CHRISTS VICTORIE
in Heaven.
1
THe birth of him that no beginning knewe,
The Argument propounded in generall: Our redemption by Christ.
Yet giues beginning to all that are borne,
And how the Infinite farre greater grewe,
By growing lesse, and how the rising Morne,
[...]hat shot from heau'n, did backe to heauen retourne,
The obsequies of him that could not die,
And death of life, ende of eternitie,
[...]ow worthily he died, that died vnworthily;
2
[...]ow God, and Man did both embrace each other,
[...]et in one person, heau'n, and earth did kiss,
[...]nd how a Virgin did become a Mother,
[...]nd bare that Sonne, who the worlds Father is,
[...]nd Maker of his mother, and how Bliss
Descended from the bosome of the High,
To cloath himselfe in naked miserie,
[...]yling at length to heau'n, in earth, triumphantly,
3
[...] the first flame, wherewith my whiter Muse
[...]oth burne in heauenly loue, such loue to tell.
The Authors Inuocation, for the better handling of it.
[...] thou that didst this holy fire infuse,
[...]nd taught'st this brest, but late the graue of hell,
[Page 2] Wherein a blind, and dead heart liu'd, to swell
With better thoughts, send downe those lights that len
[...]
Knowledge, how to begin, and how to end
The loue, that neuer was, nor euer can be pend.
4
Ye sacred writings in whose antique leaues
The memories of heau'n entreasur'd lie,
Say, what might be the cause that Mercie heaues
The dust of sinne aboue th'industrious skie;
And lets it not to dust, and ashes flie?
Could Iustice be of sinne so ouer-wooed,
Or so great ill be cause of so great good,
That bloody man to saue, mans Sauiour shed his blood?
5
Or did the lips of Mercie droppe soft speech
The Argument, Mans redemption, expounded from the cause. Mercie
For traytrous man, when at th'Eternalls throne
Incensed Nemesis did heau'n beseech
With thundring voice, that iustice might be showne
Against the Rebells, that from God were flowne;
O say, say how could Mercie plead for those
That scarcely made, against their Maker rose?
Will any slay his friend, that he may spare his foes?
6
There is a place beyond that flaming hill
From whence the starres their thin apparance shed,
Dwelling in heauen
A place, beyond all place, where neuer ill,
Nor impure thought was euer harboured,
But Sainctly Heroes are for euer s'ed
To keepe an euerlasting Sabbaoths rest,
Still wishing that, of what th'ar still possest,
Enioying but one ioy, but one of all ioyes best.
7
[...]ere, when the ruine of that beauteous frame,
And pleading for mā now guilde.
Whose golden building shin'd with euerie starre
[...]f excellence, deform'd with age became,
MERCY, remembring peace in midst of warre,
[...]ft vp the musique of her voice, to barre
Eternall fate, least it should quite erace
That from the world, which was the first worlds grace,
[...]d all againe into their, nothing, Chaos chase.
8
[...] what had all this All, which Man in one
[...]d not vnite; the earth, aire, water, fire,
[...]e, sense, and spirit, nay the powrefull throne
[...] the diuinest Essence, did retire,
[...]d his owne Image into clay inspire:
So that this Creature well might called be
Of the great world, the small epitomie,
[...] the dead world, the liue, and quicke anatomie.
9
[...]t Iustice had no sooner Mercy seene
with Iustice, described
[...]oothing the wrinkles of her Fathers browe,
[...] vp she starts, and
[...]rowes her selfe betweene.
[...] when a vapour, from a moory slough,
[...]eting with fresh Eous, that but now
Open'd the world, which all in darkenesse lay,
Doth heau'ns bright face of his rayes disaray,
[...]d sads the smiling orient of the springing day.
10
[...] was a Virgin of austere regard,
by her qualities.
[...]t as the world esteemes her, deafe, and blind,
[...]t as the Eagle, that hath oft compar'd
[...] eye with heau'ns, so, and more brightly shin'd
[Page 4] Her lamping sight: for she the same could winde
Into the solid heart, and with her eares,
The silence of the thought loude speaking heares,
And in one hand a paire of euen scoals she weares.
11
No riot of affection reuell kept
Within her brest, but a still apathy
Possessed all her soule, which softly slept,
Securely, without tempest, no sad crie
Awakes her pittie, but wrong'd pouertie,
Sending his eyes to heau'n swimming in teares,
With hideous clamours euer struck her eares,
Whetting the blazing sword, that in her hand she beares.
12
The winged Lightning is her Mercury,
And round about her mightie thunders sound:
Her Retinue.
Impatient of himselfe lies pining by
Pale Sicknes, with his kercher'd head vpwound,
And thousand noysome plagues attend her round,
But if her clowdie browe but once growe foule,
The flints doe melt, and rocks to water rowle,
And ayrie mountaines shake, and frighted shadowes how
[...]
13
Famine, and bloodles Care, and bloodie Warre,
Want, and the Want of knowledge how to vse
Abundance, Age, and Feare, that runnes afarre
Before his fellowe Greefe, that aye pursues
His winged steps; for who would not refuse
Greefes companie, a dull, and rawebon'd spright,
That lankes the cheekes, and pales the freshest sight,
Vnbosoming the cheerefull brest of all delight;
14
Before this cursed throng, goes Ignorance,
That needes will leade the way he cannot see:
And after all, Death doeth his flag aduaunce,
And in the mid'st, Strife still would roaguing be,
Whose ragged flesh, and cloaths did well agree:
And round about, amazed Horror flies,
And ouer all, Shame veiles his guiltie eyes,
And vnderneth, Hells hungrie throat still yawning lies.
15
Vpon two stonie tables, spread before her,
She lean'd her bosome, more then stonie hard,
There slept th'vnpartiall iudge, and strict restorer
Her Subiect.
Of wrong, or right, with paine, or with reward,
There hung the skore of all our debts, the card
Whear good, and bad, and life, and death were painted:
Was neuer heart of mortall so vntainted,
But when that scroule was read, with thousand terrors fainted.
16
Witnes the thunder that mount Sinai heard,
When
[...] hill with firie clouds did flame,
And
[...] Israel, with the sight afeard,
Blinded
[...] seeing, durst not touch the same,
But like a wood of shaking leaues became.
On this dead Iustice, she, the Liuing Lawe,
Bowing herselfe with a maiestique awe,
All heau'n, to heare her speech, did into silence drawe.
17
Dread Lord of Spirits, well thou did'st deuise
To fling the worlds rude dunghill, and the drosse
Her accusation of Mans sinne.
Of the ould Chaos, farthest from the skies,
And thine owne seate, that heare the child of losse,
[Page 6] Of all the lower heau'n the curse, and crosse,
That wretch, beast, caytiue, monster Man, might spend,
(Proude of the mire, in which his soule is pend)
Clodded in lumps of clay, his wearie life to end.
18
His bodie dust: whear grewe such cause of pride?
His soule thy Image: what could he enuie?
And 1. of Adams first sinne.
Himselfe most happie: if he so would bide:
Now grow'n most wretched, who can remedie?
He slewe himselfe, himselfe the enemie.
That his owne soule would her owne murder wreake,
If I were silent, heau'n and earth would speake,
And if all fayl'd, these stones would into clamours breake.
