality more feels than hears)  
Then rouse the nest  
Of nimble ART, & traverse round  
The airy Shop of soul-appeasing Sound:  
And beat a summons in the Same  
All-soveraign Name  
To warn each several kind  
And shape of sweetness, Be they such  
As sigh with supple wind  
Or answer artful Touch,  
That they conuene & come away  
To wait at the love-crowned doors of  
T'has Illustrious DAY.  
Shall we dare This, my Soul? we'll do't and bring  
No Other note for't, but the Name we sing  
Wake lute & HARP  
And every sweet-lipped Thing  
That talks with tuneful string;  
Start into life, And leap with me  
Into a hasty fit-tuned Harmony.  
Nor must you think it much  
T'obey my bolder touch;  
I have Authority in LOVE's name to take you  
And to the work of love this morning wake you  
Wake; In the Name  
Of HIM who never sleeps, All Things that Are,  
Or, what's the same,  
Are musical;  
Answer my Call  
And come along;  
Help me to meditate mine immortal Song.  
Come, ye soft ministers of sweet sad mirth,  
Bring All your household stuff of heaven on earth;  
O you, my Soul's most certain Wings,  
Complaining Pipes, & prattling Strings,  
Bring All the store  
Of SWEETS you have; And murmur that you have no more.  
Come, nére to part,  
nature & ART!  
Come; & come strong,  
To the conspiracy of our spacious song.  
Bring All the powers of Praise  
Your provinces of well-united WORLDS can raise;  
Bring All yours lutes & HARPS of heaven & EARTH;  
What e'er cooperates to The common mirth  
Vessels of vocal joys,  
Or You, more noble Architects of intellectual Noise,  
Cymbals of heaven, or human spheres,  
Solicitors of souls or ears;  
And when youare come, with All  
That you can bring or we can call;  
O may you fix  
For ever here, & mix  
Yourselves into the long  
And everlasting series of a deathless SONG;  
Mix All your many WORLDS, above,  
And lose them into ONE of love.  
Cheer thee my HEART!  
For Thou too hast thy Part  
And Place in the Great Throng  
Of This unbounded All-imbracing SONG.  
Powers of my Soul, be Proud!  
And speak loud  
To All the dear-bought Nations This Redeeming Name,  
And in the wealth of one Rich WORD proclaim  
New Similes to Nature.  
May it be no wrong  
blessed Heauns, to you, & your superior song,  
That we, dark Sons of Dust & Sorrow,  
A while Dare borrow  
The Name of Your Dilights & our Desires,  
And fit it to so far inferior LYRES.  
Our Murmurs have their music too,  
Ye mighty orbs, as well as you,  
Nor yields the noblest Nest  
Of warbling SERAPHIM to the ears of love,  
A choicer Lesson than the joyful breast  
Of a poor panting turtle-dove.  
And we, low worms have leave to do  
The Same bright business (ye Third HEAVENS) with you.  
Gentle SPIRITS, do not complain.  
We will have care  
To keep it fair,  
And send it back to you again.  
Come, lovely NAME! Appear from forth the Bright  
Regions of peaceful Light  
Look from thine own Illustrious Home,  
Fair KING of NAMES, & come.  
Leave All thy native Glories in their Georgeous Nest,  
And give thyself a while The gracious Guest.  
Of humble souls, that seek to find  
The hidden Sweets  
Which man's heart meets  
When Thou art Master of the Mind.  
Come, jovely Name; life of our hope!  
Lo we hold our HEARTS wide ope!  
Unlock thy Cabinet of DAY  
Dearest Sweet, & come away.  
Lo how the thirsty Lands  
Gasp for thy Golden showers! with longstretched Hands  
Lo how the labouring EARTH  
That hopes to be  
All heaven by THEE,  
Leaps at thy Birth.  
The'attending WORLD, to wait thy Rise,  
First turned to eyes;  
And then, not knowing what to do;  
Turned Them to tears, & spent Them too.  
Come royal Name; & pay the expense  
Of All this precious Patience.  
O come away  
And kill the DEATH of This Delay.  
O see, so many WORLDS of barren years  
Melted & measured out in Seas of tears.  
O see, The WEARY lids of wakeful Hope  
(LOVE's Eastern windows) All wide open  
With Curtains drawn,  
To catch The daybreak of Thy DAWN.  
O dawn, at last, long looked for Day!  
Take thine own wings, & come away.  
Lo, where Aloft it comes! It comes, Among  
The Conduct of Adoring SPIRITS, that throng  
Like diligent Bees, And swarm about it.  
O they are wise;  
And know what sweets are sucked from out it.  
It is the hive,  
By which they thrive,  
Where All their Hoard of honey lies.  
Lo where it comes, upon The snowy DOVE's  
Soft Back; And brings a Bosom big with loves.  
WELCOME to our dark world, Thou  
Womb of Day!  
Unfold thy fair Conceptions; And display  
The Birth of our Bright joys.  
O thou compacted  
Body of Blessings: spirit of souls extracted!  
O dissipate thy spicy powers  
(Cloud of condensed sweets) & break upon us  
In balmy showers;  
O fill our senses, And take from us  
All force of so profane a Fallacy  
To think aught sweet but that which smells of Thee.  
Fair, flowery Name; In none but Thee  
And Thy Nectareall Fragrancy,  
Hourly there meets  
An universal SYNOD of All sweets;  
By whom it is defined Thus  
That no Perfume  
For ever shall presume  
To pass for Odoriferous,  
But such alone whose sacred Pedigree  
Can prove itself some kin (sweet name) to Thee.  
SWEET NAME, in Thy each Syllable  
A Thousand blessed Arabia's dwell;  
A Thousand Hills of Frankincense;  
Mountains of myrrh, & Beds of species,  
And ten Thousand PARADISES  
The soul that tastes thee takes from thence  
How many unknown WORLDS there are  
Of Comforts, which Thou hast in keeping!  
How many Thousand mercies there  
In pity's soft lap lie a sleeping!  
Happy he who has the art  
To awake them,  
And to take them  
Home, & lodge them in his HEART.  
O that it were as it was wont to be!  
When thy old friends of Fire, All full of Thee,  
Fought against Frowns with smiles; gave Glorious chase  
To Persecutions; And against the Face  
Of DEATH & feircest Dangers, durst with brave  
And sober pace march on to meet A GRAVE.  
On their Bold breasts about the world they bore thee  
And to the Teeth of Hell stood up to teach thee,  
In centre of their inmost souls they wore thee,  
Where racks & Torments strove, in vain, to reach thee.  
Little, alas, thought They  
Who tore the Fair breasts of thy friends,  
Their Fury but made way  
For Thee; And served them in Thy glorious ends  
What did Their weapons but with wider pores  
Enlarge thy flaming-breasted lovers  
More freely to transpire  
That impatient Fire  
The Heart that hides Thee hardly covers.  
What did their Weapons but set wide the doors  
For Thee: Fair, purple doors, of love's devising;  
The Ruby windows which enriched the EAST  
Of Thy so oft repeated Rising.  
Each wound of Theirs was Thy new Morning;  
And reinthroned thee in thy Rosy Nest,  
With blush of thine own Blood thy day adorning,  
It was the wit of love óreflowd the Bounds  
Of WRATH, & made thee way through All Those wounds.  
Welcome dear, All-Adored Name!  
For sure there is no Knee  
That knows not THEE.  
Or if there be such sons of shame,  
Alas what will they do  
When stubborn Rocks shall bow  
And Hills hang down their heaven-saluting Heads  
To seek for humble Beds  
Of Dust, where in the bashful shades of night  
Next to their own low NOTHING they may lie,  
And couch before the dazzling light of thy dread majesty.  
They that by love's mild Dictate now  
Will not Adore thee,  
Shall Then with just Confusion, bow  
And break before thee   

IN THE HOLY NATIVITY OF our LORD GOD A HYMN sung AS BY THE shepherd's. 
Tun Createur te faict voir sa naissance,  
Daignant souffrir pour toy des son enfance.   Quem vidistis Pastores? &c. Natum vidimus &c. 
THE HYMN.  Chorus. 

COme we shepherds whose blessed Sight  
Hath met love's Noon in Nature's night;  
Come lift we up our loftyer Song  
And wake the sun that lies too long.   

To All our world of well-stoln joy  
He slept; and dreamt of no such thing.  
While we found out heaven's fairer eye  
And kissed the Cradle of our KING.  
Tell him He rises now, too late  
To show us ought worth looking at.   

Tell him we now can show Him more  
Than He e'er showed to mortal Sight;  
Then he himself e'er saw before;  
Which to be seen needs not His light.  
Tell him, Tityrus, where th''ve been  
Tell him, Thysis, what th-hast seen.   Tityrus. 
Gloomy night embraced the Place  
Where The Noble Infant lay.  
The BABE looked up & showed his Face;  
In spite of darkness, it was DAY.  
It was THY day, SWEET! & did rise  
Not from the EAST, but from thine EYES.  Chorus. 
It was THY day, Sweet  Thyrs. 
WINTER chid Aloud; & sent  
The angry North to wage his wars.  
The North forgot his fierce Intent;  
And left perfumes in stead of scars.  
By those sweet eyes' persuasive powers  
Where he meant frost, he scattered flowers.  Chorus 
By those sweet eyes.  Both. 
We saw thee in thy balmy Nest,  
Young dawn of our eternal DAY!  
We saw thine eyes break from their EAT●  
And chase the trembling shades away.  
We saw thee; & we blessed the sight  
We saw thee by thine own sweet light.  Tity. 
Poor WORLD (said I) what wilt thou do  
To entertain this starry STRANGER?  
Is this the best thou canst bestow?  
A cold, and not too cleanly, manger?  
Contend, the powers of heaven & earth.  
To fittà bed for this huge birth.  Cho. 
Contend the powers  Thyt. 
Proud world, said I; cease your contest  
And let the MIGHTY BABE alone.  
The phoenix builds the Phaenix'nest.  
Love's architecture is his own.  
The BABE whose birth embraves this morn.  
Made his own bed ere he was born.  Cho. 
The BABE whose.  Tir. 
I saw the curled drops, soft & slow,  
Come hovering o'er the place's head;  
Offering their whitest sheets of snow  
To furnish the fair INFANT's bed  
Forbear, said I; be not too bold.  
Your fleece is white But 'tis too cold  Cho. 
Forbear, said I  Thyr. 
I saw the obsequious SERAPHIMS  
Their rosy fleece of fire bestow.  
For well they now can spare their wing.  
Since heaven itself lies here below.  
Well done, said I: but are you sure  
Your down so warm, will pass for pure?  Cho. 
Well done said I  Tit. 
No no. your KING's not yet to seek  
Where to repose his royal HEAD  
See see, how soon his new-bloomed CHEEK  
Twixt's mother's breasts is gone to bed.  
Sweet choice, said we! no way but so  
Not to lie cold, yet slep in snow.  Cho. 
Sweet choice, said we.  Both. 
We saw thee in thy balmy nest,  
Bright dawn of our eternal Day!  
We saw thine eyes break from their EAST  
And chase the trembling shades away.  
We saw thee: & we blessed the sight.  
We saw thee, by thine own sweet light.  Cho. 
We saw thee, &c.  Full chorus. 

Welcome, all WONDERS in one sight!  
Eternity shut in a span.  
Summer in Winter. Day in Night.  
Heaven in earth, & GOD in MAN.  
Great little one! whose all-embracing birth  
Lifts earth to heaven, stoops heaven to earth.   

Welcome. Though nor to gold nor silk.  
To more than Caesar's birth right is;  
Two sister-seas of Virgin-Milk,  
With many a rarely-tempered kiss  
That brearhes at once both MAID & MOTHER,  
Warms in the one, cools in the other.   

WELCOME, though not to those gay flies.  
Guilded i'th' beams of earthly kings;  
Slippery souls in smiling eyes;  
But to poor shepherds, homespun things:  
Whose Wealth's their flock; whose wit, to be  
Well read in their simplicity.  
Yet when young April's husband showers  
Shall bless the fruitful Maja's bed  
We'll bring the First-born of her flowers  
To kiss thy FEET & crown thy HEAD.  
To thee, dread lamb! whose love must keep  
The shepherds, more than they the sheep.  
To THEE, meek Majesty! soft KING  
Of simple GRACES & sweet LOVES.  
Each of us his lamb will bring  
Each his pair of silver doves;  
Till burnt at last in fire of Thy fair eyes,  
Ourselves become our own best SACRIFICE.    

NEW YEAR'S DAY.  

RIse, thou best & brightest morning!  
Rosy with a double Red;  
With thine own blush thy cheeks adorning  
And the dear drops this day were shed.   

All the purple pride that laces  
The crimson curtains of thy bed,  
Guilds thee not with so sweet graces  
Nor sets thee in so rich a red.   

Of all the fair-cheeked flowers that fill thee  
None so fair thy bosom strews,  
As this modest maiden lily  
Our sins have shamed into a rose   

Bid thy golden GOD, the Sun,  
Burnished in his best beams rise,  
Put all his red-eyed Rubies on;  
These Rubies shall put out their eyes.   

