FROM THE LIBRARY OF REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON, D. D BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO THE LIBRARY OF PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY Dl vi^ on Section SACRED POEMS AND PIOUS EJACULATIONS. r / I SILKY SCLXTILLANS, ET(l- MAY 14 1936 ' OGICAL St Pi SACKED POEMS AND PIOTTF EJACULATIONS. BY HENRY VAUGHAN, "8ILUR1ST." WITH A MEMOIR BY THE REV. H. h\ LYTE, Job xxxv. 10, 11. Where is God ray Maker, who giveth Bongs in the night ? Who teacheth us more than the beasts of the earth, and maketfa lb wiser than the fowls of heaven? LONDON : GEORGE BELL AND SONS, YORK STREET, COYENT GARDEN. 1891. CHISWICK PRK.SS I — C. WHITTINGHAM AND CO., TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY I.ANE. * « ^ - iiL r ht up the copies to suppress it. The copy in the Brit Museum is believed to he unique. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2013 http://archive.org/details/sapiousOOvaug CONTEXTS. UTIIORIS(de bj Biographical \ AUGHAN The Author's Dedication SlLEX SciNTII.EAN*?. or Sacr Regeneration . Death. A Dialogue Resurrection and Immoi Day of Judgement . Religion . The Search Isaac's Marriage The Brittish Church The Lanipe . Man's Fall and Recovery The Show re . Distraction The Pursuite . Mount of ( dives The Incarnation anil P - The Call Early Death . Vanity of Spirit The Retreat Absence . Midnight Content . 5 Eura . ) Emblema Sretch of Hekrt Prefa ei> Po; .ms P. a lity h n kt I Pare xu xiii 3 15 21 24 '2b - :A 3i 37 40 41 43 44 45 47 47 49 50 51 5:3 54 55 57 58 59 Vlll CONTENTS. SlLEX SC1NT1LLANS. PART I. The Storm . The Morning-watch The Evening- watch Bereavement Church- Service Buriall . Chearfulness Distance Peace . The Passion . Bom. Cap. 8. ver. 19. The Relapse , The Resolve . The Match . Rules and Lessons Corruption . Holy Scriptures . Unprofitablenes Christ's Nativity . The Check . Disorder and Frailty Idle Verse . Son- day es Repentance . The Burial of an Infant Faith . The Dawning • Admission Praise . Dressing Easter-day . Easter Hymn The Holy Communion Psalm 121 . Affliction The Tempest Retirement . Love, and Discipline The Pilgrimage . The Law and the Gospel The World . The Mutinie. The Constellation . Page 60 61 63 64 65 66 68 69 70 71 73 74 76 77 79 86 87 88 89 91 93 95 97 98 101 101 103 105 106 108 110 111 112 114 115 116 119 121 122 124 126 128 130 CONTEXTS . IX SlLEX SCINTILLANS. PART I. Page The Shepheards 133 Misery . 135 The Sap 138 Mount of Olives 140 Man 141 The Hidden Flower 143 Begging .... 146 blLEX SdNTILLANS. PART II. Ascension-day . . . . . .148 Ascension-Hymn . 151 Depat ted Friends 152 White Sunday 154 The Proffer .... 157 Cock -crowing 159 The Starre .... 161 The Falm-tree 162 Joy ..... 164 The Favour .... 165 The Garland. 166 Love-sick .... 167 Trinity Sunday . 168 Fsalme 104 . 169 The Bird .... 174 The Timber .... 175 The Jews 178 Begging .... 180 Palm- Sunday 181 Jesus weeping 183 The Daughter of Herod ias , 184 Jesus weeping 185 Providence . 187 The Knot 189 The Ornament 190 St. Mary Magdalen 191 The Kain-bow 193 The Seed growing secretly 195 Time's Book 197 Religion 199 The Stone 201 The Dwelling-Place 203 The Men of War . , 204 The Ass . 206 X CONTENTS • SlLEX SCINTILLANS. PART II. Page The Hidden Treasure 208 Childe-hood . 210 The Night . 211 Abel's blood . . , 214 Righteousness 215 Anguish 217 Tears .... 218 Jacob's Pillow, and Pills ir 219 The Agreement . 221 The Day of Judgement. 224 Psalm 65 226 The Throne . 227 Death .... 228 The Feast . , 229 The Obsequies 232 The Water-fall . 234 Quickness . . , 235 The Wreath . 236 The Queer . 237 The Book . 238 To the Huly Bible 239 L'Envoy 240 Pious Thoughts and Ejaculations. To his Books 245 Looking back 246 The Shower . . 247 Discipline . . 248 The Eclipse . 248 Affliction . . 249 Retirement . 250 The Revival . 251 The Day-spring . 252 The Recovery . , 253 The Nativity 255 The true Christmas 256 The Request 257 The World . 259 The Bee 262 To Christian Religion 265 Daphnis . « ( 267 ^&3Ii&fc3i« BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF HENRY VAUGHAN THE SILURIST. Authoris (de se) Emblema. 1 Tentasti, fateor, sine vulnere scepius, et me Consultum voluit Vox, sine voce, frequens ; Ambivit placido divmior aura meatu, Et frustra sancto murmure praimonuit. Surdus eram, mutusque Silex : Tu, (quanta tuorum Cur a tibi est /) alia das renovare via ; Permutas Curam : Jamque irritatus Amorem Posse negas, et vim, Vi, superare paras ; Accedis propior, molemque, et saxea rumpis Pectora, fitque Caro, quodfuit ante Lapis. En lacerum ! Coelosque tuos ardentia tandem Fragmenta, et liquidas ex Adamante genas ! Sic olim undantes Petras, Scopulosque vomentes Gurdstij populi providus usque tui ! Quam miranda tibi manus est ! Moriendo, revixi; Et fractas jam sum ditior inter opes. 1 These lines were illustrated in the first edition of ' Silex Scintillans,' 1650, by the engraved title-page, which showed a thunderbolt striking sparks from a flinty heart. Both " Emblema " and engraved title were omitted from the second edition, 1655. — Ejd. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF HENRY VAUGHAN. HE principal collections of the Bri- tish poets were made at a time when the taste for French correct- ness was in the ascendant among ns. This may in some measure account for the fact that so many smooth Rhymsters, such as Pomfret, Yalden, Lans- down, &c, have been placed on that august list, while Lord Brooke, the Fletchers, Withers, Herrick, Habington, and Quarles, have been excluded from it ; and it is only when some happy accident brings these writers and their productions under our notice, that we discover how many of the true poets of England have been pushed from their places, to make room for mere pretenders to the title. In some in- stances it would almost seem as if these writers had been studiously run down by those, who stole from them first, and then sought to con- b XIV BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH sign them to obscurity, in order to cover their own plagiarisms. From the days of Milton, however, down to those of Burns and Cowper, a very low standard of poetic excellence pre- vailed in this country, and a trifling offence against good taste, a slight ruggedness in style and composition, were sufficient to condemn a poet of no mean order to oblivion ; as if any correctness of taste or smoothness of versifica- tion could atone for the actual dearth of ori- ginality. Among those who have experienced in a remarkable degree this unfair treatment is the Poet, a part of whose works we propose now to republish. He is entirely unnoticed in the great collections of Bell, Anderson, and Chal- mers ; and even Campbell, in his specimens of the British poets, speaks in the most slighting manner of his talents and productions. All this, however, is trifling in comparison with the treatment he receives at the hand of his own County Historian, Jones. This writer actually doubts whether Henry Vaughan ever produced any poetry whatever. He tells us that two little pieces of his, the Olor Iscmvus, and the Ghamel House, were published by Thomas Vaughan, in the name of his brother Henry ; but that they were generally believed to be Thomas Vaughan's own compositions. So ignorantly and flippantly could the Historian of Brecknockshire write respecting one of its greatest literary ornaments, whose works, now before us, amount to seven printed volumes. OF HENRY VAUGIIAN. XV How far this depreciation was deserved, the poems preserved in the following' pages will best testify; but we are much deceived if many of them do not commend themselves to all readers of true poetic taste, as among the most striking compositions of their age. In this case a desire will naturally arise to know something respecting the Author, and this curiosity the Editor here endeavours to gratify: and after carefully looking through the afore- said volumes, and making what enquiries he could both at Oxford and in the neighbourhood where Vaughan lived and died, he offers in the following biographical sketch the results of his researches. It may be as well here further to observe that Henry Vaughan the poet, must not be confounded with another of the same name, college, and neighbourhood, who wrote two little theological pieces of some merit. Though possessing so many features in com- mon, they were, as the records of Jesus College show, totally different persons. Henry Vaughan, styled by his contempo- raries t; the Silurist," from his having been born among the Silures, or people of South Wales, was descended from one of the most ancient and respectable families of the Princi- pality, deducing its pedigree from the ancient kings of that country. Two of his ancestors, Sir Roger Vaughan and Sir David Gam, lost their lives at the battle of Agincourfc. His great grandmother was Lady Frances Somer- set, daughter of Thomas Somerset, third son of XVI BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH Henry Earl of Worcester, and the possessions of the Vaughan family were very extensive both in Brecknockshire and in other parts of Wales. The chief family residence was the castle of Tretower, in the parish of Cwmdu, and, when it was dismantled, Skethrock, or Scethrog, in the same neighbourhood. At this latter place Shakespeare is said to have paid a visit to one of the family, and his commentator, Mai one, thinks that it was perhaps there that he picked up the word " Puck/' respecting the origin of which some of his critics have been much puzzled. Pooky in Welsh signifies a goblin, and near Scethrog exists a valley, Cwm-Pooky, the goblin's vale, which belonged to the Vaughans, and which a tradition, still extant, states to have been a favourite resort of some distinguished " Bard," who had once visited that neighbourhood. The grandfather of the poet appears to have migrated from Tretower to Newton, in the parish of Llan- saintfread, about five miles distant from the family residence ; and there his son Henry, in the year 1621, had issue Henry and Thomas Vaughan, twin brothers, the former of them the subject of the present memoir. Newton, once a comfortable mansion, is now a farm- house near the Usk, on the road leading from Crickhowel to Brecon, and distant about five miles from the latter place. Henry Vaughan styles it himself, in the date affixed to one of his dedications, " Newton by Uske, near Sketh- rock." The situation is a very beautiful one, OF HENRY VAUGHAN. xvn well calculated to nurse poetic thought and feeling ; and there is abundant evidence in Vaughan's works, to show that it was not un- appreciated by its poetic occupant. There are some very sweet Latin verses in one of his early volumes, addressed to the Usk, and the following lines occur in one of his English apostrophies to the same river : — " Garlands and songs and roundelay ps, Mild dewie nights, and sunshine dayes, The turtle's voyce, joy without fear, Dwell on thy bosome all the year ! ******* The factour-wind from far shall bring The odours of the scattered spring, And loaden with the rich arreare Spend it in spicie whispers here." 01 or Tsc. p. 2. At the age of eleven years Henry Vaughan and his brother were sent for education to the Rev. Matthew Herbert, Rector of Llangattock, under whose tuition they continued during the ensuing six years. Here they seem to have made considerable progress in classical litera- ture, and to have imbibed a strong affection for their tutor, as well as a lively sense of their obligations towards him. They have both left behind them elegant and affectionate tributes, in Latin Elegiacs, to their old preceptor, and the graceful classicality of these compositions proves how well their praises were deserved. From Llangattock the brothers in due time moved on to Oxford, and entered at Jesus XVlll BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH College in the year 1638. They were then between 17 and 18 years of age, and well qualified for engaging in the studies of the University. They had fallen, however, on times unpropitious to literary pursuits. The great rebellion was now fermenting, and politics seemed to push everything else into the back ground. The king too by-and-by moved his Court from London to Oxford, where he had the sympathy and support of almost all the members of the University. It was scarcely to be expected that two young and ardent spirits, like those of the Vaughans, would be indifferent to the Royal cause. They were sprung from a family distinguished for its loyalty ; and Wales throughout the Civil War was always favourable to Charles : accordingly we find them both zealous royalists. Thomas Vaughan actually bore arms on the King's side, and Henry suf- fered obloquy and imprisonment for his known and avowed attachment to his Royal master. This latter fact appears from a poem of his addressed to his " learned friend and loyal fellovj ■prisoner, Thomas Powell, D.D." Whether he ever actually took the field on the King's side may be a mattei of doubt. He speaks in a poem of his, of having been " torn from the side" of a dear young friend, R. W., in the battle of Rowton Heath, near Chester, 1645 ; and there are other passages in his works which seem to intimate that he had been engaged in actual conflict with the enemy. However, on the other hand, a Latin poem of his, written in OF HENRY VAUGHAN. XIX 1647, expressly asserts that he had then nothing to do with open warfare. He considered, he tells us, that there was a voice in a brother's blood, which would cry to Heaven against the shedder of it, and therefore he conscientiously abstained from meeting in the field his infatuated countrymen, though not from the advocacy of his Sovereign's cause by every means which he deemed legitimate. His brother Thomas, how- ever, had none of these scruples ; and as his History is rather a singular one, it may as well be here pursued to its close. Obtaining ordi- nation from Bishop Main waring, he was pre- sented by a distant relation to the living of Llansaintfread, the place of his birth, and went to reside there, close to his brother Henry. The Parliamentary Ecclesiastical Commissioners soon afterwards commenced their inquisitorial visitations, and Thomas Vaughan was expelled by them from his living, on the usual charges of drunkenness, swearing, incontinency, and having borne arms for the King, the latter pro- bably being, as in many other instances, his only real offence. On this event he retired to Oxford, and devoted the rest of his life to Chemistry, or rather Alchemy, under the aus- pices of Sir Robert Murray, Secretary of State for Scotland, himself a great admirer of these studies. While in his service Thomas Vaughan published several works in verse and prose under the name of Eugenius Philalethes. The titles of some of these are very whimsical and amusing. There is first " Anima magica dbscondita, or a XX BIOGKAPHICAL SKETCH discourse, of the Universal Spirit of Nature, ivith the strange, abstruse, and miraculous ascent and descent. — London, 1650." " Anthroposophia Theo- magica, or a discourse of thv Nature of Man, and Ms state after death, grounded on his Creator s proto- chemistry. — London, 1650." " Magia Ada- mica, or the Antiquity of Magic, and the descent thereof from Adam downward, proved; together ivith a yerfect andfidl discovery of the true Coe- lum terror, or the Magician's Heavenly Chaos, and first matter of all things. — London, 1650." The last thafc we shall mention is, " Euphrates, or the vjaters of the East; being a short discourse of that secret fountain, whose water flows from fire, and carries in it the beams of the sun and moon; London, 1653." In the year 1665, on the Plague breaking out in London, the Court of Charles II. removed to Oxford, and Thomas Vaughan and his patron accompanied it. A few days afterwards, however, he was taken ill, and, retiring to Albury, in the neighbourhood, he died there, Feb. 27th, 1665. Anthony Wood sums up his character by saying, " He was a great Chymist, a noted lover of the fire, an experimental Philosopher, a zealous brother of the Eosicrucian fraternity, an understander of some of the Oriental languages, and a toler- able good English and Latin Poet. He was neither Papist nor Sectary, but a true resolute Protestant, in the best sense of the Church of England." The two brothers seem to have been always strongly attached to each other. Thomas had the highest admiration of his bro- OF HENRY TAUGHAN, XM ther's poetical powers, and ushered in his early works with strong prefatorial commendations ; and Henry pathetically laments his more ec- centric brother's untimely death, in the verses entitled "Daphnis" printed at the end of this volume. It was during this period of Henry Vaughan's life that his earliest verses were produced. He was intimate with most of the young literary men of the day, and his occasional effusions appear to have been highly prized and long re- membered among them. He speaks with much delight of his occasional visits to London at this time, and of the social evenings spent there at the Globe Tavern. He mentions Randolph as one whom he specially delighted in. He flung his poetic tribute, along with so many others, on Cartwright's premature hearse. Fletcher's plays, published in 1G47, came out with com- mendatory verses of his prefixed to them. And Ben Jonson, " great Ben," seems to have been an object of his peculiar admiration. At this period also his own first publication was given to the world, a little volume of verses, chiefly amatory, addressed to Amoret, in the light easy style of the day, and closing with a translation — not a close one — of the 10th satire of Juvenal. Some of these poems exhibit a good deal of vigour and freedom in their versification. The following is a favourable specimen : "But grant some richer planet at my birth Had spied me out, and measured so much earth XXll BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH Or gold unto my share, I should have been Slave to these lower elements, and seen My high-born soul flagge with their drosse, and lye A prisoner to base mud and alchemie. I should perhaps eate orphans, and sucke up A dozen distrest widowes in one cup. *P *^ *r* *P *I* "P Thanks then for this deliverance, Blessed Powers ! You that dispense man's fortune and his houres ! How am I to you all engaged, that thus By such strange meanes, almost miraculous, You should preserve me ? you have gone the way To make me rich by taking all away. For I, had I been rich, as sure as fate, Would have been meddling with the king or state, Or something to undoe me ; and 'tis fit, We know, that who hath wealth should have no wit. But above all thanks to that Providence, That armed me with a gallant soule and sense 'Gainst all mistortunes, that hath breathed so much Of Heaven into me, that I scorn the touch Of these low things, and can with courage dare Whatever fate or malice can prepare. I envy no man's purse or mines. I know That losing them I've lost their curses too." The little volume from whence these lines are taken is entitled, " Poems, with the tenth Satyr e of Juvenal Englished, by Henry Vaughan, Gent. London, 1646." It became, however, now necessary that Henry Vaughan should turn his attention to some pro- fession for a livelihood. Whatever patrimony may have descended to him by inheritance, it appears to have been inadequate to his support. Besides, he was a Poet, one of that race of whom he playfully says himself, " Thou shalt not find a rich one Take each clime, And run o'er all the pilgrimage of time, OF HENRY VAUGHAN- xxm Thou'lt ment them poor, and everywhere descrio A threadbare, gold-Jess genealogie." That this lot was not indeed a very distressing one to him, we may conjecture from a passage already quoted, as well as from other fine lines of his, in which, addressing Fortune, he says, " I eare not for your wondrous hat and purse ! The world's my palace. I'll contemplate there ; And make my progress into every sphere. The chambers of the aire are mine, those three Well furnished stories my possession be. I hold them all in capite, and stand Propt by my fancy there. I scorn your land, It lies so far below me. Here I see How all the sacred stars do circle me." Then, after casting off all the grosser parts of nature, he proceeds, " Get up, my disentangled soul ! thy fire Is now refined, and nothing left to tire Or clog thy wings. Now my auspicious flight Hath brought me to the Empyrean light. I am a separate essence, and can see The emanations of the Deitie. And how they pass the seraphims, and run Through every throne and domination. With angels now and spirits do I dwell 5 And here it is my nature to do well. And shall I then forsake the stars and signs, To dote upon thy dark and cursed mines ? ' All this however, though fine in the way of poetic speculation, would not do for every day practice. Accordingly, Henry Vaughan, having no taste for the Church, (indeed there was not much to attract him thither in such times) turned his attention to medical pursuits, and XXIV BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH leaving Oxford, without graduating there, he went to London, and in due time became M.D., and retired to practise at Brecknock (now Brecon) the county town, a few miles distant from his native place. He found things greatly changed there under the republican regime, and not very congenial, it would seem, to his own feelings, " Here's brotherly Ruffs and Beards, and a strange sight Of high monumental Hats, tane at the fight Of eighty eight ; while every Burgesse foots The mortal Pavement in eternall boots." We find him accordingly soon migrating from thence to his native residence, Newton, where he continued to pursue his profession, and to employ his leisure hours in various lite- rary occupations. About this time it was that he prepared for the press his little volume entitled " Olor Isca- nus" l the swan of the Usk, the dedication of which to Kildare, Lord Digby, bears date December 17, 1647. This volume however he never himself published. It appears to have been consigned to the hands of his brother, when he returned to Oxford on his ejection from the living of Llansaintfread, and in 1651, three years afterwards, it was printed by him, with an apologetic advertisement, and com- 1 Olor Iscanus. A Collection of some select Poems, and Translations. Formerly Written by Mr. Henry Vaughan, Siluriat. Published by a Friend. London : Printed by P. W. for Humphrey Moseley, 1651. OF HENRY VAUGIIAN. XXV mandatory verses from himself and other Oxford friends. Thomas Vaughan, in his address to the Reader, expressly says, " I have not the Author's approbation to the fact," (viz. of publication) "but I have Law on my side," (as) " I hold it no man's prerogative to fire his own house." It would appear therefore that Henry Vaughan w r ished to have destroyed these ebullitions of his youthful muse, as he had many others of the same kind, and that they were in the end published contrary to his desire. Yet there is really nothing objectionable in the volume. The poems contained in it are not of a strictly religious character ; yet they are full of just and noble sentiments ; and I am not aware of a line that any one need have been ashamed of. The volume, when complete, has a curious frontispiece, engraved by Robert Vaughan (qu. a relation ?) with the swan of the Usk very conspicuous in the centre of it, and the following Latin verses before it : — AD POSTEROS. Diminuat ne sera dies praesentis honorem, Quis qualisq/wi percipe, Posteritas. CAMBRIA me genuit, patulis ubi vallibus errans Subjacet aeriis montibus ISCA pater. hide sinu placido suscepit maximus arte HERBERTUS, Latiae gloria prima Scholae. Bis ternos, illo me Conductnte per annus Profeci, & geminym Contulit unus opem Ars 6c amor, mens atq manus certare soleba?it, Nee lassata Mi mensve, ma.n\is\efuit. H'uic qualem cernis crevisse : Scd ut mea certus Tempora cognoscas, durafuere, scias. XXVI BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH Vixi, divisos cum fregerat haeresis Anglos Inter Tysiphonas presbyteri Sf populi. His primum miseris^>er amoena furentibus arva Prostravit sanctam v His avena rosam, Turbdrunt fontes, 8r fasis pax per it tmdis, Mcestaq Coelestes obruit umbra dies. Buret ut Integritas tamen, & pia gloria, partem Me nullam in tanta str&ge,fuisse, scias ; Credidimus nempe insonti vocem esse Cruori, Et vires quae post funera flere docent, Hinc castae, fidaeq,^xz^ me more parentis Commonui, & Lachrymis fata levare meis ; Hinc nusquam horrendis violavi Sacra procellis, Nee mihi mens unquam, nee manus atrafuit. Si pius es, ne plura petas ; Satur Hie recedat Qui sapitj $ nos non scripsimus Insipidis. — giving in enigmatical language, a slight sketch of the Author's life and opinions. The matter consists of original poems, many of them ad- dressed to persons of the Author's acquaintance, together with translations from Ovid's Tristia, Boethius, and Casimir, and a brief specimen or two will suffice to show that they are not with- out their beauties. In an Epithalamium occur these lines, " Eresh as the houres may all your pleasures be, And healthfull as Eternitie ! Sweet as the flowre's first breath, and close As th' unseen spreadings of the Rose. When he unfolds his curtain'd head, And makes his bosome the Sun's bed." Olor Isc. p. 22. Of the Lady Elizabeth, daughter of James I., he says, " Thou seem'st a rose-bud born in snow, A flowre of purpose sprung to bow OF HENRI VAUGHAN. xxvii To heedless tempests, and the nige Of an incensed stormie age. * * * # * And yet as Balm-trees gently spend Their tears for those that doe them rend, Thou didst nor murmure nor revile, Jiut drank'st thy wormwood with a Mnile." Olor he. p. 30. In a different strain he thus concludes an in- vitation to a friend to Brecknock. " Come then ! and while tlie slow isicle hangs At the stitfe thatch, and Winter's frosty pangs Benumme the year, blith (as of old) let ns 'Mid noise and war, of peace and mirth diseusse. This portion thou wert born for. Why should we Vex at the time's ridiculous miserie ? An age that thus hath fooled itselfe, and will, (Spite of thy teeth and mine,) persist so still. Let's sit then at this fire ; and, while wee steal A re veil in the Town, let others seal, Purchase, or cheat, and who can let them pay, Till those black deeds bring on the darksome day. Innocent spenders wee ! a better use Shall wear out our short lease, and leave th' obtuse Rout to their husks. They and their bags at best Have cares in earnest. Wee care for a jest ! r Olor Isc. p. 1 1 . Another poem, addressed "To his learned friend Mr. T. Powell, upon his Translation of Malvezzi's Christian Politician" thus ends : "Come then, rare politicians of the time. Brains of some standing, Elders in our clime, the method. A wise solid state I- quick in acting, friendly in debate, Joynt in advice, in resolutions just. Mild in succ . 'rue to the Common trust. It cements ruptures, and by gentle hand Allayes the heat and burnings of a laud. xxvm BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH Religion guides it ; and in all the tract Designes so twist, that Heaven confirms the act. If from these lists you wander, as you steere, Look back, and catechise your actions here. These are the marks to which true statesmen tend, And greatness here with goodness hath one end." Olor Isc. p. 26. We can only afford room for one specimen of the translations. Boethius, Metrum 4. " Whose calme soule in a settled state Kicks under foot the frowns of fate, And in his fortunes bad or good Keeps the same temper in his bloud 5 Not him the flaming clouds above, Nor ^Etna's fierie tempests, move. No fretting seas from shore to shore, Boyling with indignation o'er, Nor burning thunderbolt, that can A mountain shake, can stirre this man ! " Olor Isc. p. 46. At the close of this volume are inserted four prose translations, all of them bearing more or less on the Author's pursuits or circumstances. The first, " On the benefit we may get by our enemies" from Plutarch ; the second, " Of the Diseases of the Mind and the Body," from the same ; another, on the same subject, from Maxi- mus Tyrius ; and lastly, " The praise and happi- nesse of the Countrie Life" from the Spanish of Guevara. All these have separate title-pages, and were published in the year 1651. We now, however, approach a very important period of our Poet's life, when a change seems to have come over his spirit, which influenced OF HENRY VAUGHAN. xxix it to tbc close of his earthly career. lie was at this time visited by a severe and lingering ill- ness, of what character exactly is not specified. It was, however, of a nature to bring him to the brink of the grave, and to keep him long in a state of solitude and suffering ; and while he was in this condition, more deep and solemn religious views and feelings appear to havo broken in upon his soul than any he had before harboured. The high and holy claims of God, the infinite importance of eternity, the worth- lessness of the world and the folly of living for it, the baseness of sin and the consequences of indulging in it, all seem to have pressed heavily on his mind at this crisis, and to have filled him with great humility and seriousness ; and though he subsequently learned to look with hope and comfort to the mercy of God, vouchsafed to the penitent, through the death and merits of Christ Jesus, still this spirit of lowly watchful- ness, so suitable to frail humanity, seems never to have left him. He carried it with him to his dying bed ; and it appears in the Epitaph he wished to be inscribed on his tomb. During this period likewise, he seems to have had his affections severely tried by the untimely death of friends. There are in the pieces composed by him at this season many touching, though obscure allusions to such losses. And these, along with his other trials, contributed to break up the fallow ground in his heart, and prepare it for the reception of the divine seed that was subsequently sown there. Just at this time he c XXX BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH became acquainted with the writings of George Herbert, and derived from them so much of comfort and instruction, that he determined to make the life and compositions of that holy man his own future models. In imitation therefore of his Temple, he composed, during the intervals of exemption from acute sufferiag, a number of little " Sacred Foems and Pious Ejaculations ; " and while his Oxford friends were publishing, contrary to his wishes, the Olor Iscanus, he gave the world a more faithful record of his mind and heart, in a collection of these, entitled, Silex Scintillans" (Sparks from the flintstone.) This work was printed in London in the year 1650, and consisted of only one of the two parts subsequently published together. Close upon this publication followed a little book of devotions in prose, entitled, " The Mount of Olives ," and printed in the year 1652. It consists entirely of prayers, meditations, and admonitions, all excellent of their kind, and calculated at once to benefit the reader, and raise the writer in his estimation. There is little or no poetry in the volume, the only ori- ginal poetical production there being a kind of preface to the last piece in the volume, " A n excellent discourse of the blessed state of man in glory, written by the most reverend and holy 'Father Anselm, Archbishov of Canterbury. 