19
How many darts made furrowes in his side,
When she, that out of his owne side was made,
Gaue feathers to their flight? whear was the pride
Of their newe knowledge; whither did it fade,
When, running from thy voice into the shade,
He fled thy sight, himselfe of sight bereau'd;
And for his shield a leauie armour weau'd,
With which, vain mā, he thought Gods eies to
[...]
20
And well he might delude those eyes, that see,
And iudge by colours: for who euer sawe
A man of leaues, a reasonable tree?
But those that from this stocke their life did drawe,
Then of his posterities, in all kinde of Idolatrie.
Soone made their Father godly, and by lawe
Proclaimed Trees almightie: Gods of wood,
Of stocks, and stones with crownes of laurell stood
Templed, and fed by fathers with their childrens blood.
21
The sparkling fanes, that burne in beaten gould,
And, like the starres of heau'n in mid'st of night,
[...]lacke Egypt, as her mirrhours, doth behould,
[...]re but the denns whear idoll-snakes delight
[...]gaine to couer Satan from their sight:
Yet these are all their gods, to whome they vie
The Crocodile, the Cock, the Rat, the Flie.
[...] gods, indeede, for such men to be serued by.
22
[...]e Fire, the winde, the sea, the sunne, and moone,
[...]e flitting Aire, and the swift-winged How'rs,
[...]d all the watchmen, that so nimbly runne,
[...]d centinel about the walled towers
[...] the worlds citie, in their heau'nly bowr's.
And, least their pleasant gods should want delight,
Neptune spues out the Lady Aphrodite,
[...]d but in heauen proude Iunos peacocks skorne to lite.
23
[...]e senselesse Earth, the Serpent, dog, and catte,
[...]d woorse then all these, Man, and woorst of men
[...]rping Ioue, and swilling Bacchus fat,
[...]d drunke with the vines purple blood, and then
[...]e Fiend himselfe they coniure from his denne,
Because he onely yet remain'd to be
Woorse then the worst of men, they flie from thee,
[...]d weare his altar-stones out with their pliant knee.
24
[...] that he speakes (and all he speakes are lies)
[...]e oracles, 'tis he (that wounded all)
[...]res all their wounds, he (that put out their eyes)
[...]at giues them light, he (that death first did call
[Page 8] Into the world) that with his orizall,
Inspirits earth: he heau'ns al-seeing eye,
He earths great Prophet, he, whom rest doth flie,
That on salt billowes doth, as pillowes, sleeping lie.
25
But let him in his cabin restles rest,
The dungeon of darke flames, and freezing fire,
How hopelesse any patronage of
[...].
Iustice in heau'n against man makes request
To God, and of his Angels doth require
Sinnes punishment: if what I did desire,
Or who, or against whome, or why, or whear,
Of, or before whom ignorant I wear,
Then should my speech their sands of sins to mountaines
[...]ea
[...]
26
Wear not the heau'ns pure, in whose courts I sue,
The Iudge, to whom I sue, iust to requite him,
The cause for sinne, the punishment most due,
Iustice her selfe the plaintiffe to endite him,
The Angells holy, before whom I cite him,
He against whom, wicked, vniust, impure;
Then might he sinnefull liue, and die secure,
Or triall might escape, of triall might endure,
27
The Iudge might partiall be, and ouer-pray'd,
The place appeald from, in whose courts he sues,
The fault excus'd, or punishment delayd,
The parties selfe accus'd, that did accuse,
Angels for pardon might their praiers vse:
But now no starre can shine, no hope be got.
Most wretched creature, if he knewe his lot,
And yet more wretched farre, because he knowes it not.
28
What should I tell how barren earth is growne,
All the Creatures hauing disleagued themselues with him
[...]ll for to sterue her children, didst not thou
[...]ater with heau'nly showers her wombe vnsowne,
[...]nd drop downe cloudes of flow'rs, didst not thou bowe
[...]ine easie eare vnto the plowmans vowe,
Long might he looke, and looke, and long in vaine
Might load his haruest in an emptie wayne,
[...]d beat the woods, to finde the poore okes hungrie graine.
29
[...]he swelling sea seethes in his angrie waues,
[...]d smites the earth, that dares the traytors nourish,
[...]t oft his thunder their light corke outbraues,
[...]owing the mountaines, on whose temples flourish
[...]hole woods of garlands, and, their pride to cherish,
Plowe through the seaes greene fields, and nets display
To catch the flying winds, and steale away,
[...]oozning the greedie sea, prisning their nimble prey.
30
[...]w often haue I seene the wauing pine,
[...]st on a watrie mountaine, knocke his head
[...] heau'ns too patient gates, and with salt brine
[...]ench the Moones burning hornes, and safely fled
[...]m heau'ns reuenge, her passengers, all dead
With stiffe astonishment, tumble to hell?
How oft the sea all earth would ouerswell,
[...]d not thy sandie girdle binde the mightie well?
31
[...]ould not the aire be fill'd with steames of death,
[...] poyson the quicke riuers of their blood,
[...]d not thy windes fan, with their panting breath,
[...]e flitting region? would not the hastie flood
[Page 10] Emptie it selfe into the seas wide wood,
Did'st not thou leade it wandring from his way,
To giue men drinke, and make his waters strey,
To fresh the flowrie medowes, through whose fields they play
[...]
32
Who makes the sources of the siluer fountaines
From the flints mouth, and rocky valleis slide,
Thickning the ayrie bowells of the mountaines?
Who hath the wilde heards of the forrest tide
In their cold denns, making them hungrie bide
Till man to rest be laid? can beastly he,
That should haue most sense, onely senseles be,
And all things else, beside himselfe, so awefull see?
33
Wear he not wilder then the saluage beast,
Prowder then haughty hills, harder then rocks,
Colder then fountaines, from their springs releast,
Lighter then aire, blinder then senseles stocks,
More changing then the riuers curling locks,
If reason would not, sense would soone reprooue him,
And vnto shame, if not to sorrow, mooue him,
For his extreame vngratefulnes.
To see cold floods, wild beasts, dul stocks, hard stones out-l
[...]
34
Vnder the weight of sinne the earth did fall,
And swallowed Dathan; and the raging winde,
And stormie sea, and gaping Whale, did call
For Ionas; and the aire did bullets finde,
And shot from heau'n a stony showre, to grinde
The fiue proud Kings, that for their idols fought,
The Sunne it selfe stood still to fight it out,
And fire frō heau'n slew downe, when sin to heau'n did
[...]
35
[...]hould any to himselfe for safety flie?
So that beeing destitute of all hope, or any remedie.
The way to saue himselfe, if any were,
[...]ear to flie from himselfe: should he relie
Vpon the promise of his wife? but there,
[...]hat can he see, but that he most may feare,
A Syren, sweete to death: vpon his friends?
Who that he needs, or that he hath not lends?
[...]r wanting aide himselfe, ayde to another sends?
36
[...]is strength? but duft: his pleasure? cause of paine:
[...]s hope? false courtier: youth, or beawtie? brittle:
[...]treatie? fond: repentance? late, and vaine:
[...]st recompence? the world wear all too little:
[...]y loue? he hath no title to a tittle:
Hells force? in vaine her furies hell shall gather:
His Seruants, Kinsmen, or his children rather?
[...]is child, if good, shall iudge, if bad, shall curse his father.
37
[...]is life? that brings him to his end, and leaues him:
[...]is ende? that leaues him to beginne his woe:
[...]s goods? what good in that, that so deceaues him?