Let him make poor the purple east,  
Search what the world's close cabinets keep,  
Rob the rich births of each bright nest  
That flaming in their fair beds sleep,   

Let him embrave his own bright tresses  
With a new morning made of gems,  
And wear, in those his wealthy dresses,  
Another Day of Diadems.   

When he hath done all he may  
To make himself rich in his rise,  
All▪ will be darkness to the Day  
That breaks from one of these bright eyes.   

And soon this sweet truth shall appear  
Dear BABE, ere many days be done,  
The morn shall come to meet thee here,  
And leave her own neglected Sun.   

Here are beauties shall bereave him  
Of all his eastern Paramours.  
His Persian lovers all shall leave him,  
And swear faith to thy sweeter powers.    

IN THE glorious Epiphany OF our LORD GOD, A HYMN. Sung AS BY THE THREE KINGS  
 (1. King.) 
BRight BABE! Whose awful beauties make  
The morn incur a sweet mistake;  (2.) 
For whom the'officious heavens devise  
To disinheritt the sun's rise,  (3.) 
Delicately to displace  
The Day, & plant it fairer in thy face;  [1.] 
O thou born KING of loves,  [2.] 
Of lights,  [3.] 
Of joys!  (Cho.) 
Look up, sweet BABE, look up & see  
For love of Thee  
Thus far from home  
The EAST is come  
To seek herself in thy sweet Eyes  (1.) 
We, who strangely went astray,  
Lost in a bright  
Meridian night,  (2.) 
A darkness made of too much day,  (3.) 
Beckoned from far  
By thy fair star,  
Lo at last have found our way.  (Cho.) 
To THEE, thou DAY of night! thou east of west!  
Lo we at last have found the way.  
To thee, the world's great universal east.  
The general & indifferent DAY.  (1.) 
All-circling point. All centring sphere.  
The world's one, round, eternal year.  (2.) 
Whose full & all-unwrinkled face  
Nor sinks nor swells with time or place;  (3.) 
But every where & every while  
Is One Consistent solid smile;  (1.) 
Not vexed & tossed  (2.) 
'Twixt spring & frost,  (3.) 
Nor by alternate shredds of light  
Sordidly shifting hands with shades & night.  (Cho.) 
O little all! in thy embrace  
The world lies warm, & likes his place.  
Nor does his full Globe fail to be  
Kissed on Both his cheeks by Thee.  
Time is too narrow for thy YEAR  
Nor makes the whole WORLD thy half-spear.  (1.) 
To Thee, to Thee  
From him we flee  (2.) 
From HIM, whom by a more illustriously,  
The blindness of the world did call the eye;  (3.) 
To HIM, who by These mortal clouds hast made  
Thyself our sun, though thine own shade.  (2.) 
Farewell, the wold's false light.  
Farewell, the white  
Egypt! a long farewell to thee  
Bright IDOL; black IDOLATRY.  
The dire face of inferior darkness, kissed  
And courted in the pompus mask of a more specious mist.  (2.) 
Farewell, farewell  
The proud & misplaced gates of hell,  
Pertched, in the morning's way  
And double-guilded as the doors of DAY.  
The deep hypocrisy of DEATH & NIGHT  
More desperately dark, Because more bright.  (3.) 
Welcome, the world's sure Way▪  
HEAVN's wholesome ray.  (Cho.) 
Welcome to us; and we  
(SWEET) to ourselves, in THEE.  (1.) 
The deathless HEIR of all thy FATHER's day▪  (2. (
Decently Born.  
Embosom in a much more Rosy MORN,  
The Blushes of thy all-unblemished mother.  (3.) 
No more that other  
Aurora shall set open  
Her ruby casements, or hereafter hope  
From mortal eyes  
To meet Religious welcomes at her rise.  (Cho.) 
We (Precious ones!) in you have won  
A gentler MORN, a juster sun.  (1.) 
His superficial beams fun-burned our skin;  (2.) 
But left within  (3.) 
The night & winter still of death & sin.  (C●o.) 
Thy softer yet more certain DARTS  
Spare our eyes, but pierce our hearts.  (1.) 
Therefore with HIS proud persian spoils  (2.) 
We court thy more concerning smiles.  (3.) 
Therefore with his Disgrace  
We guild the humble cheek of this chaste place,  (Cho.) 
And at thy FEET power forth his FACE.  (1.) 
The doting nations now no more  
Shall any day but THINE adore.  (2.) 
Nor (much less) shall they leave these eyes  
For cheap Egyptian deities.  (3.) 
In whatsoever more Sacred shape  
Of Ram, He-goat, or reverend ape,  
Those beauteous ravishers oppressed so sore  
The too-hard-tempted nations.  (1.) 
Never more  
By wanton heifer shall be worn.  (2.) 
A Garland, or a guilded horn.  
The altar-stalled ox, fat Osiris now  
With his fair sister cow,  (3.) 
Shall kick the clouds no more; But lean & tame,  
(Cho.) See his horned face, & die for shame.  
And MITHRA now shall be no name.  (1.) 
No longer shall the immodest lust  
Of Adulterous godless dust  (2.) 
Fly in the face of heaven; As if it were  
The poor world's Fault that he is fair.  (3.] 
Nor with perverse loves & Religious RAPES  
Revenge thy bounties in their beauteous shapes;  
And punish Best Things worst; Because they stood  
Guilty of being much for them too Good.  [1.] 
Proud sons of death! that durst compel  
Heaven itself to find them hell;  [2.] 
And by strange wit of madness wrest  
From this world's EAST the other's WEST.  [3.] 
All-Idolizing worms! that thus could crowd  
And urge Their sun into thy cloud;  
Forcing his sometimes eclipsed face to be  
A long deliquium to the light of thee.  [Cho.] 
Alas with how much heavyer shade  
The shamefaced lamp hung down his head  
For that one eclipse he made  
Then all those he suffered!  [1.] 
For this he looked so big; & every morn  
With a red face confessed this scorn.  
Or hiding his vexed cheeks in a hired mist  
Kept them from being so unkindly kissed.  [2.] 
It was for this the day did rise  
So oft with blubbered eyes.  
For this the evening wept; and we ne'er knew  
But called it dew.  [3.] 
This daily wrong  
Silenced the morning-sons, & damned their song  [Cho.] 
Nor was't our deafness, but our sins, that thus  
Long made th'Harmonious orbs all mute to us  [2.] 
Time has a day in store  
When this so proudly poor  
And self-oppressed spark, that has so long  
By the love-sick, world been made  
Not so much their sun as SHADE,  
Weary of this Glorious wrong  
From them & from himself shall flee  
For shelter to the shadow of thy TREE;  [Cho.] 
Proud to have gained this precious loss  
And changed his false crown for thy cross.  [2.] 
That dark Day's clear doom shall define  
Whose is the Master FIRE, which sun should shine.  
That sable judgement-seat shall by new laws  
Decide & settle the Great cause  
Of controverted light,  [Cho.] 
And nature's wrongs rejoice to do thee Right.  [3.] 
That forfeiture of noon to night shall pay  
All the idolatrous thefts done by this night of day;  
And the Great Penitent press his own pale lips  
With an elaborate love-eclipse  
To which the low world's laws  
Shall lend no cause  [Cho.] 
Save those domestic which he borrows  
From our sins & his own sorrows.  [1.] 
Three sad hour's sack cloth then shall show to us  
His penance, as our fault, conspicuous.  [2.] 
And he more needfully & nobly prove  
The nation's terror now then erst their love.  [3.] 
Their hated loves changed into wholesome fears,  [Cho.] 
The shutting of his eye shall open Theirs.  [2.] 
As by a fair-eyed fallacy of day  
Miss-ledde before they lost their way,  
So shall they, by the seasonable fright  
Of an unseasonable night,  
Losing it once again, stumble'on true LIGHT  [2.] 
And as before his too-bright eye  
Was Their more blind idolatry,  
So his officious blindines now shall be  
Their black, but faithful perspective of thee;  [3.] 
His new prodigious night,  
Their new & admirable light;  
The supernatural DAWN of Thy pure day.  
While wondering they  
(The happy converts now of him  
Whom they compelled before to be their sin)  
Shall henceforth see  
To kiss him only as their rod  
Whom they so long courted as GOD,  [Cho.] 
And their best use of him they worshipped be  
To learn, of Him at least, to worship Thee.  [2.] 
It was their weakness wooed his beauty;  
But it shall be  
Their wisdom now, as well as duty,  
To'injoy his bice; & as a large black letter  
Use it to spell Thy beauties better;  
And make the night in self their rorch to thee.  [2.] 
By the oblique ambush of this close night  
Couched in that conscious shade  
The right-eyed Areopagite  
Shall with a vigorous guess invade  
And catch thy quick reflex; and sharply see  
On this dark growd  
To dscant THEE.  [3.] 
O prize of the rich SPIRIT! with that fierce chase  
Of this strong soul, shall he  
Leap at thy lofty FACE,  
And scize the swift Flash, in rebound  
From this ohsequious cloud;  
Once called a sun;  
Till dearly thus undone,  [Cho.] 
Till thus triumphantly tamed (o ye two  
Twin suns!) & taught now to negotiate you  [1.] 
Thus shall that reverend child of light,  [2.] 
By being scholar first of that new night,  
Come forth Great master of the mystic day;  [3.] 
And teach obscure MANKIND a more close way  
By the frugal negatine light  
Of a most wise & well-abused Night  
To read more legible thine original Ray,  [Cho.] 
And make our darkness serve THY day;  
Maintaining twixt thy world & ours  
A commerce of contrary powers,  
A mutual trade  
twixt sun & SHADE,  
By confederate BLACK & WHITE  
Borrowing day & lending night.  [1.] 
Thus we, who when with all the noble powers  
That (at thy cost) are called, not vainly, ours  
We vow to make brave way  
Upwards, & press on for, the pure intelligentiall Prey;  [2.] 
At lest to play  
The amorous spies  
And peep & proffer at thy sparkling Throne;  [3.] 
In stead of bringing in the blissful PRIZE  
And fastening on Thine eyes,  
Forfeit our own  
And nothing gain  
But more Ambitious loss, at lest of brain;  [Cho.] 
Now by abased lids shall learn to be  
Eagles; and shut our eyes that we may see.  

The Close.  
Therefore to THEE & thine auspicious ray  
(Dread sweet!) lo thus  
At lest by us,  
The delegated EYE of DAY  
Does first his sceptre, than HIMSELF in solemn  
Tribute pay.  
Thus he undresses  
His sacred unshorn trese;  
At thy adored FEET, thus, he lays down  [1.] 
His gorgeous tire  
Of flame & fire,  [2.] 
His glittering ROBE,  [3.] 
his sparkling CROWN,  [3.] 
His GOLD,  [2.] 
his myrrh,  [3.] 
his frankincense,  [Cho.] 
To which He now has no pretence.  
For being showed by this day's light, how far  
He is from sun enough to make THY star,  
His best ambition now, is but to be  
Something a brighter SHADOW [sweet] of thee.  
Or on heaven's azure forehead high to stand  
Thy golden index; with a duteous Hand  
Pointing us Home to our own sun  
The world's & his HYPERION.    

TO THE QVEEN'S majesty.  
Madam.  
'Mongst those long rows of cownes that guild your race.  
These royal sages sue for decent place.  
The daybreak of the nations; their first ray;  
When the Dark WORLD dawned into Christian DAY.  
And smiled i'th' BABE's bright face. the purpling Bud  
And Rosy dawn of the right royal blood;  
Fair first-fruits of the LAMB. Sure KINGS in this;  
They took a kingdom while they gave a kiss.  
But the world's Homage, scarce in These well blown,  
We read in you (Rare Queen) ripe & fullgrown.  
For from this day's rich seed of Diadems  
Does rise a radiant crop of royal stems,  
A Golden harvest of crowned heads, that meet  
And crowd for kisses from the LAMB's white feet.  
In this Illustrious throng, your lofty flood  
Swells high, fair Confluence of all high-born blood!  
With your bright head whose groves of sceptres bend  
Their wealthy tops; & for these feet contend.  
So swore the LAMB's dread sire. And so we see't.  
Crowns, & the HEADS they kiss, must court these FEET.  
Fix here, fair Majesty! May your Heart ne'er miss  
To reap new crowns & KINGDOMS from that kiss.  
Nor may we miss the joy to meet in you  
The aged honours of this day still new.  
May the great time, in you, still greater be  
While all the YEAR is your EPIPHANY,  
While your each day's devotion duly brings  
Three kingdoms to supply this day's three KINGS.   

THE OFFICE OF THE HOLY cross  
Tradidit Semetipsum pro nobis oblationem, et hostiam. Deo in odorem suavitatis. ad Ephe. 5  

THE hours FOR THE hour OF MATINES.  

The Versicle.  
LORD, by thy Sweet & saving SIGN,   

The Responsory.  
Defend us from our foes & Thine.  
℣. Thou shalt open my lips, O LORD.  
℟. And my mouth shall show forth thy praise.  
℣. O GOD make speed to save me.  
℟. O LORD make haste to help me.  
GLORY be to the FATHER,  
and to the SON,  
and to the H. GHOST.  
As it was in the beginning, is now, & ever shall be, world without end. Amen.   