1 ' The lines are as follows, Here holy Anselme lives in ev'ry page, And sits Arch-bishop still, to vex the age. OF HENRY VAUGIIAN. xxxi Had he foreseen (and who knows but lie did ?) Tli is fatal wrack, which deepe in time lay hid, 'Tis but just to believe, that little hand Which clouded him, but now benights our land, Had never like (Elias) driv'n him hence, A sad retirer for a slight offence. For were he now, like the returning year, Restored, to view these desolations here, He would do penance for his old complaint, And (weeping) say, that liufus was a Saint. This work is dedicated, October 1st, 1651, to Sir Charles Egerton, Knight, to whom the writer says, " I know, Sir, you will be pleased to accept of this poore Olive-leafe presented to you, so that I shall not be driven to put forth ray hand to take in ray Dove again." It will be conjectured, from the Epithets given to St. Anselm, that Vaughan's religious spirit, though very fervent and real, was not exactly of the character of that which prevailed at this time. The Puritan principle had been to cry down antiquity, and pour contempt on that which was authorized and established. Vaughan on the other hand was a lover of order. He knew how to distinguish between forms and formality. He delighted to look up to the great and good of other days for direction and precedent. What others before him had found to be conducive to their spiritual welfare, might, he thought, con- duce to his. He was glad therefore to listen to their teaching, and conform to their exara- ule ; and instruction always came to him with additional weight and force, when backed by such authority. XXX11 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH At no very distant period Vaughan sent forth another little volume in prose, entitled, " Flores Solitudinis" (Flowers of Solitude) " certaine pieces collected by him in Ms sichnesse and retirement" There are, first, two dis- courses, the one " of Temperance and Patience" and the other "of Life and Death" translated, in 1652, from the Latin of Nierembergius ; secondly, " the World contemned" taken from Eucherius, Bishop of Lyons ; and thirdly, "the life of Paulinus, Bishop of Nola" compiled by Vaughan himself. These are dedicated to the same Sir Charles Egerton, to whom his Mount of Olives was inscribed, and his address to him concludes in these words ; " You will look upon my suddaine and small presents as upon some forward flowers, whose kinde haste hath brought them above ground in cold weather. The uncertainty of life, and a peevish incon- stant state of health, would not suffer me to stay for greater performances, or a better season, lest, losing this, I should never again have the opportunity to manifest, how much and how sincerely I am, Sir, your Servant, &c" These pieces, Yaughan tells us, were likewise translated by him during his long illness. They had comforted and instructed him under his heavy afflictions, and he published them in the hope that they might produce like effects on others, and enable them likewise to give up the world for God. "To leave the world," he says in his preface, " when it leaves us, is both sordid and sorrowful : I honour that temper OF HENRY V AUG HAN. XXXm which can lay by the garland when ho might keep it on ; which can pass by a rosebud, and bid it grow, when he is invited to crop it." It is a remarkable circumstance that some of the most sweet and simple prose writers in our language are to be found among those, whose compositions in verse are the most full of afFec- t.itions and conceits. What a dissimilarity for instance is there between Cowley's " Essays " and his "Mistress ;" between Donne's " Ser- mons " and his " Poems ! ' Quarle's grotesque quaintness in his " Emblems " curiously con- trasts with the simple strength of his "-Judg- ment and Mercy;" and we find little of the Epigrammatic abruptness of the " Night TliouijMs " in Young's " Centaur not fabulous." And if Vaughan had attempted any great original work in prose, it seems highly pro- bable, from the brief specimens which we have of his capabilities, that he would have excelled in this species of composition likewise. The subjects however, on which he employed his pen, appear to have had no interest for the public at this period. Indeed, translations from the Fathers were not likely at such a time to meet with many sympathizing readers. The world had been deluged by the Puritans with their weak and washy publications. Still their crude theology was that generally in vogue. Those, who had been disposed to go up and drink at the stream a little nearer to its source, had passed away, with the exiled Cosins and Bramhalls of a former generation. XXXIV BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH The court party was soon to come back from France, vitiated alike in taste and principles, and ready to make a jest of everything religions. This then, was not a time at which treatises, snch as those now published by Henry Vaughan, were likely to become popular. They were accordingly never reprinted, and their very existence is almost unknown to ordi- nary English Headers. The following verses close this little volume, of which the last thirty- four lines are very striking. ST. PAULINUS, TO HIS WIFE, THERASIA. " Come, my true Consort in my joyes and care, Let this uncertaine and still wasting share Of our fraile life be given to God ! you see, How the swift dayes drive hence incessantlie ; And the fraile drooping world, though still thought gay. In secret slow consumption weares away. All that we have passe from us, and once past, Returne no more. Like clouds they seeme to last, And so delude loose greedy mindes. But where Are now those trim deceits ? To what dark sphere Are all those false fires sunk, which once so shined, They captivated soules and ruled mankind ? And what, Therasia, doth it us availe, That spatious streames shall flow and never faile, That aged forrests live to tyre the winds, And flowers each Spring returne and keepe their kinds ? Those still remaine 5 but all our Fathers dyed 5 And we ourselves but for few dayes abide. This short tyme then was not given us in vaine, To whom tyme dyes, in which we dying gaine 5 But that in tyme eternall life should be Our care, and endlesse rest our industrie. And } r et this taske, which the rebellious deeme Too harsh, who God's mild lawes for chaines esteem, Suites with the meeke and harmlesse heart so right, That 'tis all ease, all comfort, and delight. OF HENRY VAUGU \ W xwv M To love our ( rod w ith all our Btrengtfa and will ; "Tocovet nothing ; to devise no ill M Against our neighbours ; to procure or doe ■• Nothing to others which we would no( to •• ( )ur very selves ; not to revenge our wrong; i4 To be content with little ; not to long >% For wealth and greatnesse ; to despise or jeare •• So man ; and, it' we be despised, to bear : •• Po feed the hungry ; to hold fast our crown ; '• To take from others nought to give our owne." These are his precepts, and alas in these What is J< miserere ! " * An unprofitable servant, the chief of sinners, I lie here. Glory be to God ! fl& Lord have mercy upon me ! ' Such are the particulars that we have been able to gather respecting Henry Vaughan and his works. They present a picture of one who lived to God rather than to man ; and if there is little of incident in the details, let us remember, that it is with the lives of private individuals as OF IIKNRY V AUG HAN. xli with the reigns of Princes ; those are often the happiest and most prosperous, which make the least noise and show in the page of History. The mind and heart of our Author are abun- dantly exhibited in his writings, which are full of individuality ; and while we would deprecate pledging ourselves to every sentiment they con- tain, we feel that they claim for him unvarying respect, and commend themselves to us as the genuine overflowings of a sincere and humble spirit. We feel, while reading them, that we have to do with a truly good and earnest man. His poems display much originality of thought, and frequently likewise much felicity of expres- sion. The former is indeed at times condensed into obscurity, and the latter defaced with quaintness. But Vaughan never degenerates into a smooth versifier of common places. One indeed of his great faults as a poet, is the attempt to crowd too much of matter into his sentences, so that they read roughly and inharmoniously, the words almost elbowing each other out of the lines. His rhymes too are frequently de- fective, and he delights in making the sense of one line run over into the line following. This, when not overdone, is doubtless a beauty in versification, and redeems it from that mono- tony, which so offends in the poets of Queen Anne's time. Yet even this may be pushed to excess, and become by its uniformity liable itself to the imputation of monotony. Take for in- stance the very beautiful lines of Vaughan en- titled " liules and Lessons" the first five stanzas xlii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH of which strikingly exemplify the fault here specified ; and it was perhaps their consequent harshness, that induced Bernard Barton to transpose them, not infelicitously, into a dif- ferent stanza. A more favourable specimen of line flowing into line is the following " Morning Address to a Bird." Hither thou com'st. The busie wind all night Blew through thy lodging ; where thy own warm wing Thy pillow was : and many a sullen storm, For which coarse man seems much the fitter born, Kained on thy bed, And harmless head 5 And now as fresh and cheerful as the light Thy little heart in early hymns doth sing ! This will be felt to be very tender and beau- tiful, notwithstanding the imperfect rhyme in the fourth line ; and the volume now repub- lished is full of like passages. Indeed it may with truth be said of Vaughan that his faults are in a great measure those of the age he lived in, and the master he imitated, while his beau- ties are all his own. That he will ever become a thoroughly popular poet is scarcely to be ex- pected in this age, but among those who can prize poetic thought, even when clad in a dress somewhat quaint and antiquated, who love to commune with a heart overflowing with reli- gious ardour, and who do not value this the less, because it has been lighted at the earlier and purer fires of Christianity, and has caught a portion of their youthful glow, poems like OF 1IENHY VAUGHAN. xliii these of Henry Vaughan will not want their readers, nor will such readers be unthankful to have our Author and his Works introduced to their acquaintance. H. F. L. SILEX SCINTILLAUS. <4f> B THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE TO THE FOLLOWING HYMNS. ^HAT this Kingdom hath abounded with those ingenious persons, which in the late notion are termed Wits, is too well known. Many of them having cast away all their fair portion of time, in no better im- ployments, than a deliberate search, or excogi- tation, of idle words, and a most vain, insatiable, desire to be reputed Poets; leaving behinde them no other Monuments of those excellent abilities conferred upon them, but such as they may (with a Predecessor of theirs) term Parricides, and a soul-killing Issue, for that is the Bpapslov, and Laureate Crown, which idle Poems will certainly bring to their unrelenting Authors. And well it were for them, if those willingly studied and wilfully published vanities could defile no spirits, but their own ; but the case is far worse. These Vipers survive their Parents, 4 THE PREFACE. and for many ages after (like 'Epidemic diseases) infect whole Generations, corrupting* always, and unh allowing the best-gifted Souls and the most capable Vessels ; for whose sanctification and well-fare, the glorious Son of God laid dowu his life, and suffered the pretious hlood of his blessed and innocent heart to be poured out. In the mean time it cannot be denyed, but these men are had in remembrance, though we can- not say with any comfort, Their memorial is Messed ; for, that I may speak no more than the truth (let their passionate worshippers say what they please) all the commendations that can be justly given them will amount to no more than what Prudentius the Christian-sacred Poet be- stowed upon Symmachus ; Os dignum, ceterno tinctum quodfulgeat auro, Si mallet laudare Deum, cui sordida monstra Prcetulit, Sf liquidam temeravit crimine vocem. Hand aliter, quam cum rastris quis tentet eburnis Cwnosum versare solum, ^-c. In English thus, A wit most worthy in tryed Gold to shine, Immortal Gold ! had he sung the Divine Praise of his Maker : to whom he preferr'd Obscene, vile fancies, and prophanely marr'd A rich, rare stile with sinful, lewd contents ; No otherwise, then if with Instruments Of polish'd Ivory, some drudge should stir A dirty sink, <§c. This comparison is nothing odious, and it is as true, as it is apposite ; for a good wit in a had subject is (as Solomon said of the fair and foolish woman) Like a jewel of gold in a swine's snoiot, THE PREFACE. 5 Prov. 11. 22. Nay, the more acute the Aufhor is, there is so much the more danger and death in the Work. Where the Sun is busie upon a dung-hill, the issue is always some unclean v&r- rnine. Divers persons of eminent piety and learning (I meddle not with the seditious and schismatical) have, long before my time, taken notice of this malady ; for the complaint against vitious verse, even by peaceful and obedient spirits, is of some antiquity in this Kingdom. And yet, as if the evil consequence attending this inveterate error were but a small thing, there is sprung very lately another prosperous device to assist it in the subversion of souls. Those that want the genius of verse fall to translating ; and the people are, every term, plentifully fur- nished with various Foraign vanities; so that the most lascivious compositions of France and Italy are here naturalized and made English ; and this, as it is sadly observed, with so much favour and success, that nothing t alecs (as they rightly phrase it) like a Romance. And very frequently, if that Character be not an Ivybush, the buyer receives this lewd w T are from persons of honor, who want not reason to forbear : much private misfortune having sprung from no other seed at first, than some infectious and dissolving Legend. To continue after years of discretion in this vanity, is an inexcusable desertion of pious so- briety ; and to persist so to the end, is a wilful despising of God's sacred exhortations, by a con- stant sensual volutation or wallowing in impure 6 THE PREFACE. thoughts and scurrilous conceits, which both de- file their Authors, and as many more as they are communicated to. If every idle word shall be accounted for, and if no corrupt communication should proceed out of our mouths, how desperate, I beseech you, is their condition, who all their life time, and out of meer design, study lascivi- ous fictions, then carefully record and publish them, that instead of grace and life, they may minister sin and death unto their readers ? It was wisely considered, and piously said by one, That he would read no idle boohs ; both in regard of love to his own soul, and pity unto his that made them ; for, said he, if I be corrupted by them, their Composer is immediately a cause of my ill ; cmd at the day of reckoning, tlwugh now dead, must give an account for it, because I am cor- rupted by his bad example, which he left behinde him. I ivill w rite none, lest I hurt them that come after me ; I will read none, lest I augment his punishment that is gone before me. I will neither write, nor read, lest I prove a foe to my oivn soul : ivhile I live, I sin too much ; let me not continue longer in wickedness than I do in life. It is a sentence of sacred authority, that he that is dead' is freed from sin ; because he cannot in that state, which is without the body, sin any more ; but he that writes idle books makes for himself another body, in which he always lives, and sins (after death) as fast and as foul, as ever he did in his life ; which very consideration deserves to be a sufficient antidote against this evil disease. tiil: preface. / And here, because I would prevent a just censure by my free confession, I must remember, that I myself have, for many years together, languished of this very sickness ; and it is no long time since I have recovered. But (blessed be God for it !) I have by his saving assistance supprest my greatest follies, and those which es- caped from me, are, I think, as innoxious, as most of that vein use to be ; besides, they are interlined with many virtuous, and some pious mixtures. What I speak of them is truth : but let no man mistake it for an extenuation of faults, as if I intended an Apology for them, or myself who am conscious of so much guilt in both, as can never be expiated without special sorrows, and that cleansing and pretious effusion of my Almighty Redeemer. And if the world will be so charitable as to grant my request, I do here most humbly and earnestly beg that none would read them. But an idle or sensual subject is not all the jyoyson in these Pamphlets. Certain Authors have been so irreverently bold, as to dash Scrip)- hires, and the sacred Relatives of God with their impious conceits ; And (which I cannot speak without grief of heart) some of those desperate adventurers may, I think, be reckoned amongst the principal or most learned Writers of English verse. Others of a later date, being corrupted, it may be, by that evil Genius, which came in with the publique distractions, have stuffed their books with Oatlies, Ivorrid Execrations, mid a . 8 THE PREFACE. most gross and studied filthiness. But the hurt that ensues by the publication of pieces so noto- riously ill, lies heavily upon the Stationer's ac- count, who ought in conscience to refuse them, when they are put into his hands. No loss is so doleful as that gain, that will endamage the soul. He that prints lewdness and impieties, is that mad-man in the Proverbs, who casteth fire- brands, arrows, and death. The suppression of this pleasing and prevail- ing evil lies not altogether in the power of the Magistrate; for it will flie abroad in Manuscripts, when it fails of entertainment at the press. The true remedy lies wholly in their bosoms, who are the gifted persons, by a wise exchange of vain and vitious subjects, for Divine Themes and Celestial Praise. The performance is easie, and, were it the most difficult in the world, the reward is so glorious, that it infinitely transcends it : for they that turn many to righteousness shall shine like the stars for ever and ever : whence follows this undenyable inference, that the cor- rupting of many, being a contrary work, the recompense must be so too ; and then I know nothing reserved for them, but the blackness of darkness for ever ; from which, God, deliver all penitent and reformed spirits ! The first, that with any effectual success at- tempted a diversion of this foul and overflowing stream, was the blessed man, Mr. George Herbert, whose holy life and verse gained many pious Converts, of whom I am the least ; and gave the first check to a most flourishing and admired THE PREFACE. 9 Wit of his time. After liim followed diverse, — Sed own passibus cequis ; tliey had more of fashion than force. And the reason of their so vast distance from him, besides differing spirits and qualifications, (for his measurew&s eminent,) I suspect to be, because they aimed more at verse, than perfection, as may be easily gathered by their frequent impressions, nnd numerous pages. Hence sprang those wide, those weak, and lean conceptions, which in the most inclin- able Reader will scarce give any nourishment or help to devotion ; for, not flowing from a true practick piety, it was impossible they should effect those things abroad, which they never had acquaintance with at home; being onely the productions of a common spirit, and the obvious ebullitions of that light humor, which takes the pen in hand, out of no other consideration, than to be seen in print. It is true indeed, that to give up our thoughts to pious Themes and Contemplations, if it be done for pietie's sake, is a great step towards perfection; because it will refine, and dispose to devotion and sanctity. And further, it will procure for us (so easily communicable is that loving Spirit) some small prelibation of those heavenly refreshments, which descend but seldom, and then very sparingly, upon men of an ordinary or indifferent holiness. But he that desires to excel in this kinde of Hagiographj, or holy writing, must strive by all means for perfection and true hol/yness, that a door may he opened to him in hea/ven, Rev. 4, 1. and then he will be able to write, 10 THE PREFACE. with Hierotheus and holy Herbert, A true Hymn. To effect this in some measure, I have begged leave to communicate this my poor Talent to the Church, under the protection and conduct of her glorious Head : who, if he will vouchsafe to own it, and go along with it, can make it as useful now in the publick as it hath been to me in private. In the perusal of it, you will (perad- venture) observe some passages, whose history or reason may seem something remote ; but were they brought nearer, and plainly exposed to your view, though that, perhaps, might quiet your curiosity, yet would it not conduce much to your greater advantage. And therefore I must desire you to accept of them in that lati- tude, which is already allowed them. By the last Poems in the book, were not that mistalce here prevented, you would judge all to be fatherless, and the edition posthume ; for in- deed I ivas nigh unto death, and am still at no great distance from it ; which was the necessary reason for that solemn and accomplished dress, you will nowe finde this impression in. But the God of the spirits of all flesh hath granted me a further use of mine than I did look for in the body ; and when I expected, and had by his assistance prepared for, a message of death, then did he answer me with life; I hope to his glory, and my great advantage ; that I may flourish not with leafe onely, but with some fruit also ; which hope and earnest desire of his poor Creature, I humbly beseech him to perfect and THE PREFACE. 11 fulfil for his dear Son's sake, unto Whom, with Him and the most Holy and loving Spirit, be ascribed by Angels, by Men, and by all his Works, All Glory, and Wisdom, and Dominion, in this the Temporal and in the Eternal Being. Avien. Newton by Usk, near S/irth-Rocf:, Septum. 30, 1654, Lord, the hope of Israel, all they that forsake thee shall be ashamed ; and they that depart from thee, shall be written in the earth, because they have forsaken the Lord, the fountain of living waters. Heal me, Lord, and I shall be healed ; save me, and I shall be saved, for thou art my health, and my great deliverer. I said in the cutting off of my days, I shall go to the gates of the grave ; I have deprived myself of the residue of my years. I said, I shall not see the Lord, even the Lord in the Land of the living : I shall behold man no more with the Inhabitants of the world. Lord ! by thee doth man live, and from thee is the life of my spirit : therefore wilt thou recover me, and maize me to live. Thou hast in love to my soul delivered it from the pit of corruption ; for tlwu hast cast all my sins belt hide thy bach. For thy name's sake hast thou put off thine anger; for thy praise hast thou refrained from me, that I should not he cut off. For the grave cannot praise thee, death cannot celebrate thee : they, that go down into the pit, cannot hope for thy truth. The living, the living, lie shall 'praise thee, as I do this day : the Father to the children shall make known thy truth. Lord! thou hast been merciftd ; thou hast brought back my life from corruption : thou hast redeemed me from my sm. They that follow after lying vanities, forsake their own mercy. Therefore shall thy songs be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life. 1 will go unto the altar of my God, unto God, the joy of my youth; and in thy fear will I worship towards thy holy temple. I will sacrifice unto thee with the voice of thanksgiving ; I will pay that which I have vowed ; salvation is of the Lord. TO MY MOST MERCIFUL, MY MOST LOVING, AND DBABLT LOVED REDEEMER, THE EVER BLESSED, THE ONELY HOLY AND JUST ONE, JESUS CHRIST, The Son of the living GOD, and the sacred Virgin Mary. I. )Y God ! thou that didst dye for me, These thy death's fruits I offer thee; Death that to me was life and light, But dark and deep pangs to thy sight. Some drops of thy all-quickning blood Fell on my heart ; those made it bud, And put forth thus, though Lord, before The ground was curst, and void of store. Indeed I had some here to hire Which long resisted thy desire, That ston'd thy servants, and did move To have thee murther'd for thy love ; But Lord, I have expell'd them, and so bent, Beg thou wouldst take th\ Tenant's rent. 16 THE DEDICATION. II. Dear Lord, 'tis finished ! and now he That copyed it, presents it thee. 'Twas thine first, and to thee returns, From thee it shin'd, though here it burns ; If the San rise on Rocks, is't right, To call it their inherent light? No, nor can I say, this is mine, For, dearest Jesus, 'tis all thine, As thy cloaths, when thou with cloaths wert clad. Both light from thee, and virtue had ; And now, as then, within this place, Thou to poor rags dost still give grace. This is the earnest thy love sheds, The candle shining on some heads, Till at thy charges they shall be, C loath' d all with immortality. cm.] My dear Redeemer, the world's light, And life too, and my heart's delight ! For all thy mercies and thy truth, Shew'd to me in my sinful youth, For my sad failings and my wilde Murmurings at thee, when most milde ; For all my secret faults, and each Frequent relapse and wilful breach, For all designs meant against thee, And ev'ry publish'd vanity, Which thou divinely hast forgiven, While thy blood wash'd me white as heaven ; THE DEDICATION. 17 I nothing have to give to thee, Bat this thy own gift, given to me. Refuse it not ; for now thy Token Can tell thee where a heart is broken. Rev. cap. 1. ver. 5, G, 7. Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins 'at his own Mood. And hath made us Kings and Priests unto God, it ad his Father ; to him be glory and dominion, for ever and ever. Amen. Behold, he cometh with clouds, and every eye shall see him, and they also which pierced him; and all hinder Is of the earth shall wail because of him : even so. Amen. 1 AIN Wits and Eyes, Leave, and be wise: Abuse not), shun not holy fire, But with true tears wash off your mire. Tears and these flames will soon grow kinde, And mix an eye-salve for the blinde. Tears cleanse and supple without faile, And fire will purge your callous veyl. Then comes the light ! which, when you spy, And see your nakedness thereby, Praise him, who dealt his gifts so free, In tears to you, in tire to me. SILEX SCINTILLANS, ETC [PART I.] REGENERATION. WARD, and still in bonds, one day I stole abroad ; It was high-spring, and all the way Primros'd, and hung with shade; Yet was it frost within ; And surly wind Blasted my infant buds, and sinne Like clouds ecclips'd my mind. 2. Storm'd thus ; I straight perceiv'd my spring Meere stage, and show, My walke a monstrous, mountain'd thing, Rough-cast with rocks and snow ; And as a Pilgrim's Bye, Par from reliefe, Measures the melancholy skye, Then drops, and rains for griefe, oo SILEX SCINTILLANS, 3. So sigh'd I upwards still ; at last, 'Twixt steps and falls, I reach'd the pinacle, where plac'd I found a paire of scales ; I took them up, and layd In th' one late paines ; The other smoake and pleasures weigh'd, But prov'd the heavier graines. 4. With that some cryed, Away ; straight I Obey'd, and led Full East, a faire, fresh field could spy ; Some call'd it Jacob's Bed; A virgin soile, which no Rude feet ere trod ; Where, since He stept there, only go Prophets and friends of God. 5. Here I repos'd ; but scarce well set A grove descryed Of stately height, whose branches met And mixt on every side ; I entred, and, once in, (Amaz'd to see't,) Found all was chang'd, and a new spring Did all my senses greet. 6. The unthrift Sunne shot vitall gold A thousand peeces, Oft SACRED POEMS. 2^ Ami heaven its azure did unfold, Cheqner'd with Bnowie fl< eces. The aire was all \n Bpice, And every bush A garland wore ; thus fed my Byes, But all the Eare lay hush. _ 7. Only a little Fountain lent Some use for Eares, And on the dumbe shades language spent, The musick of her teares ; I drew her neare, and found The Cisterne full Of divers stones, some bright and round, Others ill-shap'd and dull. 8. The first (pray marke,) as quiek as light Danc'd through the floud ; But th' last, more heavy than the night, Naii'd to the centre stood; I wonder'd much, but tyr'd At last with thought, My restless Eye, that still desir'd, As strange an object brought. 0. It was a banke of flowers, where I descried (Though 'twas mid-day,) Some fast asleepe, others broad-eyed And taking in the ray ; 24 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Here musing long I heard A rushing wind, Which still increas'd, but whence it stirr'd, Wo where I could not find. 10. I turn'd me round, and to each shade Dispatch'd an Eye, To see if any leafe had made Least motion or reply ; But while I, listning, sought My mind to ease By knowing, where 'twas, or where not, It whisper'd ; Where I please. Lord, then said I, On me one breath, And let one dye before my death ! Cant. cap. 4. ver. 17. Arise, North, and come thou South-wind: and blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may floio out. DEATH. A DIALOGUE. SQULE. ^IS a sad Land, that in one day Hath dull'd thee thus, when death shall freeze Thy bloud to Ice, and thou must stay OR SACRED POEMS. 25 Tenant for Yeares and Centuries; How wilt thou brook't? — BODT. I cannot tell ; But if all sense wings not with thee, And something still be left the dcu). I'le wish ray Cnrtaines off, to free Me from so darke and sad a bed ; A nest of nights, a gloomie sphere, Where shadowes thicken, nnd the Cloud Sits on the Sun's brow all the yeare, And nothing moves without a shrowd. SOULE. 'Tis so: but as thou sawest that night Wee travel I'd in, our first attempts Were dull and blind, but Custome straight Our fears and falls brought to contempt. Then, when the ghastly twelve was past, We breath'd still for a blushing East, And bad the lazie Sunne make haste, And on sure hopes, though long, did feast. But when we saw the Clouds to crack, And in those cranies light appear'd, We thought the day then was not slack, And pleas'd our selves with what wee fearc d, Just so it is in death. But thou Shalt in thy mother's become sleepe, 26 SILEX SCINTILLA NS, Whilst I each minute grone to know How neere Redemption creepes. Then shall wee meet to mixe again, and met, 5 Tis last good-night ; our Sunne shall never set. Job, cap. 10. ver. 21, 22. Before I goe whence I shall not returne, even to the land of davlmesse and the shadow of death ; A Land of darJcnesse, as darhnesse itself e ; and of the shadow of death, without any order, and where the light is as darlcnesse. RESURRECTION AND IMMORTALITY: Heb. cap. 10. ver. 20. By that new, and living way, which he hath prepared for us, through the veile, which is his flesh. BODY. 1. FT have I seen, when that renewing breath That binds and loosens death Inspired a quickning power through the dead Creatures abed, Some drowsie silk-worme creepe From that long sleepe, OR SACRED POEMS. 27 And in weake, infant hummings chime, and knell About her silent cell, Until at last, full with the vitall ray, She wing'd away, And, proud with life and sense, Heav'n's rich Expence, Esteem 'd (vaine things!) of two whole Elements As meane, and span-extents. Shall I then thinke such providence will be Lesse friend to me ? Or that he can endure to be unjust Who keeps his Covenant even with our dust? SOULE. 2. Poore querulous handfull ! was't for this I taught thee all that is ? Unbowel'd nature, shew'd thee her recruits, And change of suits, And how of death we make A meere mistake ; For no thing can to Noticing fall, but still Incorporates by skill, And then returns, and from the wombe of things Such treasure brings, As Phemx-hke renew' th JJoth life, and youth ; For a preserving spirit doth still passe Untainted through this Masse, Which doth resolve, produce, and ripen all That to it fall ; 28 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Nor are those births, which we Thus suffering see, Destroy 'd at all ; But when time's restless wave Their substance doth deprave, And the more noble 'Essence finds his house Sickly, and loose, He, ever young, doth wing Unto that spring, And source of spirits, where he takes his lot, Till time no more shall rot His passive Cottage ; which (though laid aside.) Like some spruce Bride, Shall one day rise, and, cloath'd with shining light, All pure and bright, Re-marry to the soule, for 'tis most plaine Thou only fal'st to be refin'd againe. 3. Then I that here saw darkly in a glasse But mists and shadows passe, And, by their owne weake Shine, did search the springs And Course of things, Shall with inlightned rayes Pierce all their wayes ; And as thou saw'st, I in a thought could goe To heav'n or Earth below, To reade some Starre, or Minrall, and in State There often sate ; So shalt thou then with me, Both wing'd and free, OR SACRKD POEMS. 20 Rove in that mighty and eternal! light, Whore no rude shade, or night Shall dare approach us ; we shall there no more Watch stars, or pore Through melancholly clouds, and say, Would it were Day ! One everlasting Saboth there shall runne Without Succession, and without a Swine. Dan. cap. 12. ver. 13. But goe thou thy way untill the end be : for thou shalt rest, and stand up in thy lot at the end of the dayes. DAY OF JUDGEMENT. HEN through the North a fire shall rush And rowle into the East, And like a firie torrent brush And sweepe up South and West, — When all shall streame and lighten round, And with surprizing flames Both stars and Elements confound, And quite blot out their names, — When thou shalt spend thy sacred store Of thunders in that heate, And low as ere they lay before Thy six-dayes' buildings beate, — - 30 SILEX SCINTLLLANS, When like a scrowle the heavens shall passe And vanish cleane away, And nought must stand of that vast space Which held up night and day, — When one lowd blast shall rend the deepc, And from the wombe of earth Summon up all that are asleepe Unto a second birth, — When thou shalt make the Clouds thy seate, And in the open aire The Quick and dead, both small and greaty Must to thy barre repaire ; O then it will be all too late To say, What shall I doe ? Hepentance there is out of date, And so is mercy too. Prepare, prepare me then, God ! And let me now begin To feele my loving Father's Bod Killing the man of sinne ! Give me, give me Crosses here, Still more afflictions lend ; That pill, though bitter, is most deare That brings health in the end. Lord, God ! I beg nor friends, nor wealth, But pray against them both ; OR SACRED POEMS. 31 Three things T'cle have, my smile's chief health, And one of these seines loath, A living Faith, a Heart of flesh, The World an Enemie ; This Last will keepe the first two fresh, And bring me where I'de he. 1 Pet. 4. 7. Now the end of all things is at hand ; be you therefore sober, and watching in prayer. RELIGION. [T God, when 1 walke in those groves £ And leaves thy Spirit doth still fan, I I see in each shade that there growes An Angell talking with a man. Under a J unifier some house, Or the coole Mirth's canopie, Others beneath an Oahe's green boughs, Or at some fou at ai ice's bubling Eye. Here Jacob dreames, and wrestles ; there Elias by a Raven is fed, Another time by th' Angell, where He brings him water with his bread. 32 SILEX SCINTILLANS, In Abraham's Tent the winged guests (O how familiar then was heaven !) Eate, drinke, discourse, sit downe, and rest Until the coole and shady Even. Nay thou thy selfe, my God, injure, Whivle- winds, and Clouds, and the soft voice, Speak'st there so much, that I admire We have no Conference in these daies. Is the truce broke ? or 'cause we have A Mediatour now with thee, Dost thou therefore old Treaties wave, And by appeales from him decree ? Or is't so, as some green heads say, That now all miracles must cease ? Though thou hast promis'd they should stay, The tokens of the Church, and peace. No, no ; Religion is a Spring, That from some secret, golden Mine Derives her birth, and thence doth bring Cordials in every drop, and Wine. But in her long, and hidden Course, Passing through the Earth's darke veines, Growes still from better unto worse, And both her taste and colour staines ; Then drilling on learnes to encrease False Ecchoes and confused sounds, OR SACRED POEMS. 33 And unawares doth often seize On veines of Sulphur under ground; So poison' d breaks forth in some Clime, And at first Bight doth many please; Mut drunk, is puddle, or meere slime, And 'stead of Phisick, a disease. Just such a tainted sink we have, Like that Samaritan's dead well; Nor must we for the Kernel! crave Because most voices like the sltdl. Heale then these waters, Lord ; or bring thy flock, Since these are troubled, to the springing rock ; Looke downe, great Master of the feast ; O shine, And turn once more our Water into Wine! Cant. cap. 4. ver. 12. My sister, my spouse, is as a garden inclosed, as a spring shut up, and a fountain sealed up. THE SEARCH. [S now cleare day: I see a Rose Mud in the bright East, and disclose The Pilgrim- Sunne; all night have I Spout in a roving Extasie D 34 SILEX SCINTILLANS, To find my Saviour ; I have been As far as Bethlem, and have seen His Inne and Cradle ; being there I met the Wise- Men, askt them where He might be found, or what starre can Now point him out, grown up a Man ? To Egypt hence I fled, ran o're All her parcht bosome to Nile's shore, Her yearly nurse ; came back, enquir'd Amongst the Doctors, and desir'd To see the Temple, but was shown A little dust, and for the Town A heap of ashes, were some sed A small bright sparkle was abed, Which would one day (beneath the pole), Awake, and then refine the whole. Tyr'd here, I came to Sychar ; thence To Jacob's well, bequeathed since Unto his sonnes, where often they In those calme, golden evenings lay Watring their flocks, and having spent Those white dayes, drove home to the tent Their well-fleeced traine ; And here (O fate !) I sit, where once my Saviour sate. The angry Spring in bubbles swell'd, "Which broke in sighes still, as they fill'd, And whisper'd, Jesus had been there, But Jacob's children ivould not heare. Loath hence to part, at last I rise But with the fountain in mine Eyes, And here a fresh search is decreed ; He must be found where he did bleed. I walke the garden, and there see OR SACRED POEMS. 