[...]s gods of wood? their feete, alas, are slowe
[...] goe to helpe, that must be help't to goe:
Honour, great woorth? ah, little woorth they be
Vnto their owners: wit? that makes him see
[...] wanted wit, that thought he had it, wanting thee.
38
[...]e sea to drinke him quicke? that casts his dead:
[...]ngells to spare? they punish: night to hide?
[...]e world shall burne in light: the heau'ns to spread
[...]heir wings to saue him? heau'n it selfe shall slide,
[Page 12] And rowle away like melting starres, that glide
Along their oylie threads: his minde pursues him:
His house to shrowde, or hills to fall, and bruse him?
As Seargeants both attache, and witnesses accuse him:
39
What need I vrge, what they must needs confesse?
Sentence on them, condemn'd by their owne lust;
I craue no more, and thou canst giue no lesse,
He can look for nothing, but a fearful sentence.
Then death to dead men, iustice to vniust;
Shame to most shamefull, and most shameles dust:
But if thy Mercie needs will spare her friends,
Let Mercie there begin, where Iustice endes.
Tis cruell Mercie, that the wrong from right defends.
40
She ended, and the heau'nly Hierarchies,
The effect of Iustice her speech: the inflammation of the heauenly Powers,
Burning in zeale, thickly imbranded weare:
Like to an armie, that allarum cries,
And euery one shakes his ydraded speare,
And the Almighties selfe, as he would teare
The earth, and her firme basis quite in sunder,
Flam'd all in iust reuenge, and mightie thunder,
Heau'n stole it selfe from earth by clouds that moisterd vnd
[...]
41
As when the cheerfull Sunne, elamping wide,
Appeased by Mercie, who is described by her cherfulnes to defend Man.
Glads all the world with his vprising raye,
And wooes the widow'd earth afresh to pride,
And paint her bosome with the flowrie Maye,
His silent sister steales him quite away,
Wrap't in a sable clowde, from mortall eyes,
The hastie starres at noone begin to rise,
And headlong to his early roost the sparrowe flies.
42
But soone as he againe dishadowed
[...]is,
Restoring the blind world his blemish't sight,
As though another day wear newely ris,
The cooz'ned birds busily take their flight,
And wonder at the shortnesse of the night:
So Mercie once againe her selfe displayes,
Out from her sisters cloud, and open layes
Those sunshine lookes, whose beames would dim a thousand dayes.
43
How may a worme, that crawles along the dust,
Clamber the azure mountaines, thrown so high,
Our inabilitie to describe her.
And fetch from thence they faire Idea iust,
That in those sunny courts doth hidden lie,
Cloath'd with such light, as blinds the Angels eye;
How may weake mortall euer hope to file
His vnsmooth tongue, and his deprostrate stile?
[...] raise thou from his corse, thy now entomb'd exile.
44
One touch would rouze me from my sluggish hearse,
One word would call me to my wished home,
One looke would polish my afflicted verse,
One thought would steale my soule from her thicke lome,
And force it wandring vp to heau'n to come,
Thear to importune, and to beg apace
One happy fauour of thy sacred grace,
To see, (what though it loose her eyes?) to see thy face.
Her beautie, resembled by the creatures, which are all fraile shadows of her essentiall perfection.
45
If any aske why roses please the sight,
Because their leaues vpon thy cheel
[...]es doe bowre;
If any aske why lillies are so white,
Because their blossoms in thy hand doe flowre:
[Page 14] Or why sweet plants so gratefull odours shoure;
It is because thy breath so like they be:
Or why the Orient Sunne so bright we see;
What reason can we giue, but from thine eies, and thee?
46
Ros'd all in liuely crimsin ar thy cheeks,
Whear beawties indeflourishing abide,
And, as to passe his fellowe either seekes,
Seemes both doe blush at one anothers pride:
And on thine eyelids, waiting thee beside,
Ten thousand Graces sit, and when they mooue
To earth their amourous belgards from aboue,
Her Attendants.
They flie from heau'n, and on their wings conuey thy loue.
47
All of discolour'd plumes their wings a
[...] made,
And with so wondrous art the quills a
[...] wrought,
That whensoere they cut the ayrie glade,
The winde into their hollowe pipes is caught:
As seemes the spheres with them they down haue brought:
Like to the seauen-fold reede of Arcadie,
Which Pan of Syriux made, when she did flie
To Ladon sands, and at his sighs sung m
[...]ly.
48
As melting hony, dropping from the combe,
So still the words, that spring between thy lipps,
Her perswasiue power.
Thy lippes, whear smiling sweetnesse keepes her home,
And heau'nly Eloquence pure manna sipps,
He that his pen but in that fountaine dipps,
How nimbly will the golden phrases flie,
And shed forth streames of choycest rhetorie,
Welling celestiall torrents out of poësie?
49
Like as the thirstie land, in summers heat,
Calls to the cloudes, and gapes at euerie showre,
As though her hungry clifts all heau'n would eat,
Which if high God into her bosome powre,
Though much refresht, yet more she could deuoure:
So hang the greedie ears of Angels sweete,
And euery breath a thousand cupids meete,
Some flying in, some out, and all about her fleet.
50
Vpon her breast, Delight doth softly sleepe,
And of eternall ioy is brought abed,
Those snowie mountelets, through which doe creepe
The milkie riuers, that ar inly bred
In siluer cesternes, and themselues doe shed
To wearie Trauailers, in heat of day,
To quench their fierie thrist, and to allay
With dropping nectar floods, the furie of their way.
51
If any wander, thou doest call him backe,
Her kind offices to Man.
If any be not forward thou incit'st him,
Thou doest expect, if any should growe slacke,
If any seeme but willing, thou inuit'st him,
Or if he doe offend thee, thou acquit'st him,
Thou find'st the lost, and follow'st him that flies,
Healing the sicke, and quickning him that dies,
Thou art the lame mans friendly staffe, the blind mans eyes.
52
So faire thou art that all would thee behold,
But none can thee behold, thou art so faire,
Pardon, O pardon then thy Vassall bold,
That with poore shadowes striues thee to compare,
[Page 16] And match the things, which he knowes matchlesse are;
O thou vive mirrhour of celestiall grace,
How can fraile colours pourtraict out thy face,
Or paint in flesh thy beawtie, in such semblance base?
53
Her vpper garment was a silken lawne,
With needle-woorke richly embroidered,
Her Garments, wrought by her owne hands, wherwith shee cloaths her selfe, composd of all the Creatures,
Which she her selfe with her owne hand had drawne,
And all the world therein had pourtrayed,
With threads, so fresh, and liuely coloured,
That seem'd the world she newe created thear,
And the mistaken eye would rashly swear
The silken trees did growe, and the beasts liuing wear.
54
Low at her feet the Earth was cast alone,
The Earth,
(As though to kisse her foot it did aspire,
And gaue it selfe for her to tread vpon)
With so vnlike, and different attire,
That euery one that sawe it, did admire
What it might be, was of so various hewe;
For to it selfe it oft so diuerse grewe,
That still it seem'd the same, and still it seem'd a newe.
55
And here, and there few men she scattered,
(That in their thought the world esteeme but small,
And themselues great) but she with one fine thread
So short, and small, and slender woue them all,
That like a sort of busie ants, that crawle
About some molehill, so they wandered:
And round about the wauing Sea was shed,
Sea,
But, for the siluer sands, small pearls were sprinkled.