THE HYMN.  
THe wakeful Matines' haste to sing,  
The unknown sorrows of our king,  
The FATHER' word & wisdom, made  
MAN, for man, by man's betrayed;  
The world's price set to sale, & by the bold  
Merchants of Death & sin, is bought & sold.  
Of his Best friends (yea of himself) forsaken,  
By his worst foes (because he would) besieged & taken.   

The Antiphona.  
All hail, fair TREE.  
Whose Fruit we be.  
What song shall raise  
Thy seemly praise.  
Who brought'st to light  
Life out of death, Day out of night.   

The Versicle.  
Lo, we adore thee,  
Dread LAMB! And bow thus low before thee;   

The R●sponsor.  
'Cause, by the covenant of thy cross,  
Thou'hast saved at once the whole world's loss.   

The Prayer.  
O Lord Jesu-christ, son of the living GOD! interpose, I pray thee, thine own precious death, thy cross & Passion, betwixt my soul & thy judgement, now & in the hour of my death. And vouchsafe to grant unto me thy grace & mercy; unto all quick & dead, remission & rest; to thy church peace & concord; to us sinners life & glory everlasting. Who livest and reignest with the FATHER, in the unity of the HOLY GHOST, one GOD, world without end. Amen.    

FOR THE hour OF PRIME.  

The Versicle.  
Lord by thy sweet & saving SIGN.   

The Responsor.  
Defend us from our foes & thine.  
℣. Thou shalt open.  
℟. And my mouth.  
℣. O GOD make speed.  
℟. O LORD make haste.  
Glory be to.  
As it was in.   

THE HYMN.  
THe early PRIME blushes to say  
She could not rise so soon, as they  
Called Pilate up; to try if He  
Could lend them any cruelty.  
Their hands with lashes armed, their tongues with lies.  
And loathsome spital, blot those beauteous eyes,  
The blissful springs of joy; from whose all-chearing Ray  
The fair stars fill their wakeful fires the sun himfelfe drinks Day.   

The Antiphona.  
Victorious SIGN  
That now dost shine,  
Transcribed above  
Into the land of light & love;  
O let us twine  
Our roots with thine,  
That we may rise  
Upon thy wings, & reach the skies.   

The Versicle.  
Lo we adore thee  
Dread LAME! and fall  
Thus low before thee   

The Responsor.  
'Cause by the Conuenant of thy cross  
Thou'hast saved at once the whole world's loss   

The Prayer.  
O Lrod Jesu-christ son of the living OOD! interpofe, I pray thee, thine own precious death, thy cross & Passion, betwixt my soul & thy judgement, now & in the hour of my death. And vouchsafe to grant unto me thy grace & mercy; unto all quick & dead, remission & rest; to thy church peace & concord; to us sinners life & glory everlasting. Who livest and reignest with the FATHER, in the unity of the HOLY GHOST, one GOD, world without end. Amen.    

THE THIRD.  

The Versicle.  
Lord, by thy sweet & saving SIGN   

The Responsor.  
Defend us from our foes & thine.  
℣. Thou shalt open.  
℟. And my mouth.  
℣. O GOD make speed.  
℟. O LORD make haste.  
℣. Glory be to.  
℟. As it was in the.   

THE HYMN.  
The Third hour's deafened with the cry  
Of crucify him, crucify.  
So goes the vote (nor ask them, Why?)  
Live Barabbas! & let GOD die.  
But there is wit in wrath, and they will try  
A HAIL more cruel them their crucify.  
For while in sport he wears a spiteful crown,  
The serious showers along his decent  
Face run sadly down.   

The Antiphona.  
CHRIST when he died  
Deceived the cross;  
And on death's side.  
Threw all the loss.  
The captive world awaked, & found  
The prisoners loose, the jalyor bound.   

The Versicle.  
Lo we adore thee  
Dread LAMB, & fall  
thus low before thee   

The Responsor.  
'Cause by the covenant of thy cross  
Thou'hast saved at once the whole word's loss.   

The Prayer.  
O Lord Jesu-christ, son of the living GOD! interpose, I pray thee, thine own precious death, thy cross & Passion, betwixt my soul & thy judgement, now & in the hour of my death. And vouchsafe to grant unto me thy grace & mercy; unto all quick and dead, remission & rest; to thy church peace & concord; to us sinners life & glory everlasting. Who livest and reignest with the FATHER, in the unity of the HOLY GHOST, one GOD, vorld without end. Amen.    

THE SIXT.  

The Versicle.  
Lord by thy sweet & saving SIGN,   

The Responsor.  
Defend us from our foes & thine.  
℣. Thou shalt open.  
℟. And my mouth.  
℣. O GOD make speed.  
℟. O LORD make haste.  
℣. Glory be  
℟. As it was in   

THE hymn.  
NOw is The noon of sorrow's night,  
High in his patience, as their spite.  
Lo the faint LAMB, with weary limb  
Bears that huge tree which must bear Him.  
That fatal plant, so great of fame  
For fruit of sorrow & of shame,  
Shall swell with both for HIM; & mix  
All woes into one crucifix.  
Is tortured Thirst, itself, too sweet a cup?  
GALL, & more bitter mocks, shall make it up.  
Are nails blunt pens of superficial smart?  
Contempt & scorn can send sure wounds to search the inmost Heart.   

The Antiphona.  
O dear & sweet Dispute  
twixt death's & love's far different FRVIT!  
Different as far  
As antidotes & poisons are.  
By that first fatal TREE  
Both life & liberty  
Were soldand slain;  
By this they both look up, & live again.   

The Versicle.  
Lo we adore thee  
Dread LAMB! & bow thus low before thee;   

The Responsor.  
'Cause by the covenant of thy cross.  
Thou'hast saved the world from certain loss.   

The Prayer.  
O Lord Jesu-christ, son of the living GOD! interpose, I pray thee, thine own precious death, thy cross & Passion, betwixt my soul & thy judgement, now & in the hour of my death. And vouchsafe to grant unto me thy grace & mercy; unto all quick & dead, remission & rest; to thy church peace & concord; to us sinners life & glory everlasting. Who livest and reignest with the FATHER, in the unity of the HOLY GHOST, one GOD, world without end. Amen.    

THE NINTH.  

The Versicle.  
Lord by thy sweet & saving SIGN.   

The Responsor.  
Defend us from our foes & thine.  
℣. Thou shalt open.  
℟. And my mouth.  
℣. O GOD make speed.  
℟. O LORD make haste.  
Glory be to.  
As it was in.   

THE HYMN.  
THe ninth with awful horror harkened to those groans  
Which taught attention even to rocks & stones.  
Hear, FATHER, hear! thy LAMB (at last) complains.  
Of some more painful thing than all his pains.  
Then bows his all-obedient head, & dies  
His own loves, & our sin's GREAT SACRIFICE.  
The sun saw That; And would have seen no more  
The centre shook. Her useless veil th' in glorious Temple tore,   

The Antiphona.  
O strange mysterious strife  
Of open DEATH & hidden LIFE!  
When on the cross my king did bleed,  
LIFE seemed to die, DEATH died indeed.   

The Versicle.  
Lo we adore thee  
Deard LAMB! and fall  
thus low before thee   

The Responsor.  
'Cause by the covenant of thy cross  
Thou'hast saved at once the whole word's loss.   

The Prayer.  
O Lord Jesu-christ, son of the living GOD! interpose, I pray thee, thine own precious death, thy cross & Passion, betwixt my soul & thy judgement, now & in the hour of my death. And vouchsafe to grant unto me thy grace & mercy; unto all quick and dead, remission & rest; to thy church peace & concord; to us sinners life & glory everlasting. Who livest and reignest with the FATHER, in the unity of the HOLY GHOST, one GOD, world without end. Amen.    

EVENSONG.  

The Versicle.  
Lord, by thy sweet & saving SIGN   

The Responsor.  
Defend us from our foes & thine.  
℣. Thou shalt open.  
℟. And my mouth.  
℣. O GOD make speed.  
℟. O LORD make haste.  
℣. Glory be to.  
℟. As it was in the.   

THE HYMN.  
But there were Rocks would nor relent at This.  
Lo, for their own hearts, they rend his.  
Their deadly hate lives still; & hath  
A wild reserve of wanton wrath;  
Superfluous SPEAR! But there's à HEART stands by  
Will look no wounds be lost, no deaths shall die.  
Gather now thy Greif's ripe FRVIT. Great mother-maid!  
Then sit thee down, & sing thine Eu'niong in the sad TREE's shade.   

The Antiphona.  
O sad, sweet TREE!  
Woeful & joyful we  
Both weep & sing in shade of thee.  
When the dear nails did lock  
And graft into thy gracious Stock  
The hope; the health,  
The worth, the wealth  
Of all the ransomed WORLD, thou hadst the power  
(In that propitious Hour)  
To poise each precious limb,  
And prove how light the World was, when it weighed with HIM.  
Wide Mayst thou spread  
Thine arms; And with thy bright & blissful head  
overlook all Libanus. Thy lofty crown  
The king himself is; Thou his humble Throns'.  
Where yielding & yet conquering he  
Proved a new path of patient Victory.  
When wondering death by death was slain,  
And our captivity his captive ta'en.   

The Versicle.  
Lo we adore thee  
Dread LAMB! & bow thus low before thee;   

The Responsor.  
'Cause by the covenant of thy cross.  
Thou'hast saved the world from certain loss.   

The Prayer.  
O lord Jesu-christ, son of the living, &c. 42.    

COMPLINE.  

The Versicle.  
Lord by thy sweet & saving SIGN,   

The Responsor.  
Defend us from our foes & thine.  
℣. Thou shalt open.  
℟. And my mouth.  
℣. O GOD make speed.  
℟. O LORD make haste.  
℣. Glory be  
℟. As it was in   

THE hymn.  
THe Complin hour comes last, to call  
Us to our own LIVE's funeral.  
Ah heartless task! yet hope takes head;  
And lives in Him that here lies dead.  
Run, MARY, run! Bring hither all the blessed  
ARABIA, for thy royal Phoenix'nest;  
Pour on thy noblest sweets, Which, when they touch.  
This sweeter BODY, shall indeed be such.  
But must thy bed, lord, be a borrowed grave  
Who lendest to all things All the LIFE they have.  
O rather use this HEART. thus far a fitter STONE,  
'Cause, though a hard & cold one, yet it is thine own. Amen.   

The Antiphona.  
O save us then  
Merciful KING of men!  
Since thou wouldst needs be thus  
A saviour, & at such à rate, for us;  
Save us, o save us, lord.  
We now will own no shorter wish, nor name a narrower word.  
Thy blood bids us be bold.  
Thy Wounds give us fair hold.  
Thy Sorrows chide our shame.  
Thy cross, thy Nature, & thy name  
Advance our claim  
And cry with one accord  
Save them, o save them, lord.    


Expostulatio jesv XPI. CVM undo INGRAT●  
Sum pulcher: at nemo tamen me diligit.  
Sum nobilis: nemo est mihi qui seruiat:  
Sum diues: a me nemo quicquam postulat.  
Et cuncta possum: nemo me tamen tinet.  
Aeternus exs●: quaeror a paucissinus.  
Prudensque sum: sed me quis est qui consulit?  
Et sum via: at per me quotusquisque ambulat?  
Sum veritas: quare mihi non creditur?  
Sum vita: verum rarus est qui me petit.  
Sum vera lux: videre me neme cupit.  
Sum misericors: nullus fidem in me collocat.  
TV, si poris, non id mihi imputes, Homo:  
Salus ●ibi est a me parata: hac utere.  〈…〉 ●●cud. THE RECOMMENDATION.  

These hours, & that which hover's o'er my END,  
Into thy hands, and heart, lord, I, commend.   

Take Both to Thine Account, that I & mine  
In that Hour, & in these, may be all thine.   

That as I dedicate my devoutest BREATH  
To make a kind of LIFE for my lord's DEATH,   

So from his living, & life-giving DEATH,  
My dying LIFE may draw a new, & never fleeting BREATH    

Upon THE H. sepulcher.  
Here where our LORD once laid his Head,  
Now the grave lies buried.    

VEXILLA REGIS, THE HYMN OF THE HOLY cross.  

I.  
LOok up, languisting Soul! Lo where the fair  
Badge of thy faith calls back thy care,  
And bids thee ne'er forget  
Thy life is one long Debt  
Of love to Him, who on this painful TREE  
Paid back the flesh he took for thee.   

II.  
Lo, how the streams of life, from that full nest  
Of loves, thy lord's too liberal breast,  
Flow in an amorous flood  
Of WATER wedding BLOOD.  
With these he washed thy stain, transfered thy smart,  
And took it home to his own heart.   

III.  
But though great LOVE, greedy of such sad gain  
Usurped the Portion of THY pain,  
And from the nails & spear  
Turned the steel point of fear,  
Their use is changed, not lost; and now they move,  
Not stings of warth, but wounds of love.   

IV.  
Tall TREE of life! thy truth makes go  
What was till now ne'er understood,  
Though the prophetic king  
Struck loud his faithful string.  
It was thy wood he meant should make the TRHONE  
For a more than Solomon.   