35 Idceas of his Agonie, And moving angnishments, that set His blest face in a bloudy sweat ; I climb'd the Hill, pcrus'd the Crosse, Hung with my gaine, and his great loss : Never did tree beare fruit like this, BaUiVm of soules, the bodye's blisse. But, his grave ! where I saw lent (For he had none,) a Monument. An undehTd, a new-hew'd one, But there w T as not the Corner-stone. Sure then, said I, my Quest is vaine, Hee'li not be found where he was slaine; So mild a Lamb can never be 'Midst so much bloud and crueltie. I'll to the wilderness, and can Find beasts more mercifull than man ; He liv'd there safe, 'twas his retreat From the fierce Jeio, and Herod's heat; And forty dayes withstood the fell And high temptations of hell ; With Seraphins there talked he, His father's flaming minis trie ; He heav'nd their walks, and with his eyes Made those wild shades a Paradise. Thus was the desert sanctified To be the refuge of his bride. I'Jc thither then ; see, It is day ! The Sun's broke through to guide my way. But as I urg'd thus, and writ down What pleasures should my Journey crown, What silent paths, what shades, and cells, Paire virgin-flowers, and hallow'd Wells i- 36 SILEX SCINTILLANS, I should rove in, and rest my head Where my deare Lord did often tread, Sugring all dangers with successe, Meth ought I heard one singing thus ; 1. Leave, leave thy gadding thoughts ; Who pores and spies Still out of Doores, descries Within them nought. 2. The skinne and shell of things, Though faire, are not Thy wish, nor Pray'r, but got By meere Despair of wings. 3. To rack old Elements, Or Dust ; and say, Sure here he must needs stay, Is not the way, nor just. Search well another world ; who studies this, Travels in Clouds, seeks Manna where none is. OR SACRED POEMS. 37 Acts, cap. 17. vcr. 27, 28. That tlinj should seek the Lord, if haply tliey might feel after him, andfinde Inn), though hi be not far off from every one of us, for in htm we lice, and move, and Juice oar being. ISAAC'S MARRIAGE. Gen. cap. 24. ver. 63. And Isaac went out to pray in the field at the Even-tide, and he lift up his eyes, and saic, and behold, the Camels were coming. RAYIXG ! and to be married ! It was rare, But now 'tis monstrous; and that pious care, Though of ourselves, is so much out of date, That to renew't were to degenerate. But thou a chosen sacrifice wert given, And offer'd up so early unto heaven, Thy flames could not be out ; Religion was Ray'd into thee like beams into a glasse ; Where, as thou grewst, it multiply'd, and shin'tl The sacred Constellation of thy mind. But being for a bride, prayer was such A decryed course, sure it prevail'd not much, Had'st ne'r an Oath, nor Complement ? thou wert An odde, dull sutor ; liadst thou but the art 38 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Of these our dayes, thou couldst have coyn'd thee twenty New sev'rall oathes, and complements, too, plenty. sad and wild excesse ! and happy those White dayes, that durst no impious mirth expose ! When Conscience by lewd use had not lost sense, Nor bold-fac'd custome banish' d Innocence : Thou hadst no pompous traiu, nor Antich crowd Of young, gay swearers, with their needless, lovvd Retinue ; All was here smooth as thy bride, And calme like her, or that mild Evening-tide. Yet hadst thou nobler guests : Angels did wind, And rove about thee, guardians of thy mind ; These fetched thee home thy bride, and all the way Advis'd thy servant what to do and say ; These taught him at the ivell, and thither brought The chaste and lovely object of thy thought. But here was ne'r a complement, not one Spruce, supple cringe, or study'd look put on. All was plain, modest truth : JSTor did she come In Bowles and Curies, mincing and stately dumb ; But in a Virgin's native blush and fears Fresh as those roses, which the day-spring wears. OR 8ACRED POEMS. 39 O sweet, divine simplicity ! grace Beyond a curled lock, or painted face ! A Pitcher too she had, nor thought it much To carry that, which some would scorn to touch ; With which in mild, chaste language she did wooe To draw him drinke, and for his Camels too. And now thou knewst her comming, it was time To get thee wings on, and devoutly climbe Unto thy God ; for Marriage of all states Makes most unhappy, or most fortunates. This brought thee forth, where now thou didst undress Thy soul, and with new pinions refresh Her wearied wings, which, so restor'd, did Aye Above the stars, a track unknown and high ; And in her piercing flight perfum'd the ayre, Scatt'ring the Myrrhe and Incense of thy pray'r. So from Lahai-rois 1 Well some spicie cloud, Woo'd by the Sun, swcls up to be his shrowd, And from her moist wombe weeps a fragrant showre, Which, scattered in a thousand pearls, each flowre And herb partakes ; where having stood awhile, And something cool'd the parch'd and thirstie Isle, 1 A wel in the South Country where Jacob dwelt, between* Cadesh, ,j- Beredj Heb. the wel <>f Jti. WAS so; I saw thy birth. That drowsie Lake ] i*tal From her faint bosome breath'd thee, the disease Of her sick waters, and infectious Ease. But now at even, Too grosse for Heaven. Thou fall'st in teares, and weep'st for thy mistake. i^m OR SACKED POEMS. 45 o All ! it is so with me ; oft have I prest Heaven with a lazie breath ; but fruitles this Pierc'd not; Love only can with quick accesse Unlock the way, A V lien all else stray, The smoke and exhalations of the brest. 3. Yet if, as thou doest melt, and, with thy traine Of drops, make soft the Earth, my eyes could weep O're my hard heart, that's bound up and asleep, Perhaps at last, Some such showres past, My God would give a Sun-shine after raine. DISTRACTION. KNIT me, that am crumbled dust ! the heape Is all dispcrs'd andcheape; Give for a handfull but a thought, And it is bought. Hadst thou Made me a Btarre, a pearle, or a rain-bow, The beamea I then had shot My light had lessend not ; 46 SILEX SCINTILLANS, But now I find myselfe the lesse the more I grow. The world Is full of voices ; Man is call'd, and hurl'd By each ; he answers all, Knows ev'ry note and call ; Hence still Fresh dotage tempts, or old usurps his will. Yet hadst thou dipt my wings, when coffin'd in This quicken'd masse of sinne, And saved that light, which freely thou Didst then bestow, I feare I should have spurn'd, and said thou didst for- beare, Or that thy store was lesse ; But now since thou didst blesse So much, I grieve, my God ! that thou hast made me such. I grieve ? 0, yes ! thou know'st I doe ; come, and relieve, And tame and keepe downe with thy light, Dust that would rise and dimme my sight! Lest left alone too long Amidst the noise and throng, Oppressed I, Striving to save the whole, by parcells dye. OR BACKED POEMS. 47 THE PUTCSUITE. ^b§OKD ! what a busic restless thing Hast thou made man ! Each day and houre he is on wing, Rests not a span. Then having lost the Sunne and light, By clouds surpriz'd, He keepes a Commerce in the night With aire disguis'd. Iladst thou given to this active dust A state untir'd, The lost Sonne had not left the huske, Nor home desir'd. That was thy secret, and it is Thy mercy too ; For when all failes to bring to blisse, Then this must doe. Ah! Lord! and what a Purchase will that be, To take us sick, that sound would not take thee! MOUNT OF OLIVES. WEETE. sacred hill! on whose fair brow My Saviour sate, shall I allow Language to love And idolize some shade or grove, Neglecting thee ? such ill-plae'd wit, 48 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Conceit, or call it what you please, Is the braine's fit, And meere disease. 2. Gotstvold and Cooper's both have met With learned swaines, and eccho yet Their pipes, and wit ; But thou sleep'st in a deepe neglect, Untouched by any ; and what need The sheep bleat thee a silly Lay, That heard'st both reed And sheepward play ? 3. Yet if Poets mind thee well, They shall find thou art their hill, Aud fountain e too : Their Lord with thee had most to doe ; He wept once, walkt whole nights on thee; And from thence (his sufferings ended,) Unto glorie Was attended. 4. Being there, this spacious ball Is but his narrow footstoole all ; And what we thinke Unsearchable, now with one winke He doth comprise. But in this aire When he did stay to beare our 111 And sinne, this Hill Was then his Chaire. OR SACRED POEMS. 4l) THE IXCARXATIOX VXD PASSIOX. ORD! when fchou didst thyselfe un- dresse, p|j Laying by tliy robes of glory, es^ To make us more thou wouldst be lesse And becam'st a wofull story. To put on clouds instead of light, And cloath the morning-starre with dust, Was a translation of such height As, but in thee, was ne'r exprest. Brave wormes and earth ! that thus could have A God enclos'd within your cell, Your Maker pent up in a grave, Life lockt in death, heav'n in a shell. Ah, my deare Lord ! what couldst thou spye In this impure, rebellious clay, That made thee thus resolve to dye For those that kill thee every day ? what strange wonders could thee move To slight thy precious blond and breath ? Sure it was Love, my Lord ; for Love Is only stronger far than death ! 50 SILEX SC1NT1LLANS, THE CALL. I^OME, my heart ! come, my head, In sighes, and teares ! "Pis now, since you have laine thus dead, Some twenty years. Awake, awake, Some pitty take Upon your selves ! Who never wake to grone, nor weepe, Shall be sentenc'd for their sleepe. 2. Doe but see your sad estate, How many sands Have left us, while we careles sate With folded hands ; What stock of nights, Of dayes, and yeares, In silent nights Sto) e by our eares ; How ill have we our selves bestow'd, Whose suns are all set in a cloud ! 3. Yet, come, and let's peruse them all; And, as we passe, What sins on every minute fall Score on the glasse ; OR SACKED POEMS, 51 Then weigh and rato Their heavy state, Untill The glasse with teares yon fill ; That done, we shall be safe and good: Those beasts were cleane that chew'd the end. f [EARLY DEATH.] HOU that know'st for whom I ?jp *«& — ' "^ j ^^n And wn y these teares appeare, %4KXv*ffl That keep'st account till he returne Of all his dust left here ; As easily thou mightst prevent, As now produce, these teares, And adde unto that dav he went A faire supply of yeares. But 'twas my sinne that fore'd thy hand To cull this Prim-rose out, That, by thy early choice forewarn'd, My soule might looke about. what a vanity is man ! How like the eye's quick winke His cottage failes, whose narrow span Begins even at the brink ! Nine months thy hands are fashioning it . And many yeares, alas ! E're we can lisp, or ought discusse Concerning thee, must passe ; Yet have I knowne thy slightest thing , A feat leer, or a shell, 52 SILEX SCINTILLANS, A stick, or rod, which some chance brings, The best of us excell. Yea, I have knowne these shreds outlast A f aire- compacted frame, And for one Twenty we have past Almost outlive our name. Thus hast thou plac'd in man's outside Death to the common eye, That heaven within him might abide, And close eternitie. Hence youth and folly, man's first shame, Are put unto the slaughter, And serious thoughts begin to tame The wise man's madness, Laughter. Dull, wretched wormes ! that would not keepe Within our first faire bed, But out of Paradise must creepe, For ev'ry foote to tread ! Yet had our Pilgrimage bin free, And smooth without a thorne, Pleasures had foil'd Eternitie, And Tares had choakt the Come. Thus by the Crosse, Salvation runnes ; Affliction is a mother, Whose painfull throes yield many sons, Each fairer than the other. A silent Teare can pierce thy throne, When lowd Joyes want a wing ; And sweeter aires streame from a grone, Than any arted string. Thus, Lord, I see my gaine is great, My losse but little to it ; Yet something more I must intreate, OR SACRED POEMS. And only thou canst doc it. O let me, like him, know my End, And be as glad to find it ; And whatsoe'r thou shalt commend, Still let thy servant mind it ! Then make my soule white as his ownc, My faith as pure and steddy, And deck me, Lord, with the same Crowne Thou hast crownd him already ! 53 VANITY OF SPIRIT. jUITE spent with thoughts I left my Cell, and lay Where a shrill spring tun'd to the early day. I beg'd here long, and gron'd to know Who gave the clouds so brave a bow, Who bent the spheres, and circled in Corruption with this glorious Ring ; What is his name, and how I might Descry some part of his great light. I summon'd nature ; pierc'd through all her store ; Broke up some seales, which none had toach'd before ; Her wombe, her bosome, and her head, Where all her secrets lay abed, I rifled quite, and having past Through all the creature?, came at last To search myselfe, where I did lind 54 STLEX SCINTILLANS, Traces and sounds of a strange kind. Here of this mighty spring I found some rills, With ecchoes beaten from th' eternall hills. Weake beames and fires flash'd to my sight, Like a young East, or Moone-shine night, Which shew'd me in a nook cast by A peece of much antiquity, With Hieroglyphicks quite dismembred, And broken letters scarce remembred. I tooke them up, and (much joy'd,) went about T' unite those peeces, hoping to find out The mystery ; but this neer done, That little light I had was gone. It griev'd me much. At last, said T, Since in these veyls my eclips'd Eye May not approach thee, (for at night Who can have commerce with the light ? ) Tie disa/pparell, and to buy But one half glaunce most gladly dye. THE RETREATE. APPY those early dayes, when I Shin'd in my Angell -infancy ! Before I understood this place Appointed for my second race, Or taught my soul to fancy ought But a white, celestiall thought ; When yet I had not walkt above A mile or two from my first Love, OR SA('Ki:i) POKMS. r K 00 And looking back, at thai short space, Could see a glimpse of his bright face; When on some gilded Cloud or Flowre My gazing soul would dwell an houre, And in those weaker glories spy Some shadows of eternity; Before I taught my tongue to wound My conscience with a sinful 1 sound, Or had the black nrt to dispence A sev'rall sinne to ev'ry sense, But felt through all this fleshly dresse Bright sliootes of everlastingnesse. O how I long to travell back, And tread again that ancient track ! That I might once more reacli that plaine, Where first I left my glorious traine ; From whence tli' inlightened spirit sees That shady City of Palme trees. But ah ! my soul wiih too much stay Ts drunk, and staggers in the w r ay ! Some men a forward motion love, But T by backward steps would move ; And, when this dust falls to the urn, In that state I came, return. f [ABSENCE.] OME, come ! what doe I here ? Since he is gone, Bach day is grown a dozen year, And each houre one. Come, come ! 5G SILEX SCINT1LLANS, Cut off tlie sum By these soil'd teares ! (Which, only thou Know'st to be true,) Dayes are my feares. 2. There's not a wind can stir, Or beam passe by, But strait I think, though far, Thy hand is nigh. Come, come ! Strike these lips dumb : This restless breath, That soiles thy name, Will ne'r be tame, Untill in death. 3. Perhaps some think a tombe No house of store, But a dark and seal'd up wombe, Which ne'r breeds more. Come, come ! Such thoughts benum ; But I would be With him I weep A-bed, and sleep To wake in thee. OR SACKED POEMS. - r >7 1" MIDNIGHT. HEX to my Eyes, Whilst deep sleep others catche . Thine host of spyes, The Starres, shine in their watches, I doe survey Each busie ray, And how they work and wind, And wish each beanie My soul doth streamo With the like ardour shin'd. What Emanations, Quick Vibrations, And bright Stirs are there ! What thin Ejections, Cold Affections, And slow Motions here ! 2. Thy heav'ns, some say, Are a fine-liquid light, Which, mingling aye, Stream es and flames thus to the sight. Come then, my God ! Shine on this bloud And water in one beanie ; And thou shalt see, Kindled by thee, Both liquors burne and streame. O what bright quickness, 58 S1LEX SC1NTILLANS, Active brightness, And celestiall flowes, Will follow after, On that water Which thy Spirit blowes ! Matth. cap. 3. ver. 11. I indeed baptize you with ivater unto repen- tance, but he that commeth after me, is mightier than I ; whose shooes I am not worthy to beare ; he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost, and ivithfire. % CONTENT. EACE, peace ! I know 'twas brave ; But this coarse fleece I shelter in, is slave To no such peece. When I am gone, I shall no wardrobes leave To friend or sonne, But what their own homes weave. 2. Such, though not proud nor full, May make them weep, And mourn to see the wooll Outlast the sheep ; Poore, pious weare ! Hadst thou bin rich, or fine, OR SACRED POEMS. Perhaps that teare Had moarn'd thy losse, not mine. 3. Why then these curl'd, puffed points. Or a laced story ? Death sets all out of joint, And scornes their glory. Some Love a Rose In hand, some in the skin ; But, crosse to those, I would have mine within. 59 T [STARS.] * OY of my life while left me here ! And still my Love ! How in thy absence thou dost steere Me from above ! A life well led This truth commends ; With quick or dead It never ends. 2. Stars are of mighty use. The night Is dark, and long ; The Rode foul ; and where one goes right, Six may go wrong. One twinkling ray, 60 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Shot o'er some cloud, May clear much way, And guide a croud. 3. God's Saints are shining lights : who stays Here long must passe O're dark hills, swift streames, and steep ways As smooth as glasse ; But these all night, Like Candles, shed Their beams, and light Us into Bed. 4. They are indeed our Pillar-fires, Seen as we go ; They are that Citie's shining spires We travell to. A swordlike gleame Kept man for sin First Out : this beame Will guide him In. THE STORM. SEE the use ; and know my bloud Is not a Sea, But a shallow, bounded floud, Though red as he ; Yet have I flows as strong as his, And boy ling stremes that rave OR SACRED POEMS. 6] With the same curling force, and hisse As doth the mount ain'd wave. 2. But when his waters billow thus, Dark storms and wind Incite them to that fierce discusse, Else not inclin'd. Thus the enlarg'd, inraged air Uncalmes these to a floud ; But still the weather that's most fair Breeds tempests in my bloud. 3. Lord, then round me with weeping clouds. And let my mind In quick blasts sigh beneath those shrouds, A spirit-wind ; So shall that storme purge this Recluse Which sinfull ease made foul. And wind and water, to thy use, Both icash and icing my soul. THE MORNING- WATCH. JOYES ! Infinite Sweetness! with what flowres And shoots of glory my soul break* s and buds ! All the long houres Of night and rest, 62 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Through the still shrouds Of sleep and clouds, This Dew fell on my breast ; O how it Blouds, And Spirits all my Earth ! Heark ! In what Rings And Hymning Circulations the quick world Awakes and sings ! The rising winds, And falling springs, Birds, beasts, all things Adore him in their kinds Thus all is hurl'd In sacred Hymnes and Order, the great Chime And Symphony of nature. Prayer is The world in tune, A spirit-voyce, And vocall joyes, Whose Eccho is heav'ns blisse. let me climbe When I lye down ! The pious soul by night Is like a clouded starre, whose beames, though said To shed their light Under some cloud, Yet are above, And shine and move Beyond that mistie shrowd. So in my Bed, That curtain'd grave, though sleep, like ashes, hide My lamp and life, both shall in thee abide. OK SACKED POEMS. 63 THE EVENING-WATCH. A Dialogue. Body. ARE WELL! I goe to sleep; but, when The day-star springs, Tie wake agen. Soul. Goe, sleep in peace ; and when thou lyest Unnumber'd in thy dust, when all this frame Is but one dramme, and what thou now descriest In sev'rall parts shall want a name, Then may his peace be with thee, and each dust Writ in his book, who ne'r betray'd man's trust! Body. Amen ! but hark, e'er we two stray, How many hours dost think 'till day? Soul Ah! go; thon'rt weak, and sleepie. Heav'n Is a plain watch, and, without figures, winds All ages up; who drew this circle, even He fils it ; dayes and hours are Blinds. Yet this take with thee. The last gasp of time; Is thy first breath, and man's etemall Prim?. 64 SILEX SCINTILLANS, f [BEREAVEMENT.] ILENCEandstealthofdayes! 'tis now Since thou art gone, Twelve hundred houres, and not a brow But clouds hang on. As he that in some cave's thick damp, Lockt from the light, Fixeth a solitary lamp, To brave the night, And, walking from his Sun, when past That glim'ring ray, Cuts through the heavy mists in haste Back to his day ; So o'er fled minutes I retreat Unto that hour, Which shew'd thee last, but did defeat Thy light and pow'r. I search and rack my soul to see Those beams again ; But nothing but the snuff to me Appeareth plain. That, dark and dead, sleeps in its known And common urn ; But those, fled to their Maker's throne, There shine and burn. O could I track them ! but souls must Track one the other ; And now the Spirit, not the dust, Must be thy brother. OR SACRED POEMS. G5 Yet I have one Pea/rle, by whose light All things I see ; And in the heart of Earth and night Find Heaven and thee. CHURCH-SERVICE. Si ^T^LEST be the God of Harmony and ^\ifci Love ! The God above ! <6*& And holy Dove ! Whose interceding, spirituals grones Make restless mones For dust and stones ; For dust in every part, But a hard, stonie heart. 2. O how in this thy Quire of Souls I stand, Propt by thy hand, A heap of sand Which busie thoughts, like winds, would scatter quite, And put to flight, But for thy might ; Thy hand alone doth tame Those blasts, and knit my frame; 3. So that both stones, and dust, and all of me Jointly agree To cry to thee ; GG SILEX SCINTILLAS S, And in this Musick, by thy Martyrs' bloud Seal'd and made good, Present, O God, The eccho of these stones, — My sighes, and grones ! BURIALL. THOU ! the first fruits of the dead, And their dark bed, When I am cast into that deep And senseless sleep, The wages of my sinne, O then, Thou great Preserver of all men, Watch o're that loose And empty house, Which I sometimes liv'd in ! 2. It is in truth a ruin'd peece, Not worth thy eyes ; And scarce a room, but wind and rain Beat through, and stain The seats, and cells within ; Yet thou, Led by thy Love, wouldst stoop thus low, And in this Cott, All filth, and spott, Didst with thy servant Inne. OR SACRED POEMS, G7 3. And nothing can, T hourely son, Drive thee from mo. Thou art the same, faithfull and just, In life, or dust. Though then, thus crumm'd, I si ray In blasts, Or exhalations, and wasts Beyond all eje^, Yet thy love spies That change, and knows thy Clay. 4. The world's thy boxe: how then, there tost, Can I be lost ? But the delay is all ; Tyme now Is old and slow ; His wings are dull and sickly. Yet he Thy servant is, and waits on thee. Cutt then the summe, Lord, haste, Lord, come, come, Lord Jesus, quickly ! Rom. cap. 8. ver. 23. And not only they, but our selves also, which have the first fruits of the spirit, even wee our selves (jrone within our selves, icalting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body. 68 SILEX SCINT1LLANS, CHEARFUMTESS. ORD, with what courage and delight I doe each thing, When thy least breath sustaines my wing ! , I shine, and move Like those above, And, with much gladnesse Quitting sadnesse, Make me faire dayes of every night. 2. Affliction thus meere pleasure is; And hap what will, If thou be in't, 'tis welcome still. But since thy rayes In sunnie dayes Thou dost thus lend, And freely spend, Ah ! what shall I return for this ? 3. O that I were all Soul ! that thou Wouldst make each part Of this poor, siiifull frame pure heart ! Then would I drown My single one ; And to thy praise A Concert raise Of Hallelujahs here below. OR SACKED POEMS. 69 1T [DISTANCE.] |URE, there's a tye of Bodycs ! and as the j Dissolve with it to Clay, Love languisheth, and memory dotli rust, O'r-cast with that cold dust ; For things thus center d, without Beames or Action, Nor give, nor take C ont action ; And man is such a Marygold, these fled, That shuts, and hangs the head. 2. Absents within the Line conspire, and Sense Things distant doth unite ; Herbs sleep unto the East, and some fowles thence Watch the returns of light. But hearts are not so kind : false, short delights Tell us the world is brave, And wrap us in Imaginary flights, Wide of a faithful grave. 3. Thus Lazarus was carried out of town ; For 'tis our foe's chief art, By distn nee all good objects first to drown, And then besiege the heart. 70 SILEX SCINTILLANS, But I will be my own Death's-head; and though The flatt'rer say, I live, Because Incertainties we cannot know, Be sure not to believe. PEACE. Y Soul, there is a countrie I Afar beyond the stars, Where stands a winged Sentrie All skilfull in the wars. There, above noise and danger, Sweet peace sits, crown'd with smiles, And One born in a manger Commands the beauteous files. He is thy gracious friend And (O my Soul awake !) Did in pure love descend, To die here for thy sake. If thou canst get but thither, There growes the flowre of peace, The rose that cannot wither, Thy fortresse, and thy ease. Leave then thy foolish ranges ; For none can thee secure, But One, who never changes, Thy God, thy Life, thy Cure. OR SACKED POEMS. THE TASSION. MY chief good! M v dear, dear God ! When thy blest blond Did issue forth, forc'd by the Hod What pain didst Thou Feel in each blow ! How didst Thou weep, And thy self steep In thy own precious, saving teares ! What cruell smart Did teare thy heart ! How didst Thou grone it In the spirit, O Thou, whom my soul loves and feares ! 2. Most blessed Vine ! Whose juice so good I feel as Wine, But thy faire branches felt as bloud, How wert thou prest To be my feast ! In what deep anguish Didst thou languish ! What springs of Sweat and bloud did drowi thee! How in one path Did the full wrath 72 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Of thy great Father Crowd and gather, Doubling thy griefs, when none would own thee! 3. How did the weight Of all our sinnes, And death unite To wrench and rack thy blessed limbes ! How pale and bloudie Lookt thy Body ! How bruis'd and broke, With every stroke ! How meek, and patient was thy spirit ! How didst thou cry, And grone on high " Father forgive. And let them live ! I dye to make my foes inherit ! " 4. blessed Lamb ! That took'st my sinne, That took'st my shame, How shall thy dust thy praises sing ? 1 would I were One hearty teare ! One constant spring ! Then would I bring Thee two small mites, and be at strife Which should most vie, My heart, or eye, OB SACRED POEMS. 73 Teaching my years In smiles and tears To weep, to sing, thy Deatlo, my Life, Rom. Cap. 8. ver. 19. Etcnim res creates exerto capite observantes ex- pectant revelcUionem Filiorv/m Dei. ND do they so ? have they a Sense Of ought but Influence? Can they their heads lift, and expect, And grone too ? why th' Elect, Can do no more : my volumes said They were all dull, and dead ; They judg'd them senslesse, and their state Wholly inanimate. Go, go; Seal up. thy looks, And burn thy books. 2. « I would I were a stone, or tree, Or flowre by pedigree, Or some poor high-way herb, or Spring To flow, or bird to sing ! Then should I, tyed to one sure state. All day expect my date. But I am sadly loose, and stray, A giddy blast each way ; O let me not thus rang* Thou canst not change. 74 SILEX SCINTILLANS, 3. Sometimes I sit with thee, and tarry An hour or so, then vary. Thy other Creatures in this Scene Thee only aym and mean ; Some rise to seek thee, and with heads Erect peep from their beds ; Others, whose birth is in the tomb, And cannot quit the womb, Sigh there, and grone for thee, Their liberty. 4. O let not me do lesse ! shall they Watch, while I sleep or play ? Shall I thy mercies still abuse With fancies, friends, or newes ? brook it not ! thy bloud is mine, And my soul should be thine ; brook it not ! why wilt thou stop After whole showres one drop ? Sure, thou wilt joy to see Thy sheep with thee. THE RELAPSE. MY God, how gracious art thou ! I had I slip* I Almost to hell, ™ And, on the verge of that dark, dreadful pit, OR SACRED POEMS. 75 Did hear them yell ; But O thy love ! thy rich, almighty love, That sav'd my soul, And checkt their furie, when I saw them move, And heard them howl ! my sole Comfort, take no more these w;iyes, This hideous path, And I will mend my own without delay cs : Cease thou thy wrath ! 1 have deserv'd a thick, Egyptian damp, Dark as my deeds, Should mist within me, and put out that lamp Thy spirit feeds ; A darting Conscience full of stabs and fears ; No shade but Yeivgh, Sullen and sad Ecclipses, cloudie spheres, These are my due. But he that with his bloud, (a price too deere,) My scores did pay, Bid me, by vertue from him, chalenge here The brightest day ; Sweet, downie thoughts, soft Lily-shades, calm streams, Joyes full and true, Fresh, spicie mornings, and eternal beams, — These are his due. 76 SILEX SC1NTILLANS, THE EESOLVE. HAVE considered it ; and find A longer stay Is but excus'd neglect. To mind One path, and stray- In to another, or to none, Cannot be love ; When shall that traveller come home, That will not move ? If thou would'st thither, linger not, Catch at the place ; Tell yonth and beauty they must rot, They're but a Case; Loose, parcell'd hearts will freeze : the Sun With scatter' d locks Scarce warms, but by contraction Can heat [the] rocks. Call in thy Towers ; run [on], and reach Home with the light ; Be there, before the shadows stretch, And span up night. Follow the Cry no more : there is An ancient way All strewed with flowres and happiness, And fresh as May ; There turn, and turn no more. Let wits, Smile at fair eies, Or lips ; but who there weeping sits, Hath got the Prize. OR SACRED POEMS. 77 THE MATCH. EAR friend ! whose holy, ever-living S^l* lines 7/> 3 Have done much good To many, and have checkt my blood, My fierce, wild blood, that still heaves and in- clines, But is still tam'd By those bright fires which thee inflam'd ; Here I joyn hands, and thrust my stubborn heart Into thy Deed, There from no Duties to be freed, And if hereafter youth or folly thwart And claim their share, Here I renounce the pois'nous ware. II. ^wiCCEPT, dread Lord > tne P oore 0bla " $si§- It is but poore ; Yet through thy mercies may be more. Thou ! that canst not wish my soul's damna- tion, Afford me life, And save me from all inward strife ! 78 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Two Lifes I hold from thee, my gracious Lord, Both cost thee dear ; For one, I am thy Tenant here ; The other, the true life, in the next world And endless is, let me still mind that in this ! To Thee therefore my Thoughts, Words, Actions I do resign ; Thy will in all be done, not mine. Settle my house, and shut out all distractions That may unknit My heart, and thee planted in it ; Lord Jesu ! thou didst bow thy blessed head Upon a tree, do as much, now unto me ! hear, and heal thy servant! Lord, strike dead All lusts in me, Who onely wish life to serve thee ! Suffer no more this dust to overflow And drown my eies ; But seal, or pin them to thy skies, And let this grain, which here in tears I sow, Though dead and sick, Through thy Increase grow new and quick. OR SACRED POEMS. 7 ( J RULES AND LESSONS. ;HEN first thy Bies unveil, give thy soul leave To do the like ; our Bodies but forerun The Spirit's duty. True hearts spread and heave Unto their God, as flow'rs do to the Sun. Give him thy first thoughts then ; so shalt thou keep Him company all day, and in him sleep. Yet never sleep the Sun up. Prayer shou'd Dawn with the day. There are set, awful hours 'Twixt heaven and us. The Ma7ina was not good After Sun-rising ; far-day sullies flowers. Rise to prevent the Sun ; sleep doth sins glut, And heaven's gate opens when this world's is shut. Walk with thy fellow-creatures : note the hush And iL'hispers amongst them. There's not a Spring, Or Leafe but hath his Mur/iinrj-liyrwi. Each Bush And Oak doth know I AM. Canst thou not sing ? 80 SILEX SCINTILLANS, O leave thy Cares, and follies ! go this way ; And thou art sure to prosper all the day. Serve God before the world ; let him not go, Until thou hast a blessing ; then resigne The whole unto him ; and remember who Prevail'd by wrestling ere the Sun did shine. Poure Oyle upon the stones; weep for thy sin ; Then journey on, and have an eie to heav'n. Mornings are Mysteries; the first world's Youth, Man's Resurrection and the future's Bud Shrowd in their births : The Crown of life, light, truth Is stil'd their starre, the stone, and hidden food. Three blessings wait upon them, two of which Should move. They make us holy, happy, rich. When the world's up, and ev'ry swarm abroad, Keep thou thy temper; mix not with each Clay ; Dispatch necessities ; life hath a load Which must be carri'd on, and safely may. Yet keep those cares without thee, let the heart Be God's alone, and choose the better part. Through all thy Actions, Counsels, and Discourse, Let Mildness and Religion guide thee out ; If truth be thine, what needs a brutish force ? But what's not good and just ne'er go about. OR SACRED POEMS. 8] Wrong not thy Conscience for a rotten stick; That gain is dreadful, which makes spirits sick. To God, thy conntrie, and thy friend be true ; If Priest and People change, keep thou thy ground. Who sels Religion, is a Judas Jeiv ; And, oathes once broke, the soul cannot be sound. The perjurer's a devil let loose: what can Tie up his hands, that dares mock God and man ? Seek not the same steps with the Crowd; stick thou To thy sure trot ; a constant, humble mind Is both his own Joy, and his Maker's too ; Let folly dust it on, or lag behind. A sweet self-privacy in a right soul Out-runs the Earth, and lines the utmost pole. To all that seek thee, bear an open heart ; Make not thy breast a Labyrinth, or Trap ; If tryals come, this wil make good thy part, For honesty is safe, come what can hap ; It is the good man's feast, the prince of flowres, Which thrives in storms, and smels best afrer si tu teres. G 82 SILEX SC1NTILLANS, Seal not thy Eyes up from the poor, but give Proportion to their Merits, and thy Purse ; Thou may'st in rags a mighty Prince relieve, Who, when thy sins call for't, can fence a Curse. Thou shalt not lose one mite. Though waters stray, The Bread we cast returns in fraughts one day. Spend not an hour so as to weep another, For tears are not thine own ; If thou giv'st words, Dash not [with them] thy friend, nor Heav'n ; O smother A viperous thought ; some Syllables are Sivords. Unbitted tongues are in their penance double ; They shame their owners, and their hearers trouble. Injure not modest bloud, whose spirits rise In judgement against lewdness ; that's base wit, That voyds but filth and stench. Hast thou no prize But sickness or infection ? stifle it. Who makes his jest of sins, must be at least If not a very devill, worse than a Beast. Yet fly no friend, if he be such indeed ; But meet to quench his Longinc/s, and thy Thirst ; Allow your Joyes, "Religion : that done, speed, And bring the same man back, thou wert first. OR SACRED POEMS. 