56
So curiously the vnderworke did creepe,
And curling circlets so well shadowed lay,
That afar off the waters seem'd to sleepe,
But those that neere the margin pearle did play,
Hoarcely enwaued wear with hastie sway,
As though they meant to rocke the gentle eare,
And hush the former that enslumbred wear,
And here a dangerous rocke the flying ships did fear.
57
High in the ayrie element there hung
Ayre,
Another clowdy sea, that did disdaine
(As though his purer waues from heauen sprung)
To crawle on earth, as doth the sluggish maine:
But it the earth would water with his raine,
That eb'd, and flow'd, as winde, and season would,
And oft the Sun would cleaue the limber mould
To alabaster rockes, that in the liquid rowl'd.
58
Beneath those sunny banks, a darker cloud,
Dropping with thicker deaw, did melt apace,
And bent it selfe into a hollowe shroude,
On which, if Mercy did but cast her face,
A thousand colours did the bowe-enchace,
That wonder was to see the silke distain'd
With the resplendance from her beawtie gain'd,
And Iris paint her locks with beames, so liuely feign'd.
59
About her head a cyprus heau'n she wore,
The celestiall bodies,
Spread like a veile, vpheld with siluer wire,
In which the starres so burn't in golden ore,
As seem'd, the azure web was all on fire,
[Page 18] But hastily, to quench their sparkling ire,
A flood of milke came rowling vp the shore,
That on his curded
[...]aue swift Argus bore,
And the immortall swan, that did her life deplore.
60
Yet strange it was, so many starres to see
Without a Sunne, to giue their tapers light:
Yet strange it was not, that it so should be:
For, where the Sunne centers himselfe by right,
Her face, and locks did flame, that at the sight,
The heauenly veile, that else should nimbly mooue,
Forgot his flight, and all incens'd with loue,
With wonder, and amazement, did her beautie prooue.
61
Ouer her hung a canopie of state,
The third heauen.
Not of rich tissew, nor of spangled gold,
But of a substance, though not animate,
Yet of a heau'nly, and spirituall mould,
That onely eyes of Spirits might behold:
Such light as from maine rocks of diamound,
Shooting their sparks at Phebus, would rebound,
And little Angels, holding hands, daunc't all around.
62
Seemed those little sprights, through nimbless bold,
The stately canopy bore on their wings,
But them it selfe, as pendants, did vphold,
Besides the crownes of many famous kings,
Among the rest, thear Dauid euer sings,
And now, with yeares growne young, renewes his laye
[...]
Vnto his golden harpe, and ditties playes,
Psalming aloud in well tun'd songs his Makers prayse.
63
Thou self-Idea of all ioyes to come,
Whose loue is such, would make the rudest speake,
Whose loue is such, would make the wisest dumbe,
O when wilt thou thy too long silence breake,
And ouercome the strong to saue the weake!
If thou no weapons hast, thine eyes will wound
Th' Almighties selfe, that now sticke on the ground,
As though some blessed obiect thear did them empound.
Her Obiects.
64
Ah miserable Abiect of disgrace,
Repentance.
What happines is in thy miserie?
I both must pittie, and enuie thy case.
For she, that is the glorie of the skie,
Leaues heauen blind, to fix on thee her eye.
Yet her (though Mercies selfe esteems not small)
The world despisd', they her Repentance call,
And she her selfe despises, and the world, and all.
65
Deepely, alas empassioned she stood,
To see a flaming brand, tost vp from hell,
Boyling her heart in her owne lustfull blood,
That oft for torment she would loudely yell,
Now she would sighing sit, and nowe she fell
Crouching vpon the ground, in sackcloath trust,
Early, and late she prayed, and fast she must,
And all her haire hung full of ashes, and of dust.
66
Of all most hated, yet hated most of all
Of her owne selfe she was; disconsolat
(As though her flesh did but infunerall
Her buried ghost) she in an arbour sat
[Page 20] Of thornie brier, weeping her cursed state,
And her before a hastie riuer fled,
Which her blind eyes with faithfull penance fed,
And all about, the grasse with tears hung downe his head.
67
Her eyes, though blind abroad, at home kept fast,
Inwards they turn'd, and look't into her head,
At which shee often started, as aghast,
To see so fearfull spectacles of dread,
And with one hand, her breast shee martyred,
Wounding her heart, the same to mortifie,
The other a faire damsell held her by,
Faith.
Which if but once let goe, shee sunke immediatly.
68
But Faith was quicke, and nimble as the heau'n,
As if of loue, and life shee all had been,
And though of present sight her sense were reauen,
Yet shee could see the things could not be seen:
Beyond the starres, as nothing wear between,
She fixt her sight, disdeigning things belowe,
Into the sea she could a mountaine throwe,
And make the Sun to stande, and waters backewards flowe.
69
Such when as Mercie her beheld from high,
In a darke valley, drownd with her owne tears,
One of her graces she sent hastily,
Smiling Eirene, that a garland wears
Of guilded oliue, on her fairer hears,
To crowne the fainting soules true sacrifice,
Whom when as sad Repentance comming spies,
The holy Desperado wip't her swollen eyes.
70
But Mercie felt a kinde remorse to runne
Her deprecative spech for Man, in which
Through her soft vaines, and therefore, hying fast
To giue an end to silence, thus begunne.
Aye-honour'd Father, if no ioy thou hast
But to reward desert, reward at last
The Deuils voice, spoke with a serpents tongue,
Fit to hisse out the words so deadly stung,
And let him die, deaths bitter charmes so sweetely sung.
71
He was the father of that hopeles season,
She trāslates the principal fault vnto the Deuill.
That to serue other Gods, forgot their owne,
The reason was, thou wast aboue their reason:
They would haue any Gods, rather then none,
A
[...]beasily serpent, or a senselesse stone:
And these, as Iustice bates, so I deplore:
But the vp-plowed heart, all rent, and tore,
Though wounded by it selfe, I gladly would restore.
72
He was but dust; Why fear'd he not to fall?
And repeating Iustice her aggravation of mans sinne.
And beeing fall'n, how can he hope to liue?
Cannot the hand destroy him, that made all?
Could be not take away, aswell as giue?
Should man depraue, and should not God depriue?
Was it not all the worlds deceiuing spirit,
(That, bladder'd vp with pride of his owne merit,
Fell in his rise) that him of heau'n did disinherit?
73
He was but dust: how could he stand before him?
Mittigates it
[...]. by a cō trarie i
[...]ference.
And beeing fall'n, why should he feare to die?
Cannot the hand that made him first, restore him?
Deprau'd of sinne, should he depriued lie
[Page 22] Of grace? can he not hide infirmitie
That gaue him strength? vnworthy the forsaking,
He is, who euer weighs, without mistaking,
Or Maker of the man, or manner of his making.
74
Who shall thy temple incense any more;
Or to thy altar crowne the sacrifice;
Or strewe with idle flow'rs the hallow'd flore;
Or what should Prayer deck with hearbs, and spice,
Her vialls, breathing orisons of price?
If all must paie that which all cannot paie?
O first begin with mee, and Mercie slaie,
2 By interessing her selfe in the cause, and Christ.
And thy thrice-honour'd Sonne, that now beneath doth strey.