V.  
Larg throne of love! Royally spread  
With purple of too Rich a red.  
Thy crime is too much duty;  
Thy burden, too much beauty;  
Glorious, or grievous more? thus to make good  
Thy costly excellence with thy KING's own BLOOD.   

VI.  
Even balance of both worlds! our world of sin.  
And that of grace heaven weighed in HIM,  
Us with our price thou weighedest;  
Our price for us thou payedest;  
Soon as the right-hand scale rejoiced to prove  
How much Death weighed more light than love.   

VII.  
Hail, our alone hope! let thy fair head shoot  
Aloft; and fill the nations with thy noble fruit.  
The while our hearts & we  
Thus graft ourselves on thee;  
Grow thou & they. And be thy fair increase  
The sinner's pardon & the just man's peace.   

Live, o for ever live & reign  
The LAMB whom his own love hath slain!  
And let thy lost sheep live to'inherit  
That KINGDOM which this cross did merit.  
AMEN.   

TO our B. LORD upon THE choice OF HIS sepulchre.  
How life & death in Thee  
Agree!  
Thou hadst a virgin womb,  
And tomb.  
A Joseph did betrothe  
Them both.    

CHARITAS NIMIA. OR THE DEAR BARGAIN.  

LOrd, what is man? why should he cost thee  
So dear? what had his ruin lost thee?  
Lord what is man? that thou hast overbought  
So much a thing of nought?   

Love is too kind, I see; & can  
Make but à simple merchant man.  
'Twas for such sorry merchandise.  
Bold Painters have put out his Eyes.   

Alas, sweet lord, what were't to thee  
If there were no such worms as we?  
Heaven ne'er the less still heaven would be,  
Should Mankind dwell  
In the deep hell.  
What have his woes to do with thee?   

Let him go weep  
o'er his own wounds;  
SERAPHIMS will not sleep  
Nor spheres let fall their faithful rounds.   

Still would The youthful SPIRITS sing;  
And still thy spacious Palace ring.  
Still would those beauteous ministers of light  
Burn all as bright,   

And bow their flaming heads before thee  
Still thrones & Dominations would adore thee  
Still would those ever wakeful sons of fire  
Keep warm thy praise  
Both nights & days,  
And teach thy loved name to their noble lyre.   

Let froward Dust then do it's kind;  
And give itself for sport to the proud wind.  
Why should a piece of peevish clay plead shares  
In the eternity of thy old cares?  
Why shouldst you bow thy awful breast to see  
What mine own madnesses have done with me?   

Should not the king still keep his throne  
Because some desperate Fool's undone?  
Or will the world's Illustrious eyes  
Weep for every worm that dies;   

Will the gallant sun  
Ere the less glorious run?  
Will he hang down his golden head  
Or e'er the sooner seek his western bed,  
Because some foolish fly  
Grows wanton, & will die?   

If I were lost in misery,  
What was it to thy heaven & thee?  
What was it to thy precious blood  
If my foul Heart called for a flood?   

What if my faithless soul & I  
Would needs fall in  
With guilt & sin,  
What did the Lamb, that he should die?  
What did the lamb, that he should need?  
When the wolf sins, himself to bleed?   

If my base lust,  
Bargained with Death & well-beseeming dust  
Why should the white  
Lamb's bosom write  
The purple name  
Of my sin's shame?   

Why should his unstained breast make good  
My blushes with his own heartblood?   

O my saviour, make me see  
How dearly thou hast paid for me   

That lost again my LIFE may prove  
As then in DEATH, so now in love.    

SANCTA MARIA dolorum OR THE MOTHER OF SORROWS. A pathetical descant upon the devout Plainsong OF STABAT MATER DOLOROSA.  
SANCTA MARIA dolorum.  

I.  
IN shade of death's sad TREE  
Stood Dolefull SHEE.  
Ah SHE! now by none other  
Name to be known, alas, but SORROW's NOTHER▪  
Before her eyes  
Hers, & the whole world's joys,  
Hanging all torn she sees; and in his woes  
And pains, her Pangs & throes.  
Each wound of His, from every Part,  
All, more at home in her one heart.   

II  
What kind of marble than  
Is that cold man  
Who can look on & see,  
Nor keep such noble sorrow's company?  
Sure even from you  
(My Flints) some drops are due  
To see so many unkind swords contest  
So fast for one soft breast.  
While with a faithful, mutual, flood  
Her eyes bleed tears, his wounds weep BLOOD.   

III.  
O costly intercourse  
Of deaths, & worse  
Divided loves. While son & mother  
Discourse alternate wounds to one another;  
Quick Deaths that grow  
And gather, as they come & go:  
His nails write swords in her, which soon her heart  
Pays back, with more than their own smart  
Her SWORDS, still growingt with his pain,  
Turn spears, & straight come home again   

IV.  
She sees her son, her GOD,  
Bow with à load  
Of borrowed sins; And swim  
In woes that were not made for Him.  
Ah hard command  
Of love! Here must she stand  
Charged to look on, & with à steadfast ey  
See her life die:  
Leaving her only so much Breath  
As serves to keep alive her death.   

V.  
O Mother turtle-dove!  
Soft source of love  
That these dry lids might borrow  
Something from thy full Seas of sorrow!  
O in that breast  
Of thine (the nobest nest  
Both of love's fires & floods) might I recline  
This hard, cold, Heart of mine!  
The chill lump would relent, & prove  
Soft subject for the siege of love.   

VI.  
O teach those wounds to bleed  
In me; me, so to read  
This book of loves, thus writ  
In lines of death, my life may copy it  
With loyal cares.  
O let me, here, claim shares;  
Yield something in thy sad prerogative  
(Great Queen of griefs) & give  
Me too my tears; who, though all stone,  
Think much that thou shouldst mourn alone.   

VII.  
Yea let my life & me  
Fix here with thee,  
And at the Humble foot  
Of this fair TREE take our etertall root.  
That so we may  
At least be in love's way;  
And in these chaste wars while the winged wounds flee  
So fast'twixt him & thee,  
My breast may catch the kiss of some kind dart,  
Though as at second hand, from either heart.   

VIII.  
O you, your own best Darts  
Dear, doleful hearts!  
Hail; & strike home & make me see  
That wounded bosoms their own weapons be.  
Come wounds! come darts!  
Nailed hands! & pierced hearts!  
Come your whole selves, sorrow's great son & mother!  
Nor grudge à vonger-Brother  
Of griefs his portion, who (had all their due)  
One single wound should not have left for you.   

Ix..  
Shall I, set there  
So deep a share  
(Dear wounds) & only now  
In sorrows draw no dividend with you?  
O be more wise  
Is not more soft, mine eyes!  
Flow, tardy founts! & into decent showers  
Dissolve my days & hours.  
And if thou yet (faint soul!) defer  
To bleed with him, fail not to weep with her.   

X.  
Rich Queen, lend some relief;  
At least an alms of grief  
Toa heart who by sad right of sin  
Could prove the whole sum (too sure) due to him.  
By all those stings  
Of love, sweet bitter things,  
Which these torn hands transcribed on thy true heart  
O teach mine too the art  
To study him so, till we mix  
Wounds; and become one crucifix.   

XI.  
O let me suck the wine  
So long of this chaste vine  
Till drunk of the dear wounds, I be  
A lost Thing to the world,, as it to me.  
O faithful friend  
Of me & of my end!  
Fold up my life in love; and lay't beneath  
My dear lord's vital death.  
Lo, heart, thy hope's whole Plea! Her precious Breath  
Poured out in prayers for thee; thy lord's in death.    

Upon THE BLEEDING crucifix A SONG.  

I.  
jesu, no more! It is full tide▪  
From thy head & from thy feet,  
From thy hands & from thy side  
All the purple rivers meet.   

II.  
What need thy fair head bear a part  
In showers, as if thine eyes had none?  
What need They help to drown thy heart,  
That strives in torrents of its own?   

III.  
Thy restless feet now cannot go  
For us & our eternal good.  
As they were ever wont. What though?  
They swim. Alas, in their own flood.   

IV.  
Thy hands to give, thou canst not lift;  
Yet will thy hand still giving be.  
It gives but o, itself's the gift.  
It gives though bound; though bound'tis free.   

V.  
But o thy side, thy deep-digged side!  
That hath a double Nilus going.  
Nor ever was the pharian tide  
Half so fruitful, half so flowing.   

VI.  
No hair so small, but pays his river  
To this red sea of thy blood  
Their little channels can deliver  
Something to the general flood.   

VII.  
But while I speak, whither are run  
All the rivers named before?  
I counted wrong. There is but one;  
But o that one is one all o'er.   

VIII.  
Rain-swoln rivers may rise proud,  
Bent all to drown & overflow.  
But when indeed all's overflowed  
They themselves are drowned too.   

Ix..  
This thy blood's deluge, a dire chance  
Dear LORD to thee, to us is found  
A deluge of deliverance;  
A deluge lest we should be drowned   

Ne'er wast thou in a sense so sadly true,  
The WELL of living WATERS, Lord, till now.    

Upon THE crown OF THORNS TAKEN down From the head of our Bl. LORD, all Bloody.  

KNow'st thou This, soldier? 'Tis à much-changed plant which yet.  
Thyself didst set.   

O who so hard a Husbandman did ever find;  
A soil so kind?   

Is not the soil a kind one, which returns  
Roses for Thrones?    

Upon THE BODY OF our BL. LORD, NAKED AND BLOODY.  

THey' Have left thee naked, LORD, O that they had!  
This garment too I would they had denied.   

Thee with thyself they have too richly clad;  
Opening the purple wardrobe in thy side.   

O never could there be garment too good▪  
For thee to wear, But this, of thine own Blood.    

THE HYMN OF SANITE THOMAS IN ADORATION OF THE BLESSED SACRAMENT.  

Ecce panis angelorum  ADORO TE  

WIth all the powers my poor Heart hath  
Of humble love & loyal Faith,  
Thus low (my hidden life!) I bow to thee  
Whom too much love hath bowed more low for me.  
Down down, proud sense! Discourses die.  
Keep close, my soul's inquiring eye!  
Nor touch nor taste must look for more  
But each sit still in his own door.   

Your ports are all superfluous here,  
save That which lets in faith, the ear.  
Faith is my skill. Faith can believe  
As fast as love new laws can give.  
Faith is my force. Faith strength affords  
To keep pace with those powerful words.  
And words more sure, more sweet, than they  
Love could not think, truth could not say.   

O let thy wretch find that relief  
Thou didst afford the faithful thief.  
Plead for me, love! Allege & show  
That faith has farther, here, to go  
And less to lean on. Because than  
Though hid as GOD, wounds writ thee man,  
Thomas might touch; None but might see  
At least the suffering side of thee;  
And that too was thyself which thee did cover,  
But here even That's hid too which hides the other.   

Sweet, consider then, that I  
Though allowed not hand nor eye  
To reach at thy loved Face; nor can  
Taste thee GOD, or touch thee MAN  
Both yet believe; And witness thee  
My LORD too & my GOD, as loud as He.   

Help, lord, my Hope increase;  
And fill my portion in thy peace.  
Give love for life; nor let my days  
Grow, but in new powers to thy name & praise.   

O dear memorial of that Death  
Which lives still, & allows us breath!  
Rich, royal food! Bountyful BREAD!  
Whose use denies us to the dead;  
Whose vital gust alone can give  
The same leave both to eat & live;  
Live ever Bread of loves, & be  
My life, my soul, my surer self to me.   

O soft self-wounding Pelican!  
Whose breast weeps Balm for wounded man.  
Ah this way bend thy benign flood  
Toa bleeding Heart that gasps for blood.  
That blood, whose least drops sovereign be  
To wash my worlds of sins from me.  
Come love! Come LORD! & that long day  
For which I languish, come away.  
When this dry soul those eyes shall see,  
And drink the unsealed source of thee.  
When Glory's sun faith's shades shall chase,  
And for thy veil give me thy FACE.   
AMEN.   

Lauda Zion SALVATOREM. THE HYMN. FOR THE BL. SACRAMENT.  

I.  
RIse, royal Zion! rise & sing  
Thy soul's kind shepherd, thy heart's KING▪  
Stretch all thy powers; call if you can  
Harps of heaven to hands of man.  
This sovereign subject sits above  
The best ambition of thy love.   

II.  
Lo the BREAD of LIEE, this day's  
Triumphant Text, provokes thy praise.  
The living & life-giving bread,  
To the great twelve distributed  
When LIFE, himself, at point to die  
Of love, was his own LEGACY.   

III.  
Come, love! & let us work a song  
Lowd & pleasant, sweet & long;  
Let lips & Hearts lift high the noise  
Of so just & solemn joys,  
Which on his white brows this bright day  
Shall hence for ever bear away.   

IV.  
Lo the new LAW of a new LORD.  
With a new Lamb blesses the Board.  
The aged Pascha pleads not years  
But spies love's dawn, & disappears.  
Types yield to truths; shades shrink away;  
And their NIGHT dies into our Day.   

V.  
But lest THAT die too, we are bid.  
Ever to do what he once did.  
And by à mindful, mystic breath  
That we may live, revive his DEATH▪  
With a well-blesed bread & wine.  
Transsumed, & taught to turn divine.   