83 Who SO returns not, cannot pray aright, lint shuts his door, and leaves God out all night. To heighten thy Devotions, and keep low All mutinous thoughts, what bnsines e'r thou hast, Observe God in his works ; here fountains flow, Bit Is sing, Beasts feed, Fish leap, and th' Earth stands fast ; Above are restles Motions, running Lights, Vast circling Azure, giddy Clouds, days, nights. When Seasons change, then lay before thine eys His wondrous Method ; mark the various Scenes In heav'n ; Hail, Thunder, Rain-boivs, Snow, and Ice, Calmes, Tempests, Light, and Darlcnes, by his means ; Thou canst not misse his Praise ; each tree, herb, flowre Are shadows of his wise-dome, and his pow'r. To meales when thou doest come, give him the praise Whose Arm supply'd thee ; take what may suffice, And then be thankful ; admire His ways Who fills the world's unempty'd granaries ! A thankless feeder is a Theif, his feast A very liobbrr/j, and himself no guest. 84 SILEX SCINTILLANS. High-noon thus past, thy time decays ; provide Thee other thoughts : away with friends and mirth ; The Sun now stoops, and hastes his beams to hide Under the dark and melancholy Earth. All but preludes thy End. Thou art the man Whose Rise j hight, and Descent, is but a span. Yet, set as he doth, and 'tis well. Have all Thy Beams home with thee : trim thy Lamp, buy Oyl, And then set forth ; who is thus drest, the Fall Furthers his glory, and gives death the foyl. Man is a Summer's day ; whose youth and fire Cool to a glorious Evening, and expire. When night comes, list thy deeds ; make, plain the way 'Twixt heaven and thee ; block it not with de- lays ; But perfect all before thou sleep'st ; then say There's one Sun more strung on my Bead of days. What's good score up for Joy ; the bad, well scann'd, Wash off with tears, and get thy Master's hand. Thy Accounts thus made, spend in the grave one houre Before thy time ; be not a stranger there, Where thou may'st sleep whole ages ; Life's poor flow'r OR SACRED POEMS. 85 Lasts not a night sometime Bad spirits fear This conversation ; J Jut the good man lyes Intombed many days before he dyes. Being laid, and drest for sleep, close not thy Eyes Up with thy curtains ; give thy soul the wing In some good thoughts ; so, when the day shall rise, And thou urvrcJcst thy fire, those sparks will bring New flames ; besides where these lodge, vain heats mourn And die ; that Bush, where God is, shall not burn. When thy Nap's over, stir thy fire, unrake In that dead age ; one beam i' th' dark outvies Two in the day ; then from the Damps and A Ice Of night shut up thy leaves ; be Chaste; God prys Through thickest nights ; though then the Sun be far, Do thou the works of Day, and rise a St cur. Briefly, Doe as thou would? st he done unto. Love God, and love thy NeigKbov/r ; Watch, a Pray. These are the Words, and Works of life ; This do, And live ; who doth not thus, hath Lost Heav'n's way. 86 STLEX SCINTILLANS, O lose it not ! look up, wilt Change those Lights For Chains of Darlcnes and Eternal Nights ? CORRUPTION. JURE, It was so. Man in those early days Was not all stone and earth ; He shin'd a little, and by those weak rays, Had some glimpse of his birth. He saw Heaven o'er his head, and knew from whence He came, condemned, hither, And, as first Love draws strongest, so from hence His mind sure progress'd thither. Things here were strange unto him : swet and till, All was a thorn, or weed ; Nor did those last, but, like himself, dyed still As soon as they did Seed; They seem'd to quarrel with him ; for that Act, That fell'd him, foyl'd them all ; He drew the Curse upon the world, and crackt The whole frame with his fall. This made him long for home, as loath to stay With murmurers and foes ; He sighed for Eden, and would often say Alt ! ivhat bright days were those ! OB SACRED POEMS. "7 Nor was Heav'n cold unto him ; for each day The rally, or i\m mountain A Horded visits, and still Paradise lay In some green shade or fountain. Angels lay Leiger here ; eaeh bush, and cell, Each oke and high-way knew them : Walk but the fields, or sit. down at some well, And he was sure to view them. Almighty Low ! where art thou now ? mad man Bits down, and freezeth on : He raves, and swears to stir nor fire nor fan, But bids the thread be spun. I see, thy curtains are close-drawn ; thy bow- Looks dim too in the cloud ; Sin triumphs still, and man is sunk below 7 The center, and his shrowd. All's in deep sleep and night; thick darkness lyes And hatcheth o'er thy people — But hark ! what trumpet's that, what angel cries Arise ! Thrust in thy sickle ! H[OLY] SCRIPTURES. ;ELCOME, dear book, Soul's joy and food ! The feast Of Spirits : Heav'n extracted lyes in thee. Thou art life's Charter, TheDove's spotless neast Where souls are hateh'd unto Eternitie. 88 SILEX SCINTILLANS, In thee the hidden stone, the Manna lies ; Thou art the great Elixir, rare and choice ; The Key that opens to all Mysteries, The Word in Characters, God in the Voice. O that I had deep cut in my hard heart Each line in thee ! Then would I plead in groans Of my Lord's penning, and by sweetest Art Return upon himself the Law, and Stones. Read here, my faults are thine. This Book and I Will tell thee so ; Sweet Saviour thou didst dye ! UNPROFITABLENES. OW rich, O Lord, how fresh thy visits are ! ||j 'Twas but just now my bleak leaves hopeless hung Sullyed with dust and mud ; Each snarling blast shot through me, and did share Their youth and beauty; cold showres nipt and wrung Their spiciness and bloud. But since thou didst in one sweet glance survey Their sad decays, I flourish, and once more Breath all perfumes and spice ; OR SACRED PO] MS. T smell ;i dew like Myrrh, and all the day Wear in my bosome a full Sun ; such store Hath one beame from thy ey< . Bat, ah, my Gud ! what fruit hast thou of this? What one poor leaf did ever I yet fall To wait upon thy wreath? Thus thouall day a thankless weed doest dress, And when th' hast done, a stench, or fog is all The odour I bequeath. CHRIST'S NATIVITY. 'WAKE, glad heart ! get up and sing ! It is the Birth-day of thy King. Awake ! awake ! The Sun doth shake Light from his locks, and, all the way Breathing Perfumes, doth spice the day. 2. Awake, awake ! heark how th' icood rings ; Winds whisper, and the busie springs A Concert make ; Awake ! awake ! Man is their high-priest, and should rise To offer up the sacrifice. 3. I would I were some bird, or star, Flutt'ring in woods, or lifted far 90 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Above this Inne And Rode of sin ! Then either star or bird should be Shining or singing still to thee. 4. I would I had in my best part Fit roomes for thee ! or that my heart Were so clean as Thy manger was ! But I am all filth, and obscene ; Yet, if thou wilt, thou canst make clean, 5. Sweet Jesu ! will then. Let no more This Leper haunt and soyl thy door ! Cure him, ease him, O release him ! And let once more, by mystick birth, The Lord of life be born in earth. II. OW kind is Heav'n to man ! If here One sinner doth amend, Strait there is Joy, and ev'ry sphere In musick doth contend. And shall we then no voices lift ? Are Mercy and Salvation Not worth our thanks ? Is Life a gift Of no more acceptation ? OK SACRED POEMS. 91 Shall II< 1 thai did come down from thence, And here for us \v;is slain, Shall He be now cast off? no sense Of all his woes remain? Can neither Love nor Suff'rings bind ? Are we all stone and earth ? Neither his blondy passions mind, Nov one day blesse his birth ? Alas, my God ! Thy birth, now, here, Must not be numbrcd in the year. 1 THE CHECK. E ACE, peaee ! I blnsh to hear thee ; when thou art A dusty story, A speechlesse heap, and in the midst my heart In the same livery drest Lyes tame as all the rest; When six years thence digg'd up, some youth full Eye Seeks there for symmetry, I>ut finding none, shall leave thee to the wind. Or the next foot to crush, Scattering thy kind And humble dust, — tell then, dear flesh, Where is thy glory ? 1 Tfu "Puritans abolished the ceh m of Christmas. — Ed. 92 SILEX SCINTILLANS, 2. As he, that in the midst of day expects The hideous night, Sleeps not, but shaking off sloth and neglects, Works with the Sun, and sets, Paying the day its debts ; That for Repose and darkness bound, he might Rest from the fears i'th' night ; So should we too. All things teach us to die, And point us out the way ; While we passe by, And mind it not ; play not away Thy glimpse of light. 3. View thy fore-runners. Creatures, giv'n to be Thy youth's Companions, Take their leave, and die ; birds, beasts, each tree All that have growth or breath Have one large language, Death ! O then play not ! but strive to Him, who can Make these sad shades pure Sun, Turning their mists to beams, their damps to day; Whose pow'r doth so excell As to make Clay A Spirit, and true glory dwell In dust and stones. 4. Ileark, how he doth invite thee ! with what voice Of love and sorrow OR SACKED POKMS. 93 He begs and calls ! 0, that m these thy days Thou knew'st but thy own good ! Shall not the crys of bloud, Of God's own bloud, awake thee? He bids beware Of drunkncs, surfeits, care ; But thou sleep'st on ; where's now thy protes- tation, Thy lines, thy love ? Away ! Redeem the day ; The day that gives no observation Perhaps to morrow. DISORDER AND FRAILTY. HEN first thou didst even from the grave And womb of darkness beckon out My brutish soul, and to thy slave Becam'st thyself both guide and scout ; Even from that hour Thou got'st my heart ; and though here tost By winds, and bit with frost, I pine and shrink, Breaking the link 'Twixt thee and me ; and oftimes creep Into th' old silence, and dead sleep, Quitting thy way All the long day ; Yet, sure, my God ! I love thee most. Alas, Thy Love ! 94 SILEX SCINTILLANS, 2. I threaten Heaven, and from my cell Of clay and frailty break and bud, Touch' d by thy fire and breath ; thy bloud Too is my dew, and springing well. But while I grow And stretch to thee, ayming at all Thy stars and spangled hall, Each fly doth taste Poyson, and blast My yielding leaves ; sometimes a showr Beats them quite off; and in an hour Not one poor shoot, But the bare root Hid under ground survives the fall. Alas, frail iveed ! 3. Thus like some sleeping exhalation, Which, wak'd by heat and beams, makes up Unto that comforter, the Sun, And soars, and shines, but ere we sup And walk two steps, Cool'd by the damps of night, descends, And, whence it sprung, there ends, Doth my weak fire Pine, and retire ; And, after all my height of flames, In sickly expirations tames, Leaving me dead On my first bed, Untill thy Sun again ascends. Poor, falling Star ! - OR SACRED POEMS. 05 4. 0, yes ! but give wings to my fire ; And hatch my soul, untill it fly Up where thou art, amongst thy tire Of stars, above infirmity ; Let not perverse And foolish thoughts adde to my bill Of forward Sins, and kill That seed, which thou In me didst sow ; But dresse, and water with thy grace, Together with the seed, the place ; And, for his sake Who died to stake His life for mine, tune to thy will My heart, my verse. Hosea, cap. 6. ver. 4. Ephraim what shall I do unto thee ? Judah how shall I intreat thee ? for thy goodness is as a morning Cloud, and as the early Dew it goeth away. IDLE VERSE. 0, go, queint folies! sugred sin, Shadow no more my door ! H I will no longer cobwebs spin ; I'm too much on the score. 96 SILEX SCINTILLANS, For since amidst my youth and night My great preserver smiles, We'll make a match, my only light, And joyn against their wiles. Blind, desp'rate j££s, that study how To dress e and trim our shame. That gild rank poyson, and allow Vice in a fairer name ; The Purles of youthful bloud and bowles. Lust in the robes of love, The idle talk of feav'rish souls Sick with a scarf or glove ; Let it suffice my warmer days Simper'd and shin'd on you ; Twist not my Cypresse with your Bays Or Roses with my Yewgh. Go, go, seek out some greener thing ; It snows and freezeth here ; Let Nightingales attend the spring ; Winter is all my year. OK SACRED POEMS. 97 SON-DAYES. RIGHT shadows of true Rest ! some shoots of blisse ; Heaven once a week ; The next world's gladness preposscst in this ; A day to seek Eternity in time ; the steps by which We climb above all ages ; Lamps that light Man through his heap of dark days ; and the rich, And full redemption of the whole week's flight ! 2. The Pulleys unto headlong man ; time's bower; The narrow way ; Transplanted Paradise ; God's walking houre ; The cool o'th' day ! The creature's Jubilej God's parle with dust ; Heaven here ; man on those hills of myrrh and flowres ; Angels descending ; the Returns of Trust ; A Gleam of Glory after six-days-showres ! 3. The Churche's love-feasts ; Time's Prerogative, And Interest Deducted from the whole ; The combs, and hive, And home of rest ! 98 SILEX SCINTILLANS, The milky way chalkt out with Suns, a clue That guides through erring hours ; and in full story A taste of Heav'non earth; the pledge and cue Of a full feast ; and the out-courts of glory ! REPENTANCE. ORD, since thou didst in this vile clay That sacred ray, Thy Spirit, plant, quickning the whole With that one grain's infused wealth, My forward flesh crept on, and subtly stole Both growth and power ; checking the health And heat of thine. That little gate And narrow way, by which to thee The passage is, He term'd a grate And entrance to Captivitie: Thy Laws but nets, where some small birds, And those but seldome too, were caught, Thy Promises but empty words Which none but children heard, or taught. This I believed : and though a friend Came oft from far, and whisper'd, No ; Yet, that not sorting to my end, I wholy listen'd to my foe. Wherefore, pierc'd through with grief, my sad, Seduced soul sighs up to thee ; To thee, who with true light art clad, And seest all things just as they be. _ OR SACRED POEMS. 90 Look from thy throne upon this roll Of heavy sins, my high transgressions, Which I confesse with all my soul ; My God, accept of my confession ! It was last day, Touch'd with the guilt of my own way, I sate alone, and taking up The bitter cup, Through all thy fair and various store, Sought out what might outvie my score. The blades of grasse thy creatures feeding; The trees, their leafs ; the flowres, their seeding ; The dust, of which I am a part; The stones much softer than my heart ; The drops of rain, the sighs of wind, The stars, to which. I am stark blind ; The dew thy herbs drink up by night, The beams they warm them at i'th' light; All that have signature or life I summon'd to decide this strife ; And lest I should lack for arrears, A spring ran by, I told her tears ; But w r hen these came unto the scale, My sins alone outweigh'd them all. O my dear God ! my life, my love ! Most blessed Lamb ! and mildest Dove ! Forgive your penitent offender, And no more his sins remember ; Scatter these shades of death, and give Light to my soul, that it may live ; Cut me not off' for my transgressions, Wilful rebellions, and suppressions; 100 SILEX SCINTILLANS, But give them in those streams a part Whose spring is in my Saviour's heart. Lord, I confesse the heynous score, And pray, I may do so no more ; Though then all sinners I exceed ; think on this ; Thy Son did bleed ! call to mind his Wounds, his Woes, His Agony, and Bloudie Throes ; Then look on all that thou hast made, And mark how they do fail, and fade ; The heavens themselves, though fair and bright, Are dark and unclean in thy sight ; How then, with thee, can man be holy, Who doest thine Angels charge with folly ? what am I, that I should breed Figs on a thorne, flowres on a weed ? 1 am the gourd of sin and sorrow, Growing o'er night, and gone to morrow, In all this Bound of life and death Nothing's more vile than is my breath ; Profanenes on my tongue doth rest, Defects and darkness in my brest ; Pollutions all my body wed, And even my soul to thee is dead ; Only in him, on whom I feast, Both soul and body are well drest ; His pure perfection quits all score, And fills the boxes of his poor ; He is the Center of long life and light ; I am but finite, He is Infinite. O let thy Justice then in him confine ; And through his merits make thy mercy mine ! OR SACRED POEMS. 101 THE BURIAL OF AN INFANT. ^LEST Infant Bud, whose Blossome- life Did only look about, and fall, ( Kl^u^ ^ Wearyed out in a harmless strife Of tears, and milk, the food of all ! Sweetly didst thou expire : thy soul Flew home tmstain'd by his new kin ; For ere thou knew'st how to be foul, Death wewCd thee from the world and sin. Softly rest all thy Virgin-Crums ! Lnpt in the sweets of thy young breath, Expecti ng till thy Saviour comes To dresse them, and unswadle death. FAITH. BIGHT and blest beame! whose strong projection, Equall to all, Beacheth as well things of dejection, As th' high and tall ; How hath my God by raying thee 1 olarg'd his spouse, 102 SILEX SCINTILLANS, And of a private familie Made open house ! All may be now co-heirs ; no noise Of Bond or Free Can interdict us from those Joys That wait on thee. The Law and Ceremonies made A glorious night, Where stars, and clouds, both light and shade, Had equal right ; But, as in nature, when the day Breaks, night adjourns, Stars shut up shop, mists pack away, And the moon mourns ; So, when the Sun of Righteousness Did once appear, That scene was chang'd, and a new dresse Left for us here ; Veiles became useles, Altars fell, Fires smoking die ; And all that sacred pomp, and shell Of things did flie. Then did He shine forth, whose sad fall, And bitter fights Were figur'd in those mystical, And cloudie Rites ; And as i'th' natural Sun, these three Light, motion, heat, So are now Faith, Hope, Charity Through him Compleat ; Faith spans up blisse ; what sin and death Puts us quite from, Lest we should run for't out of breath, OR SACRED POEMS. L03 Fail li bringa us home ; So that I need no more, but Bay I >/,, believe, And my most loving Lord strait way Doth answer, Live I THE DAWXING. tfll ! w r hat time wilt thou come ? when shall that crie The Bridegroome' $ comming ! fill the sky? Shall it in the evening run When our words and works are done ? Or will thy all-surprizing light Break at midnight, When either sleep, or some dark pleasure Possesseth mad man without measure ? Or shall these early, fragrant hours Unlock thy bow res ? And with their blush of light descry Thy locks crown'd with eternitie ? Indeed, it is the only time That with thy glory doth best chime ; All now are stirring, ev'ry field Full hymns doth yield; The whole Creation shakes off night, And for thy shadow looks the light ; Stars now vanish without number, Sleepie planets set and slumber, 104 S1LEX SCINT1LLANS, The pursie clouds disband and scatter, All expect some sudden matter ; Not one beam triumphs, but from far That morning- star. O at what time soever thou, Unknown to us, the heavens wilt bow, And, with thy Angels in the van, Descend to judge poor careless man, Grant, I may not like paddle lie In a corrupt securitie, Where, if a traveller water crave He finds it dead, and in a grave. Bat as this restless, vocal spring All day and night doth run, and sing, And though here born, yet is acquainted Elsewhere, and flowing keeps untainted ; So let me all my busie age In thy free services ingage ; And though (while here) of force I must Have commerce somtimes with poor dust, And in my flesh, though vile and low, As this doth in her channel flow, Yet let my course, my aym, my love, And chief acquaintance be above ; So when that day and hour shall come, In which thy self will be the Sun, Thou'lt find me drest and on my way, Watching the break of thy great day. OK SA( RED l*« >EMS. 105 ADMTSSTOX. OW shrill arc silent tears ? When sin Gfot head £ And all my bowels turn'd To brasse and iron, when my stock lay dead, And all my powers mourn 'd ; Then did these drops, (for marble sweats, And rocks have tears,) As rain here at our windows beats, Chide in thine ears. 2. No quiet couldst thou have : nor didst thou wink, And let thy begger lie, But ere my eies could overflow their brink Didst to each drop reply. Bowels of Love ! at what low rate, And slight a price Dost thou relieve us at thy gate, And still our cries ! 3. Wee are thy infants, and suck thee ; if thou But hide, or turn thy face, Because where thou art yet we cannot go, We send tears t_> the place. 106 SILEX SCINTILLANS, These find thee out, and, though our sins Drove thee away, Yet with thy love that absence wins Us double pay. 4. O give me then a thankful heart ! a heart After thy own, not mine ; So after thine, that all and ev'ry part Of mine may wait on thine ; O hear ! yet not my tears alone, Hear now a floud, A floud that drowns both tears and grones ; My Saviour's bloud. PRAISE. mO of Comforts ! King of life ! Thou hast cheer'd me ; And when fears and doubts were rife, Thou hath cleer'd me ! "N*ot a nook in all my breast But thou fill'st it ; Not a thought, that breaks my rest, But thou kill'st it ; Wherefore with my utmost strength I will praise thee, OR SACRED POEMS. 10! And as fchon giv'st line an3 length I will raise thee ; Day and night, not once a day, I will blesse thee; And my soul in new array I will dresse thee; Not one minute in the year But I'll mind thee ; As my seal and bracelet here I will bind thee ; In thy word, as if in heaven, I will rest me ; And thy promise 'till made even There shall feast me. Then thy sayings all my life There shall please me, And thy bloudy wounds and strife, They will ease me; With, thy grones my daily breath I will measure, And my life hid in thy death I will treasure. Though then thou art Past thought of heart All perfect fulness, And canst no whit 108 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Accesse admit From dust and dulness ; Yet to thy name, As not the same With thy bright Essence, Our foul, clay hands At thy commands Bring praise and incense; If then, dread Lord, When to thy board Thy wretch comes begging, He hath a flowre, Or, to his pow'r, Some such poor Off'ring ; When thou hast made Thy begger glad, And fill'd his bosome, Let him, though poor, Strow at thy door That one poor blossome. DRESSING. THOU that lovest a pure and whiten'd soul ! That feedst among the Lillies, 'till the day OK SACKED POEMS. 109 Break, and the shadows flee ! touch with one coal My frozen heart ! and with thy secret key Open my desolate rooms ; my gloomie brest With thy cleer fire refine, burning to dust These dark confusions that within me nest, And soyl thy Temple with a sinful rust. Thou holy, harmless, undehTd High-priest ! The perfect, full oblation for all sin, Whose glorious conquest nothing can resist, But even in babes doest triumph still and win; Give to thy wretched one Thy mysticall Communion, That, absent, he may see, Live, die, and rise with thee ; Let him so follow here, that in the end He may take thee, as thou dost him intend. Give him thy private seal, Earnest, and sign. Thy gifts so deal That these forerunners here May make the future cleer. Whatever thou dost bid let faith make good, Bread for thy body, and Wine for thy blood. Give him, with pitty, love, . Two flowres that grew with thee above ; Love that shall not admit Anger for one short fit ; And pitty of such a divine extent, That may thy members, more than mine, resent. 110 S1LEX SCINTILLANS, Give me, my God ! thy grace, The beams and brightness of thy face ; That never like a beast I take thy sacred feast, Or the dread mysteries of thy blest blond Use, with like cnstome, as my kitchin food. Some sit to thee, and eat Thy body as their common meat ; O let not me do so ! Poor dnst shonld ly still low ; Then kneel, my soul, and body, kneel, and bow ; If Saints and Angels fall down, much more thou. EASTER-DAY. X gj, fg^ HOU, whose sad heart and weeping head lyes low, Whose cloudy brest cold damps in- vade, Who never feePst the sun, nor smooth'st thy brow, But sitt'st oppressed in the shade, Awake ! awake ! And in his Resurrection partake, Who on this day, that thou might's t rise as He, Rose up, and cancell'd two deaths due to thee. OK SACRED POEMS. Ill Awake! awake! and, like the Sun, disperse All mists that would usurp this day; Where are thy Palmes, thy branches, and thy verse ? Hosanna! heark ! why doest thou stay ? Arise ! arise ! And with his healing bloud anoint thine cyvs y Thy inward eyes ; his bloud will cure thy mind, Whose spittle only could restore the blind. EASTER HYMN. EATH and darkness get you packing, Nothing now to man is lacking ; All your triumphs now are ended, rz£% And what Adam marr'd is mended; Graves are beds now for the weary, Death a nap, to wake more merry ; Youth now, full of pious duty, Seeks in thee for perfect beauty ; The weak and aged, tir'd with length Of daies, from thee look for new strength ; And infants with thy pangs contest As pleasant, as if with the brest. Then, unto Him, who thus hath thrown Even to contempt thy kingdome down, And by His blood did us advance Unto His own Inheritance, To Him be glory, power, praise, From this, unto the last of daies ! 112 SILEX SCINTILLANS, THE HOLY COMMUNION. ELCOME sweet, and sacred feast! welcome life ! Dead I was, and deep in trouble; Bat grace and blessings came with thee so rife, That they have quicken'd even drie stubble. Thus soules their bodies animate, And thus at first when things were rude, Dark, void, and crude, They by thy Word their beauty had and date ; All were by thee, And still must be ; Nothing that is, or lives, But hath his quicknings, and reprieves, As thy hand opes or shuts ; Healings, and cuts, Darkness and day-light, life and death Are but meer leaves turn'd by thy breath. Spirits without thee die, And blackness sits On the divinest wits, As on the Sun ecclipses lie. But that great darkness at thy death, When the veyl broke with thy last breath, Did make us see The way to thee ; And now by these sure, sacred ties, A-fter thy blood, _i OR SACRED POEMS. 113 Our sov'rain good, Had clear'd our eies, And given us sight; Thou dost unto thy self betroth Our souls and bodies both, In everlasting light. \V;is't not enough that thou hadst payd the price, And srivcn us eies When we had none, but thou must also take Us by the hand, And keep us still awake, When we would sleep, Or from thee creep, Who without thee cannot stand ? Was't not enough to lose thy breath And blood by an accursed death, But thou must also leave To us, that did bereave Thee of them both, these seals, the means That should both cleanse And keep us so, Who wrought thy wo ? rose of Sharon ! O the Lilly Of the valley ! How art thou now, thy flock to keep, become both food, and Sliephecurd to thy sheep ! 114 S1LEX SC1NT1LLA.NS, PSALM 121. P to those bright and gladsome hills, Whence flowes my weal and mirth, I look, and sigh for Him, who fills Unseen both heaven and earth. He is alone my help and hope, That I shall not be moved ; His watchful eye is ever ope, And guardeth his beloved ; The glorious God is my sole stay, He is my sun and shade ; The cold by night, the heat by day ; Neither shall me invade. He keeps me from the spite of foes ; Doth all their plots controul ; And is a shield, not reckoning those, Unto my very soul. Whether abroad, amidst the crowd, Or else within my door, He is my pillar and my cloud, Now and for evermore. OH SACRED POEMS. 115 AFFLICTION. FACE, peace. It is not so. Thou doest miscall Thy physick ; pills that change Thy sick Accessions into setled health : This is the great Elixir that turns gall To wine and sweetness, poverty to wealth, And brings man home, when he doth range. Did not He, who ordain'd the day, Ordain night too ? And in the greater world display What in the lesser He would do ? All flesh is clay, thou know'st ; and but that God Doth use his rod, And by a fruitfull change of frosts and showres Cherish and bind thy pow'rs, Thou wouldst to weeds and thistles quite dis- perse, And be more wild than is thy verse. Sickness is wholsome, and crosses are but curbs To check the mule, unruly man ; They are heaven's husbandry, the famous fan, Purging the floor which chaff disturbs. \\ r ere all the year one constant Sun-shine, wee Should have no flowres ; All would be drought and leanness ; not a tree Would make us bow res. 116 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Beauty consists in colours ; and that's best Which is not fixt, but flies and flowes. The settled Bed is dull, and whites that rest Something of sickness would disclose. Vicissitude plaies all the game ; Nothing that stirrs, Or hath a name, But waits upon this wheel ; Kingdom es too have their physick, and for steel Exchange their peace and furrs. Thus doth God key disorder'd man, Which none else can ; Tuning his brest to rise or fall ; And by a sacred, needfull art, Like strings, stretch ev'ry part Making the whole most musicall. THE TEMPEST. ,OW is man parcell'd out! how every hour Shews him himself, or something he should see ! This late, long heat may his instruction be ; And tempests have more in them than a showr. When nature on her bosome saw Her Infants die, And all her jloivres wither' d to straiv, Her brests groivn dry ; OR SACKED POEMS. 117 She made the Earth, their nurse fy tonib, Sigh to the sic if, 'Till to those sighes, fetch' d from her womb) 11 ain did reply ; So in the midst of all her fears And faint requests, Uer earnest sighes procured Iter tears AndfilVd Iter b rests. that man could do so ! that he would hear The world read to him ! all the vast ex- pence In the Creation shed and slav'd to sense, Makes up but lectures for his eie and ear. Sure Mighty Love, foreseeing the descent Of this poor creature, by a gracious art Hid in these low things snares to gain his heart, And layd surprizes in each element. All things here shew him heaven ; waters that fall Chide and fly up ; mists of corruptest foam Quit their first beds and mount ; trees, herbs, flow res, all Strive upwards still, and point him the way home. How do they cast off grossness ? only Earth And Ma/n (like Issacha/r) in lodes delight, 118 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Water's refin'd to Motion, Aire to Light, Fire to all l three, bub man hath no such mirth. Plants in the root with Earth do most comply, Their Leafs with water and humiditie, The Flowres to air draw neer and subtiltie, And Seeds a kinred fire have with the sky. All have their keyes and set ascents ; but man Though he knows these, and hath more of his own, Sleeps at the ladder's foot ; alas ! what can These new discoveries do, except they drown ? Thus, groveling in the shade and darkness, he Sinks to a dead oblivion; and though all He sees, like Pyramids, shoot from this ball, And, less'ning still, grow up invisibly, Yet hugs he still his durt ; the stuffe he wears, And painted trimming takes down both his eies ; Heaven hath less beauty than the dust he spies, And money better musick than the Spheres. Life's but a blast ; he knows it ; what ? shall straw And bul-rush-fetters temper his short hour ? 1 Light, Motion, Heat. OR SACRED POEMS. 119 Must ho nor sip nor sing? grows ne'r a flowr To crown his temples ? shall dreams be his law ? foolish man ! how hast thou lost thy sight? How is it that the Sun to thee alone Is grown thick darkness, and thy bread a stone ? Hath flesh no softness now ? mid-day no light? Lord ! thou didst put a soul here. If I must Be broke again, for flints will give no fire Without a steel, O let thy power cleer Thy gift once more, and grind this flint to dust ! RETIREMENT. HO on yon throne of azure sits, Keeping close house Above the morning-starre, Whose meaner showes And outward utensils these glories are, That shine and share Part of his mansion ; He one day, When I went quite astray, Out of meer love, By his mild Dove, Did shew me home, and put me in the way. 120 SILEX SCINTILLANS, 2. Let it suffice at length thy fits And lusts, said he, Have had their wish and way ; Presse not to be Still thy own foe and mine ; for to this day I did delay, And would not see, but chose to wink ; Nay, at the very brink And edge of all, When thou wonldst fall, My love-hoist held thee up, my unseen link. 3. I know thee well ; for I have fram'd, And hate thee not; Thy spirit too is mine ; I know thy lot, Extent, and end, for my hands drew the line Assigned thine ; If then thou would'st unto my seat, 'Tis not th' applause and feat Of dust and clay Leads to thnt way, But from those follies a resolv'd Retreat. 4. Now here below, where yet untam'd Thou doest thus rove, I have a house, as well As there above ; T21 it my Name and Honour both do dwell; OR SACRED POEMS. 121 And shall untill I make all new; there nothing^s] gay In perfumes or array ; Dust lies with dust, And hath but just The same respect and room with ev'ry clay. 5. A faithfull school, where thou maist see, In heraldrie Of stones and speechless earth, Thy true descent ; Where dead men preach, who can turn feasts and mirth To funerals and Lent There dust, that out of doors might till Thy eies, and blind thee still, Is fast asleep. Up then, and keep Within those doors, my doors. Dost hear ? I iv ill. LOVE, AND DISCIPLINE. INCE in a land not barren still, Because thou dost thy grace distill, My lot is fain, blest be thy will! And since these biting frosts but kill Some tares in me which choke or spill That seed thou sow'st, blest be thy skill ! 122 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Blest be thy dew, and blest thy frost, And happy I to be so crost, And cur'd by crosses at thy cost. The dew doth cheer what is distrest, Tho frosts ill weeds nip and molest, In both thou work'st unto the best. Thus while thy sev'rall mercies plot, And work on me, now cold now hot, The work goes on, and slacketh not ; For as thy hand the weather steers, So thrive I best 'twixt joyes and tears, And all the year have some grean ears, THE PILGRIMAGE. Stravellours when the twilight's come, And in the sky the stars appear, The past daies accidents do sum me With, Thus wee saw there, and thus here. Then, Jacob-like, lodge in a place, (A place, and no more, is set down,) Where till the day restore the race They rest and dream homes of their own. OR SACRKI) POKMS. 