75
But if or he, or I may liue, and speake,
And heau'n can ioye to see a sinner weepe,
Oh let not Iustice yron scepter breake
A heart alreadie broke, that lowe doth creep,
And with prone humblesse her feets dust doth sweep.
Must all goe by desert? is nothing free?
Ah, if but those that onely woorthy be,
None should thee euer see, none should thee euer see.
76
What hath man done, that man shall not vndoe,
Since God to him is growne so neere a kin?
That is as sufficient to satisfie, as Man was impotent.
Did his foe slay him? he shall slay his foe:
Hath he lost all? he all againe shall win;
Is Sinne his Master? he shall master sinne:
Too hardy soule, with sinne the field to trie:
The onely way to conquer, was to flie,
But thus long death hath liu'd, and now deaths selfe shall die.
77
He is a path, if any be misled,
He is a robe, if any naked bee,
If any chaunce to hunger, he is bread,
If any be a bondman, he is free,
If any be but weake, howe strong is hee?
To dead men life he is, to sicke men health,
To blinde men sight, and to the needie wealth,
A pleasure without losse, a treasure without stealth.
78
Who can forget, neuer to be forgot,
The time, that all the world in slumber lies,
Whom shee celebrates from the time of his natiuitie.
When, like the starres, the singing Angels shot
To earth, and heau'n awaked all his eyes,
To see another Sunne, at midnight rise,
On earth? was neuer sight of pareil fame,
For God before Man like himselfe did frame,
But God himselfe now like a mortall man became.
79
[...] Child he was, and had not learn't to speake,
From the effects of it in hims
[...]lfe.
That with his word the world before did make,
His Mothers armes him bore, he was so weake,
That with one hand the vaults of heau'n could shake,
[...]ee how small roome my infant Lord doth take,
Whom all the world is not enough to hold.
Who of his yeares, or of his age hath told?
[...]euer such age so young, neuer a child so old.
80
[...]nd yet but newely he was insanted,
[...]nd yet alreadie he was sought to die,
[...]et scarcely borne, alreadie banished,
[...]ot able yet to goe, and forc't to flie,
[Page 24] But scarcely fled away, when by and by,
The Tyrans sword with blood is all defil'd,
And Rachel, for her sonnes with furie wild,
Cries, O thou cruell King, and O my sweetest child.
81
Egypt his Nource became, whear Nilus springs,
Who streit, to entertaine the rising sunne,
Egypt.
The hasty haruest in his bosome brings;
But now for drieth the fields wear all vndone,
And now with waters all is ouerrunne,
So fast the Cynthian mountaines powr'd their snowe,
When once they felt the sunne so neere them glowe,
That Nilus Egypt lost, and to a sea did growe.
82
The Angells caroll'd lowd their song of peace,
The Angels,
The cursed Oracles wear strucken dumb,
To see their Sheapheard, the poore Sheapheards press,
Men,
To see their King, the Kingly Sophies come,
And them to guide vnto his Masters home,
A Starre comes dauncing vp the orient,
That springs for ioye ouer the strawy tent,
Whear gold, to make their Prince a crowne, they all present.
83
Young Iohn, glad child, before he could be borne,
Leapt in the woombe, his ioy to prophecie,
Old Anna though with age all spent, and worne,
Proclaimes her Sauiour to posteritie,
And Simeon fast his dying notes doeth plie.
Oh how the blessed soules about him trace.
It is the fire of heau'n thou doest embrace,
Sing, Simeon, sing, sing Simeon, sing apace.
84
With that the mightie thunder dropt away
The effect of Mercies speech.
From Gods vnwarie arme, now milder growne,
And melted into teares, as if to pray
For pardon, and for pittie, it had knowne,
That should haue been for sacred vengeance throwne:
Thereto the Armies Angelique devo'wd
Their former rage, and all to Mercie bo'wd,
Their broken weapons at her feet they gladly strow'd.
85
Bring, bring ye Graces all your silver flaskets,
A Transition to Christs second victorie.
Painted with euery choicest flowre that growes,
That I may soone vnflow'r your fragrant baskets,
To strowe the fields with odours whear he goes,
Let what so e're he treads on be a rose.
So downe shee let her eyelids fall, to shine
Vpon the rivers of bright Palestine,
Whose woods drop honie, and her rivers skip with wine.
CHRISTS VICTORIE
on Earth.
1
THear all alone she spi'd, alas the while;
Christ brought into the place of combat, the wildernes, among the wilde beasts. Mark. 1. 13.
In shadie darknes a poore Desolate,
That now had measur'd many a wearie mile,
Through a wast desert, whither heau'nly fate,
And his owne will him brought; he praying fate,
And him to prey, as he to pray began,
The Citizens of the wilde forrest ran,
And all with open throat would swallowe whole the man.
2
Soone did the Ladie to her Graces crie,
Described by his proper Attribute. The Mercie of God.
And on their wings her selfe did nimbly strowe,
After her coach a thousand Loues did flie,
So downe into the wildernesse they throwe,
Whear she, and all her trayne that with her flowe
Thorough the ayrie waue, with sayles so gay,
Sinking into his brest that wearie lay,
Made shipwracke of themselues, and vanish't quite away.
3
Seemed that Man had them deuoured all,
Whome to deuoure the beasts did make pretence,
But him their saluage thirst did nought appall,
Though weapons none he had for his defence:
[Page 27] What armes for Innocence, but Innocence?
For when they saw their Lords bright cognizance
Shine in his face, soone did they disadvaunce,
And some vnto him kneele, and some about him daunce.
4
Downe fell the Lordly Lions angrie mood,
Whom the creatures cannot but adore.
And he himselfe fell downe, in congies lowe;
Bidding him welcome to his wast full wood,
Sometime he kist the grasse whear he did goe,
And, as to wash his feete he well did knowe,
With fauning tongue he lickt away the dust,
And euery one would neerest to him thrust,
And euery one, with new, forgot his former lust.
5
Vnmindfull of himselfe, to minde his Lord,
The Lamb stood gazing by the Tygers side,
As though betweene them they had made accord,
And on the Lions back the goate did ride,
Forgetfull of the roughnes of the hide,
If he stood still, their eyes vpon him bayted,
If walk't, they all in order on him wayted,
And when he slep't, they as his watch themselues conceited.
6
Wonder doeth call me vp to see, O no,
By his vnitie with the Godhead.
I cannot see, and therefore sinke in woonder,
The man, that shines as bright as God, not so,
For God he is himselfe, that close lies vnder
That man, so close, that no time can dissunder
That band, yet not so close, but from him breake
Such beames, as mortall eyes are all too weake
Such sight to see, or it, if they should see, to speake.
7
Vpon a grassie hillock he was laid,
His proper place.
With woodie primroses befreckeled,
Ouer his head the wanton shadowes plaid
Of a wilde oliue, that her bowgh's so spread,
As with her leau's she seem'd to crowne his head,
And her greene armes to'embrace the Prince of peace,
The Sunne so neere, needs must the winter cease,
The Sunne so neere, another Spring seem'd to increase.
8
His haire was blacke, and in small curls did twine,
The beutie of his bodie. Cant. 5. 11. Psalm. 45. 2.
As though it wear the shadowe of some light,
And vnderneath his face, as day, did shine,
But sure the day shined not halfe so bright,
Nor the Sunnes shadowe made so darke a night.
Vnder his louely locks, her head to shroude,
Did make Humilitie her selfe growe proude,
Hither, to light their lamps, did all the Graces croude.