VI.  
The heaven-instructed house of FAITH  
Here a holy Dictate hath  
That they but lend their Form & face,  
Themselves with reverence leave their place  
Nature, & name, to be made good.  
By'a nobler Bread, more needful BLOOD.   

VII.  
Where nature's laws no leave will give,  
Bold FAITH takes heart, & dares believe  
In different species, name not things  
Himself to me my saviour brings,  
As meat in That, as Drink in this;  
But still in Both one CHRIST he is.   

VIII.  
The receiving Mouth here makes  
Non wound nor breach in what he takes.  
Let one, or one thousand be  
Here dividers, single he  
Bears home no less, all they no more,  
Nor leave they both less than before.   

Ix..  
Though in itself this sovereign FEAST  
Be all the same to every Guest,  
Yet on the same (life-meaning) Bread  
The child of Death eats himself Dead.  
Nor is't love's fault, but sin's dire skill  
That thus from LIFE can DEATH distil.   

X.  
When the blessed signs thou broke shall see,  
Hold but thy Faith entire as he  
Who, howsoe'er clad, cannot come  
Less than whole CHRIST in every crumb.  
In broken forms à stable FAITH  
Untouched her precious TOTALL hath.   

XI.  
Lo the life-food of angels than  
Bowed to the lowly mouths of men!  
The children's BREAD; the Bridegroom's WINE.  
Not to be cast to dogs, or swine.   

XII.  
Lo, the full, final, SACRIEICE  
On which all figures fixed their eyes.  
The ransomed Isaac, & his ram;  
The MANNA, & the PASCHAL Lamb.   

XIII.  
Jesv MASTER, just & true!  
Our FOOD, & faithful shepherd too?  
O by thyself vouchsafe to keep,  
As with thyself thou feedest thy SHEEP.   

XIV.  
O let that love which thus makes thee  
Mix with our low Mortality,  
Lift our lean souls, & set us up  
Convictors of thine own full cup,  
Coheirs of SAINTS. That so all may  
Drink the same wine; and the same WAY.  
Nor change the pasture, but the PLACE;  
To feed of THEE in thine own FACE.   
AMEN.   

 DIES IRAE DIES ILLA. 
THE HYMN. OF THE church, IN MEDITATION OF THE DAY OF judgement.  

I.  
Hearest thou, my soul, with serious things  
Both the Psalm and sybyll sings  
Of a sure judge, from whose sharp Ray  
The world in flames shall fly away.   

II.  
O that fire! before whose face  
Heaven & earth shall find no place.  
O those eyes! whose angry light  
Must be the day of that dread Night.   

III.  
O that trump! whose blast shall rnn  
An even round with the circling Sun.  
And urge the murmuring graves to bring  
Pale mankind forth to meet his king.   

IV.  
Horror of nature, hell & Death!  
When a deep Groan from beneath  
Shall cry we come, we come & all  
The caves of night answer one call   

V.  
O that Book! whose leaves so bright  
Will set the world in severe light.  
O that judge! whose hand, whose eye  
None can endure; yet none can fly   

VI.  
Ah then, poor soul, what wilt thou say?  
And to what Patron choose to pray?  
When stars themselves shall stagger; and  
The most firm foot no more than stand.   

VII.  
But thou givest leave (dread Lord) that we  
Take shelter from thyself, in thee;  
And with the wings of thine own dove  
Fly to thy sceptre of soft love.   

VIII.  
Dear, remember in that Day  
Who was the cause thou camsed this way.  
Thy sheep was strayed; And thou wouldst be  
Even lost thyself in seeking me.   

Ix..  
Shall all that labour, all that cost  
Of love, and even that loss, be lost?  
And this loved soul, judged worth no less  
Than all that way, and weariness?   

X.  
Just mercy then, thy reckoning be  
With my price, & not with me  
'Twas paid at first with too much pain,  
To be paid twice; or once, in vain.   

XI.  
Mercy (my judge) mercy I cry  
With blushing Cheek & bleeding eye,  
The conscious colours of my sin  
Are red without & pale within.   

XII.  
O let thine own soft bowels pay  
Thyself; And so discharge that day.  
If sin can sigh, love can forgive.  
O say the word my Soul shall live.   

XIII.  
Those mercies which thy MARY found  
Or who thy cross confessed & crowned,  
Hope tells my heart, the same loves be  
Still alive; and still for me.   

XIV.  
Though both my prayers & tears combine,  
Both worthless are; For they are mine.  
But thou thy bounteous self still be;  
And show thou art, by saving me.   

XV.  
O when thy last Frown shall proclaim  
The flocks of goats to folds of flame,  
And all thy lost sheep found shall be,  
Let come ye blessed then call me.   

XVI.  
When the dread ITE shall divide  
Those Limbs of death from thy left side,  
Let those life-speaking lips command  
That I inheritt thy right hand.   

XVII.  
O hear a suppliant heart; all crushed  
And crumbled into contrite dust.  
My hope, my fear! my judge, my Friend!  
Take charge of me, & of my END.    


S. MARIA MAIOR. Dilecius meus mihi et ego illi▪ qui pascitur inter lilia. 〈…〉.  THE hymn O GLORIOSA DOMINA.  
HAil, most high, most humble one!  
Above the world; below thy SON  
Whose blush the moon beauteously mars  
And stains the timorous light of stairs.  
He that made all things, had not done  
Till he had made Himself thy son  
The whole world's host would be thy guest  
And board himself at thy rich breast.  
O boundless Hospitality!  
The FEAST of all thing feeds on the.  
The first Eve, mother of our FALL,  
Ere she bore any one, slew all.  
Of Her unkind gift might we have  
The inheritance of a hasty GRAVE;  
Quick buryeed in the wanton TOMB  
Of one forbidden bit;  
Had not à Better FRVIT forbidden it.  
Had not thy healthful womb  
The world's new eastern window been  
And given us heaven again, in giving HIM.  
Thine was the Rosy DAWN that sprung the Day  
Which renders all the stars she stole away.  
Let then the Aged world be wise, & all  
Prove nobly, here, unnatural.  
'Tis gratitude to forget that other  
And call the maiden Eve their morher.  
Ye redeemed Nations far & near,  
Applaud your happy selves in her,  
(All you to whom this love belongs)  
And keep't alive with lasting songs.  
Let hearts & lips speak loud; and say  
Hail, door of life: & source of day!  
The door was shut, the fountain sealed;  
Yet LIGHT was seen & LIFE revealed.  
The fountain sealed, yet life found way.  
Glory to thee, great virgin's son  
In bosom of thy FATHER's bliss.  
The same to thee, sweet SPIRIT be done;  
As ever shall be, was, & is.  
AMEN.   

IN THE glorious assumption OF our BLESSED LADY. THE HYMN.  
HArk! she is called, the parting hour is come  
Take thy Farewell, poor world! heaven must go home.  
A piece of heavenly earth; Purer & brighter  
Than the chaste stars, whose choice lamps come to light her  
While through the crystal orbs, clearer than they  
She climbs; and makes afar more milky way.  
She's called. Hark, how the dear immortal dove  
Sighs to his silver mate rise up, my love!  
Rise up, my fair, my spotless one!  
The winter's past, the rain is gone.  
The spring is come, the flowers appear  
No sweets, but thou, are wanting here.  
Come away, my love!  
Come away, my dove! cast off delay,  
The court of heaven is come  
To wait upon thee home; Come come away!  
The flowers appear.  
Or quickly would, wert thou once here  
The spring is come, or if it stay,  
'Tis to keep time with thy delay.  
The rain is gone, except so much as we  
Detain in needful tears to weep the want of thee.  
The winter's past.  
or if he make less haste,  
His answer is, why she does so.  
If summer come not, how can winter go.  
Come away, come away.  
The shrill winds chide, the waters weep thy stay;  
The fountains murmur; & each lofty est three.  
Bows lowest his heavy top, to look for thee.  
Come away, my love.  
Come away, my dove &c.  
She's called again. And will she go?  
When heaven bids come, who can say no?  
Heaven calls her, & she must away.  
Heaven will not, & she cannot stay.  
Go then; go glorious.  
On the golden wings  
Of the bright youth of heaven, that sings  
Under so sweet a burden. Go,  
Since thy dread son will have it so.  
And while thou goest, our song & we  
Will, as we may, reach after thee.  
HAIL, holy Queen of humble hearts!  
We in thy praise will have our parts.  
Thy precious name shall be.  
Thyself to us; & we  
With holy care will keep it by us.  
We to the last  
Will hold it fast  
And no assumption shall deny us.  
All the sweetest showers  
Of our fairest flowers  
Will we strew upon it.  
Though our sweets cannot make  
It sweeter, they can take  
Themselves new sweetness from it.  
MARIA, men & Angels sing  
MARIA, mother of our KING.  
LIVE, rosy Princess, LIVE. And may the bright  
Crown of a most incomparable light  
Embrace thy radiant brows. O may the best  
Of everlasting joys bathe thy white breast.  
LIVE, our chaste love, the holy mirth  
Of heaven; the humble pride of earth.  
Live, ctown of women; Queen of men.  
Live Mistress of our song. And when  
Our weak desires have done their breast,  
Sweet Angels come, and sing the rest.   

SANITE MARY MAGDALENE OR THE WEEPER.  
Lo where à wounded HEART with Bleeding EYES conspire.  
Is she a FLAMING Fountain, or a Weeping fire!  
THE WEEPER.  

I.  
HAil, sister springs!  
Parents of syluer-footed rills!  
Ever bubbling things!  
Thawing crystal! snowy hills,  
Still spending, never spent! I mean  
Thy fair eyes, sweet MAGDALENE!   

II.  
Heavens thy fair eyes be;  
heavens of ever-falling stars.  
'Tis seedtime still with thee  
And stars thou sowest, whose harvest dares  
Promise the earth to counter shine  
Whatever makes heavens' forehead fine.   

III.  
But weare deceived all.  
Stars indeed they are too true;  
For they but seem to fall,  
As heaven's other spangles do.  
It is not for our earth & us  
To shine in Things so precious.   

IV.  
Upwards thou dost weep.  
Heaven's bosom drinks the gentle stream.  
Where th'milky rivers creep,  
Thine floats above; & is the cream.  
Waters above th'Heauns, what they be  
weare taught best by thy tears & thee.   

V.  
Every morn from hence  
A brisk Cherub something sips  
Whose sacred influence  
Adds sweetness to his sweetest lips.  
Then to his music. And his song  
Tastes of this Breakfast all day long.   

VI.  
Not in the evening's eyes  
When they Red with weeping are  
For the Sun that dies,  
Sits sorrow with a face so fair,  
Nowhere but here did ever meet  
sweetness so sad, sadness so sweet.   

VII.  
When sorrow would be seen  
In her brightest majesty  
(For she is a Queen)  
Then is she dressed by none but thee.  
Then, & only then, she wears  
Her proudest pearls; I mean, thy tears.   

VIII.  
The dew no more will weep  
The prim rose's pale cheek to deck,  
The dew no more will sleep  
Nuzzeled in the lilly's neck;  
Much rather would it be thy TEAR.  
And leave them Both to tremble here.   

Ix..  
There's no need at all  
That the balsom-sweating bough  
So coily should let fall  
His medicinable tears; for now  
Nature hath learned tos'extract a dew  
More sovereign & sweet from you.   

X.  
Yet let the poor drops weep  
(weeping is the ease of woe)  
Softly let them creep,  
Sad that they, are vanquished so.  
They, though to others no relief,  
Balsam maybe, for their own grief.   

XI.  
Such the maiden gem  
By the purpling vine put on,  
Peeps from her parent stem  
And blushes at the bridegroom's sun.  
This watery Blossom of thy eyn,  
Ripe, will make the richer wine.   

XII.  
When some new bright Guest  
Takes up among the stars a room,  
And heaven will make a feast,  
Angels with crystal viols come  
And dew from these full eyes of thine  
Their master's Water: their own Wine.   

XIII.  
Golden though he be,  
Golden Tagus murmurs tho;  
Were his way by thee,  
Content & quiet he would go.  
So much more rich would he esteem  
Thy silver, than his golden stream.   

XIV.  
Well does the May that lies  
Smiling in thy cheeks, confess  
The April in thine eyes.  
Mutual sweetness they express.  
No April ere lent kinder showers,  
Nor May returned more faithful flowers.   

XV.  
O ckeeks! Beds of chaste loves  
By your own showers seasonably dashed  
Eyes! nests of milky doves.  
In your own wells decently washed,  
O wit of love! that thus could place  
Fountain & Garden in one face.  
O sweet Contest; of woes.  
With loves, of tears with smiles disputing!  
O fair, & friendly Foes,  
Each other kissing & confuting!  
While rain & sunshine, cheeks & Eyes  
Close in kind contrarietyes.   

XVII.  
But can these fair floods be  
Friends with the bosom fires that fill you!  
Can so great flames agree  
Eternal tears should thus distil thee!  
O floods, o fires! o suns o showers!  
Mixed & made friends by love's sweet powers.   

XVIII.  
'twas his well-pointed dart  
That digged these wells, & dressed this wine;  
And taught the wounded HEART  
The way into these weeping Eyn.  
Vain loves avaunt! bold hands forbear!  
The lamb hath dipped his white foot here.   