123 So for this night I linger licre, And, full of tossings to and fro, Expect still when thou wilt appear, That I may get me up, and go. I long, and grone, and grieve for tlicc, For thee my words, my tears do gush ; that I were but where I see! Is all the note within my bush. As birds robb'd of their native wood, Although their diet may be fine, Yet neither sing, nor like their food, But with the thought of home do pine ; So do I mourn, and hang my head ; And though thou dost me fulnes give, Yet look I for far better bread, Because by this man cannot live. feed me then ! and since I may Have yet more days, more nights to count, So strengthen me, Lord, all the way, That I may travel to thy Mount. Heb. cap. 11. ver. 13. And they confessed, thai they were strangers and 'pilgrims on the earth. 124 SILEX SCINTILLANS, THE LAW AND THE GOSPEL. ORD, when thou didst on Sinai pitch, And shine from Paran 9 when a firie Law, Pronounc'd with thunder, and thy threats, did thaw Thy people's hearts, when all thy weeds were rich, And inaccessible for light, Terrour, and might ; — How did poor flesh, which after thou didst weare, Then faint and fear ! Thy chosen flock, like leafs in a high wind, Whisper'd obedience, and their heads inclin'd. 2. But now since we to Sion came, And through thy bloud thy glory see, With filial confidence we touch ev'n thee ; And where the other Mount, all clad in flame And threatning clouds, would not so muc h As 'bide the touch, We climb up this, and have too all the way Thy hand our stay ; Nay, thou tak'st ours, and, which full comfort brings, Thy Dove too bears us on her sacred wings. OH SACRED POEMS. 125 3. Yet since Tiian is a very brute, And, after all thy acts of grace, doth kick, Slighting that health thou gav'st when he was sick, Be not displeas'd, if I, who have a Bute To thee each houre, beg at thy door For this one more ; plant in me thy Gospel, and thy Laiv ; Both Faith and Awe ; So twist them in my heart, that ever there 1 may as well as hove, find too thy Fear ! 4. Let me not spill, but drink thy bloud ; Not break thy fence, and by a black excess Force down a just curse, when thy hands would bless ; Let me not scatter and despise my food, Or nail those blessed limbs again Which bore my pain. So shall thy mercies flow : for while I fear, I know thou'lt bear, But should thy mild injunction nothing move me, I would both think and judge I did not love thee. John, cap. 14. ver. 15. If ye love me, keep nnj comma 1 1 <1 mpnis. 126 SILEX SCINTILLANS, THE WORLD. SAW Eternity the other night, Like a great Ring of pure and endless light, All calm, as it was bright ; And round beneath it, Time, in hours, days, years, Driv'n by the spheres, Like a vast shadow mov'd, in which the world And all her train were hurl'd. The doting Lover in his queintest strain Did there complain ; Neer him, his lute, his fancy, and his flights, Wit's four delights ; With gloves, and knots the silly snares of pleasure, Yet his dear Treasure, All scatter' d lay, while he his eyes did pour Upon a flowr. 2. The darksome Statesman, hung with weights and woe, Like a thick midnight-fog, mov'd there so slow, He did nor stay, nor go ; Condemning thoughts (like sad Ecclipses) scowl Upon his soul, And clouds of crying witnesses without Pursued him with one shout. OK RACKED POEMS. 1 27 Yet digg'd the Mole, and, lost his ways ho found, Workt under ground, Where he did clutch his prey. But one did see That policie ; Churches and altars fed him ; Peijuries Were gnats and flies ; It rain'd about him bloud and tears ; but he Drank them as free. 3. The fearfull miser on a heap of rust Sate pining all his life there, did scarce trust His own hands with the dust, Yet would not place one peece above, but lives In feare of theeves. Thousands there were as frantick as himself, And hugg'd each one his pelf; The down-right epicure plac'd heav'n in sense, And scorn'd pretence ; While others, slipt into a wide excesse, Said little lesse ; The weaker sort slight, triviall wares inslave, Who think them brave, And poor, despised truth sate counting by Their victory. 4. Yet some, who all this while did weep and sing, And sing and weep, soar'd up into the Ring; But most would use no w T ing. 128 SILEX SCINT1LLANS, O fools, said I, thus to prefer dark night Before true light ! To live in grots and caves, and hate the day Because it shews the way, The way, which from this dead and dark abode Leads up to God, A way where you might tread the Sun, and be More bright than he ! But, as I did their madnes so discusse, One whisper'd thus, This Ring the Bride-groome did for none provide. But for his Bride. John [1st Ep.] cap. 2. ver. 16, 17. All that is in the ivorld, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, is Qwt of the Father, hut is of the world. And the world passeth away, and the lusts thereof; but he that doth the will of God abideth for ever. THE MUTINTE. JEARY of this same clay and straw, I laid Me down to breath, and casting in my heart The after-burthens and griefs yet to come, The heavy sum So shook my brest, that, sick and sore dismai'd, OK SACRED POEMS. 129 My thoughts, like water, which some stone dolh start, Did quit their troubled channel, and retire Unto the banks, where, storming at those bounds, They murmur'd sore ; But I, who felt them boyl And knew their coy], Turning to him, who made poor sand to tire And tame proud waves, If yet these barren grounds And thirstie brick must be, said I, My taske and destinie, 2. Let me so strive and struggle with thy foes, (Not thine alone, but mine too,) that when all Their arts and force are built unto the height, That Babel-weight May prove thy glory, and their shame; so close And knit me to thee, that though in this vale Of sin and death I sojourn, yet one eie May look to Thee, to Thee the Finisher And Author of my faith ; so shew me home, That all this foam. And frothie noise, which up and down doth flie, M iy find no lodging in mine eie or care ; O seal them up ! that these may flie Like other tempests by. I 3 - Xot but T know thou has! a shorter cut To bring me home, than through a wildernes. K 130 SILEX SdKTILLANS, A sea, or sands and serpents : jet since thou, As thy words show, Though in this desart I were wholly shut, Canst lis:ht and lead me there with such redress _ That no decay shal touch me; O be pleas'd To fix my steps ; and whatsoever path Thy sacred and eternal will decreed For thy bruis'd reed, give it full obedience, that so seiz'd Of all I have. I may nor move thy wrath Nor grieve thy Dove, but soft and mild Both live and die thv Child. Revel, cap. 2. ver. 17. To him that overcometh v:iU I give to eate of the hidden Manna ; and I wUL give him a white, stem*, and in the stone a r one written, which no man Jcnoweth, saving he that receiveth it. THE CONSTELLATION. ""AIR, ordered lights, whose motion without noise Resembles those true joys, * Whose spring is on that hill where you do grow. And we here taste sometimes below. With what exact obedience do you move, Now beneath, and now above ! OR -ACHED POEMS. 131 And in your va-t procrrc -ions overlook The d; _ ht and el nook e nights I see yon in the £rladso:::e E B >me ( I it the West, And when I cam. do yon shine, And beat about your endles line. Silence, and light, and watchfulnes with you Attend and wind the clue ; sleep nor sloth assail u, but poor man 8 ill either e s, or slips his span. lie gropes beneath here, and with restless care, First makes, then hugs a snare; Adores dead dust, sets heart on come and gr: But seldom doth make heav'n his glass. Musick and mirth, if there be musick here. Take up and tune his year ; These things are kin to him, and must be had; Who kneels, or sighs a life, is mad. Perhaps some nights he'll watch with you, and peep When it were best to sleep ; Dares know effects, and judge them long before, When th' herb he treads knows much, much more. But seeks he your 01 \ t Order, 1 Your calm and - tin'd flight ? Where, though the glory differ in each star. Yet is there peac .1 and no 132 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Since plac'd by Him, who calls you by your names, And fixt there all your flames, Without command you never acted ought, And then you in your courses fought. But here, commission'd by a black self-will, The sons the father kill, The children chase the mother, and would heal The wounds they give by crying zeale. Then cast her bloud and tears upon thy book, Where they for fashion look ; And, like that Lamb, which had the Dragon's voice, Seem mild, but are known by their noise. Thus by our lusts disorder'd into wars Our guides prove wandring stars, Which for these mists and black days were reserv'd, What time we from our first love swerv'd. Yet O, for his sake who sits now by thee All crown'd with victory, So guide us through this darknes, that we may Be more and more in love with day ! Settle and fix our hearts, that we may move In order, peace, and love ; And, taught obedience by thy whole creation, Become an humble, holy nation ! OR SACRED POEMS. 138 Give to tliy spouse ber perfect; and pure dre Beauty and holiness ; And so repair these rents, that men may see And say, Where God is, all agree* THE SIIEPIIEAPDS. WEET, harmless lives! on whose holy leisure Waits Innocence and Pleasure, Whose leaders to those pastures and cleer springs Were Patriarchs, Saints, and Kings ; How happend it that in the dead of night You only saw true light, While Palestine was fast asleep, and lay Without one thought of day ? Was it because those first and blessed swains Were pilgrims on those plains, When they receiv'd the promise, for which now 'Twas there first shown to you ? 'Tis true, he loves that dust w r hcrcon they go That serve him here below, And therefore might for memory of those His love there first disclose ; But wretched Salem once his love, must now No voice nor vision know, Her stately piles with all their height and pride Now languished and died, And Betldem-s humble cotts above them stept, While all her seers slept; 134 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Her cedar, firr, hew'd stones, and gold were all Polluted through their fall, And those once sacred mansions were now Meer emptiness and show. This made the Angel call at reeds and thatch, Yet where the shepheards watch, And God's own lodging, though he could not lack, To be a common Bach ; No costly pride, no soft-cloath'd luxurie, In those thin eels could lie ; Each stirring wind and storm blew through their cots, Which never harbour'd plots ; Only content, and love, and humble joys Lived there without all noise ; Perhaps some harmless cares for the next day Did in their bosomes play, As where to lead their sheep, what silent nook, What springs or shades to look ; But that was all; and now with gladsome care They for the town prepare ; They leave their flock, and in a busie talk All towards Betldem walk To see their soul's great Shepheard, who was come, To bring all straglers home ; Where now they find him out, and, taught before, That Lamb of God adore, That Lamb whose daies great Kings and Prophets wish'd And long'd to see, but miss'd. OR SACRED POEMS, 135 The first light they beheld waa bright and gay, And turn'd their night to day ; But to this later lighl they saw in him, Their day was dark and dim. MISERY. ORD, bind me up, and let me lye A Pris'ner to my libertie, If such a state at all can be As an impris'ment serving thee; The wind, though gathered in thy fist, Yet doth it blow still where it list, And yet shouldst thou let go thy hold Those gusts might quarrel and grow bold. As waters here, headlong and loose, The lower grounds still chase and choose, Where spreading all the way they seek And search out every hole and creek ; So my spilt thoughts, winding from thee, Take the down -rode to vanitie, Where they all stray and strive, which shall Find out the first and steepest fall. I cheer their flow, giving supply To what's already grown too high, And having thus perform'd that part Feed on those vomits of mv heart. I break the fence my own hands made, Then lay that trespasse in the shade ; Some fig-leafs stil I do devise, As if thou hadst nor ears nor eyes. 136 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Excesse of friends, of words, and wine Take up my day, while thou dost shine All unregarded, and thy book Hath not so much as one poor look. If thou steal in amidst the mirth And kindly tell me, I am Earth, I shut thee out, and let that slip ; Such musick spoils good fellowship. Thus wretched I, and most unkind, Exclude my dear God from my mind, Exclude him thence, who of that cell Would make a court, should he there dwell. He goes, He yields ; and troubled sore His Holy Spirit grieves therefore ; The mighty God, th' eternal King Doth grieve for dust, and dust doth sing. But I go on, haste to divest My self of reason, till opprest And buried in my surfeits I Prove my own shame and miserie. JSText day I call and cry for thee Who shouldst not then come neer to me ; But now it is thy servant's pleasure Thou must, and dost, give him his measure. Thou dost, thou com'st, and in a shower Of healing sweets thy self dost powr Into my wounds ; and now thy grace (I know it well,) fills all the place ; I sit with thee by this new light, And for that hour thou'rt my delight ; No man can more the world despise, Or thy great mercies better prize. I school my eyes, and strictly dwell OR SACRED POEMS. 13J Within the circle of my cell ; That calm and silence are 1113' joys, Which to thy peace are but nicer noise. At length I feel my head to ake, My fingers itch, and burn to take Some new imployment, I begin To swell and foame and fret within. " The Age, the present times are not M To snud'je in, and embrace a cot ; "Action and Lined now 'jet the gam . 11 Disdem treads on the peaceful name ; " Who sits at home too bears a loadr " Greater than those that gad abroad" Thus do I make thy gifts giv'n me The only quarrel lers with thee ; I'd loose those knots thy hands did tie, Then would go travel, fight, or die. Thousands of wild and waste infusions Like waves beat on my resolutions; As flames about their fuel run, And work and wind till all be done, So my fierce soul bustles about, And never rests till all be out. Thus wilded by a peevish heart, Which in thy musick bears no part, I storm at thee, calling my peace A Lethargy, and rneer disease ; Nay those bright beams shot from thy eyea To calm me in these mutinies, I stile meer tempers, which take place At some set times, but are thy grace. Such is man's life, and such is mine, The worst of men, and yet still thine, 138 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Still thine, thou know'st, and if not so, Then give me over to my foe. Yet since as easie 'tis for thee To make man good as bid him be, And with one glaunce, could he that gain, To look him out of all his pain, send me from thy holy hill So much of strength, as may fulfil All thy delights, wkate'er they be, And sacred institutes in me ! Open my rockie heart, and fill It with obedience to thy will ; Then seal it up, that as none see, So none may enter there but Thee. hear, my God! hear Him, whose bloud Speaks more and better for my good ! O let my crie come to thy throne ! My crie not pour'd with tears alone, (For tears alone are often foul,) But with the bloud of all my soul ; With spirit-sighs, and earnest grones, Faithful and most repenting mones, With these I crie, and crying pine, Till thou both mend, and make me thine. THE SAP. OMB, sapless blossom, creep not still on earth Forgetting thy first birth ! 'Tis not from dust ; or if so, why dost thou OR SACRED POEMS. 139 Tims call and thirst for dew? It lends cot thither ; if it doth, why I hen This growth and stretch for heav n ? Thy root sucks but diseases; worms there scat, And claim it for their meat. Who plac'd thee here did something then in- fuse, Which now can tell thee news. There is beyond the stars an hill of myrrh, From which some drops Call here; On it the Prince of Salem sits, who deals To thee thy secret meals ; There is thy country, and He is the way, And hath withal the key. Yet liv'd He here sometime, and bore for thee A world of miserie, For thee, who in the first man's loyns didst fall From that hill to this vale ; And had not he so done, it is most true Two deaths had been thy due ; But going hence, and knowing well what woes Might his friends discompose, To shew what strange love He had to our good, He gave his sacred bloud, By will our sap and cordial ; now in this Lies such a heav'n of bliss, That who but truly tastes it, no decny Can touch him any way. Such secret life and vertue in it lies, It will exalt, and rise, And actuate 1 such spirits as are shed, Or ready to be dead ; 140 SILEX SCINTILLANS, And bring new too. Get then this sap, and get Good store of it, but let The vessel where you put it be for sure To all your pow'r most pure ; There is at all times, though shut up, in you A powerful, rare dew, Which only grief and love extract ; with this Be sure, and never miss, To wash your vessel well : Then humbly take This balm for souls that ake ; And one who drank it thus assures that you Shal find a joy so true, Such perfect Ease, and such a lively sense Of grace against all sins, That you'll confess the comfort such, as even Brings to, and comes from, Heaven. MOUNT OF OLIVES. 'HEN" first I saw true beauty, and thy joys, ^ Active as light, and calm without all noise, Shin'd on my soul, I felt through all my pow'rs Such a rich air of sweets, as evening showrs Fan'd by a gentle gale convey, and breathe On some parch'd bank, crown'd with a flowrie wreath ; Odors, and myrrh, and balm in one rich floud O'er -ran my heart, and spirited my bloud ; OH SACRED POEMS. 141 My thoughts did swim in comforts, and mine ei( Confest, The world did only paint and lie. And where before I did no safe course steer, But wander'd under tempests all the year ; Went bleak and bare in body as in mind, And was blow'n through by every storm and wind, I am so warm'd now by this glance on me, That midst all storms I feel a ray of thee. So have I known some beauteous Paisage rise In suddain flowres and arbours to my eies, And in the depth and dead of winter bring To my cold thoughts a lively sense of spring. Thus fed by thee, who dost all beings nourish, My wither'd leafs again look green and flourish ; I shine and shelter underneath thy wing, Where sick with love I strive thy name to sing ; Th v glorious nnme ! which grant I may so do. That these may be thy Praise, and my Joy too ! MAN. EIGHING the stedfastness and state Of some mean things which here below reside, Where birds like watchful clocks the noiseless date 14:2 SILEX SC1NTILLANS, And intercourse of times divide, Where bees at night get home and hive, and flowrs, Early as well as late, Rise with the sun, and set in the same bowrs ; 2. I would, said I. my God would give The staidness of these things to man ! for these To His divine appointments ever cleave, And no new business breaks their peace ; The birds nor sow nor reap, yet sup and dine, The flowres without clothes live, Yet Solomon was never drest so fine. 3. Man hath still either toyes or care ; He hath no root, nor to one place is ty'd, But ever restless and irregular About this earth doth run and ride. He knows he hath a home, but scarce knows where ; He sayes it is so far, That he hath quite forgot how to go there. 4. He knocks at all doors, strays and roams ; Nay hath not so much wit as some stones have, Which in the darkest nights point to their homes OK SACRED POEMS. 1 13 By some hid sense their Maker gave ; Man is the shuttle, to whose winding quest And passage through these looms God order'd motion, but ordain'd no rest. % [THE HIDDEN FLOWER.] WALKT the other day, to spend my hour, Into a field, Where I sometimes had seen the soil to yield A gallant flowre ; But Winter now had ruffled all the bowre And curious store I knew there heretofore. 2. Yet I, whose search lov'd not to peep and peer I' th' face of things, Thought with my self, there might be other springs Besides this here, Which, like cold friends, sees us but once a year ; And so the flowre Might have some other bowre. 144 S1LEX SCINTILLANS, 3. Then taking up what I could neerest spie, I digg'd about That place where I had seen him to grow out ; And by and by I saw the warm Recluse alone to lie, Where fresh and green He lived of us unseen. 4. Many a question intricate and rare Did I there strow ; But all I could extort was, that he now Did there repair Such losses as befel him in this air, And would ere long Come forth most fair and young. 5. This past, I threw the clothes quite o'er his head ; And stung with fear Of my own frailty dropt down many a tear Upon his bed ; Then sighing whisper'd, Happy are the dead ! What peace doth now Rock him asleep below ! 6. And yet, how few believe such doctrine springs From a poor root, OR SACRED POEMS. 1 IS Which all the Winter sleeps here under foot. And hath no wings To raise it to the truth and light of things ; But is stil trod By ev'ry wandring clod. Thou ! whose Spirit did at first inflame And warm the dead, And by a sacred incubation fed With life this frame, Which once had neither being, forme, nor name ; Grant I may so Thy steps track here below, 8. That in these masques and shadows I may sec Thy sacred way ; And by those hid ascents climb to that day, Which breaks from Thee, Who art in all things, though invisibly ! Shew me thy peace, Thy mercy, love, and ease ! 9. And from this care, where dreams and sorrows raign, Lead me above, Where Light, Joy, Leisure, and true comforts move L 146 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Without all pain ; There, hid in thee, shew me his life again, At whose dumbe urn Thus all the year I mourn ! BEGGING. ING of Mercy, King of Love, In whom I live, in whom I move, Perfect what thou hast begun, Let no night put out this Sun. Grant I may, my chief desire, Long for thee, to thee aspire. Let my youth, my bloom of dayes Be my comfort, and thy praise ; That hereafter, when I look O'er the sullyed, sinful book, I may find thy hand therein Wiping out my shame and sin. O ! it is thy only art To reduce a stubborn heart ; And since thine is victorie, Strongholds should belong to thee ; Lord, then take it, leave it not Unto my dispose or lot ; But since I would not have it mine, O my God, let it be thine ! Jude, ver. 24, 25. Now unto Mm Hint is able to keep us from f alb OR SACRED POEMS. 147 ing, and to present its faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy. To tJw only ivise God, our Saviour, be glory, and majesty, dominion and power, now o,nd ever, Amen . [EtfD of the First Part.] SILEX SCINT1LLANS. [PART II.] ASCENSION-DAY. ORD JESUS ! with what sweetness and delights, Sure, holy hopes, high joys, and quickning flights, Dost thou feed thine ! thou ! the hand that lifts To Him who gives all good and perfect gifts, Thy glorious, bright Ascension, though remov'd So many ages from me, is so prov'd And by thy Spirit seal'd to me, that I Feel me a sharer in thy victory ! I soar and rise Up to the skies, Leaving the world their day ; And in my flight For the true light Go seeking all the way ; SILEX SCINTILLANSj OR SACRED POEMS. 149 T u'reet thy Sepulchre, salute thy Grave, That blest inclosure, where the Angels gave The first glad tidings of thy early light, And resurrection from the earth and night. I see that morning in thy Convert's ' tears, Fresh as the dew, which but this dawning wears. I smell her spices ; and her ointment yields, As rich a scent as the now primros'd- fields. The day-star smiles, and light with the deceast Now shines in all the chambers of the East. What stirs, what posting intercourse and mirth Of Saints and Angels glorifie the earth ! What sighs, what whispers, busie stops and stays ; Private and holy talk fill all the ways ! They pass as at the last great day, and run In their white robes to seek the risen Sun ; I see them, hear them, mark their haste, and move Amongst them, with them, wing'd with faith and love. Thy forty days more secret commerce here After thy death and funeral, so clear And indisputable, shews to my sight As the Sun doth, which to those days gave light. I walk the fields of Bethany, which shine All now as fresh as Eden, and as fine. Such was the bright world on the first seventh clay, Before man brought forth sin, and sin decay ; 1 at Mary Magdalene, 150 SILEX SCINTILLANS, When like a Virgin clad in flowers and green The pure earth sat, and the fair woods had seen No frost, but flourish'd in that youthful vest, With which their great Creator had them drest : When Heav'n above them shin'd like molten glass, While all the planets did unclouded pass ; And springs, like dissolv'd pearls, their streams did pour, Ne'er marr'd with floods, nor angered with a showre. With these fair thoughts I move in this fair place, And the last steps of my milde Master trace. I see Him leading out his chosen train All sad with tears, which like warm summer rain In silent drops steal from their holy eyes, Fix'd lately on the Cross, now on the skies. And now, eternal Jesus ! thou dost heave Thy blessed hands to bless those thou dost leave. The cloud doth now receive thee, and their sight Having lost thee, behold two men in white ! Two and no more : what tivo attest, is true. Was thine own answer to the stubborn Jew. Come then, thou faithful witness ! come, dear Lord, Upon the clouds again to judge this world ! OR SACRED POEMS. 151 ASCENSION-HYMN. UST and clay, Man's antient wear, Here you must stay, But I elsewhere ! Souls sojourn here, but may not rest ; Who will ascend must be undrest. And yet some, That know to die Before death come, Walk to the skie Even in this life ; but all such can Leave behinde them the old Man. If a star Should leave the spheere, She must first mar Her flaming wear, And after fall, for in her dress Of glory, she cannot transgress. Man of old Within the line Of Eden could Like the Sun shine, All naked, innocent, and bright, And intimate with Heav'n, as ligbl ; 152 S1LEX SCINTILLANS, But since lie That brightness soil'd, His garments be All dark and spoil'd, And here are left as nothing worth, Till the Refiner's fire breaks forth. Then comes He Whose mighty light Made his cloathes be Like Heav'n, all bright ; The Fuller, whose pure blood did flow, To make stain'd man more white than snow. He alone And none else can Bring bone to bone And rebuild man ; And by his all-subduing might Make clay ascend more quick than light. If [DEPARTED FRIENDS.] HEY are all gone into the world of light ! And I alone sit lingring here ! Their very memory is fair and bright, And my sad thoughts cloth clear. OR SACRED POEMS. L53 It glows and glitters in my cloudy brest Like stars upon some gloomy grove, Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest After the Sun's remove. I see them walking in an air of glory, Whose light doth trample on my days ; My days, which are at best but dull and hoary, Meer glimmering and decays. holy Hope ! and high Humility ! High as the Heavens above; These are your walks, and you have shew'd them me To kindle my cold love. Dear, beauteous death ; the Jewel of the Just ! Shining no where but in the dark; What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, Could man outlook that mark ! He that hath found some fledg'd bird's nest may know At first sight if the bird be flown ; But what fair dell ] or grove he sings in now, That is to him unknown. And yet, as Angels in some brighter dreams Call to the soul when man doth sleep, So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted theams, And into glory peep. 1 " Well" in original. 1 i> 154 SILEX SCINTILLANS, If a star were confin'd into a tomb, Her captive flames must needs burn there ; But when the hand that lockt her up gives room, She'll shine through all the sphaere. O Father of eternal life, and all Created glories under thee ! Resume thy spirit from this world of thrall Into true liberty ! Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill My perspective still as they pass ; Or else remove me hence unto that hill, Where I shall need no glass. WHITE SUNDAY. ;ELLCOME, white day ! a thousand Suns, Though seen at once, were black to thee ! For after their light darkness comes ; But thine shines to eternity. Those flames, which on the Apostles rush'd At this great feast, and in a tyre Of cloven Tongues their heads all brush'd, And crown'd them with prophetic fire, — Can these new lights be like to those, These lights of Serpents like the Dove ? OR SACRED POEMS. 155 Thou hadst no gall, ev'n for thy foes, And thy two wings were Qrief and Love. Though then some boast that fire encli day, And on Christ's coat pin all their shreds ; Not sparing openly to say, His candle shines upon their heads ; Yet while some rays of that great light Shine here below within thy Book, They never shall so blinde my sight But I will know which way to look. For though thou doest that great light Lock, And by this lesser commerce keep: Yet by these glances of the flock I can discern wolves from the sheep. Not but that I have wishes too, And pray, These last may be as first, Or better ; but thou, long ago, Hast said, These last should be the worst. Besides, thy method with thy own, Thy own dear people, pens our times ; Our stories are in theirs set down, And penalties spread to our crimes. Again, if worst and worst implies A State that no redress admits, Then from thy Cross unto these days The rule without exception (its. 156 SILEX SCINTILLANS, And yet, as in night's gloomy page One silent star may interline ; So in this last and lewdest age Thy antient love on some may shine. For though we hourly breathe decays, And our best note and highest ease Is but meer changing of the keys, And a consumption that doth please; Yet thou the great eternal Rock Whose height above all ages shines, Art still the same, and canst unlock Thy waters to a soul that pines. Since then thou art the same this day, And ever as thou wert of old, And nothing doth thy love allay, But our heart's, dead and sinful cold ; As thou long since wert pleas'd to buy Our drown'd estate, taking the Curse Upon thy self, so to destroy The knots we tyed upon thy purse, So let thy grace now make the way Even for thy love ; for by that means We, who are nothing but foul clay, Shall be fine gold which thou didst cleanse, come ! refine us with thy fire ! Refine us ! we are at a loss. Let not thy stars for Balaams hire Dissolve into the common dross ! OR 8 ACRE I) POEMS. 157 THE PROFFER. E still, black Parasites, Flutter no more ! Were it still winter, as it Wflfi before, You'd make no flights; But now the dew and sun have warm'd my bowres, You flie and flock to suck the flowers. But you would honey make : These buds will wither, And what you now extract, in harder weather Will serve to take ; Wise husband [s] will, you say, their wants prevent, Who do not so too late repent. poys'nous, subtile fowls ! Theflyes of hell, That buz in every ear, and blow on souls, Until they smell, And rot, descend not here, nor think to stay ! I've read, who 'twas drove you away. Think you these longing eyes, Though sick and spent, And almost famish' d ever will consent To leave those skies, 158 SILEX SCINTILLANS, That glass of souls and spirits, where well drest They shine in white, like stars, and rest. Shall my short hour, my inch, My one poor sand, And crum of life now ready to disband, Revolt and flinch ; And having born the burthen all the day, Now cast at night my Crown away ? No, No ; I am not he ; Go seek elsewhere ! I skill not your fine tinsel, and false hair, Tour sorcery, And smooth seducements : Fie not stuff my story With your Commonwealth and glory. There are that will sow tares And scatter death Amongst the quick, selling their souls and breath For any wares ; But when thy Master comes, they'll finde and see, There's a reward for them and thee. Then keep the antient way ! Spit out their phlegm, And fill thy brest with home ; think on thy dream : A calm bright day ! A land of flowers and spices ! the word given. If these be fair, what is Heaven ! OK SACRED POEMS. L59 COCK-CROWING. d§fjjtfp^ ATHER of lights ! what sunnie seed, What glance of dny hast thou con- fin'd Into this bird ? To all the breed This busie ray thou hast assigned ; Their magnetisme works all night, And dreams of Paradise and light. Their eyes watch for the morning-hue, Their little grain expelling night So shines and sings, as if it knew The path unto the house of light. It seems their candle, howe'r done, Was tinn'd and lighted at the sunne. If such a tincture, such a touch, So firm a longing can impowre, Shall thy own image think it much To watch for thy appearing hour ? If a meer blast so fill the sail, Shall not the breath of God prevail ? thou immortall light and heat ! Whose hand so shines through all this frame, That by the beauty of the seat, We plainly see who made the same. Seeing thy seed abides in me, Dwell thou in it, and I in thee ! 160 SILEX SCINTILLANS, To sleep without thee is to die ; Yea, 'tis a death partakes of hell : For where thou dost not close the eye It never opens, I can tell. In such a dark, Egyptian border, The shades of death dwell and disorder, If joyes, and hopes, and earnest throes, And hearts, whose Pulse beats still for light, Are given to birds ; who, but thee, knows A love-sick soul's exalted flight ? Can souls be track' d by any eye But his, who gave them wings to flie ? Onely this veyle which thou hast broke, And must be broken yet in me, This veyle, I say, is all the cloke, And cloud which shadows thee from me. This veyle thy full-ey'd love denies, And onely gleams and fractions spies. take it off ! make no delay ; But brush me with thy light, that I May shine unto a perfect day, And warme me at thy glorious Eye ! O take it off ! or till it flee, Though with no lilie, stay with me ! OR SACRED POEMS. 101 THE STARRB. rs/Vrr HAT ever 'tis, whose beauty here below Attracts thee thus, and makes thee stream and flow, And wind and curie, and wink and smile, Shifting thy gate and guile, Though thy close commerce nought at all im- barrs My present search, for eagles eye not starrs ; And still the lesser by the best And highest good is blest ; Yet, seeing all things that subsist and be Have their commissions from Divinitie, And teach us duty, I will see What man may learn from thee. First, I am sure, the Subject so respected Is well-disposed ; for bodies, once infected, Deprav'd, or dead, can have with thee No hold, nor sympathie. Next, there's in it a restless, pure desire And longing for thy bright and vitall fire, Desire that never will be quench'd, Nor can be writh'd nor wrench'd. M 162 SILEX SCINTILLANS, These are the magnets, which so strongly move And work all night upon thy light and love ; As beauteous shapes, we know not why, Command and guide the eye. For where desire, celestiall, pure desire, Hath taken root, and grows, and doth not tire, There God a commerce states, and sheds His secret on their heads. This is the heart he craves ; and whoso will But give it him, and grudge not, he shall feel That God is true, as herbs unseen Put on their youth and green. THE PALM-TREE. EARE friend, sit down, and bear awhile this shade, As I have yours long since. This plant, you see So prest and bow'd, before sin did degrade Both you and it, had equall liberty With other trees ; but now shut from the breath And air of Eden, like a male-content It thrives no where. This makes these weights, like death And sin, hang at him ; for the more he's bent OR SAPRKD POEMS. 