9
One of ten thousand soules I am, and more,
That of his eyes, and their sweete wounds complaine,
Sweete are the wounds of loue, neuer so sore,
Ah might he often slaie mee so againe.
He neuer liues, that thus is neuer slaine.
What boots it watch? those eyes, for all my art,
Mine owne eyes looking on, haue stole my heart,
In them Loue bends his bowe, and dips his burning dart.
10
As when the Sunne, caught in an aduerse clowde,
Flies crosse the world, and thear a new begets,
The watry picture of his beautie proude,
Throwes all abroad his sparkling spangelets,
[Page 29] And the whole world in dire amazement sets,
To see two dayes abroad at once, and all
Doubt whither nowe he rise, or nowe will fall:
So flam'd the Godly flesh, proude of his heau'nly thrall.
11
His cheekes as snowie apples, sop't in wine,
Gen. 49. 12. Cant. 5. 10.
Had their red roses quencht with lillies white,
And like to garden strawberries did shine,
Wash't in a bowle of milke, or rose-buds bright
Vnbosoming their brests against the light:
Here loue-sicke soules did eat, thear dranke, and made
Sweete-smelling posies, that could neuer fade,
But worldly eyes him thought more like some liuing shade.
Isa. 53. 2.
12
For laughter neuer look't vpon his browe,
Though in his face all smiling ioyes did bide,
No filken banners did about him flowe,
Fooles make their fetters ensignes of their pride:
He was best cloath'd when naked was his side,
A Lambe he was, and wollen fleece he bore,
Woue with one thread, his feete lowe sandalls wore,
But bared were his legges, so went the times of yore.
13
As two white marble pillars that vphold
Gods holy place whear he in glorie sets,
And rise with goodly grace and courage bold,
To beare his Temple on their ample ietts,
Vein'd euery whear with azure rivulets,
Whom all the people on some holy morne,
With boughs and flowrie garlands doe adorne,
Of such, though fairer farre, this Temple was vpborne.
14
Twice had Diana bent her golden bowe,
By preparing himself to the combate
And shot from heau'n her siluer shafts, to rouse
The sluggish saluages, that den belowe,
And all the day in lazie couert drouze,
Since him the silent wildernesse did house,
The heau'n his roofe, and arbour harbour was,
The ground his bed, and his moist pillowe grasse.
But fruit thear none did growe, nor riuers none did passe.
15
At length an aged Syre farre off he sawe
With his Adversarie, that seemd what he was not,
Come slowely footing, euerie step he guest
One of his feete he from the graue did drawe,
Three legges he had, the woodden was the best,
And all the waie he went, he euer blest
With benedicities, and prayers store,
But the bad ground was blessed ne'r the more,
And all his head with snowe of Age was waxen hore.
16
A good old Hermit he might seeme to be,
Some deuout Essene.
That for deuotion had the world forsaken,
And now was trauailing some Saint to see,
Since to his beads he had himselfe betaken,
Whear all his former sinnes he might awaken,
And them might wash away with dropping brine,
And almes, and fasts, and churches discipline,
And dead, might rest his bones vnder the holy shrine.
17
But when he neerer came, he lowted lowe
With prone obeysance, and with curt'sie kinde,
That at his feete his head he seemd to throwe;
What needs him now another Saint to finde?
[Page 31] Affections are the sailes, and faith the wind,
That to this Saint a thousand soules conueigh
Each hour': O happy Pilgrims thither strey!
What caren they for beasts, or for the wearie way?
18
Soone the old Palmer his deuotions sung,
Like pleasing anthems, moduled in time,
For well that aged Syre could tip his tongue
With golden foyle of eloquence, and lime,
And licke his rugged speech with phrases prime.
Ay me, quoth he, how many yeares haue beene,
Since these old eyes the Sunne of heau'n haue seene!
Certes the Sonne of heau'n they now behold I weene.
19
Ah, mote my humble cell so blessed be
As heau'n to welcome in his lowely roose,
And be the Temple for thy deitie!
Loe how my cottage worships thee aloofe,
That vnder ground hath hid his head, in proofe
It doth adore thee with the seeling lowe,
Here honie, milke, and chesnuts wild doe growe,
The boughs a bed of leaues vpon thee shall bestowe.
20
But oh, he said, and therewith sigh't full deepe,
(Closely tempting him to despaire of Gods prouidence, and prouide for himselfe.)
The heau'ns, alas, too enuious are growne,
Because our fields thy presence from them keepe;
[...]or stones doe growe, where corne was lately sowne:
So stooping downe, he gather'd vp a stone)
But thou with corne canst make this stone to eare.
What needen we the angrie heau'ns to feare?
Let them enuie vs still, so we enioy thee here.
21
Thus on they wandred, but those holy weeds
But was what he seemed not, Satan, & would faine haue lead him
A monstrous Serpent, and no man did couer.
So vnder greenest hearbs the Addes feeds:
And round about that stinking corps did houer
The dismall Prince of gloomie night, and ouer
His euer-damned head the Shadowes err'd
Of thousand peccant ghosts, vnseene, vnheard,
And all the Tyrant feares, and all the Tyrant fear'd.
22
He was the Sonne of blackest Acheron,
Whear many frozen soules doe chattring lie,
And rul'd the burning waues of Phlegethon,
Whear many more in flaming sulphur frie,
At once compel'd to liue and forc't to die.
Whear nothing can be heard for the loud crie
Of oh, and ah, and out alas that I
Or once againe might liue, or once at length might die.
23
Ere long they came neere to a balefull bowre,
1. To Desperation, characterd by his place,
Much like the mouth of that infernall caue,
That gaping stood all Commers to deuoure,
Darke, dolefull, dreary, like a greedy graue,
That still for carrion carkasses doth craue.
The ground no hearbs, but venomous did beare,
Nor ragged trees did leaue, but euery whear
Dead bones, and skulls wear cast, and bodies hanged wear.
24
Vpon the roofe the bird of sorrowe sat
Elonging ioyfull day with her sad note,
And through the shady aire, the fluttring bat
Did wa
[...]e her leather sayles, and blindely flote,
[Page 33] While with her wings the fatall Shreechowle smote
Th' vnblessed house, thear, on a craggy stone,
Celeno hung, and made his direfull mone,
And all about the murdered ghosts did shreek, and grone,
25
Like clowdie moonshine, in some shadowie groue,
Such was the light in which DESPAIRE did dwell,
Countenance, Apparell, horrible apparitions, &c.
But he himselfe with night for darkenesse stroue.
His blacke vncombed locks dishevell'd fell
About his face, through which, as brands of hell,
Sunk in his skull, his staring eyes did glowe,
That made him deadly looke, their glimpse did showe
Like Cockatrices eyes, that sparks of poyson throwe.
26
His cloaths wear ragged clouts, with thornes pind fast,
And as he musing lay, to stonie fright
A thousand wilde Chimera's would him cast:
As when a fearefull dreame, in mid'st of night,
Skips to the braine, and phansies to the sight
Some winged furie, strait the hasty foot,
Eger to flie, cannot plucke vp his root,
The voyce dies in the tongue, and mouth gapes without boot.
27
Now he would dreame that he from heauen fell,
And then would snatch the ayre, afraid to fall;
And now he thought he sinking was to hell,
And then would grasp the earth, and now his stall
Him seemed hell, and then he out would crawle,
And euer, as he crept, would squint aside,
Lest him, perhaps, some Furie had espide,
And then, alas, he should in chaines for euer bide.