XIX.  
And now wherever he strays,  
Among the Galilean mountains,  
Or more unwelcome ways,  
He's followed by two faithful fountains;  
Two walking baths; two weeping motions;  
Portable, & compendious oceans.   

XX.  
O Thou, thy lord's fair store!  
In thy so rich & rare expenses,  
Even when he showed most poor,  
He might provoke the wealth of Princes.  
What Prince's wantonest pride e'er could  
Wash with silver, wipe with Gold.   

XXI.  
Who is that King, but he  
Who callest his Crown to be called thine,  
That thus can boast to be  
Waited on by a wandering mine,  
A voluntary mint, that strews  
Warm silver showers wherever he goes!   

XXII.  
O precious prodigal!  
Fair spendthrift of thyself! thy mea●ure  
(Merciless love!) is all.  
Even to the last pearl in thy treasure.  
All places, Times, & objects be  
Thy teare's sweet opportunity   

XXIII.  
Does the daystar rise?  
Still thy stars do fall & fall  
Does day close his eyes?  
Still the fountain weeps for all.  
Let night or day do what they will,  
Thou hast thy task▪ thou weepest still.   

XXIV.  
Does thy song lull the air?  
Thy falling tears keep faith full time.  
Does thy sweet-breathed pair  
Up in clouds of incense climb?  
Still at each sigh, that is, each stop,  
A bead, that is, A TEAR, does drop,   

XXV.  
At these thy weeping gates,  
(Watching their watery motion)  
Each winged moment waits.  
Takes his TEAR, & gets him gone.  
By thine eye's tinct ennobled thus  
Time lays him up; he's precious.   

XXVI.  
Not, so long she lived,  
Shall thy tomb report of thee;  
But, so long she grieved,  
Thus must we date thy memory.  
Others by moments, months, & years.  
Measure their ages; thou, by tears.   

XXVIII.  
So do perfumes expire.  
So sigh tormented sweets, oppressed  
With proud unpitying fires.  
Such tears the suffering Rose that's vexed  
With ungentle flames does shed,  
Sweating in a too warm bed.   

XXVIII.  
Say, the bright brothers,  
The fugitive sons of those fair Eyes  
Your fruitful mothers!  
What make you here? what hopes can 'tice  
You to be born? what cause can borrow  
You from Those nests of noble sorrow?   

XXIX.  
Whither away so ●●st?  
For sure the sordid ●●●th  
Your sweetness cannot ta●●●  
Nor does the dust deserve their birth,  
〈◊〉 whither hast you then? o say  
Why you trip so fast away?   

XXX.  
We go not to seek,  
The darlings of Aurora's bed▪  
The rose's modest Cheek  
Nor the violet's humble head.  
Though the Feild's eyes too WEEPERS be  
Because they want such tears as we.   

XXXI.  
Much less mean we to trace  
The Fortune of inferior gems,  
Preferred to some proud face  
Or pertched upon feared Diadems.  
Crowned Heads are toys. We go to meet  
A worthy object, our lord's FEET.    

A HYMN TO THE NAME AND honour OF THE ADMIRABLE SANITE TERESA, foundress of the Reformation of the Discalced CARMELITES, both men & Women; A WOMAN for angelical height of speculation, for Masculine courage of performance, more than a woman. WHO Yet a child, out ran maturity, and durst plot a martyrdom;  

Le Vray portraict de S.te Terese Fondatrice des Religieuses▪ & Religieux refermez de l'ordre de N. Dame du mont Carmel. Decedee le 4● Octo. 158●. Canonisee le 12●. Mars, 1622.  〈…〉 excudit  
THE hymn.  
Love, thou art Absolute sole lord  
OF LIFE & DEATH. To prove the word.  
we'll now appeal to none of all  
Those thy old soldiers, Great & tall,  
Ripe Men of Martyrdom, that could reach down  
With strong arms, their triumphant crown;  
Such as could with lusty breath  
Speak loud into the face of death  
Their Great LORD's glorious name, to none  
Of those whose spacious bosoms spread a throne  
For LOVE at large to fill, spare blood & sweat;  
And see him take a private seat,  
Making his mansion in the mild  
And milky soul of a soft child  
Scarce has she learned to lisp the name  
Of Martyr; yet she thinks it shame  
Life should so long play with that breath  
Which spent can buy so brave a death.  
She never undertaken to know  
What death with love should have to do;  
Nor has she e'er yet understood  
Why to show love, she should shed blood  
Yet though she cannot tell you why,  
She can LOVE, & she can die.  
Scarce has she Blood enough to make  
Aguilty sword blush for her sake;  
Yet has she'a HEART dares hope to prove  
How much less strong is DEATH than LOVE.  
Be love but there; let poor six years  
Be posed with the maturest fears  
Man trembles at, you staight shall find  
LOVE knows no nonage, nor the MIND.  
'Tis LOVE, not years or LIMBS that can  
Make the Martyr, or the man.  
LOVE touched her HEART, & lo it beats  
High, & burns with such brave heats;  
Such thirsts to die, as dares drink up,  
A thousand cold deaths in one cup.  
Good reason. For she breathes All fire.  
Her what breast heaves with strong desire  
Of what she may with fruitless wishes  
Seek for amongst her MOTHER's hisles.  
Since 'tis not to be had at home  
She'll travail to à Maryrdom.  
No home for hers confesses she  
But where she may à Martyr be.  
Sh'el to the moors; And trade with them,  
For this unualued Diad●m.  
She'll offer them her dearest Breath,  
With CHRIST's Name in't, in change for death.  
Sh'el bargain with them; & will give  
Them GOD; teach them how to live  
In him: or, if they this deny,  
For him she'll teach them how to DY.  
So shall she leave amongst them sown  
Her LORD's Blood; or at lest her own.  
farewell then, all the world! Adieu.  
TERESA is no more for you.  
Farewell, all pleasures, sports, & joys,  
(Never till now esteemed toys)  
MOTHER's arms or FATHER's knee  
Farewell house, & farewell home!  
SHE's for the moors, & MARTYRDOM.  
SWEET, not so fast! lo thy fair Spouse  
Whom thou seek'st with so swift vows,  
Calls thee back, & bids thee come  
T'embrace a milder MARTYRDOM  
Blessed powers forbid, Thy tender life  
Should bleed upon a barbarous knife;  
Or some base hand have power to raze  
Thy breast's chaste cabmet, & uncase  
A soul kept there so sweet, o no;  
Wise heaven will never have it so  
Thou art love's victim; & must die  
A death more mystical & high.  
Into love's arms thou shalt let fall  
A still-suruiving funeral.  
His is the DART must make the DEATH  
Whose stroke shall taste thy hallowed breath;  
A Dart thrice dipped in that rich flame  
Which writes thy spouses' radiant Name  
Upon the roof of heaven; where ay  
It shines, & with a sovereign ray  
Beats bright upon the burning faces  
Of souls which in that name's sweet graces  
Find everlasting smiles. So rare,  
So spiritual, pure, & fair  
Must be th' immortal instrument  
Upon whose choice point shall be sent  
A life so loved; And that there be  
Fit executioners for Thee.  
The fairest & first-born sons of fire  
Blessed SERAPHIM, shall leave their choir  
And turn love's soldiers, upon THEE  
To exercise their archery.  
O how oft shalt thou complain  
Of a sweet & subtle PAIN.  
Of intolerable joys;  
Of a DEATH, in which who dies  
Loves his death, and dies ag●in.  
And would for ever so be slain.  
And lives, & dies; and knows not why  
To live, But that he thus may never leave to die.  
How kindly will thy gentle HEART  
Kiss the sweetly-killing DART!  
And close in his embraces keep  
Those delicious Wounds, that weep  
Balsam to heal themselves with thus  
When These thy DEATHS, so numerous,  
Shall all at l●st die into one,  
And melt thy Soul's sweet mansion;  
Like a soft lump of incense, hasted  
By too hot a fire, & wasted  
Into perfuming clouds, so fast  
Shalt thou exhale to heaven at last  
In a resolving SIGH, and then  
O what? Ask not the Tongues of men.  
Angel's cannot tell, suffice,  
thyself shall feel thine own full joys  
And hold them fast for ever there  
So soon as you first appear,  
The MOON of maiden stars, thy white  
Mistress, attended by such bright  
Souls as thy shining self, shall come  
And in her first ranks make thee room;  
Where 'mongst her snowy family  
Immortal well comes wait for thee.  
O what delight, when revealed LIEF shall stand  
And teach thy lips heaven with his hand;  
On which thou now Mayst to thy wishes  
Heap up thy consecrated kisses.  
What joys shall seize thy soul, when she  
Bending her blessed eyes on thee  
(Those second Smiles of heaven) shall dart  
Her mild rays through thy melting heart!  
Angels, thy old friends, there shall greet thee  
Glad at their own home now to meet thee.  
All thy good works which went before  
And waited for thee, at the door,  
Shall own thee there; and all in one  
We●ue a constellation  
Of CROWNS, with which the KING thy spouse  
Shall build up thy triumphant brows.  
All thy old woes shall now smile on thee  
And thy pains si●t bright upon thee  
All thy sufferings be divine.  
Tears shall take comfort, & turn gems  
And WRONGS repent to Di●demms.  
Even thy DEATH shall live; & new  
Dress the soul that erst they slew.  
Thy wounds shall blush to such bright scars  
As keep account of the LAMB's wars.  
Those rare works where thou shalt leave writ▪  
Love's noble history, with wit  
Taught thee by none but him, while here  
They feed our souls, shall clothe THINE there.  
Each heavenly word by whose hid flame  
Our hard Hearts sh●ll strike fire, the same  
Shall flourish on thy brows▪ & be  
Both fire to us & flame to thee;  
Whose light shall live bright in thy FACE  
By glory, in our hearts by grace.  
Thou shalt look round about, & see  
Thousands of crowned souls throng to be  
Themselves thy crown. Sons of thy vows  
The virgin-births with which thy sovereign spouse  
Made fruitful thy fair soul, go now  
And with them all about thee bow  
To Him, put on (he'll say) put on  
(My rosy love) That thy rich zone  
Sparkling with the sacred flames  
Of thousand souls, whose happy names  
Heaven keep upon thy score. (Thy bright  
Life brought them first to kiss the light  
That kindled them to stars.) and so  
Thou with the LAMB, thy lord, shalt go;  
And wheresoever he sets his white  
Steps, walk with HIM those ways of light  
Which who in death would live to see,  
Must learn in life to die like thee.   

AN apology. FOR THE foregoing HYMEN as having been writ when the author was yet among the Protestants.  
THus have I back again to thy bright name  
(Fair flood of holy fires!) transfused the flame  
I took from reading thee, 'tis to thy wrong  
I know, that in my weak & worthless song  
Thou here art set to shine where thy full day  
Scarce dawns. O pardon if I dare to say  
Thine own dear books are guilty. For from thence  
I learned to know that love is eloquence.  
That hopeful maxim gave me heart to try  
If, what to other tongues is tuned so high,  
Thy praise might not speak English too; forbid  
(By all thy mysteries that here lie hid)  
Forbid it, mighty love! let no fond Hate  
Of names & words, so far prejudicate.  
Souls are not SPANIARDS too, one friendly flood  
Of BAPTISM blends them all into a blood.  
CHRIST's faith makes but one body of all souls  
And love's that body's soul, no law controwlls  
Our free traffic for heaven we may maintain  
Peace, sure, with piety, though it come from SPAIN.  
What soul so e'er, in any language, can  
Speak heaven like hers is my soul's countryman.  
O'tis not spanish, but'tis heaven she speaks!  
'Tis heaven that lies in ambush there, & bre●ks  
From thence into the wondering reader's breast;  
Who feels his warm HEART into a nest  
Of little EAGLES & young loves, whose high  
Fli●hts scorn the lazy dust, & things that die.  
There are now whose draughts (as deep as hell)  
drink vp●l SPAIN in sack. Let my soul swell  
With thee, strong wine of love! let others swim  
In puddles; w● w●ll pledge this SERAPHIM  
B●wles full of richer blood than blush of grape  
W●s ever guilty of, Change we too our shape  
(My soul,) Some drink from men to beasts, o then  
Drink we till we prove more, nor less, than men,  
‛ And turn not beasts, but Angels. Let the king  
Me ever into these his cellars bring  
Where flows such wine as we can have of none  
But HIM who trod the wine press all alone  
Wine of youth, life, & the sweet Deaths of love;  
W●ne of immortal mixture; which can prove  
I●'● Tincture from the rosy nectar; wine  
That can ex●l weak EARTH; & so refine  
O●r dust that at one draught, mortality  
May drink itself up, and forget to die.   