1<> ; ) The more he grows. Celestial natures still Aspire for home. This Solomon of old By flowers and carvings and mysterious skill Of Wings, and Cherubims, and Palms foretold. This is the life which, hid above with Christ Id God, doth always (hidden) multiply, And spring, and grow, a tree ne'r to be priced, 1 A tree, whose fruit is immortality. Here spirits that have run their race, and fought, And won the fight, and have not fear'd the frowns Nor lov'd the smiles of greatness, but have wrought Their Master's will, meet to receive their Crowns. Here is the patience of the saints : this tree [s water'd by their tears, as flowers are fed With dew by night ; but One you cannot see Sits here, and numbers all the tears they shed. Here is their faith too, which if you will keep When we two part, I will a journey make To pluck a garland hence while you do sleep, And weave it for your head against you wake. 1 u Frick'd " in original edition. — Ed. 164 SILEX SCINTILLANS, JOY. ^E dumb, coarse measures ; jar no more ; to me There is no discord but your harmony, False, jugling sounds ; a grone well drest, where care Moves in disguise, and sighs afflict the air. Sorrows in w r hite ; griefs tun'd ; a sugerd dosis Of wormwood, and a death's-head crown'd with roses. He weighs not your forc'd accents, who can have A lesson plaid him by a winde or wave. Such numbers tell their days, whose spirits be Lull'd by those charmers to a lethargy. But as for thee, whose faults long since require More eyes than stars ; whose breath, could it aspire To equal winds, would prove too short : Thou hast Another mirth, a mirth, though overcast With clouds and rain, yet full as calm and fine As those clear heights which above tempests shine. Therefore while the various showers Kill and cure the tender flowers, While the winds refresh the year Now with clouds, now making clear, Be sure under pains of death To ply both thine eyes and breath. OK SACRED POEMS. 165 As leafs in bowers Whisper their hours, And hermit-wells Drop in their cells : So in sighs and unseen tears Pass thy solitary years, And going hence leave written on some tree, Sijhs make joy sure, and shaking fastens thee. THE FAVOUR. THY bright looks ! thy glance of love Shown, and but shown, me from above ! Rare looks ! that can dispense such joy Aa without wooing wins the coy, And makes him mourn, and pine, and dye, Like a starv'd eaglet, for thine eye. Some kinde herbs here, though low and far, Watch for and know their loving star. let no star compare with thee 1 Nor any herb out-duty me ! B shall my nights and mornings be Thy time to shine, and mine to see. 166 S1LEX SCINTILLANS, THE GARLAND. HOU, who dost flow and flourisl here below, To whom a falling star and nine d ayes' glory, Or some frail beauty makes the bravest shew Hark, and make use of this ensuing story. When first my youthfull, sinfull age Grew master of my wayes, Appointing errour for my page, And darknesse for my dayes ; I flung away, and with full crie Of wild affections, rid In post for pleasures, bent to trie All gamesters that would bid. I played with fire, did counsell spurn, Made life my common stake ; But never thought that fire would burn, Or that a soul could ake. Glorious deceptions, gilded mists, False joyes, phantastick flights, Peeces of sackcloth with silk lists, These were my prime delights. I sought choice bowres, haunted the spring, Cull'd flowres and made me posies ; Gave my fond humours their full wing, And crown'd my head with roses. But at the height of this careire I met with a dead man, OR SACRED POEMS. 167 Who, noting well my vain abeur, Thus unto me began : Desist, fond fool, be not undone ; What thou hast cut to day Will fade at night, and with this fun Quite vanish and decay. Wiowres gathered in this world, die here; if thou Wouldst ltave << wreath that fades not, lei them grow, And grow f>r thee. Who spares them here, shall find A garland, wliere comes neither rain, nor ivlnd. LOVE-SICK. 5f$| ESUS, my life ! how shall I truly __> love thee ? .aft Q O that thy Spirit would so strongly move me : That thou wert pleas'd to shed thy grace so farr As to make man all pure love, flesh a star ! A star that would ne'r set, but ever rise, So rise and run, as to out-run these skies, These narrow skies (narrow to me) that barre, So barre me in, that I am still at warre, At constant warre with them. O come, and rend Or bow the heavens ! Lord, bow them and descend. 168 SILEX SCINTILLANS, And at thy presence make these mountains flow, These mountains of cold ice in me ! Thou art Refining fire, then refine my heart, My foul, foul heart ! Thou art immortall heat ; Heat motion gives ; then warm it, till it beat ; So beat for thee, till thou in mercy hear ; So hear, that thou must open ; open to A sinfull wretch, a wretch that caus'd thy woe ; Thy woe, who caus'd his weal ; so far his weal That thou forgott'st thine own, for thou didst seal Mine with thy blood, thy blood which makes thee mine, Mine ever, ever ; and me ever thine. TRINITY-SUNDAY. HOLY, blessed, glorious three, Eternall witnesses that be In heaven, One God in Trinitie ! As here on earth, when men with-stood The Spirit, Water and the Blood Made my Lord's Incarnation good: So let the anty- types in me Elected, bought, and seal'd for free, Be own'd, sav'd, sainted by you three! OR SACRED POEMS. 109 PSALME 104. P, O my soul, and blcsse the Lord ! God, My God, how great, how very great art thou ! Honour and majesty have their abode With thee, and crown thy brow. Thou cloath'st thy self with light, as with a robe, And the high, glorious heav'ns thy mighty hand Doth spread like curtains round about this globe Of air, and sea, and land. The beams of thy bright chambers thou dost lay In the deep waters, which no eye can find ; The clouds thy chariots are, and thy path- way The wings of the swift wind. In thy celestiall, gladsome messages Dispatch'd to holy souls, sick with desire And love of thee, each willing angel is Thy minister in fire. 170 STL EX SCINTILLANS, Thy arm immoveable for ever laid And founded the firm earth ; then with the deep As with a vail thou hidst it ; thy floods plaid Above the mountains steep. At thy rebuke they fled, at the known voice Of their Lord's thunder they retired apace : Some up the mountains past by secret ways, Some downwards to their place. For thou to them a bound hast set, a bound, Which, though but sand, keeps in and curbs whole seas : There all their fury, foame, and hideous sound, Must languish and decrease And as thy care bounds these, so thy rich love Doth broach the earth ; and lesser brooks lets forth, Which run from hills to valleys, and improve Their pleasure and their worth. These to the beasts of every field give drink ; There the wilde asses swallow the cool spring: And birds amongst the branches on their brink Their dwellings have and sing. Thou from thy upper springs above, from those Chambers of rain, where Heav'n's large bottles lie, Doest water the parch'd hills, whose breaches close, Heal'd by the showers from high. OR SACRED POEMS. 171 Grass for llio cattel, and herbs for man's use Thou mak'st to grow; these, blest by thee, the earth Brings forth, with wine, oyl, bread: all which infuse Toman's heart strength and mirth. Thou giv'st the trees their greenness, ev'n to those Cedars in Lebanon, in whose thick boughs The birds their nests build; though the stork doth choose The fir-trees for her house. To the wilde goats the high hills serve for folds, The rocks give conies a retyring place : Above them the cool moon her known course holds, And the sun runs his race. Thou makest darkness, and then comes the night ; In whose thick shades and silence each wilde beast Creeps forth, and pinch'd for food, with scent and sight Hunts in an eager quest. The lyon's whelps impatient of delay Ivoar in the covert of the woods, and seek Their meat from thee, who doest appoint the prey, And feed'st them all the week. 172 SILEX SCINTILLANS, This past ; tlie sun shines on the earth ; and they Retire into their dens ; Man goes abroad Unto his work, and at the close of day Returns home with his load. O Lord my God, how many and how rare Are thy great works ! In wisdom hast thou made Them all ; and this the earth, and every blade Of grass we tread declare. So doth the deep and wide sea, wherein are Innumerable, creeping things, both small And great : there ships go, and the shopmen's fear, The comely, spacious whale. These all upon thee wait, that thou maist feed Them in due season : what thou giv'st they take; Thy bounteous open hand helps them at need, And plenteous meals they make. When thou doest hide thy face (thy face which keeps All things in being) they consume and mourn : When thou with-draw'st their breath their vigour sleeps, And they to dust return. OK SACKED POEMS. 17)) Tliou scnd'st thy Spirit forth, and they revive, The frozen earth's dead face thou dost renew. Thus thou thy glory through the world doth drive, And to thy works art true. Thine eyes behold the earth, and the whole stage Is inov'd and trembles, the hills melt and smoke With thy least touch ; lightnings and winds that rage At thy rebuke are broke. Therefore as long as thou wilt give me breath I will in songs to thy great name imploy That gift of thine, and to my day of death Thou shalt be all my joy. He spice my thoughts with thee, and from thy word Gather true comforts ; but the wicked liver Shall be consum'd. O my soul, bless thy Lord ! Yea, bless thou him for ever ! 174 S1LEX SCINTILLANS, THE BIRD. ITHER thou cora'st. The busie wind all night j& Blew through thy lodging, where thy own warm wing Thy pillow was. Many a sullen storm, For which coarse man seems much the fitter born, Rain'd on thy bed And harmless head : And now as fresh and chearful as the light Thy little heart in early hymns doth sing Unto that Providence, whose unseen arm Curb'd them, and cloath'd thee well and warm. All things that be praise Him ; and had Their lesson taught them when first made. So hills and valleys into singing break ; And though poor stones have neither speech nor tongue, While active winds and streams both run and speak, Yet stones are deep in admiration. Thus Praise and Prayer here beneath the sun Make lesser mornings, when the great are done. OR SACRED POEMS. 175 For each inclosed spirit is a Btar Inlightning his own little spluere, Whose light, though fcicht and borrowed from far, Both mornings makes and evenings there. But as these Birds of light make a land glad, Chirping their solemn matins on each tree : So in the shades of night some dark fowls be, Whose heavy notes make all that hear them sad. The turtle then in palm-trees mourns, While owls and satyrs howl ; The pleasant land to brimstone turns, And all her streams grow foul. Brightness and mirth, and love and faith, all flye, Till the day-spring breaks forth again from high. THE TIMBER. URE thou didst flourish once ! and many springs, Many bright mornings, much dew, many showers Past ore thy head: man)' light hearts and wings, Which now are dead, lodg'd in thy living bowers. 176 S1LUX SCINTILLANS, And still a new succession sings and flies ; Fresh groves grow up, and their green branches shoot Towards the old and still enduring skies ; While the low violet thrives at their root. But thou beneath the sad and heavy line Of death doth waste all senseless, cold, and dark; Where not so much as dreams of light may shine, Nor any thought of greenness, leaf, or bark. And yet, as if some deep hate and dissent, Bred in thy growth betwixt high winds and thee, Were still alive, thou dost great storms resent, Before they come, and know'st how near they be. Else all at rest thou lyest, and the fierce brenth Of tempests can no more disturb thy ease ; But this thy strange resentment after death Means onely those who broke in life tby peace. So murthered man, when lovely life is done, And his blood freez'd, keeps in the center still Some secret sense, which makes the dead blood run At his approach that did the body kill. OR SACRED POEMS. 177 And is there any murth'rer worse than sin ? Or any storms more foul than a lewd Life ? Or what resentient can work more within, Than true remorse, when with past sins at strife ? He that hath left life's vain joys and vain care, And truly hates to be detain'd on earth, Hath got an house where many mansions are, And keeps his soul unto eternal mirth. But though thus dead unto the world, and ceas'd From sin, he walks a narrow, private way ; Yet grief and old wounds make him sore dis- pleas'd, And all his life a rainy, weeping day. For though he should forsake the world, and live As meer a stranger, as men long since dead ; Yet joy itself will make a right soul grieve To think, he should be so long vainly led. But as shades set off light, so tears and grief, Though of themselves but a sad blubber'd story, By shewing the sin great, shew the relief Far greater, and so speak my Saviour's glory. If my way lies through deserts and wilde woods, Where all the land with scorching heat is curst ; N 178 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Better the pools should flow with rain and floods To fill my bottle than I die with thirst. Blest showers they are, and streams sent frorL above ; Begetting virgins where they use to flow ; The trees of life no other waters love, These upper springs, and none else make them grow. But these chaste fountains flow not till we dye. Some drops may fall before ; but a clear spring And ever running, till we leave to fling Dirt in her way, will keep above the skie. Rom. cap. 6. ver. 7. He that is dead, is freed from sin. THE JEWS. ;HEN the fair year Of your Deliverer comes, And that long frost which now benums Your hearts shall thaw ; when angels here Shall yet to man appear, And familiarly confer Beneath the oke and juniper ; OR SACRED POEMS. 179 When the bright Dovr,, Which mow these many, many springs Hathjce.pl above, Shall with spread wings Descend, and living waters flow To make drie dust, and dead trees grow ; then that I Might live, and see the olive bear Her proper branches ! which now lie Scattered each where, And without root and sap, decay, Cast by the husbandman away. And sure it is not far ! For as your fast and foul decays, Forerunning the bright morning star, Did sadly note His healing rayes Would shine elsewhere, since you were blind, And would be cross, when God was kinde, — So by all signs Our fulness too is now come in ; And the same sun, which here declines And sets, will few hours hence begin To rise on you again, and look Towards old Ma/mre and EshcoVs brook. For surely he Who lov'd the world so as to give His onely Son to make it free, Whose Spirit too doth mourn and grieve To see man lost, will for old love From your dark hearts this veil remove. ISO SILEX SCTNTILLAW5, Faith sojOTirii'd first on earth in yon. Yon were the dear and chosen stock : The Arm of God, glorious and true, Was first reveal'd to be your rock. You were the eldest childe. and when Your stony hearts despised love, The youngest^ ev'n the Gentiles, then, Were chear'd your jealousie to move. Thus, righteous Father ! doest thou deal With brutish men; Thy gifts go round By turns, and timely, and so heal The lost son by the newly found. BEGGING. YE. do not go ! thou know'st, I'll dye ! My Spring and Fall are in thy book ! Or. if thou goest, do not denv To lend me. though from far, one look ! My sins long since have made thee strange. A verv stranger unto me : Xo morning-meetings since this change, Xor evening- walks have I with thee. Why is mv God thus slow and cold. When I am most, most sick and sad ? OR SACRED POEMS. 181 Well fare those blessed days of old, When thou didst hear the weeping Lad ! do not thou do as I did, Do not despise a love-sick heart ! What though some clouds defiance bid, Thy Sun must shine in every part. Though I have spoil'd, spoil not thou ! Hate not thine own dear gift and token ! Poor birds sing best, and prettiest show, When their nest is fain and broken. Dear Lord ! restore thy ancient peace, Thy quikning friendship, man's bright wealth ! \;.d if thou wilt not give me ease From sicknesse, give my spirit health ! PALM-SUNDAY, OME, drop your branches, strow the way, Plants of the day ! Whom sufferings make most green and gay. The King of grief, the Man of sorrow, Weeping still like the wet morrow, Your shades and freshness comes to borrow. 1 Ishmael. — Ki>. 182 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Put on, put on your best array ; Let the joy'd road make holy-day, And flowers, that into fields do stray, Or secret groves, keep the high-way. Trees, flowers, and herbs ; birds, beasts, and stones, That since man fell expect with groans To see the Lamb, come l all at once, Lift up your heads and leave your moans ! For here comes he Whose death will be Man's life, and your full liberty. Hark ! how the children shrill and high Hosanna cry ; Their joys provoke the distant skie, Where thrones and Seraphins reply ; And their own Angels shine and sing, In a bright ring : Such yong, sweet mirth Makes heaven and earth Joyn in a joyful symphony. The harmless, yong, and happy Ass, (Seen long before 2 this came to pass,) Is in these joys an high partaker, Ordain'd and made to bear his Maker. Dear feast of Palms, of flowers and dew ! Whose fruitful dawn sheds hopes and lights 1 Original has " which " for " come." — Ed. 3 Zechariah, cha'p, 9. ver. 9. OR SACRED POEMS. 183 Thy bright solemnities did shew The third glad day through two sad nighl I'll get me up before the sun, I'll cut me boughs off many a tree, And all alone full early run To gather flowers to wellcomc thee. Then like the Palm, though wrong, I'll bear, I will be still a childe, still meek As the poor Ass which the proud jear, And onely my dear Jesus seek. If I lose all, and must endure The proverb'd griefs of holy Job, I care not, so I may secure But one green bra nek and a white rob?. JESUS WEEPING. St. Luke, chap. 19. ver. 41. LESSED, unhappy City ! dearly lov'd, But still unkinde ! Art this day nothing mov'd ? Art senseless still ? O can'st thou sleep When God himself for thee doth weep? StifF-necked Jews ! your father's breed, That serv'd the calf, not Abrains seed, 184 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Had not the Babes Hosanna cryed, The stones had spoke what you denycd. Dear Jesus, weep on ! ponr this latter Soul-quickning rain, this living water On their dead hearts ; but (O my fears !) They will drink blood that despise tears. My dear, bright Lord ! my Morning-star ! Shed this live-dew on fields which far From hence long for it ! shed it there, Where the starved earth groans for one tear ! This land, though with thy heart's blest ex- tract fed, Will nothing yield but thorns to wound thy head. THE DAUGHTER OF EEBODIAS. St. Matth. chcvp. 14 ver. 6, Sfc. A IN, sinful Art ! who first did fit Thy lewd, loath'd Motions unto sounds, And made grave Musique, like wilde wit, Erre in loose airs beyond her bounds ; — What fires hath he heap'd on his head ! Since to his sins, as needs it must, His Art adds still, though he be dead, New, fresh accounts of blood and lust. OR SACRKD POEMS. 185 Leave then, 1 yong Sorceress ; the Ice Will those coy spirits cast asleep, Which teach thee now to please a his i Who doth thy lothsome mother keep. But thou hast pleas'd so well, he swears, And gratifies thy sin with vows ; His shameless lust in publick wears, And to thy soft arts strongly bows. Skilful Inchantress, and true bred ! Who out of evil can bring forth good ? Thy mother's nets in thee were spred, She tempts to incest, thou to blood. JESUS WEEPING. St. John, chap. 11. ver. 35. |Y dear, Almighty Lord ! why dost thou weep ? Why dost thou groan and groan again ? And with such deep, Repeated sighs thy kinde heart pain ? Since the same sacred breath, which thus Doth mourn for us, Can make man's dead and scatter'd bones Unite, and raise up all that dyed at once ? 1 Ihr name was Salome : in passing over a frozen river. ////• ia broke under her, and chopt off net head. - Herod Antipas. 186 SILEX SCINTILLANS, O holy groans ! groans of the Dove ! healing tears ! the tears of ]ove ! Dew of the dead! which makes dust move And spring, how is't that yon so sadly grieve, Who can relieve ? Should not thy sighs refrain thy store Of tears, and not provoke to more ? Since two afflictions may not raign In one at one time, as some feign. Those blasts, which o'er our heads here stray, If showers then fall, will showers allay ; As those poor pilgrims oft have tryed, Who in this windy world abide. Dear Lord ! thou art all grief and love ; Bat which thou art most, none can prove. Thou griev'st, man should himself undo, And lov'st him, though he works thy wo. 'Twas not that vast, almighty measure Which is requir'd to make up life, Though purchased with thy heart's dear trea- sure, Did breed this strife Of grief and pity in thy brest, The throne where peace and power rest : But 'twas thy love that, without leave, Made thine eyes melt, and thy heart heave. For though death cannot so undo What thou hast done, but though man too Should help to spoil, thou canst restore All better far than 'twas before. OK SACRED POEMS. 1 Which freed poor Hagar from her fears, And turn'd to smiles the begging tears Of yong, distressed Ishmad. 188 SILEX SCINTILLANS, How in a mystick cloud, Which doth thy strange sure mercies shroud, Doest thou convey man food and money, Unseen by him till they arrive Just at his mouth, that thankless hive, Which kills thy bees, and eats thy honey ! If I thy servant be, Whose service makes ev'n captives free, A fish shall all* my tribute pay, The swift- wing'd raven shall bring me meat, And I, like flowers, shall still go neat, As if I knew no month but May. I will not fear what man With all his plots and power can. Bags that wax old may plundered be ; But none can sequester or let A state that with the sun doth set, And comes next morning fresh as he. Poor birds this doctrine sing, And herbs which on dry hills do spring, Or in the howling wilderness Do know thy dewy morning hours, And watch all night for mists or showers, Then drink and praise thy bounteousness. May he for ever dye Who trusts not thee, but wretchedly Hunts gold and wealth, and will not lend Thy service nor his soul one day ! May his crown, like his hopes, be clay ; And what he saves, may his foes spend ! OR SACRED POEMS. 189 If all my portion hore, The measure given by thee each year, Were by my causless enemies Usurp'd ; it never should me grieve, Who know how well thou canst relieve, Whose hands are open as thine eyes. Great King of love and truih ! Who would'st not hate my froward youth, And wilt not leave me when grown old ; Gladly will I, like Politick sheep, Unto my l wormwood-diet keep, Since thou hast made thy Arm my fold. THE KNOT. RIGHT Queen of Heaven ! God's Virgin Spouse ! The glad world's blessed maid ! Whose beauty tyed life to thy house, And brought us saving ayd. Thou art the true Loves-knot ; by thee God is made our allie ; And man's inferior Essence He With His did dignifie. For coalescent by that band We are His body grown. Nourished with favors from His hand Whom for our head we own. " Their" in original -Ed. 190 SILEX SCINTILLANS, And such a Knot what arm dares loose, What life, what death can sever ? Which us in Him, and Him in us, United keeps for ever. THE ORNAMENT. HE lucky world shewd me one day Her gorgeous Mart and glittering store, Where with proud haste the rich made way To buy, the poor came to adore. Serious they seem'd and bought up all The latest modes of pride and lust ; Although the first must surely fall, And the last is most loathsome dust. But while each gay, alluring ware With idle hearts and busie looks They viewd, (for idleness hath there Laid up all her archives and books), Quite through their proud and pompous file Blushing, and in meek weeds array'd, With native looks which knew no guile, Came the sheep-keeping Synan Maid. or sacred poems. 101 Whom strait the shining row all fac'd, Forc'd by her artless looks and dresi ; While one cryed out, we are disgrao'd ! For she is bravest, you confess. ST. MARY MAGDALEN. EAR, beauteous Saint ! more white than day, AVhen in his naked, pure array ; £2d& Fresher than morning-flowers which shew As thou in tears dost, best in dew. How art thou chang'd, how lively, fair, Pleasing, and innocent, an air, Not tutor' d by thy glass, but free, Native and pure, shines now in thee ! But since thy beauty doth still keep Bloomy and fresh, why dost thou weep ? This dusky state of sighs and tears Durst not look on those smiling years, When Afa^/c?aZ-castle was thy seat, Where all was sumptuous, rare and neat. Why lies this hair despised now Which once thy -care and art did shew ? Who then did dress the much lov'd toy, In spires, globes, angry curls and coy, Which with skill'd necflio'enee seem'd shed About thy curious, wilde, young head ? Why is this rich, this Fistic Nard Spilt, and the box quite broke and marr'd ? 192 SILEX SCINTILLANS, What pretty sullenness did haste Thy easie hands to do this waste ? Why art thou humbled thus, and low As earth thy lovely head dost bow ? Dear soul ! thou knew'st flowers here on earth At their Lord's foot-stool have their birth ; Therefore thy wither'd self in haste Beneath his blest feet thou didst cast, That at the root of this green tree Thy great decays restor'd might be. Thy curious vanities, and rare Odorous ointments kept with care, And dearly bought, when thou didst see They could not cure nor comfort thee ; Like a wise, early Penitent, Thou sadly didst to him present, Whose interceding, meek, and calm Blood, is the world's all-healing Balm. This, this Divine Restorative Call'd forth thy tears, which ran in live And hasty drops, as if they had (Their Lord so near) sense to be glad. Learn, Ladies, here the faithful cure Makes beauty lasting, fresh and pure ; Learn Mary's art of tears, and then Say You ha/ve got the day from men. Cheap, mighty Art ! her Art of love, Who lov'd much, and much more could move ; Her Art ! whose memory must last Till truth through all the world be past ; Till his abus'd, despised flame Return to Heaven, from whence it came, And send a fire down, that shall bring OB SACRED POEMS, 198 Destruction on his ruddy wing. Ber Art ! whose pensive, weeping eyes, Were once sins loose and tempting spies ; 13 Lit now are tixed stars, whose light Helps such dark straglers to their sight. Self-boasting Pharisee ! how blinde A judge wert thou, and how unkind e ! It was impossible, that thou, Who wert all false should'st true grief know. Is't just to judge her faithful tears By that foul rheum thy false eye wears ? This Woman, say'st thou, is a sinner ! And sate there none such at thy dinner ? Go Leper, go ! wash till thy flesh Comes like a childe's, spotless and fresh ; lie is still leprous that still paints : Who saint themselves, they are no saints. THE RAIN- BOW. TILL young and line ! but what is still in view We slight as old and soil'd, though fresh and new. How bright wert thou, when Shew? 8 admiring eye Thy burnisht, flaming Arch did first descry ! When Terah, Nahor, Ha/ran, Abrwin, Lot, o 104 S1LEX SCINT1LLANS, The youthful world's gray fathers in one knot, Did with intentive looks watch every hour For thy new light, and trembled at each shower ! When thou dost shine darkness looks white and fair, Forms turn to Musick, clouds to smiles and air : Rain gently spends his honey-drops, and pours Balm on the cleft earth, milk on grass and flowers. Bright pledge of peace and sun-shine ! the sure tye Of thy Lord's hand, the object * of His eye ! When I behold thee, though my light be dim, Distant, and low, I can in thine see Him, Who looks upon thee from His glorious throne, And mindes the Covenant 'twixt All and One. O foul, deceitful men ! my God doth keep His promise still, but we break ours and sleep. After the Fall the first sin was in Blood, And Drunkenness quickly did succeed the flood ; But since Christ dyed, (as if we did devise To lose him too, as well as Paradise,) These two grand sins we joyn and act together, Though blood and drunkeness make but foul, foul weather. Water, though both Heaven's windows and the deep Full forty days o'r the drown'd world did weep, Could not reform us, and blood in despight, Yea God's own blood, we tread upon and slight. 1 Gen. chap. 9. ver. 16. OR SACRED POEMS. 195 those bad daughters, which God sav'd from fire, While Sodom jet did smoke lay with their sire. Then peaceful, signal bow r , but in a cloud Still lodged, where all thy unseen arrows shrowd ; I will on thee as on a Comet look, A Comet, the sad world's ill-boding book ; Thy light as luctual and stain'd with woes I'll judge, where penal flames sit mixt and close. For though some think, thou shin'st but to restrain Bold storms, and simply dost attend on rain ; Yet I know well, and so our sins require, Thou dost but court cold rain, till Rain turns Fire. THE SEED GROWING SECRETLY. St. Mark, clui]_>. 4. ver. 26. F this world's friends might see but once What some poor man may often feel, Glory and gold and crowns and thrones, They would soon quit, and learn to kneel. My dew, my dew ! my early love, My soul's bright food, thy absence kills 1 b» ver not long, eternal Dove ! Life without thee is loose and spills. 196 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Something I had, which long ngo Did learn to suck and sip and taste ; But now grown sickly, sad and slow, Doth fret and wrangle, pine and waste. spred thy sacred wings, and shake One living drop ! one drop life keeps ! If pious griefs Heaven's joys awake, O fill his bottle ! thy childe weeps ! Slowly and sadly doth he grow, And soon as left shrinks back to ill ; feed that life, which makes him blow And spred and open to thy will ! For thy eternal, living wells None stain' d or wither 'd shall come near : A fresh, immortal green there dwells, And spotless ivhite is all the wear. Dear, secret Greenness ! nurst below Tempests and windes and winter- nights, Vex not, that but one sees thee grow, That One made all these lesser lights. If those bright joys He singly sheds On thee, were all met in one Crown, Both Sun and Stars would hide their heads ; And Moons, though full, would get them down. Let glory be their bait, whose mindes Are all too high for a low cell : OR SACRED POEMS. 107 Though hawks can prey through storms and winds, The poor bee in her hive must dwell. Glory, the croud's cheap tinsel, still To what most takes them is a drudge ; And they too oft take good for ill, And thriving vice for vertue judge. What needs a conscience calm and bright Within itself an outward test? Who breaks his glass to take more light, Makes way for storms into his rest. Then bless thy secret growth, nor catch At noise, but thrive unseen and dumb ; Keep clean, bear fruit, earn life, and watch, Till the white-winged Reapers come ! IF [TIME'S BOOK.] 'S Time one day by me did pass, Through a large dusky glasse He held, I chane'd to look, And spyed his curious Book Of past days, where sad Heav'n did shed A mourning light upon the dead. Many disordered lives I saw. And foul records which ihnw 198 SILEX SCINTILLANS, My kinde eyes still, but in A fair, white page of thin And ev'n, smooth lines, like the Sun's rays, Thy name was writ, and all thy days. bright and happy Kalendar ! Where youth, shines like a star All pearl'd with tears, and may Teach age the Holy way; Where through thick pangs, high agonies, Faith into life breaks, and death dies. As some meek night-piece which day quails, To candle-light unveils : So by one beamy line From thy bright lamp did shine In the same page thy humble grave, Set with green herbs, glad hopes and brave. Here slept my thought's dear mark ! which dust Seem'd to devour like rust ; But dust, I did observe, By hiding doth preserve ; As we for long and sure recruits, Candy with sugar our choice fruits. O calm and sacred bed, where lies In death's dark mysteries A beauty far more bright Than the noon's cloudless light ; For whose dry dust green branches bud, And robes are bleach'd in the Lamb's blood. OR SACRED POEMS. Sleep, happy ashes! Messed sleep! While haplesse I still weep; Weep that I have out-liv'd My life, and unreliev'd Musi, soul-lesse shadow ! so live on, Though lifo be dead, and my joys gone. IF [RELIGION.] AIR and yong light ! my guide to holy Grief and soul-curing melancholy ; Whom living here I did still shun As sullen night-ravens do the sun, And led by my own foolish fire Wandred through darkness, dens, and mire. How am I now in love with all That I term'd then nicer bonds and thrall ! And to thy name, which still I keep, Like the surviving turtle weep ! bitter curs'd delights of men ! Our soul's diseases first, and then Our body's ; povsons that intreat With fatal sweetness, till we eat; How artfully do you destroy, Thai kill with smiles and seeming joy ! If all the sub til ties of vice Stood bare before unpractie'd eyes, And every act she doth commence Had writ down its aad consequence, 200 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Yet would not men grant their ill fate Lodged in those false looks, till too late. holy, happy, healthy heaven, Where all is pure, where all is even, Plain, harmless, faithful, fair, and bright, But what earth breaths against thy light ! How blest had men been, had their Sire Liv'd still in league with thy chaste fire ; Nor made life through her long descents A slave to lustful elements ! 1 did once read in an old book, Soil'd with many a weeping look, That the seeds of foul sorrows be The finest things that are to see. So that fam'd fruit, which made all dye Seem'd fair unto the woman's eye. If these supplanters in the shade Of Paradise could make man fade, How in this world should they deter This world, their fellow-murtherer ! And why then grieve we to be sent Home by our first fair punishment, Without addition to our woes And lingring wounds from weaker foes ; Since that doth quickly freedom win, For he that's dead is freed from sin? that I were winged and free And quite undrest just now with thee, Where freed souls dwell by living fountains On everlasting, spicy mountains! Alas ! my God ! take home thy sheep ; This world but laughs at those that weep. OK SACRED POEMS. 