28
Therefore he softly shrunke, and stole away,
Ne euer durst to drawe his breath for feare,
Till to the doore he came, and thear he lay
Panting for breath, as though he dying were,
And still he thought, he felt their craples teare
Him by the heels backe to his ougly denne,
Out faine he would haue leapt abroad, but then
The heau'n, as hell, he fear'd, that punish guilty men.
29
Within the gloomie hole of this pale wight
The Serpent woo'd him with his charmes to inne,
Thear he might baite the day, and rest the night,
But vnder that same baite a fearefull grin
Was readie to intangle him in sinne.
But he vpon ambrosia daily fed,
That grew in Eden, thus he answered,
So both away wear caught, and to the Temple fled.
30
Well knewe our Sauiour this the Serpent was,
And the old Serpent knewe our Sauiour well,
Neuer did any this in falshood passe,
Neuer did any him in truth excell:
With him we fly to heau'n, from heau'n we fell
With him: but nowe they both together met
Vpon the sacred pinnacles, that threat
With their aspiring tops, Astraeas starrie seat.
31
Here did PRESVMPTION her paullion spread,
2. To Presumption, characterd by her place,
Ouer the Temple, the bright startes among,
(Ah that her foot should trample on the head
Of that most reuerend place!) and a lewd throng
[Page 35] Of wamon boyes sung her a pleasant song
Attendants, &c.
Of loue, long life, of mercie, and of grace,
And euery one her deerely did embrace,
And she herselfe enamour'd was of her owne face.
32
A painted face, belied with vermeyl store,
Which light Eüëlpis euery day did trimme,
That in one hand a guilded anchor wore,
Not fixed on the rocke, but on the brimme
Of the wide aire she let it loosely swimme:
Her other hand a sprinkle carried,
And euer, when her Ladie wauered,
Court-holy water all vpon her sprinkeled.
33
Poore foole, she thought herselfe in wondrous price
With God, as if in Paradise she wear,
But, wear shee not in a fooles paradise,
She might haue seene more reason to despere:
But him she, like some ghastly fiend, did feare,
And therefore as that wretch hew'd out his cell
Vnder the bowels, in the heart of hell,
So she aboue the Moone, amid the starres would dwell.
34
Her Tent with sunny cloudes was seel'd aloft,
And so exceeding shone with a false light,
That heau'n it selfe to her it seemed oft,
Heau'n without cloudes to her deluded sight,
But cloudes withouten heau'n it was aright,
And as her house was built, so did her braine
Build castles in the aire, with idle paine,
But heart she neuer had in all her body vaine.
35
Like as a ship, in which no ballance lies,
Without a Pilot, on the sleeping waues,
Fairely along with winde, and water flies,
And painted masts with silken sayles embraues,
That Neptune selfe the bragging vessell saues,
To laugh a while at her so proud aray;
Her wauing streamers loosely shee lets play,
And flagging colours shine as bright as smiling day:
36
But all so soone as heau'n his browes doth bend,
Shee veils her banners, and pulls in her beames,
The emptie barke the raging billows send
Vp to th' Olympique waues, and Argus seemes
Againe to ride vpon our lower streames:
Right so PRESVMPTION did her selfe behaue,
Tossed about with euery stormie waue,
And in white lawne shee went, most like an Angel braue.
37
Gently our Sauiour shee began to shrive,
And by her Temptation.
Whither he wear the Sonne of God, or no;
For any other shee disdeign'd to wive:
And if he wear, shee bid him fearles throw
Himselfe to ground, and thearwithall did show
A flight of little Angels, that did wait
Vpon their glittering wings, to latch him strait,
And longed on their backs to feele his glorious weight.
38
But when she saw her speech preuailed nought,
Her selfe she tombled headlong to the flore:
But him the Angels on their feathers caught,
And to an ayrie mountaine nimbly bore,
[Page 37] Whose snowie shoulders, like some chaulkie shore,
Restles Olympus seem'd to rest vpon
With all his swimming globes: so both are gone,
The Dragon with the Lamb. Ah, vnmeet Paragon.
3. To Vaine-Glorie.
39
All suddenly the hill his snowe deuours,
Poetically described from the place where her court stood. A garden.
In liew whereof a goodly garden grew,
As if the snow had melted into flow'rs,
Which their sweet breath in subtill vapours threw,
That all about perfumed spirits flew.
For what so euer might aggrate the sense,
In all the world, or please the appetence,
Heer it was powred out in lavish affluence.
40
Not louely Ida might with this compare,
Though many streames his banks besiluered,
Though Xanthus with his golden sands he bare,
Nor Hibla, though his thyme depastured,
As fast againe with honie blossomed.
Ne Rhodope, ne Tempes flowrie playne,
Adonis garden was to this but vayne,
Though Plato on his beds a flood of praise did rayne.
41
For in all these, some one thing most did grow,
But in this one, grew all things els beside,
For sweet varietie herselfe did throw
To euery banke, here all the ground she dide
In lillie white, there pinks eblazed wide;
And damask't all the earth, and here shee shed
Blew violets, and there came roses red,
And euery sight the yeelding sense, as captiue led.
[...]
[...]
42
The garden like a Ladie faire was cut,
That lay as if shee slumber'd in delight,
And to the open skies her eyes did shut;
The azure fields of heau'n wear sembled right
In a large round, set with the flowr's of light,
The flowr's-de-luce, and the round sparks of deaw,
That hung vpon their azure leaues, did shew
Like twinkling starrs, that sparkle in th'eau'ning blew.
43
Vpon a hillie banke her head shee cast,
On which the bowre of Vaine-Delight was built,
White, and red roses for her face wear plac't,
And for her tresses Marigolds wear spilt:
Them broadly shee displaid, like flaming guilt,
Till in the ocean the glad day wear drown'd,
Then vp againe her yellow locks she wound,
And with greene fillets in their prettie calls them bound.
44
What should I here depei
[...]t her lillie hand,
Her veines of violets, her ermine brest,
Which thear in orient colours liuing stand,
Or how her gowne with silken leaues is drest;
Or how her watchmen, arm'd with boughie crest,
A wall of prim hid in his bushes bea
[...]s,
Shaking at euery winde their leauie spears,
While she supinely sleeps, ne to be waked fears?
45
Ouer the hedge depends the graping Elme,
Whose greener head, empurpuled in wine,
Seemed to wonder at his bloodie helme,
And halfe suspect the bunches of the vine,
[Page 39] Least they, perhaps, his wit should vndermine.
For well he knewe such fruit he neuer bore:
But her weake armes embraced him the more,
And with her ruby grapes laught at her paramour.
46
Vnder the shadowe of these drunken el
[...]es
A Fountaine rose, where Pangloretta vses,
(When her some flood of fancie ouerwhelms,
And one of all her fauourites she chuses)
To bath herselfe, whom she in lust abuses,
And from his wanton body sucks his soule,
Which drown'd in pleasure, in that shaly bowle,
And swimming in delight, doth amarously rowle.
47
The font of siluer was, and so his showrs
[...]n siluer fell, onely the guilded bowles
(Like to a fornace, that the min'rall powres)
Seem'd to haue moul't it in their shining holes:
And on the water, like to burning coles,
On liquid siluer, leaues of roses lay:
But when PANGLORIE here did list to play,
[...]ose water then it ranne, and milke it rain'd they say.