THE FLAMING HEART upon THE BOOK AND Picture of the seraphical saint, TERESA, (AS SHE IS VSVALLY EXpressed with a SERAPHIM beside her.)  
WEll meaning readers! you that come as friends  
And catch the precious name this piece pretends;  
Make not too much hast to'admire  
That fair-cheeked fallacy of fire.  
That is a SERAPHIM, they say  
And this the great TERESIA.  
Readers, be ruled by me; & make  
Here a well-placed & wise mistake  
You must transpose the picture quite,  
And spell it wrong to read it right;  
Read HIM for her, & her for him;  
And call the SAINT the SERAPHIM.  
Pa●nter, what didst thou understand  
To put her dart into his hand!  
See, even the years & size of him  
Sh●wes this the mother SERAPHIM.  
This is the Mistress flame; & duteous he  
Her happy fireworks, here, comes down to see  
O most poor-spirited of men!  
Had thy cold Pencil kissed her PEN  
Thou couldst not so unkindly err  
To show us This faint shade for HER  
Why man, this speaks pure mortal frame;  
And mocks with female FROST love's manly flame.  
One would suspect thou meantest to print  
Some weak, inferior, woman saint.  
But had thy palefaced purple took  
Fire from the burning checks of that bright book  
Thou wouldst on her have heaped up all  
That could be found seraphical;  
What e'er this youth of fire wears fair,  
Rosy fingers, radiant hair,  
Glowing cheek, & glistering wings,  
All those fair & flagrant things,  
But before all, that fiery DART  
Had filled the Hand of this great HEART.  
Do then as equal right requires,  
Since HIS the blushes be, & her's the fires,  
Resume & rectify thy rude design;  
Undress thy Seraphim into MINE.  
Redeem this injury of thy art;  
Give HIM the veil, give her the dart.  
Give Him the veil; that he may cover  
The Red cheeks of a rivalled lover.  
Ashamed that our world, now, can show  
Nests of new Seraphims here below.  
Give her the DART for it is she  
(Fair youth) shoots both thy shaft & THEE  
Say, all ye wise & well-peireed hearts  
That live & die amidst her darts,  
What is't your tasteful spirits do prove  
In that rare life of Her, and love?  
Say & bear witness. Sends she not  
A SERAPHIM at every shot?  
What magazines of immortal arms there shine!  
Heaven's great artillery in each love-spun line.  
Give then the dart to her who gives the flame;  
Give him the veil, who gives the shame.  
But if it be the frequent fate  
Of worst faults to be fortunate;  
If all's praescription; & proud wrong  
Hearkens not to an humble song;  
For all the gallantry of him,  
Give me the suffting SERAPHIM.  
His be the bravery of all those Bright things,  
The glowing cheeks, the glistering wings;  
The Rosy hand, the radiant DART;  
Leave HER alone THE FLAMING HEART.  
Leave her that; & thou shalt leave her  
Not one loose shaft but love's whole quiver,  
For in love's field was never found  
A nobler weapon than a wound.  
Love's passives are his actiu'st part.  
The wounded is the wounding heart  
O HEART! the equal poise of lou'es both parts  
Big alike with wound & darts.  
Live in these conquering leaves; live all the same;  
And walk through all tongues one triumphant FLAME  
Live here, great HEART; & love and die & kill;  
And bleed & wound; and yield & conquer still.  
Let this immortal life wherere it comes  
Walk in a crowd of loves & martyrdoms.  
Let mystic DEATHS wait on't; & wise souls be  
The love-slain witnesses of this life of thee.  
O sweet incendiary! show here thy art,  
Upon this carcase of a hard, cold, heart,  
Let all thy scattered shafts of light, that play  
Among the leaves of thy large Books of day,  
Combined against this breast at once break in  
And take away from me myself & sin,  
This gracious Robbery shall thy bounty be;  
And my best fortunes such fair spoils of me.  
O thou undaunted daughter of desires!  
By all thy dower of LIGHTS & FIRES;  
By all the eagle in thee, all the dove;  
By all thy lives & deaths of love;  
By thy large draughts of intellectual day,  
And by thy thrists of love more large than they;  
By all thy brim-filled bowls of fierce desire  
By thy last Morning's draught of liquid fire;  
By the full kingdom of that final kiss  
That seized thy parting Soul, & sealed thee his;  
By all the heavens thou hast in him  
(Fair sister of the SERAPHIM!  
By all of HIM we have in THEE;  
Leave nothing of myself in me.  
Let me so read thy life, that I  
Unto all life of mine may die.   

A SONG.  
LORD, when the sense of thy sweet geace  
Sends up my soul to seek thy face.  
Thy blessed eyes breed such desire,  
I die in love's delicious Fire.  
O love, I am thy SACRIFICE.  
Be still triumphant, blessed eyes.  
Still shine on me, fair suns! that I  
Still may behold, though still I die.  
Second part.  
Though still I die, I live again;  
Still longing so to be still slain,  
So gainful is such loss of breach.  
I die even in desire of death.  
Still live in me this loving strife  
Of living DEATH & dying LIFE.  
For while thou sweetly slayest me  
Dead to myself, I live in Thee.   

PRAYER. AN ODE, WHICH WAS prefixed to a little Práyer-book givin to a young. Gentlewoman.  
LO here a little volume, but great Book!  
A nest of newborn sweets;  
Whose native fires disdaining  
To lie thus folded, & complaining  
Of these ignoble sheets,  
Affect more comely bands  
(Fair one) from the kind hands  
And confidently look  
To find the rest  
Of a rich binding in your breast.  
It is, in one choice handful, heavenn; & all  
Heaven's royal host; encamped thus small  
To prove that true schools use to tell,  
Ten thousand Angels in one point can dwell.  
It is love's great artillery  
Which here contracts ill self, & comes to lie  
Close couched in their white bosom: & from thence  
As from a snowy fortress of defence,  
Against their ghostly foes to take their part,  
And fortify the hold of their chaste heart.  
It is an armoury of light  
Let constant use but keep it bright,  
You'll find it yields  
To holy hands & humble hearts  
More swords & shields  
Then sin hath snares, or Hell hath darts.  
Only be sure  
The hands be pure  
That hold these weapons; & the eyes  
Those of turtles, chaste & true;  
Wakeful & wise;  
Here is a friend shall fight for you,  
Hold but this book before their heart;  
Let prayer alone to play his part,  
But o the heart  
That studies this high ART  
Must be a sure housekeeper;  
And yet no fleeper.  
Dear soul, be strong.  
MERCY will come e'er long  
And bring his besom fraught with blessings,  
Flowers of never fading graces  
To make immortal dressings  
For worthy souls, whose wise embraces  
Store up themselves for HIM, who is alone  
The spouse of Virgins & the Virgin's son.  
But if the noble BRIDEGROOM, when he come,  
Shall find the loitering HEART from home;  
Leaving her chaste abode  
To gad abroad  
Among the gay mates of the god of flies;  
To take her pleasure & to play  
And keep the devil's holiday;  
To danceth' sunshine of some smiling  
But beguiling  
Spheres of sweet & sugared lies,  
Some slippery Pair  
Of false, perhaps as fair,  
Flattering but forswearing eyes;  
Doubtless some other heart  
Will get the start  
Mean while, & stepping in before  
Will take possession of that sacred store  
Of hidden sweets & holy joys.  
WORDS which are not heard with ears  
(Those tumultuous shops of noise).  
Effectual whispers, whose still voice  
The soul itself more feels than hears;  
Amorous languishments; luminous trances;  
SIGHTS which are not seen with eyes;  
Spiritual & soul-piercing glances  
Whose pure & subtle lightning flies  
Home to the heart, & sets the house on fire  
And melts it down in sweet desire  
Yet does not stay  
To ask the windows leave to pass that way;  
Delicious DEATHS; soft exhalations  
Of soul; dear & divine annihilations;  
A thousand unknown rites  
Of joys & rarefied delights;  
Ahundred thousand goods, glories, & graces,  
And many a mystic thing  
Which the divine embraces  
Of the dear spouse of spirits with them will bring  
For which it is no shame  
That dull mortality must not know a name.  
Of all this store  
Of blessings & ten thousand more  
(If when he come  
He find the Heart from home)  
Doubtless he will unload  
Himself some other where,  
And pour abroad  
His precious sweets  
On the fair soul whom first he meets.  
O fair, o fortunate! O rich, o dear!  
O happy & thrice happy she  
Selected dove  
Who e'er she be,  
Whose early love  
With winged vows  
Makes haste to meet her morning spouse  
And close with his immortal kisses.  
Happy indeed, who never misses  
To improve that precious hour,  
And every day  
Seize her sweet prey  
All fresh & fragrant as he rises  
Dropping with a balmy shower  
A delicious dew of spices;  
O let the blissful heart hold fast  
Her heavenly armful, she shall taste  
At once ten thousand paradises;  
She shall have power  
To rifle & deflower  
The rich & roseal spring of those rare sweets  
Which with a swelling bosom there she meets  
Boundless & infinite  
Bottomless treasures  
Of pure inebriating pleasures.  
Happy proof! she shall discover  
What joy, what bliss,  
How many heavens at once it is  
To have her GOD become her LOVER.   

TO THE SAME PARTY council CONCERNING HER choice.  
DEar, heaven-designed soul!  
Amongst the rest  
Of suitors that beseige your Maiden breast,  
Why my not I  
My fortune try  
And venture to speak one good word  
Not for myself alas, but for my dearer LORD?  
You've seen already, in this lower sphere  
Offroth & bubbles, what to look for here.  
Say, gentle soul, what can you find  
But painted shapes,  
Peacocks & Apes,  
Illustrious flves,  
Guilded dunghills, glorious lies,  
Goodly surmises  
And deep disguises,  
Oaths of water, words of wind?  
Truth bids me say, 'tis time you cease to trust  
Your soul to any son of dust.  
'Tis time you listen to a braver love,  
Which from above  
Calls you up higher  
And bids you come  
And choose your room  
Among his own fair sons of fire,  
Where you among  
The golden throng  
That watches at his palace doors  
May pass along  
And follow those fair stars of yours;  
Stars much too fair & pure to wai● upon  
The false smiles of a sublunary sun.  
Sweet, let me prophesy that at last 'twill prove  
Your wary love  
Laves up his purer & more precious vows,  
And means them for a far more worthy spouse  
Then this world of lies can give ye  
‛ Eun for Him with whom nor cost,  
Nor love, nor labour can be lost;  
Him who never will deceive ye.  
Let not my lord, the Mighty lover  
of souls, disdain that I discover  
The hidden art  
Of his high stratagem to win your heart,  
It was his heavenly art  
Kindly to cross you  
In your mistaken love,  
That, at the next remove  
Thence he might toss you  
And strike your troubled heart  
Home to himself; to hide it in his breast  
The bright ambrosial nest,  
Of love, of life, & everlasting rest.  
Happy mistake!  
That thus shall wake  
Your wise soul, never to be won  
Now w●●h a love below the sun.  
Your first cho●ce fails, o when you choose again  
May it not be amongst the sons of Men.   

ALEXIAS THE COMPLAINT. OF THE FORSAKEN WIFE OF SANITE ALEXIS.  

THE FIRST elegy.  
I ●●te the roman youth's loved praise & pride,  
Whom long none could obtain, though thousands tried,  
Lo here am left (alas), For my lost mate  
Tembrace my tears, & kiss an unkind FATE.  
Sure in my early woes stars were at strife,  
And tried to make a WIDOW ere a WIFE.  
Nor can I tell (and this new tears doth breed)  
In what strange path my lord's fair footsteps bleed.  
O knew I where he wandered, I should see  
Some solace in my sorrow's certainty  
I'd send my woes in words should weep for me.  
(Who knows how powerful well- writ prayers would be?)  
Sending's too slow a word, myself would fly.  
Who knows my own heart's woes so well as I?  
But how shall I steal hence? ALEXIS thou  
Ah thou thyself, alas, hast taught me how.  
Love too, that leads the, would lend the wings  
To bear me harmless through the hardest things.  
And where love lends the wing, & leads the way,  
What dangers can there be dare say me nay?  
If drowned; sweet is the death endured for HIM,  
The noted sea shall change his name with me;  
I, 'mongst the blessed stars a new name shall be.  
And sure where lovers make their watery graves.  
The weeping mariner will augment the waves.  
For who so hard, but passing by that way  
W●ll take acquaintance of my woes, & say  
Here' was the roman MAID found a hard fare  
While through the world she sought her wandering mate.  
Here perished she, poor heart, heavens, be my vows  
As true to me, as she was to her spouse.  
O live, so rare a love! live! & in thee  
The too frail life of female constancy.  
F●rewell; & shine, fair soul, shine there above  
Firm in thy crown, as here fast in thy love.  
There ●hy lost fugitive thou' hast found at last.  
Be happy; and for ever hold him fast.   

THE second elegy.  
THough All the joys I had fled hence with Thee,  
Unkind! yet are my tears still true to me  
I' am wedded o'er again since thou art gone;  
Nor couldst thou, cruel, leave me quite alone.  
ALEXIS' Widow now is sorrow's wife.  
With him shall I weep our my weary life.  
Welcome, my sad sweet Ma●e! Now have I got  
At last a constant love that leaves me not.  
Firm he, as thou art false, Not need my cries  
Thus vex the earth & tear the skies.  
For him, alas, ne'er shall I need to be  
Troublesome to the world, thus, as for thee.  
For thee I talk to trees; with silent groves  
Expostulate my woes & much wronged loves.  
Hills & relentless rocks, or if there be  
Things that in hardness more allude to thee;  
To these I talk in tears, & tell my pain;  
And answer too for them in tears again.  
How oft have I wept out the weary sun!  
My watery hourglass hath old time out run.  
O I am le●●ned grown, Poor love & I  
Have studied over all astrology.  
I'm perfect in heaven's st●te▪ w●●h every star  
My skilful grief is grown familiar.  
Rise, fairest of those fires; what e'er thou be  
Whose rosy beam shall point my sun to me.  
Such as the sacred light that erst did bring  
The EASTERN princes to their infant king.  
O rise, pure lamp! & lend thy golden ray  
That weary love at last may find his way.   