201 THE STONE. Josh. chap. 24. vcr. 27. HAVE it now: But where to act that none si mil know ; Where I shall have no cause to fear An eye or ear, What man will show ? If nights, and shades, and secret rooms, Silent as tombs, Will not conceal nor assent to My dark designs, what shall I do ? Man I can bribe, and woman will Consent to any gainful ill, But these dumb creatures are so true, No gold nor gifts can them subdue. Hedges have ears, saith the old sooth, And ev'ry hush is something's booth ; This cautious fools mistake, and fear Nothing but man when ambush'd the re. But I, alas ! Was shown one day in a strange glass That busie commerce kept between God and his creatures, though unseen. They hear, see, speak, And into loud discoveries break. 202 SILEX SCINTILLANS, As loud as blood. Not that God needs Intelligence, whose Spirit feeds All things with life, before whose eye, Hell and all hearts stark naked lye. But he 1 that judgeth as he hears, He that accuseth none, so steers His righteous course, that though he knows All that man doth, conceals or shows, Yet will not he by his own light, Though both all-seeing and all right, Condemn men ; but will try them by A process, which ev'n man's own eye Must needs acknowledge to be just. Hence sand and dust Are shak'd for witnesses, and stones, Which some think dead, shall all at once With one attesting voice detect Those secret sins we least suspect. For know, wilde men, that when you erre Each thing turns Scribe and Register, And, in obedience to his Lord, Doth your most private sins record. The Law delivered to the Jeivs, Who promis'd much, but did refuse Performance, will for that same deed Against them by a stone proceed ; Whose substance, though 'tis hard enough, Will prove their hearts more stiff and tuff. But now, since God on himself took What all mankinde could never brook, 1 John, chap. 5. ver. 30, 45. OR SACRED POEMS. 203 Tf «iny (for Ho all invites) His easie yoke rejects or slights, The Oospel then, for 'tis His word, And not himself, 1 shall judge the world, Will by loose Dust thai man arraign, As one than dust more vile and vain. THE DWELLING-PLACE. St. John, chap. 1. ver. 38, 39. ;HAT happy, secret fountain, Fair shade, or mountain, Whose undiscover'd virgin glory Boasts it this day, though not in story, Was then thy dwelling ? did some cloud, Fix'd to a tent, descend and shrowd My distrest Lord ? or did a star, Mcckon'd by thee, though high and far, In sparkling smiles haste gladly down To lodge light and increase her own? .M v dear, dear God ! I do not know What lodged thee then, nor where, nor how ; But I am sure thou dost now come Oft to a narrow, homely room, Where thou too hast but the least part ; My God, I mean my sinful hea/rt. 1 S. John, chap. 12. ver. 47, 48. 204 S1LEX SC1NTILLANS, THE MEN OF WAR. S. Luke, chap. 23. ver. 11. F any have an ear, Saith holy John, 1 then let him hear ! He, that into captivity Leads others, shall a captive be. Who with the sword doth others Jcill, A sword shall his blood likewise spill. Here is the patience of the Saints, And the true faith which never faints. Were not thy word, dear Lord ! my light, How would I run to endless night, And persecuting thee and thine, Enact for Saints myself and mine ! But now enlighten' d thus by thee, I dare not think such villanv : Nor for a temporal self-end Successful wickedness commend. For in this bright, instructing verse Thy Saints are not the conquerors ; But patient, meek, and overcome Like thee, when set at naught and dumb. Armies thou hast in Heaven, which fight And follow thee all cloath'd in white ; But here on earth, though thou hadst need, Thou wouldst no legions, but wouldst bleed. 1 Revel, chap. 13. ver. 10. OR SACRED POEMS. 205 The sword wherewith thou dost command Is in thy mouth, not in thy hand, And all thy Saints do overcome By thy blood, and their Martyrdom. But seeing Soldiers long ago Did spit on thee, and smote thee too ; Crown'd thee with thorns, and how'd the knee. But in contempt, as still we see, I'le marvel not at ought they do, Because they us'd my Saviour so ; Since of my Lord they had their will, The servant must not take it ill. Dear Jesus, give me patience here, And faith to see my Crown as near, And almost reach'd, because 'tis sure If I hold fast, and slight the Lm , Give me humility and peace, Contented thoughts, innoxious ease, A sweet, revengcless, quiet minde, And to my greatest haters kinde. Give me, my God ! a heart as milde And plain, as when I was a childe. That when thy Throne is set, and all These conquerors before it fall, I may be found, preserved by thee, Amongst that chosen company, Who by no blood here overcame But the blood of the blessed La-nib. 206 SILEX SCINTiLLANS, THE ASS. St. Matt. chap. 21. HOU ! who didst place me in this busie street Of flesh and blood, where two ways meet: The one of goodness, peace, and life, The other of death, sin, and strife ; Where frail visibles rule the minde, And present things finde men most kinde ; Where obscure cares the mean defeat, And splendid vice destroys the great; As thou didst set no law for me, But that of perfect liberty, Which neither tyres, nor doth corrode, But is a Pillow, not a Load : So give me grace ever to rest, And build on it because the best ; Teach both mine eyes and feet to move Within those bounds set by thy love ; Grant I may soft and lowly be, And minde those things I cannot see ; Tye me to faith, though above reason, Who question power, they speak treason : Let me, thy Ass, be onely wise To carry, not search, mysteries. Who carries thee, is by thee led ; Who argues, follows his own head. OR SACKED POEMS. 207 To check bad motions, keep me still Amongsl the dead, where thriving ill, Without his brags and conquests lies, And truth, opprest here, gets the prize. At all times, whatsoe'r I do Let me not fail to question, who Shares in the act, and puts me to't ? And if not thou, let not me do't. Above all, make me love the poor, Those burthens to the rich man's door; Let me admire those, and be kinde To low estates and a low minde. If the world offers to me ought, That by thy book must not be sought, Or, though it should be lawful, may Prove not expedient for thy way, To shun that peril let thy grace Prevail with me to shun the place ; Let me be wise to please thee still, And let men call me what they will. When thus thy milde, instructing hand Findes thy poor foal at thy command, When he from wilde is become wise, And slights that most, which men most prize ; When all things here to thistles turn Pricking his lips, till he doth mourn And hang the head, sighing for those Pastures of life, where the Lamb goes: then, just then ! break or untye These bonds, this sad captivity, This leaden state, which men miscal Being and Life, I >u t is dead thrall. And when, God ! the Ass is free, 208 SILEX SC1NT1LLANS, In a state known to none but thee, let him by his Lord be led To living springs, and there be fed, Where light, joy, health, and perfect peace Shnt out all pain and each disease ; Where death and frailty are forgotten And bores rejoyce, which once were broken ! THE HIDDEN TREASURE. S. Matt, chap. 13. ver. 44. HAT can the man do that succeeds the King ? ] Even what was done before, and no neiv tiling. Who shews me but one grain of sincere light ? False stars, and fire-drakes, and deceits of night, Set forth to fool and foil thee, do not boast ; Such coal-flames shew but kitchin-rooms at most. And those I saw search'd through ; yea those and all, That these three thousand years time did let fall To blinde the eyes of lookers-back, and I Now all is done, finde all is vanity. 1 EccUsiastcs, chap. 2. ver. 12. OR SACRED POEMS. 209 Those secret searches which afflict fche wise, Paths that ;irc hidden from the Vultw^B eyes, I saw at distance, and where- grows that fruit Which others onely grope for and dispute. The world's lov'd wisdom, for the world's friends think There is none else, did not the dreadful brink And precipice it leads to bid me flie, None could with more advantage use than I. Man's favourite sins, those tainting appetites, Which nature breeds, and some fine clay invites, With all their soft, kinde arts and easie strains. Which strongly operate, though without pains, Did not a greater beauty rule mine eyes, None would more dote on, nor so soon entice. But since these sweets are sowre, and poyson'd here, Where the impure seeds flourish all the year, And private tapers will but help to stray Ev'n those, who by them would finde out the day, Tie seal my eyes up, and to thy commands Submit my wilde heart, and restrain my hands ; I will do nothing, nothing know, nor see But w r hat thou bidst, and shew'st, and teachest me. Look what thou gav'st ; all that I do restore, But for one thing, though purchas'd once before. 210 SILKX SC1NTILLANS, CHILDE-HOOD. CANNOT reach it ; and my striving eye Dazles at it, as at eternity. Were now that Chronicle alive, Those white designs which children drive, And the thoughts of each harmless hour, With their content too in my pow'r, Quickly would I make my path even, And by meer playing go to Heaven. Why should men love A Wolf, more than a Lamb or Dove ? Or choose hell-fire and brimstone streams Before bright-stars and God's own beams ? Who kisseth thorns will hurt his face, But flowers do both refresh and grace ; And sweetly living [fie on men !) Are, when dead, medicinal then. If seeing much should make staid eyes, And long experience should make wise ; Since all that age doth teach is ill, Why should I not love childe-hood still ? Why, if I see a rock or shelf, Shall I from thence cast down my self, Or by complying with the world, From the same precipice be hurl'd ? Those observations are but foul, Which make me wise to lose my ? oul. OR SACRED POEMS. 211 And yd the Practice worldlings call Business and weighty action all, Checking the poor childc for his play, But gravely cast themselves away. Dear, harmless age ! the short, swift span Where weeping virtue parts with man ; Where love without lust dwells, and bends What way we please without self-ends. An age of mysteries ! which he Must live twice that would God's face see ; Which Angels guard, and with it play, Angels ! which foul men drive away. ITow do I study now, and scan Thee more than ere I studyed man, And onely see through a long night Thy edges, and thy bordering light ! for thy center and mid-day ! For sure that is the narrow way I THE NIGHT. St. John, chap. 3. ver. 2. HKOUGII that pure Virgin- shrine. That sacred vail drawn o'er thy glorious noon, That men might look and live, as glo- worms shine, 212 SILEX SCINTILLANS, And face the moon, Wise Nicodemns saw such light As made him know his Cod by night. Most blest believer he ! Who in that land of darkness and blinde eyes Thy long expected healing wings could see, When thou didst rise ; And, what can never more be done, Did at mid- night speak with the Sun ! who will tell me, where He found thee at that dead and silent hour ! What hallow'd solitary ground did bear So rare a flower ; Within whose sacred leafs did lie The fulness of the Deity ! No mercy-seat of gold, No dead and dusty cherub, nor carv'd stone, But his own living works, did my Lord hold And lodge alone ; Where trees and herbs did watch and peep And wonder, while the Jews did sleep. Dear night ! this world's defeat ; The stop to busie fools ; care's check and curb ; The day of spirits ; my soul's calm retreat Which none disturb ! GhrisVs x progress, and his prayer time ; The hours to which high Heaven doth chime. 8 Mark, chap. 1. 35. S. Luke, chap. 21. 37. OJi SACRED POEMS. 21 3 God's silent, searching Bight; When my Lord's head is filled with dew, and all J I is locks aro wet with the clear drops of night ; Ilis still, soft call ; His knocking time ; the soul's dumb watch, When spirits their fair kinred catch. Were all my loud, evil days Calm and unhaunted as is thy dark tent, Whose peace but by some AncjeVs wing or voice Is seldom rent ; Then I in Heaven all the long year Would keep, and never wander here. But living where the sun Doth all things wake, and where all mix and tyre Themselves and others, I consent and run To ev'ry myre ; And by this world's ill guiding light, Erre more than I can do by night. There is in God, some say, A deep, but dazzling darkness ; as men here Say it is late and dusky, because they See not all clear. for that night ! where I in him Might live invisible and dim ! 214 SILEX SC1NTILLANS, ABEL'S BLOOD. (AD, purple well ! whose bubling eye Did first against a murth'rer cry ; Whose streams still vocal, still com- plain Of bloody Gain ; And now at evening are as red As in the morning when first shed. If single thou, Though single voices are but low, Could'st such a thrill and long cry rear As speaks still in thy Maker's ear, What thunders shall those men arraign Who cannot count those they have slain, Who bath not in a shallow flood, But in a deep, wide sea of blood ? A sea, whose lowd waves cannot sleep, But deep still calleth upon deep : Whose urgent sound, like unto that Of many waters, beateth at The everlasting doors above, Where souls behinde the altar move, And with one strong, incessant cry Inquire How long ? of the most High ? Almighty Judge ! At whose just laws no just men grudge ; Whose blessed, sweet commands do pour Comforts, and joys, and hopes each hour On those that keep them ; accept Of his vow'd heart, whom thou hast kept OR SACRED POEMS. 215 From bloody men ! and grant, I may That sworn memorial duly pay To thy bright arm, which was my Light And leader through thick death and night! Aye may that flood, That proudly spilt and despis'd blood, Speechless and calm, as infants sleep ! Or if it watch, forgive and weep For those that spilt it ! May no cries From the low earth to high Heaven rise, But what like his, whoso blood peace brings, Shall, when they rise, speah better things Than Abel's doth ! may Abel bo Still single heard, while these agree With his mildc blood in voice and will, Who pray'd lor those that did him kill ! RIGHTEOUSNESS. ff^^^AIH, solitary path ! whose blessed shades The old, white Prophets planted first and drest ; Leaving for us, whose goodness quickly fades, A shelter all the way, and bowers to rest. Who is the man that walks in thee ? who loves Heav'n's secret solitude, those fair abod< Where turtles build, and carelese sparrows move, Without tomorrow's evils and future loads ? 216 SILEX SC1NTILLANS, Who hath the upright heart, the single eye, The clean, pure hand, which never medled pitch ? Who sees Invisibles, and doth comply With hidden treasures that make truly rich ? He that doth seek and love The things above, Whose spirit ever poor is, meek, and low ; Who simple still and wise, Still homewards flies, Quick to advance, and to retreat most slow. Whose acts, words, and pretence, Have all one sense, One aim and end ; who walks not by his sight ; Whose eyes are both put out, And goes about Guided by faith, not by exterior light. Who spills no blood, nor spreds Thorns in the beds Of the distrest, hasting their overthrow ; Making the time they had Bitter and sad, Like chronic pains, 1 which surely kill, though slow. Who knows earth nothing hath Worth love or wrath, But in his Hope and Rock is ever glad. Who seeks and follows peace, When with the ease And health of conscience it is to be had. 1 The original has " chronic prayers. "—Ed. OK SACRED POEMS. 217 Who bears his cross with joy, And doth imploy His heart and tongue in prayers for bis foes; Who lends not to be paid, And gives full aid Without that bribe which usurers impose. Who never looks on man Fearful and wan, But firmly trusts in God ; the great man's measure Though high and haughty must Be ta'en in dust ; But the good man is God's peculiar treasure. Who doth thus, and doth not These good deeds blot With bad, or with neglect ; and heaps not wrath By secret filth, nor feeds Some snake, or weeds, Cheating himself — That man walks in this path. ANGUISH. [T God and King! to thee I bow my knee ; T bow my troubled soul, and greet With my foul heart thy holy feet. Cast it, or tread it ! It shall do Even what thou wilt, and praise thee too. 218 SILEX SCINTILLANS, My God, could I weep blood, Gladly I would ; Or if thou wilt give me that art, Which through the eyes pours out the heart, I will exhaust it all, and make My self all tears, a weeping lake. l o y ! 'tis an easie thing To write and sing But to write true, unfeigned verse Is very hard ! O God, disperse These weights, and give my spirit leave To act as well as to conceive ! O my God, hear my cry ; Or let me dye ! TEARS. WHEN my God, my Glory, brings His white and holy train Unto those clear and living Springs Where comes no stain ! Where all is light, and flowers, and fruit, And joy, and rest, Make me amongst them, 'tis my suit! The last one and the least. OR SACRED POEMS. 219 And wheD they all arc fed, and have Drunk of thy living stream, Lid thy poor ass, with tears I crave, Drink after them. Thy love claims highest thanks, my sin The lowest pitch : But if he pays, who loves much, then Thou hast made beggers rich. JACOB'S PILLOW, AXD PILLAR. SEE the Temple in thy Pillar reared, And that dread glory which thy children feared, In milde, clear visions, without a frown, Unto thy solitary self is shown. 'Tis number makes a Schism : throngs are rude, And God himself dyed by the multitude. This made him put on clouds, and fire, and smoke ; Hence He in thunder to thy off-spring spoke. The small, still voice at some low cottage knocks, But a strong wind must break thy lofty rocks. The first true worship of the world's great Kins From private and selected hearts did spring; 220 SILEX SCINTILLANS, But He most willing to save all mankinde, Inlarg'd that light, and to the bad was kinde. Hence Catholick or Universal came A most fair notion, but a very name. For this rich pearl, like some more common stone, When once made publique, is esteemed by none. Man slights his Maker when familiar grown, And sets up laws to pull his honour down. This God foresaw: and when slain by the crowd, Under that stately and mysterious cloud Which his death scatter'd, He foretold the place And form to serve Him in should be true grace, And the meek heart ; not in a Mount, nor at Jerusalem^ with blood of beasts and fat. A heart is that dread place, that awful cell, That secret ark, where the milde Dove doth dwell, When the proud waters rage : when Heathens rule By God's permission and man turns a mule, This litle Goshen, in the midst of night, And Satan's seat, in all her coasts hath light ; Yea Bethel shall have tithes, saith Israel's stone, And vows and visions, though her foes crye, None. Thus is the solemn temple sunk agen Into a Pillar, and conceal' d from men. And glory be to his eternal Name, Who is contented that this holy flame Shall lodge in such a narrow pit, till He With His strong arm turns our captivity ! OR SACKED POEMS. 221 But, blessed Jacobs though thy sad distress Was just the Mime with ours, and nothing less ; For thou a brother, mid blood-thirsty too, Didst flyc, 1 whose children wrought thy chil- dren's wo : Yet thou in all thy solitude and grief, On stones didst sleep, and found'st but cold relief ; Thou from the Day-star a long way didst stand, And all that distance was law and command. But we a healing sun by day and night, Have our sure Guardian, and our leading light. What thou didst hope for and believe we finde And feel, a friend most ready, sure and kinde. Thy Pillow was but type and shade at best, But we the substance have, and on Him rest. THE AGREEMENT. WROTE it down. But one that saw And envyed that Record, did since Such a mist over my minde draw, It quite forgot that purpos'd glimpse. I read it sadly oft, but still Simply believ'd 'twas not my Quill. At length my life's kinde Angel came, And with his bright and busie wing 1 Obadiah % chap. 1. 10. A7nos,chap. 1. 11. 222 SILEX SC1NTILLANS, Scatt'ring that cloud, shewd nie the flame, Which strait like morning-stars did sing, And shine, and point me to a place, Which all the year sees the sun's face. O beamy book ! O my mid-day, Exterminating: fears and night ! The mount, whose white ascendants may Be in conjunction with true light ! My thoughts, when towards thee they move, Glitter and kindle with thy love. Thou art the oyle and the wine-house ; Thine are the present healing leaves, Blown from the tree of life to us By His breath whom my dead heart heaves. Each page of thine hath true life in't, And God's bright minde exprest in print. Most modern books are blots on thee, Their doctrine chaff and windy fits, Darken'd along, as their scribes be, With those foul storms, when they were writ ; While the man's zeal lays out and blends Onely self-worship and self-ends. Thou art the faithful, pearly rock, The hive of beamy, living lights, Ever the same, whose diffus'd stock, Entire still, wears out blackest nights. Thy lines are rays the true Sun sheds ; Thy leaves are healing wings he spreads. OR SACRED POEMS. 223 For until thou didst comfort me I had not one poor word to Bay: Thick busie clouds did multiply, And said I was no childe of dnv : They said, my own hands did remove That candle riven me from above. O God ! I know and do confess My sins are great and still prevail, (Most heynous sins and numberless !) But thy Compassions cannot fail. If thy sure mercies can be broken, Then all is true my foes have spoken. But while time runs, and after it Eternity, which never ends, Quite through them both, still infinite, Thy Covenant by Christ extends ; No si us of frailty, nor of youth, Can foil his merits, and thy truth. And this I hourly finde, for thou Dost still renew, and purge and heal : Thy care and love, which joyntly flow, New cordials, new cathartics deal. But were I once cast off by thee, I know, my God ! this would not be. Wherefore with tears, tears by thee sent, I beg my faith may never fail ! And when in death my speech is spent, let that silence then prevail ! chase in that cold calm my foes, And hear my heart's last private throe I 224 SILEX SCINTILLANS, So thou, who didst the work begin, For J, till drawn, came not to thee, 1 Wilt finish it, and by no sin Will thy free mercies hindred be. For which, God, I onely can Bless thee, and blame unthankful man. THE DAY OF JUDGEMENT. DAY of life, of light, of love ! The onely day dealt from above ! A day so fresh, so bright, so brave, 'Twill shew us each forgotten grave, And make the dead, like flowers, arise Youthful and fair to see new skies. All other days, compar'd to thee, Are but light's weak minority ; They are but veils, and cyphers drawn Like clouds, before thy glorious dawn. O come ! arise ! shine ! do not stay, Dearly lov'd day ! The fields are long since white, and I With earnest groans for freedom cry ; My fellow creatures too say, Gome ! And stones, though speechless, are not dumb. When shall we hear that glorious voice Of life and joys ? That voice, which to each secret bed Of my Lord's dead, 1 St, John. chap. 6. ver. 44. 65. OR SACRED POEMS. 225 Shall bring true day, mid make dust see, The way to immortality? When shall those first white Pilgrims rise, Whose holy, happy histories, Because they sleep so long, some men Count but the blots of a vain pen ? Dear Lord ! make haste ! Sin every day commits more waste ; And thy old enemy, which knows His time is short, more raging grows. Nor moan I onely, though profuse, Thy creature's bondage and abuse ; But what is highest sin and shame, The vile despight done to thy name ; The forgeries, which impious wit And power force on Holy Writ, With all detestable designs, That may dishonor those pure lines. God ! though mercy be in thee The greatest attribute we see, And the most needful for our sins ; Yet, when thy mercy nothing wins But meer disdain, let not man say Thy arm doth sleep ; but write this day Thy judging one : Descend, descend ! Make all things new, and without end ! 226 SILEX SCINTILLANS, PSALM 65. ION'S true, glorious God ! on thee Praise waits in all humility. All flesh shall unto thee repair, To thee, O thou that hearest prayer! But sinful words and works still spread And over- run my heart and head ; Transgressions make me foul each day ; purge them, purge them all away ! Happy is he, whom thou wilt choose To serve thee in thy blessed house ! Who in thy holy Temple dwells, And fill'd with joy thy goodness tells ! King of Salvation ! by strange things, And terrible, Thy justice brings Man to his duty. Thou alone Art the world's hope, and but thee, none. Sailors that flote on flowing seas Stand firm by thee, and have sure peace. Thou still'st the loud waves, when most wild, And mak'st the raging people mild. Thy arm did first the mountains lay,* And girds their rocky heads this day. The most remote, who know not thee, At thy great works astonish'd be. The outgoings of the Even and Baton, In Antvphones siug to thy Name : OR SACKED POEMS. 227 Thou visit'st the low earth, and then Water'et it for the sons of men ; Thy upper river, which abounds With fertil streams, makes rich all grounds ; And by thy mercies still supplied The sower doth his bread provide. Thou water 'st every ridge of land, And settlest with thy secret hand The furrows of it ; then thy warm And opening showers, restrain* d from harm, Soften the mould, while all unseen The blade grows up alive and green. The year is with thy goodness crown'd, And all thy paths drop fatness round ; They drop upon the wilderness, For thou dost even the desarts bless, And hills [all] full of springing pride, Wear fresh adornments on each side. The fruitful flocks fill every dale, And purling corn doth cloath the vale ; They shout for joy, and joyntly sing, Glory to the eternal King / THE THRONE. Bevel, eliaj), 20. ver. U. BEN with these eyes, clos'd now by thee, But then restor'd, The great and white throne I shall see 228 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Of my dread Lord ; And lowly kneeling, for the most Stiff then must kneel, Shall look on him, at whose high cost, Unseen, such joys I feel. Whatever arguments or skill Wise heads shall use, Tears onely and my blushes still I will produce. And should those speechless beggers fail, Which oft have won, Then taught by thee I will prevail, And say, Thy will he done ! DEATH. 2^Prp^HOUGH since thy first sad entrance Just AheVs blood, 'Tisnow six thousand years well nigh, And still thy sov'rainty holds good ; Yet by none art thou understood. We talk and name thee with much ease, As a tryed thing ; And every one can slight his lease, As if it ended in a Spring, Which shades and bowers doth rent-free bring. OK SACRED POEMS. 229 To thy dark land these heedless go. But there was Ott0 5 Who scarch'd it quite through to and fro, And then, returning like the sun, Discover'd all that there is done. And since His death we throughly see All thy dirk way ; Thy shades but thin and narrow be, Which his first looks will quickly fray : Mists make but triumphs for the day. As harmless violets, which give Their virtues here For salves and syrups while they live, Do after calmly disappear, And neither grieve, repine, nor fear : So dye his servants ; and as sure Shall they revive. Then let not dust your eyes obscure, But lift them up, where still alive, Though fled from you, their spirits hive. THE FEAST. *H| COMB away, Make no delay, Come while my heart is clean and s teddy ! While Faith and Grace Adorn the place, Making dust and ashes ready ! 230 STLEX SCINTILLANS, No bliss here lent Is permanent, Snch triumphs poor flesh cannot merit ; Short sips and sights Endear delights : Who seeks for more he would inherit. Come then, trne bread, Quickning the dead, Whose eater shall not, cannot dye ! Come, antedate On me that state, Which brings poor dust the victory. Aye, victory, Which from thine eye Breaks as the day doth from the east, When the spilt dew, Like tears doth shew The sad world wept to be releast. Spring np, O wine, And springing shine With some glad message from his heart, Who did, when slain, These means ordain For me to have in Him a part ! Such a sure part In his blest heart. The well where living waters spring, That, with it fed, Poor dust, though dead, Shall rise again, and live, and sing. OR SACRED POEMS. 2:il O drink and bread, Which strikes death dead, The food of man's immortal being ! Under veyls here Thou art my chear, Present and sure without my seeing. How dost thou flye And search and pry Through all my parts, and, like a quick And knowing lamp, Hunt out each damp, Whose shadow makes me sad or sick ! what high joys ! The Turtle's voice And songs I hear ! quickning showers Of my Lord's blood, You make rocks bud, And crown dry hills with wells and flowers ! For this true ease This healing peace, For this [brief] taste of living glory, My soul and all, Kneel down and fall, And sing his sad victorious story ! O thorny crown More soft than down ! O painful Cross, my bed of rest ! spear, the key Opening the way ! O thy worst state, my onely best ! 232 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Oh ! all thy griefs Are my reliefs, As all my sins thy sorrows were ! And what can I, To this reply ? What, O God ! bnt a silent tear ? Some toil and sow That wealth may flow, And dress this earth for next year's meat: But let me heed Why thou didst bleed, And what in the next world to eat. Revel, chap. 19. ver. 9. Blessed are they which are called unto the marriage tiupper of the Lamb ! THE OBSEQUIES. INCE dying for me, thou didst crave no more Than common pay, Some few true tears, and those shed for My own ill way ; With a cheap, plain remembrance still Of thy sad death, Because forgetfulness would kill Even life's own breath : OR S iCKED POEMS. 233 I were most foolish and unkindo In my own sense, Should I not ever bear in niinde, If not thy mighty love, my own defense. Therefore those loose delights and lusts, which here Men call good chear, I will, close girt and tyed, For mourning sack-cloth wear all mortified. Not but that mourners too can have Rich weeds and shrouds ; For some wore White ev'n in thy grave, And joy, like light, shines oft in clouds : But thou, who didst man's whole life earn, Doest so invite and woo me still, That to be merry I want skill, And time to learn. Besides, those kerchiefs sometimes shed To make me brave, I cannot finde, but where thy head Was once laid for me in thy grave. Thy grave ! To which my thoughts shall move Like bees in storms unto their hive ; That from the murd'ring world's false love Thy death may keep my soul alive. 234 S1LEX SC1NTILLANS, THE WATER-FALL. 'ITH what deep murmurs, through time's silent stealth, Doth thy transparent, cool, and watry wealth Here flowing fall, And chide, and call, As if his liquid, loose retinue staid Lingring, and were of this steep place afraid ; The common pass, Where, clear as glass, All must descend Not to an end, But quickned by this deep and rocky grave, Rise to a longer course more bright and brave. Dear stream ! dear bank ! where often I Have sate, and pleas' d my pensive eye; Why, since each drop of thy quick store Runs thither whence it flow'd before, Should poor souls fear a shade or night, Who came (sure) from a sea of light? Or, since those drops are all sent back So sure to thee that none doth lack, Why should frail flesh doubt any more That what God takes He'll not restore ? useful element and clear ! My sacred wash and cleanser here ; OR SACRKD POKMS. 235 My Civsi. consigner unto those Fountains of life, where the Lamb goes! What sublime truths and wholesome themes Lodge in thy mystical, deep streams ! Such as dull man can never finde, Unless that Spirit lead his minde, Which first upon thy face did move And hatch'd all with his quick ning love. As this loud brook's incessant fall In streaming rings restagnates all, Which reach by course the bank, and then Are no more seen : just so pass men. my invisible estate, My glorious liberty, still late ! Thou art the channel my soul seeks, Not this with cataracts and creeks. QUICKNESS. &ALSE life! a foil, and no more, when Wilt thou be gone ? Thou foul deception of all men, That would not have the true come on ! Thou art a moon-like toil ; a blinde Self-posing state ; A dark contest of waves and winde ; A meer tempestuous debate. 236 SILEX SCINTILLANS, Life is a fix'd, discerning light, A knowing joy; No chance, or fit ; but ever bright, And calm, and full, yet doth not cloy. 'Tis such a blissful thing, that still Doth vivifie, And shine and smile, and hath the skill To please without eternity. Thou art a toylsom mole, or less, A moving mist. But life is, what none can express, A quickness, which my God hath hist. THE WREATH. JINCE I in storms us'd most to be, And seldom yielded flowers, How shall I get a wreath for thee From those rude, barren hours ? The softer dressings of the Spring, Or Summer's later store, I will not for Thy temples bring, Which tlwms, not roses, wore. But a twin'd wreath of grief and praise, Praise soil'd with tears, and tears again Shining with joy, like dewy days, This day I bring for all thy pain ; OR SACRED POEMS. 237 Thy causless pain ! and, sad as death, Which sadness breeds in the most vain, (O not in vain !) now beg thy breath, Thy quickning breath, which gladly bears Through saddest clouds to that glad place, Where cloudless quires sing without tears, Sing thy just praise, and see thy face. THE QUEER. TELL me whence that joy doth sprmo 1 &> Whose diet is divine and fair, Which wears heaven like a bridal ring, And tramples on doubts and despair ? Whose Eastern traffique deals in bright And boundless empyrean themes, Mountains of spice, day-stars and light, Green trees of life, and living streams? Tell me, O tell, who did thee bring, And here without my knowledge plac'd; Till thou didst grow and get a wing, A wing with eyes, and eyes that taste ? Sure, Hohjness the magnet is, And Love the lure, that woos thee down : Which makes the high transcendent 1)1; Of knowing thee, so rarely known! 238 SILEX SCINTILLANS, THE BOOK. TERGAL God! Maker of all That have liv'd here since the man's fall! The Rock of ages ! in whose shade They live unseen, when here they fade ! Thou knew'st this papijr, when it was Meer seed, and after that but grass ; Before 'twas drest or spun, and when Made linen, who did iuear it then : What were their lifes, their thoughts and deeds, Whether good com, or fruitless iveeds. Thou knewst this tree, when a green shade Cover'd it, since a cover made, And where it flourish'd, grew, and spread, As if it never should be dead. Thou knew'st this harmless beast, when he Did live and feed by thy decree On each green thing ; then slept, well fed, Cloath'd with this shin, which now lies spred A covering o're this aged book, Which makes me wisely weep, and look On my own dust ; meer dust it is, But not so dry and clean as this. Thou knew'st and saw'st them all, and though Now scatter'd thus, dost know them so. OB SACRED POKMS. 