48
The roofe thicke cloudes did paint, from which three boyes
[...]hree gaping mermaides with their ea
[...]s did feede,
Whose brests let fall the streame, with sleepie noise,
[...]o Lions mouths, from whence it leapt with speede,
And in the rosie lauer seem'd to bleed.
The naked boyes vnto the waters fall,
Their stonie nightingales had taught to call,
When Zephyr breath'd into their watry interall.
49
And all about, embayed in soft sleepe,
A heard of charmed beasts a ground wear spread,
Which the faire Witch in goulden chaines did keepe,
And them in willing bondage fettered,
Once men they liu'd, but now the men were dead,
And turn'd to beasts, so fabled Homer old,
That Circe, with her potion, charm'd in gold,
Vs'd manly soules in beastly bodies to immould.
50
Through this false Eden, to his Lemans bowre,
From her Court, and Courtiers. 1. Pleasure in drinking.
(Whome thousand soules deuoutly idolize)
Our first destroyer led our Sauiour.
Thear in the lower roome, in solemne wise,
They daunc't a round, and powr'd their sacrifice
To plumpe Lyaeus, and among the rest,
The iolly Priest, in yuie garlands drest,
Chaunted wild Orgialls, in honour of the feast.
51
Others within their arbours swilling sat,
(For all the roome about was arboured)
With laughing Bacchus, that was growne so fat,
That stand he could not, but was carried,
And euery euening freshly watered,
To quench his fierie cheeks, and all about
Small cocks broke through the wall, and sallied out
Flaggons of wine, to set on fire that spueing tour.
52
This their inhumed soules esteem'd their wealths,
To crowne the bouzing kan from day to night,
And sicke to drinke themselues with drinking healths,
Some vomiting, all drunken with delight.
[Page 41] Hence to a loft, carv'd all in yvorie white,
in Luxurie.
They came, wheat whiter Ladies naked went,
Melted in pleasure, and soft languishment,
And sunke in beds of roses, amourous glaunces sent.
53
Flie, flie thou holy child that wanton roome,
And thou my chaster Muse those harlots shun,
And with him to a higher storie come,
2. Avarice.
Whear mounts of gold, and flouds of siluer run,
The while the owners, with their wealth vndone,
Starve in their store, and in their plentie pine,
Tumbling themselues vpon their heaps of mine.
Glutting their famish't soules with the deceitfull shine.
54
Ah, who was he such pretious perills found?
How strongly Nature did her treasures hide;
And threw vpon them mountains of thicke ground,
To darke their orie lustre; but queint Pride
Hath taught her Sonnes to wound their mothers side,
And gage the depth, to search for flaring shells,
In whose bright bosome spumie Bacchus swells,
That neither heau'n, nor earth henceforth in safetie dwells.
55
[...] sacred hunger of the greedie eye,
Whose neede hath end, but no end covetise,
Emptie in fulnes, rich in pouertie,
That hauing all things, nothing can suffice,
How thou befanciest the men most wise?
The poore man would be rich, the rich man great,
The great man King, the King, in Gods owne seat
Enthron'd, with mortal arme dares flames, and thunder threat.
56
Therefore aboue the rest Ambition sat:
3. Ambitious honour.
His Court with glitterant pearle was all enwall'd,
And round about the wall in chaires of State,
And most maiestique splendor, wear enstall'd
A hundred Kings, whose temples wear impal'd
In goulden diadems, set here, and thear
With diamounds, and gemmed euery whear,
And of their golden virges none disceptred wear.
57
High ouer all,
Panglories blazing throne,
From her throne.
In her bright turret, all of christall wrought,
Like Phaebus lampe in midst of heauen, shone:
Whose starry top, with pride infernall fraught,
Selfe-arching columns to vphold wear taught:
In which, her Image still reflected was
By the smooth christall, that most like her glasse,
In beauty, and in frailtie, did all others passe.
58
A Siluer wande the sorceresse did sway,
And, for a crowne of gold, her haire she wore,
Onely a garland of rosebuds did play
About her locks, and in her hand, she bore
A hollowe globe of glasse, that long before,
She full of emptinesse had bladdered,
And all the world therein depictured,
Whose colours, like the rainebowe, euer vanished.
59
Such watry orbicles young boyes doe blowe
Out from their sopy snells, and much admire
The swimming world, which tenderly they rowe
With easie breath, till it be waued higher,
[Page 43] But if they chaunce but roughly once aspire,
The painted bubble instantly doth fall.
Here when she came, she gan for musique call,
And sung this wooing song, to welcome him withall.
Loue is the blossome whear thear blowes
From her temptation.
Euery thing, that liues, or growes,
Loue doth make the heau'ns to moue,
And the Sun doth burne in loue;
Loue the strong, and weake doth yoke,
And makes the y
[...]ie climbe the oke,
Vnder whose shadowes Lions wilde,
Soft'ned by Loue, growe tame, and mild;
Loue no med'cine can appease,
He burnes the fishes in the seas,
Not all the skill his wounds can stench,
Not all the sea his fire can quench;
Loue did make the bloody spear
Once a leuie coat to wear,
While in his leaues thear shrouded lay
Sweete birds, for loue, that sing, and play;
And of all loues ioyfull flame,
I the bud, and blossome am.
Onely bend thy knee to me,
Thy wooeing, shall thy winning be.
See, see the flowers that belowe,
Now as fresh as morning blowe,
And of all, the virgin rose,
That as bright Aurora showes,
How they all vnleaued die,
Loosing their virgintie:
Like vnto a summer-shade,
But now borne, and now they fade.
Thear is danger in delay,
Come, come gather then the rose,
Gather it, or it you lose.
All the sande of Tagus shore
Into my bosome casts his ore;
All the valleys swimming corne
To my house is yeerely borne;
Euery grape, of euery vine
Is gladly bruis'd to make me wine,
While ten thousand kings, as proud,
To carry vp my traine, haue bow'd,
And a world of Ladies send me
In my chambers to attend me:
All the starres in heau'n that shine,
And ten thousand more, are mine:
Onely bend thy knee to mee,
Thy wooing shall thy winning bee.
60
Thus sought the dire Enchauntress in his minde
Her guilefull bay
[...] to haue embosomed,
But he her charmes dispersed into winde,
And her of insolence admonished,
And all her optique glasses shattered.
The ef
[...]ect of this victorie in Satan.
So with her Syre to hell shee tooke her flight,
(The starting ayre flew from the damned spright,)
Whear deeply both aggriev'd, plunged themselues in night.
61
But to their Lord, now musing in his thought,
The Angels.
A heauenly volie of light Angels flew,
And from his Father him a banquet brought,
Through the fine element, for well they knew,
[Page 45] After his lenten fast, he hungrie grew,
And, as he fed, the holy quires combine
To sing a hymne of the celestiall Trine;
All thought to passe, and each was past all thought divine.
62
The birds sweet notes, to sonnet out their ioyes,
The Creatures.
Attemper'd to the layes Angelicall,
And to the birds, the winds attune their noyse,
And to the winds, the waters hoarcely call,
And Eccho back againe revoyced all,
That the whole valley rung with victorie.
But now our Lord to rest doth homewards flie:
See how the Night comes stealing from the mountains high.