THE THIRD elegy.  
RIch, churlish LAND! that hid'st so long in thee,  
My treasures, rich, alas, by robbing me.  
Needs must my miseries ●we that man a spite  
Who e'er he be was the first wandering knight.  
O had he ne'er been at that cruel ●ost  
Nature's virginity had ne'er been lost.  
Seas had not been rebuked by s●way oars  
But lain locked up safe in their sacred shores.  
Men had not spurned at mountains; nor made wars  
With rocks; nor bold hands struck the world's strong bars.  
Nor lost in too large bounds, our little Rome  
Full sweetly with itself had dwelled at home.  
My poor ALEYIS, then in peaceful life,  
Had under some low roof loved his plain wife  
But now, ah me, from where he has no foes  
He flies; & into wilful exile goes.  
Cruel return. Or tell the reason why  
Thy dearest parents have deserved to die.  
And I▪ what is my crime I cannot tell.  
Unless it be a crime to' Have loved too well.  
If heats of holier love & high desire  
Make big thy fair breast with immortal fire,  
What needs my virgin lord fly thus from me,  
Who only wish his virgin wife to be?  
Witness, chaste heavens! no happier vows I know  
Then to a virgin GRAVE untouched to go.  
love's truest Knott by venus is not tied;  
Nor do embraces only make a bride.  
The QVEEN of angels, (and men chaste as You)  
Was MAIDEN WIFE & MAIDEN MOTHER too.  
CECILIA, Glory of her name & blood  
With happy gain her maiden vows made good.  
The lusty bridegroom made approach young man▪  
Take heed (said she) take heed, VALERIAN▪  
My bosom's guard, a SPIRIT great & strong,  
Stands armed, to shield me from all wanton wrong.  
My Chastity is sacred; & my sleep  
Wakeful, her dear v●wes undefiled to keep.  
PALLAS bears arms, forsooth, and should there be  
No fortress built fortrue VIRGINITY?  
No gaping gorgon, this. None, like the rest  
Of your learned lies. Here you'll find no such jest.  
I'm yours, O were my GOD, my CHRIST so too,  
I'd know no name of love on earth but you.  
He yields, and straight baptised, obtains the grace  
To gaze on the fair soldier's glorious face.  
Both mixed at last their blood in one rich bed  
Of rosy martyrdom, twice Married.  
O burn our hymen bright in such high Flame.  
Thy torch, terrestrial love, have here no name.  
How sweet the mutual yoke of man & wife,  
When holy fires maintain love's heavenly life!  
But I, (so help me heaven my hopes to see)  
When thousand sought my love, loved none but Thee.  
Still, as their vain tears my firm vows did try,  
ALEXIS, he alone is mine (said I)  
Half true, alas, half false, proves that poor line.  
ALEXIS is alone; But is not mine.    

DESCRIPTION. OF A religious house AND CONDITION OF LIFE (Out OF BARCLAY.)  
NO roofs of gold o'er riotous tables shining  
Whole days & suns devoured with endless dining;  
No sails of tyrian silk proud pavements sweeping;  
Nor ivory couches costlyer slumbers keeping;  
False lights of flairing gems; tumultuous joys;  
Halls full of flattering men & frishing boys;  
What e'er false shows of short & flippery good  
Mix the mad sons of men in mutual blood.  
But walks & unshorn woods; and souls, just so  
Vnforced & genuine; but not shady tho.  
Our lodgings hard & homely as our fare.  
That chaste & cheap, as the few clothes we wear.  
Those, course & negligent, As the natural locks  
Of these loose groves, rough as th'unpolished rocks.  
A hasty Portion of praescribed sleep;  
Obedient slumbers? that can wake & weep,  
And sing, &, & sigh, & work, and sleep again;  
Still rolling à round spear of still-returning pain.  
Hands full of hearty labours; do much, that more they may,  
And work for work, not wages; let to morrow's  
New drops, wash off the sweat of this day's sorrows.  
A long & dayly-ding life, which breathes  
A respiration of reviving deaths.  
But neither are there those ignoble stings  
That nip the bosom of the world's best things,  
And lash Earth-laboring souls.  
No cruel guard of diligent cares, that keep  
Crowned woes awake; as things too wise for sleep.  
But reverend discipline, & religious fear,  
And soft obedience, find sweet biding here;  
Silence, & sacred rest; peace, & pure joys;  
Kind loves keep house, lie close, make no noise,  
And room enough for Monarchs, while none swells  
Beyond the kingdoms of contentful Cells.  
The self-remembring soul sweetly recovers  
Her kindred with the stars; not basely hovers  
Below; But meditates her immortal way  
Home to the original source of LIGHT & intellectual Day.   

AN EPITAPH upon A young MARRIED couple DEAD AND buried TOGETHER.  
TO these, whom DEATH again did wed,  
This grave'S their second Marriage-bed▪  
For though the hand of fate could force  
twixt soul & BODY à divorce,  
It could not sunder man & WIEE,  
'Cause They Both lived but one life.  
Peace, good Reader. Do not weep.  
Peace, The lovers are asleep.  
They, sweet Turtles, folded lie  
In the last knot love could tie.  
And though they lie as they were dead,  
Their Pillow stone, their sheets of lead,  
(Pillow hard, & shears not warm)  
Love made the bed; They'll take no harm  
Let them sleep: let them sleep on.  
Till this stormy night be gone,  
Till the' eternal morrow dawn;  
Then the curtains will be drawn  
‛ And they wake into a light.  
Whose day shall never die in Night.   

DEATH'S lecture AND THE funeral OF A young GENTLEMAN.  
DEar relics of a dislodged soul, whose lack  
Makes many a mourning paper put on black!  
O stay a while, ere thou draw in thy head  
And wind thyself up close in thy cold bed.  
Stay but à little while, until I call  
A summons worthy of thy funeral.  
Come then, youth beauty, & blood!  
All the soft powers.  
Whose silken flatterves swell a few fond hours  
Into a false eternity. Come man;  
Hyperbolized NOTHING! know thy span;  
Take thine own measure here down, down, & bow  
Before thyself in thine idea; thou  
Huge emptiness! contract thyself; & shrink  
All thy Wild circle to a Point. Osink  
Lower & lower yet; till thy lean size  
Call heaven to look on thee with sorrow eyes.  
Lesser & lesser yet; till thou begin  
To show a face, fit to confess thy Kin,  
Thy neigbourhood to NOTHING.  
Proud looks, & lofty eyliddes, here put on  
Yourselves in your unfeigned reflection,  
Here, gallant Ladies! this unpartial glass  
(Though you be painted) shows you your true face.  
These death-sealed lips are they dare give the lie  
To the loud Boasts of poor Mortality  
These curtained windows, this retired eye  
Outstares the lids of larg-looked tyranny.  
This posture is the brave one this that lies  
Thus low, stands up (Methinks,) thus & defies  
The world. All-daring dust & ashes! only you  
Of all interpreters read Nature True.   

TEMPERANCE. OF THE CHEAP physician upon THE TRANSLATION OF Lessius.  
Go now; and with some daring drug  
Bait thy disease. And whilst they tug,  
Thou to maintain their precious strife  
Spend the dear treasures of thy life.  
Go, take physic dote upon  
Some big-named composition.  
Th'Oraculous doctor's mystic bills;  
Certain hard WORDS made into pills,  
And what at last shalt 'gain by these?  
Only a costlyer disease.  
That which makes us have no need  
Of physic, that's physic indeed.  
Hark hither, Reader! wilt thou see  
Nature her own physician be?  
Wilt see a man, all his own wealth,  
His own music, his own health;  
A man whose sober soul can tell  
How to wear her garments well.  
Her garments, that upon her sit  
As garments should do, close & fit;  
A well-clothed soul; that's not oppest  
Nor choked with what she should be dressed.  
A soul sheathed in a crystal shrine;  
Through which all her bright features shine;  
As when a piece of wanton lawn  
A thin, aerial veil, is drawn  
O'er beauty's face seeming to hide  
more sweetly shows the blushing bride.  
A soul, whose intellectual beams  
No mists do mask, no lazy steams.  
A happy soul, that all the way.  
To heaven rides in a summer's day.  
Wouldst' see a man, whose well-warmed blood▪  
Baths him in a genuine flood!  
Aman, whose tuned humours be  
A seat of rarest harmony?  
Wouldst' see blithe looks, fresh cheeks beguile  
Age? wouldst see december smile?  
Wouldst' see nests of new roses grow  
In a bed nf renerend snow?  
Warm thoughts, free spirits flattering  
Winter's self into a spring.  
In sum, wouldst see a man that can.  
Live to be old, and still a man?  
Whose latest & most leaden hours  
Fall with soft wings, stuck with soft flowers;  
And when life's sweet fable ends,  
Soul & body part like friends;  
No quarrels, murmurs▪ no delay;  
A kiss, a SIGH, and so away.  
This rare one, reader, wouldst thou see?  
Hark hither; and thyself be HE.   

HOPE.  
HOpe whose weak being ruined is  
Alike if it succeed or if it miss!  
Whom ill or good does equally confound  
And both the horns of fate's dilemma wound.  
Vain shadow; that dost vanish quite  
Both at full noon & perfect night!  
The stars have not a possibility  
Of blessing Thee.  
If things then from their end we happy call,  
'Tis hope is the most hopeless thing of all.  
Hope, thou bold Taster of delight!  
Who in stead of doing so, devour'st it quite.  
Thou bringst us an estate, yet leavest us poor  
By clogging it with legacies before.  
The joys which we entire should wed  
Come deflour'd-virgins to our bed  
Good fortunes without gain imported be  
Such mighty custom's paid to Thee  
For joy like wine kept close, does better taste;  
If it take air before his spirits wast.  
Hope fortune's cheating lottery  
Where for one prize, an hundred blanks there be.  
Fond archer, hope. Who tak'st thine aim so far  
That still or short or wide thine arrows are  
Thin empty cloud which they deceives  
With shapes that our own fancy gives.  
A cloud which gilt & painted now appears  
But must drop presently in tears  
When thy false beams o'er reason's light prevail,  
By IGNES FATVI for north stars we sail.  
Brother of fear more gaily clad.  
The merrier fool o'th' two, yet quite as mad.  
Sire of repentance, child of fond desire  
That blow'st the chemic & the lover's fire.  
Still leading them insensibly' on  
With the strong witchcraft of Anon.  
By thee the one does changing nature through  
Her endless labyrinth's pursue,  
And th'other chases woman; while she goes  
More ways & turns then hunted nature knows.  
M. COWLEY.   

M. Crashaw's. ANSWER FOR HOPE.  
DEar hope! earth's dowry, & heavens' debt!  
The entity of those that are not yet.  
Subtlest, but surest being! Thou by whom  
Our nothing has a definition!  
Substantial shade! whose sweet allay  
Blends both the noons of night & day.  
Fates cannot find out a capacity  
Of hurting thee.  
From Thee their lean dilemma, with blunt horn,  
Shrinks, as the sick moon from the wholesome morn  
Rich hope! love's legacy, under lock  
Of faith! still spending, & still growing stock!  
Our crown-land lies above yet each meal brings  
A seemly portion for the sons of kings.  
Nor will the virgin joys we wed  
Come less unbroken to our bed,  
Because that from the bridal ckeek of bliss  
Thou stealest us down a distant kiss.  
Hope's chaste stealth harms no more joy's maidenhead  
Then spousal rites prejudge the marriage bed.  
Fair hope! our earlyer heaven by thee  
Young time is taster to eternity  
Thy generous wine with age grows strong, not sour.  
Nor does it kill thy fruit, to smell thy flower.  
Thy golden, growing, head never hangs down  
Till in the lap of love's full noon  
It falls; and dies! o no, it melts away  
As does the dawn into the day.  
As lumps of sugar lose themselves; and twine  
Their supple essence with the soul of wine.  
Fortune? alas, above the world's low wars  
Hope walks; & kicks the curled heads of conspiring stars.  
Her keel cuts not the waves where These winds stir  
Fortune's whole lottery is one blank to her.  
Sweet hope! kind cheat! fair fallacy by thee  
We are not WHERE nor What we be,  
But WHAT & WHERE we would be. Thus art thou  
Our absent PRESENCE, and our future Now.  
Faith's sister! nurse of fair desire!  
Fear's antitode! a wise & well-stayed fire!  
Temper twixt chill despair, & torrid joy!  
Queen Regent in young love's minority!  
Though the vexed chemic vainly chases  
His fugitive gold through all her faces;  
Though love's more fierce, more fruitless, fires assay  
One face more fugitive then all they;  
True hope's a glorious hunter & her chase,  
The GOD of nature in the fields of grace.  
VIVE jesv.