2M O knowing, glorious Spirit ! when Thou shalt restore trees, beasts and men, When thou shalt make all new again, Destroying onely death and pain, Give him amongst thy works a place, Who in them lov'd and sought thy lace ! TO THE HOLY BIBLE. BOOK ! life's guide ! how shall we part ; And thou so longseiz'd of my heart? Take this last kiss ; and let me weep True thanks to thee before I sleep, Thou wert the first put in my hand, When yet I could not understand, And daily didst my yong eyes lead To letters, till I learnt to read. But as rash youths, when once grown strong, Flye from their nurses to the throng, Where they new consorts choose, and stick To those till either hurt or sick ; So with that first light gain'd from thee Ran I in chase of vanity, Cryed dross for gold, and never thought My first cheap Book had all I sought. Long reign 'd this vogue ; and thou cast by With meek, dumb looks didst woo mine eye, And oft left open would'st convey 240 SILEX SCINT1LLANS, A sudden and most fearching ray Into my soul, with whose quick touch Refining still I strugled much. By this milde art of love at length Thou overcam'st my sinful strength, And having brought me home, didst there Shew me that pearl I sought elsewhere. Gladness, and peace, and hope, and love, The secret favors of the Dove ; Her quickning kindness, smiles and kisses, Exalted pleasures, crowning blisses, Fruition, union, glory, life Thou didst lead to, and still all strife. Living, thou wert my soul's sure ease, And dying mak'st me go in peace : Thy next effects no tongue can tell ; Farewel, O book of God ! farewel ! S. Luke, chap. 2. ver. 14. Glory he to God in the highest, and on Earth peace, good will towards men. L'ENVOY. THE new world's new-quickning Sun! Ever the same, and never done ! The seers of whose sacred light Shall all be drest in shining white, "—■■ OR SACRED POEMS. 243 And made conformable to his Immortal shape, who wrought their bliss ; Arise, arise ! And like old cloaths fold up these skies, This long worn veyl : then shine and spread Thy own bright self over each head, And through thy creatures pierce and pass, Till all becomes thy cloudless glass, Transparent as the purest day And without blemish or decay, Fixt by thy Spirit to a state For evermore immaculate ; A state fit for the sight of thy Immediate, pure, and unveil'd eye, A state agreeing with thy minde, A state thy birth and death design 'd: A state for which thy creatures all Travel and groan, and look, and call, O seeing thou hast paid our score, Why should the curse reign any more ? But since thy number is as yet Unfinish'd, we shall gladly sit Till all be ready, that the train May fully fit thy glorious reign. Onely, let not our haters brag Thy seamless coat is grown a rag, Or that thy truth was not here known, Because we forc'd thy judgements down. Dry up their arms who vex thy Spouse, And take the glory of thy house To deck their own ; then give thy saints That faithful zeal, which neither faints, Nor wildly burns, but meekly still 242 SILEX SCINTILLANS, OR SACRED POEMS. Dares own the truth, and shew the ill. Frustrate those cancerous, close arts, Which cause solution in all parts, And strike them dumb, who for meer words Wound thy beloved more than swords. Dear Lord, do this ! and then let grace Descend, and hallow all the place ; Incline each hard heart to do good, And cement us with thy Son's blood ; That like true sheep, all in one fold We may be fed, and one minde hold. Give watchful spirits to our guides ; For sin, like water, hourly glides By each man's door, and quickly will Turn in, if not obstructed still. Therefore write in their hearts thy law, And let these long, sharp judgements awe Their very thoughts, that by their clear And holy lives mercy may here Sit regent yet, and blessings flow As fast as persecutions now. So shall we know in war and peace Thy service to be our sole ease, With prostrate souls adoring Thee, Who turn'd our sad captivity ! S. Clemens apud Basil. Zrj Oebg Kai 6 Kvpiog 'Irja&g Xpiarbg, K,ai to Uvevjxa to ayiov* PIOUS THOUGHTS AND EJACULATIONS FROM A VOLUME ENTITLED THALIA REDIVIVA n PIOUS THOUGHTS AND EJACULATIONS. TO HIS BOOKS. RIGHT books ! the perspectives to our weak sights, The clear projections of discerning lights, Burning and shining thoughts, man's posthume day, The track of fled souls, and their milkie way, The dead alive and busie, the still voice Of enlarged spirits, kind Heaven's white decovs ! Who lives with you lives like those knowing flowers, Which in commerce with light spend all their hours ; Which shut to clouds, and shadows nicely shun, But with glad haste unveil to kiss the Sun. 246 PIOUS THOUGHTS Beneath you all is dark and a dead night, Which whoso lives in wants both health and sight. By sucking you the wise, like bees, do grow Healing and rich, though this they do most slow, Because most choicely ; for as great a store Have we of Books as bees of herbs, or more : And the great task to try, then know, the good, To discern weeds, and judge of wholesome food, Is a rare scant performance. For man dyes Oft ere 'tis done, while the bee feeds and flyes. But you were all choice flowers ; all set and drest By old, sage florists, who well knew the best : And I amidst you all am turned a weed ! Not wanting knowledge, but for want of heed. Then thank thyself, wild fool, that would'st not be Content to know, — what was too much for thee ! LOOKING BACK. ^7^® AIR, shining mountains of my pil- ^SJk grimage, %HI ^ n( ^ now ' r y vales, whose flow'rs ! ' sass * were stars ! The days and nights of my first happy age, An age without distast or warrs ! When I by thoughts ascend your sunny heads, And mind those sacred midnight lights AND EJACULATIONS. 2-17 By which I walked, when curtained rooms and beds Confined or sealed up others' sights ; O then, how bright And quick a light Doth brush my heart and scatter night ) Chasing that shade, Which my sins made, While I so spring, as if I could not fade. How brave a prospect is a bright back side, Where flow'rs and palms refresh the eye ! And days well spent like the glad East abide, Whose morning glories cannot dye ! THE SHOWER. ATERS above ! Eternal springs ! The dew that silvers the Dove's wings ! O welcom, welcom to the sad: Give dry dust drink, drink that makes glad ! Many fair ev'nings, many flow'rs Sweetened with rich and gentle showers, Have I enjoyed, and down have run Many a fine and shining sun ; But never, till this happy hour, Was blest with such an evening-shower ! 248 PIOUS THOUGHTS DISCIPLINE. AIR Prince of Life ! Light's living well! Who hast the keys of death and hell; If the mule man despise thy day, Put chains of darkness in his way. Teach him how deep, how various are The counsels of thy love and care. When acts of grace and a long peace, Breed but rebellion, and displease; Then give him his own way and will, Where lawless he may run, until His own choice hurts him, and the sting Of his foul sins full sorrows bring. If Heav'n and Angels, hopes and mirth, Please not the mole so much as earth, Give him his mine to dig, or dwell, And one sad scheme of hideous hell. THE ECLIPSE. «y\M HITHER, O whither didst thou fly; When did I grieve thy holy eye ? When thou didst mourn to see me lost, And all thy care and counsels crost. AND EJACULATIONS. 24 ( J O do not grieve, where'er thou art ! Thy grief is an undoing smart, Which doth not only pain, but break My heart, and makes me blush to speak. Thy anger I could kiss, and will ; But O ! thy grief, thy grief doth kill ! AFFLICTION. COME, and welcom ! come, refine ! For Moors, if washed by thee, will shine. Man blossoms at thy touch, and he, When thou drawst blood, is thy rose-tree. Crosses make straight his crooked ways, And clouds but cool his dog-star days ; Diseases too, when by thee blest, Are both restoratives and rest. Flowers that in sunshine riot still, Dye, scorched and sapless. Though storms kill, The fall is fair even to desire Where in their sweetness all expire. O come, pour on ! what calms can be So fair as storms that appease thee ? 250 PIOUS THOUGHTS RETIREMENT. RESH fields and woods ! the earth's fair face ! God's footstool and man's dwelling place ! I ask not why the first believer 1 Did love to be a country liver, Who to secure pious content Did pitch by groves and wells his tent, Where he might view the boundless skie, And all those glorious lights on high, With flying meteors, mists, and show'rs, Subjected hills, trees, meads, and flow'rs, And ev'ry minute bless the King, And wise Creator of each thing. I ask not why he did remove To happy Mamre's holy grove, Leaving the cities of the plain To Lot and his successless train. All various lusts in cities still Are found ; they are the thrones of ill ; The dismal sinks, where blood is spill'd, Cages with much uncleanness fill'd. But rural shades are the sweet sense Of piety and innocence ; They are the meek's calm region, where Angels descend and rule the sphere ; 1 Abraham. — Ed. ANT) EJACULATIONS. 251 Where Heaven lies leaguer, and the Dove Duely as dew comes from above. If Eden be on earth at all, 'Tis that which we the country call. THE REVIVAL. ENFOLD! unfold! Take in His light, Who makes thy cares more short ^ than night. && The joyes which with His day-star rise He deals to all but drowsie eyes ; And, (what the men of this world miss) Some drops and dews of future bliss. Hark ! how his winds have chang'd their note ! And with warm whispers call thee out. The frosts are past, the storms are gone, And backward life at last comes on. The lofty groves in express joyes Reply unto the turtle's voice ; And here in dust and dirt, O hero The lilies of His love appear ! 252 PIOUS THOUGHTS THE DAY- SPRING. ARLY, while yet the dark was gay And gilt with stars, more trim than day, Heaven's Lily, and the earth's chaste Rose, The green immortal Branch, arose, 1 And in a solitary place Bow'd to His Father His blest face. If this calm season pleased my Prince, Whose fulness no need could evince, Why should not I, poor silly sheep, His hours, as well as practice, keep ? Not that his hand is tyed to these, From whom time holds his transient lease; But mornings new creations are, When men, all night sav'd by His care, Are still reviv'd ; and well He may Expect them grateful with the day. So for that first drawght of His hand, Which finish'd Heaven, and sea, and land, The Sons of God their thanks did bring, And all the Morning stars did sing. 2 Besides, as His part heretofore The firstlings were of all that bore, So now each day from all He saves Their soul's first thoughts and fruits He craves. This makes Him daily shed and shower 1 S. Mark, c. i. v. 35. 2 Job, c. xxxviii. v. 7. AND EJACULATIONS. 2 His graces at this early hour ; Which both His care and kindness show, Chearing the good, quickning the slow. As holy friends mourn at delay, And think each minute an hour's stay, So His divine and loving Dove With longing throes doth heave and move, And soare about us while we sleep, Sometimes quite through that lock doth peep, And shine, but always without fail Before the slow scene ] can unveile, In new compassions breaks, like light, And morning-looks, which scatter night. And w r ilt thou let thy creature be, When thou hast watched, asleep to thee ? Why to unwelcome, loath'd surprizes Dost leave him, having left his vices ? Since these, if suffer' d, may again Lead back the living to the slain. change this scourge ! or if as yet None less will my transgressions fit, Dissolve, dissolve ! Death cannot do What I would not submit unto. THE RECOVERY. AIR vessel of our daily light, whose proud And previous glories gild that blush- ing cloud ; Whose lively fires in swift projections glance 1 " JSliu " in original. — Ed. I 254 PIOUS THOUGHTS From hill to hill, and by refracted chance Burnish some neighbour rock, or tree, and then Fly off in coy and winged flames agen ; — If thou this day Hold on thy way, Know I have got a greater light than thine ; A light, whose shade and back parts thee out- shine. 1 Then get thee down ; then get thee down ; I have a Sun now of my own. Those nicer livers, who without thy rays Stir not abroad, those may thy lustre praise ; And wanting light, light which no wants doth know, To thee, weak shiner, like blind Persians bow. But where that Sun, which tramples on thy head, From his own bright eternal eye doth shed One living ray, There thy dead day Is needless. Man is to a light made free, 2 Which shews what thou canst neither shew nor see! Then get thee down ; then get thee down ; I have a Sun now of my own. 1 " Make thee shine " in original. — Ed. 2 In the original the line reads — " Is needless, and man to a light made free." — Ed. D i. .J \' i LAT10NS. 255 THE NATIVITY. Written in the year 1050. yfc EACE ? and to all the world ? Sure One And He the Prince of Peace, hath none ! He travails to be born, and then Is born to travail more agen. Poor Galilee, thou can'st not be The place for His nativity. His restless mother's called away, And not deliver'd till she pay. A tax ? 'tis so still ! We can see The Church thrive in her misery, And, like her Head at Bethlem, rise, When she opprest with troubles lyes. Rise ? — Should all fall we cannot be In more extremities than He. Great type of passions ! come what will, Thy grief exceeds all copies still. Thou cam'st from heaven to earth, that we Might go from earth to heaven with Thee : And though Thou found'stno welcom here, Thou didst provide us mansions there. A stable was thy court, and when Men iiirnM to beasts, beasts would be men: They were thy courtiers ; others none ; 256 PIOUS THOUGHTS And their poor manger was thy throne. No swadling silks thy limbs did fold, Though Thou could'st turn thy rags 1 to gold. No rockers waited on thy birth, No cradles stirred, nor songs of mirth ; But her chaste lap and sacred brest, Which lodg'd Thee first, did give Thee rest. But stay ! what light is that doth stream And drop here in a gilded beam ? It is thy Star runs page, and brings Thy tributary Eastern Kings. Lord ! grant some light to us ; that we May with them find the way to Thee ! Behold what mists eclipse the day! How dark it is ! Shed down one ray, To guide us out of this sad night, And say once more, Let there be light ! THE TRUE CHRISTMAS. JO, stick up ivie and the bays, And then restore the Heathen ways. Green will remind you of the Spring, Though this great day denies the thing ; And mortifies the earth, and all But your wild revels and loose hall. Could you wear flow'rs, and roses strow, Blushing upon your breast's warm snow, 1 " Rays " in original. — Ed. AND i:JA( ILATIONS. 257 That very dress your lightness will Rebuke, and wither at the ill. The brightness of this day we owe Not unto music, masque, nor show e ; Nor gallant furniture, nor plate, But to the manger's mean estate. J I is life while here, as well as birth, Was but a check to pomp and mirth ; And all man's greatness you may sec Condemned by His humility. Then leave your open house and noise, To welcom him with holy joys, And the poor shepherds' watchfulness ; Whom light and hymns from Heav'n did bless What you abound with cast abroad To those that want, and ease your loude. Who empties thus will bring more in ; But riot is both loss and sin. Dress finely what comes not in sight. And then you keep your Christmas right ; THE REQUEST. THOU ! who didst deny to me This world's adored felicity, And ev'ry big imperious lust, Which fools admire in sinful dust, With those fine subtle twists that tye Their bundles of foul gallantry, — s 258 PIOUS THOUGHTS Keep still my weak eyes from the shine Of those gay things which are not thine. And shut my ears against the noise Of wicked, thongh applanded, joys ! For Thou in any land hast store Of shades and coverts for thy poor ; Where from the busie dust and heat, As well as storms, they may retreat. A rock or bush are downy beds, When Thou art there, crowning their heads With secret blessings, or a tire Made of the Comforter's live-fire. And when thy goodness in the dress Of anger, will not seem to bless, Yet do'st Thou give them that rich rain, Which as it drops clears all again. what kind visits daily pass 'Twixt Thy great Self and such poor grass ! With what sweet looks doth Thy love shine On those low violets of thine, While the tall tulip is accurst, And Crowns Imperial dye with thirst ! O give me still those secret meals, Those rare repasts which Thy love deals ! Give me that joy which none can grieve, And which in all griefs doth relieve. This is the portion thy child begs ; Not that of rust, and rags, and dregs. AND EJACULATIONS. 259 THE WORLD. 'AN any tell me what it is? Can you, That wind your thoughts into a cine, To guide out others, while yourselves slay in, And hug the sin ? I who so long in it have liv'd, That, if I might, In truth I would not be repriev'd, Have neither sight Nor sense that knows These ebbs and flows ; But since of all, all may be said, And likeliness doth but upbraid And mock the truth, which still is lost In fine conceits, like streams in a sharp frost ; I will not strive, nor the rule break, Which doth give losers leave to speak. Then false and foul world, and unknown Even to thy own, Here I renounce thee, and resign Whatever thou canst say is thine. Thou art not Truth ! for he that tries Shall find thee all deceit and lyes. Thou art not Friendship ! for in thee 'Tis but the bait of policie ; Which like a viper lodged in flowers, Its venom through that sweetness pours. 260 PIOUS THOUGHTS And when not so, then always 'tis A fading paint, the short-lived bliss Of air and humour, out and in, Like colours in a dolphin's skin : But must not live beyond one day, Or [for] convenience, then away. Thou art not Riches ! for that trash, Which one age hoards, the next doth wash, And so severely sweep away, That few remember where it lay. So rapid streams the wealthy land About them have at their command ; And shifting channels here restore, There break down, what they bank'd before. Thou art not Honour ! for those gay Feathers will wear and drop away ; And princes to some upstart line Give new ones, that are full as fine. Thou art not Pleasure ! For thy rose Upon a thorn doth still repose, Which, if not cropt, will quickly shed, But soon as cropt grows dull and dead. Thou art the sand which fills one glass, And then doth to another pass ; And could I put thee to a stay, Thou art but dust. Then go thy way, And leave me clean and bright, though poor ; Who stops thee doth but daub his floor ; And, swallow-like, when he hath done, To unknown dwellings must be gone. Welcome pure thoughts and peaceful hours, AND EJACULATIONS. 261 Enrich'd with sunshine and with show'rs ! Wei com fair hopes and holy cares, The not-to-be-repented shares Of time and business, the sure road Unto my last and loved abode ! O supreme bliss ! The circle, centre, and abyss Of blessings, never let me miss Nor leave that path, which leads to Thee, Who art alone all things to me ! I hear, I see, all the long day The noise and pomp of the "broad way ; " I note their coarse l and proud approaches, Their silks, perfumes, and glittering coachc . But in the "narrow way" to Thee I observe only poverty, And despised things ; and all along The ragged, mean, and humble throng Are still on foot ; and as they go They sigh, and say, their Lord went so ! Give me my staff then, as it stood When green and growing in the wood. (Those stones, which for the altar served. Might not be smooth'd nor finely carved :) With this poor stick I'll pass the ford, As Jacob did. And Thy dear word, As Thou hast dressed it, not as wit And deprav'd tastes have poison'd it, Shall in the passage be my meat, And none else will thy servant eat. i .. Course'' in original. — Ed, 262 PIOUS THOUGHTS Thus, thus, and in no other sort, Will I set forth, though laughed at for't ; And leaving the wise world their way, Go through, though judg'd to go astray. THE BEE. ROM fruitful beds and flowery bor- ders, Parcell'd to wasteful ranks and orders, Where state grasps more than plain truth needs, And wholesome herbs are starv'd by weeds, To the wild woods I will be gone, And the coarse meals of great Saint John. When truth and piety are mist Both in the rulers and the priest ; When pity is not cold, but dead, And the rich eat the poor like bread ; While factious heads, with open coile And force, first make, then share, the spoile ; To Horeb then Elias goes, And in the desart grows the rose. Haile chrystal fountains and fresh shades ! Where no proud look invades, No busie worldling hunts away The sad retirer all the day ! Haile, happy, harmless solitude ! Our sanctuary from the rude And scornful world ; the calm recess AND EJACULATIONS. 263 Of faith, and hope, and holiness ! Here something still like Eden looks ; Honey in woods, juleps in brooks ; And flowers, whose rich unrifled sweets With a chaste kiss the cool dew greets, When the toyls of the day are done, And the tir'd world sets with the sun. Here flying winds, and flowing wells, Are the wise watchful hermit's bells ; Their busie murmurs all the night To praise or prayer do invite, And with an awful sound arrest, And piously employ his breast. When in the east the dawn doth blush, Here cool, fresh spirits the air brush. Herbs strait get up, flowers peep and spread. Trees whisper praise, and bow the head ; Birds, from the shades of night releast, Look round about, then quit the neast, And with united gladness sing The glory of the morning's King. The hermit hears, and with meek voice Offers his own up, and their joys : Then prays that all the world may be Blest with as sweet an unity. If sudden storms the day invade, They flock about him to the shade, Where wisely they expect the end, Giving the tempest time to spend ; And hard by shelters on some bough Hilarion's servant, the sage crow. 264 PIOUS THOUGHTS purer years of light and grace ! Great is the difference, as the space, 1 'Twixt you and us, who blindly run After false fires and leave the sun. Is not fair Nature of herself Much richer than dull paint, or pelf ? And are not streams at the spring-head More sweet than in carv'd stone or lead ? But fancy and some artist's tools Frame a religion for fools. The truth, which once was plainly taught, With thorns and briars now is fraught. Some part is with bold fables spotted, Some by strange comments wildly blotted ; And discord (old corruption's crest,) With blood and blame have 2 stain'd the rest. So snow, which in its first descents A whiteness like pure Heav'n presents, When touched by man is quickly soil'd, And after trodden down and spoil'd. lead me, where I may be free In truth and spirit to serve Thee ! Where undisturb'd I may converse With thy great Self ; and there rehearse Thy gifts with thanks ; and from thy store, Who art all blessings, beg much more ! Give me the wisdom of the bee, And her unwearied industrie : 1 In the original this line runs — " The difference is great, as the space." — Ed. 2 Original has " hath." — Ed. AND EJACULATIONS. 265 That from the wild gourds of these days, I may extract health, and Thy praise, Who canst turn darkness into light, And in my weakness shew Thy might ! Suffer me not in any want To seek refreshment from a plant Thou didst not set ; since all must be Plucked up, whose growth is not from Thee. 'Tis not the garden, and the bowers, Nor sense and forms, that give to flowers Their wholesomeness ; but Thy good will, Which truth and pureness purchase still. Then since corrupt man hath driven hence Thy kind and saving influence, And Balm is no more to be had In all the coasts of Gilead ; Go with me to the shade and cell, Where thy best servants once did dwell. There let me know thy will, and see Exil'd religion owned by Thee ; For Thou canst turn dark grots to halls, And make hills blossome like the vales, Decking their untill'd heads with flowers, And fresh delights for all sad hours ; Till from them, like a laden bee, I may fly home, and hive with Thee ! 266 PIOUS THOUGHTS TO CHRISTIAN RELIGION. ARBWELL thou true and tried refection Of the still poor and meek Election ! Farewell, soul's joy, the quickening health Of spirits, and their secret wealth ! Farewell, my Morning Star, the bright And dawning looks of the true light ! O blessed shiner ! tell me whither Thou wilt be gone, when night comes hither ? A seer that observed thee in Thy course, and watched the growth of sin, Hath given his judgment, and foretold, That westward hence thy course will hold ; And when the day with us is done, There fix and shine a glorious sun. hated shades and darkness ! when You have got here the sway agen, And like unwholesome fogs withstood The light, and blasted all that's good, Who shall the happy shepherds be, To watch the next Nativity Of truth and brightness, and make way For the returning rising day ? ! what year will bring back our bliss ? Or who shall live, when God doth this ? Thou Rock of ages ! and the Rest AND EJACULATIONS, 267 Of all that for Thee are opprest ! Send down the Spirit of thy truth, That Spirit, which the tender youth, And first growths of thy spouse did spread Through all the world from one small head ! Then if to blood we must resist, Let thy mild Dove and our High Priest, Help us, when man proves false, or frowns, To bear the Cross and save our Crowns: O honour those that honour Thee ! Make babes to still the enemie : And teach an infant of few dav To perfect by his death thy praise : Let none defile what Thou didst wed, Nor tear the garland from her head ! But chaste and chearful let her dye, And precious in the Bridegroom's eye ! So to thy glory, and her praise, These last shall be her brightest dayes. Revel, chap, last, ver. 17. " The Spirit and the Bride say, Come" 268 PIOUS THOUGHTS DAPHNIS. An Elegiac Eclogue. [On the death of the Rev'd Thomas Vaughan, 1 '] The Interlocutors, Damon, Menalcas. Damon. ;HAT clouds, Menalcas, do oppress thy brow, Flowers in a sunshine never look so low. Is Nisa still cold flint ? or have thy lambs Met with the fox by straying from their dams ? Menalcas. Ah, Damon, no ! my lambs are safe ; and she Is kind, and much more white than they can be. But what doth life when most serene afford Without a worm which gnaws her fairest gourd ? Our days of gladness are but short reliefs, Giv'n to reserve us for enduring griefs : So smiling calms close tempests breed, which break Like spoilers out, and kill our flocks when weak. I heard last May, and May is still high spring, The pleasant Philomel her vespers sing. 1 The words in brackets were added by Mr. Ljte. — Ed. AND EJACULATIONS. 2G9 The green wood glitter'd with (lie golden sun, And all the west like silver shin'd ; not one Black cloud [appeared] ; no rags, no spot 1 did stain The welkin's beauty ; nothing frowned like rain. But ere night came that scene of fine sights turn'd To fierce dark shadows, the air with lightnings burn'd, The wood's sweet syren, rudely thus oppressed, Gave to the storm her weak and weary breast. I saw her next day on her last cold bed : And Daphnis so, just so is Daphnis, dead ! Damon. So violets, so doth the primrose, fall, At once the spring's pride, and its funeral. Such early 2 sweets get off still in their prime, And stay not here to wear the foil of time ; While coarser flowers, which none would miss, if past, To scorching summers and cold autumns last. Menalcas. Souls need not time. The early forward things Are always fledg'd, and gladly use their wings. 1 Original has " nor spots." — Ed. a Original has " easy." — Ed. 270 PIOUS THOUGHTS Or else great parts, when injured, quit the crowd, To shine above still, not behind, the cloud. And is't not just to leave those to the night That madly hate and persecute the light? Who, doubly dark, all negroes do exceed, And inwardly are true black Moores indeed ! Damon. The punishment still manifests the sin, As outward signs shew the disease within. While worth opprest mounts to a nobler height, And palm-like bravely overtops the weight. So where swift Isca from our lofty hills With loud farewells descends, and foaming fills A wider channel, like some great port- vein With large rich streams to feed the humble plain, I saw an oak, whose stately height and shade, Projected far, a goodly shelter made ; And from the top with thick diffused boughs In distant rounds grew, like a wood nymph's house. Here many garlands won at roundel-lays Old shepherds hung up in those happy days ; With knots and girdles, the dear spoils and dress Of such bright maids as did true lovers bless. And many times had old Amphion made His beauteous flock acquainted with this shade ; His flock, whose fleeces were as smooth and white As those the welkin shews in moonshine night. AND EJACULATIONS. 271 Here, when fche careless world did Bleep, have I In dark records and numbers nobly high The visions of our black, but brightest bard From old Amphion's mouth full often heard ; With all those plagues poor shepherds since have known, And riddles more which future times must own : While on his pipe young Hylas plaid, and made Music as solemn as the sons: and shade. But the curs'd owner from the trembling top To the firm brink did all those branches lop ; And in one hour what many years had bred, The pride and beauty of the plain, lay dead. The undone swains in sad songs mourn'd their loss, While storms and cold winds did encrease 1 the cross ; But nature, which, like virtue, scorns to yield, Brought new recruits and succours to the field; For by next spring the check'd sap waked from sleep, And upward still to feel the sun did creep; Till at those wounds the hated hewer made There sprang a thicker and a fresher shade. Mcnalcas. So thrives afflicted truth ! and so the light, When put out, gains a value from the night. 1 Original lias " improve." — Ed. 272 PIOUS THOUGHTS How glad are we, when but one twinkling star Peeps betwixt clouds more black than is our tar? And Providence was kind, that ordered this To the brave suff'rer should be solid bliss : Nor is it so till this short life be done, But goes hence with him, and is still his sun. Damon. Come, shepherds, then, and with your greenest bays Refresh his dust, who loved your learned lays. Bring here the florid glories of the spring, And, as you strew them, pious anthems sing ; Which to your children and the years to come May speak of Daphnis, and be never dumb. While prostrate I drop on his quiet urn My tears, not gifts ; and like the poor, that mourn With green but humble turfs, write o'er his hearse For false foul prose-men this fair truth in verse. " Here Daphnis sleeps ! and while the great watch goes " Of loud and restless time takes his repose. " Fame is but noise ; all learning but a thought, " Which one admires, another sets at nought : " Nature mocks both ; and wit still keeps adoe : " But death brings knowledge and assurance too." AM; EJACULATIONS- 273 Menalcas, Cast in your garlands ! strew on all the flowers, Which May with smiles or April feeds with showers ; Let this day's rites, as steadfast as the sun, Keep pace with time and through all ages run ; The public character and famous test Of our long sorrows and his lasting rest. And when we make procession on the plains, Or yearly keep the holy day of swains, Let Daphnis still be the recorded name, And solemn honour of our feasts and fame. For though the Isis and the prouder Thames Can shew his relics lodged hard by their streams, And must for ever to the honoured name Of noble Murrey l chiefly owe that fame : Yet here his stars first saw him, and when fate Beckoned him hence, it knew no other date. Nor will these vocal woods and vallies fail, Nor Isca's louder streams, this to bewail ; But while swains hope, and seasons change, will glide With moving murmurs because Daphnis di'd. Damon* A fatal sadness, such as still foregoes, Then runs along with public plagues and woes, 1 Sir Robert Murray, Thomas Vaughan's patron. See Biography, p. xix. — Ed. T 274 PIOUS THOUGHTS Lies heavy on us ; and the very light Turn'd mourner too, hath the dull looks of night. Our vales, like those of death, a darkness shew More sad than Cypress or the gloomy Yew. And on our hills, where health with height complied, Thick drowsy mists hang round, and there reside. Not one short parcel of the tedious year In its own dress and beauty doth appear. Flowers hate the spring ; and with a sullen bend Thrust down their heads, which to the root still tend. And though the Sun, like a cold lover, peeps A little at them, still the days- eye sleeps, Bat when the Crab and Lion with acute And active fires their sluggish heat recruit, Our grass straight russets, and each scorching day Drinks up our brooks as fast as dew in May ; Till the sad herdsman with his cattel faints, And empty channels ring with loud complaints. Menalcas. Heaven's just displeasure and our unjust ways Change nature's course ; bring plagues, dearth, and decays. This turns our land to dust, the skies to brass, Makes old kind blessings into curses pass : And when we learn unknown and forraigncrim.es Brings in the vengeance due unto those climes. The dregs and puddle of all ages now, Like rivers near their fall, on us do flow. Ah, happy Daphnis ! who while yet the streams AND EJACULATIONS. 275 Km n clear and warm, though but with setting beams, Got through, and saw by that declining light His toil's and journey's end before the night. Damon. A night, where darkness lays her chains and bars, And feral fires appear instead of stars : Bat he along with the last looks of day Went hence, and setting (suniike) past away. What future storms our present sins do hatch Some in the dark discern, and others watch ; Though foresight makes no hurricane prove mild, Fury that's long fermenting is most wild. But see, while thus our sorrows we discourse, Phoebus hath finish't his diurnal course ; The shades prevail : each bush seems bigger grown ; Darkness, like state, makes small things swell and frown : The hills and woods with pipes and sonnets round, And bleating sheep our swains drive home, resound. Menalcas. What voice from yonder lawn tends hither ? Hark! Tis Thyrsis calls ! I hear Lycanthe bark ! His flocks left out so late, and weary grown, Are to the thickets gone, and there laid down. 276 - PIOUS THOUGHTS. Damon, Menalcas, haste to look them out ! Poor sheep When day is done go willingly to sleep: And could bad man his time spend as they do, He might go sleep, or die, as willing too. Menalcas. Farewell, kind Damon! now the shepherd's star With beauteous looks smiles on us though from far. All creatures that were favorites of day Are with the sun retir'd and gone away. While feral birds send forth unpleasant notes, And night, the nurse of thoughts, sad thoughts promotes : But joy will yet come with the morning-light, Though sadly now 'we bid good night ! Damon. Good night ! J TTTE END. CHISWICK PRESS! — C. WHITTINGHAM AND CO. TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE. a