To see two days abroad at once, and all
Doubt whether now he rise, or now will fail:
So lam'd the godly flesh, proud of his heav'nly
thrall.
His cheeks, as snowy apples sopt in wine,
Had their red roses quencht with lilies white,
And like to garden strawberries did shine,
Wash in a bowl of milk, or rose-buds bright,
Unbosoming their breasts against the light. [made
Here love sick souls did eat, there drank, and
Sweet smelling posies, that could never fade,
Ay me," quoth he, "how many years have been,
Since these old eyes the Sun of Heav'n have seen!
Certes the Son of Heav'n they now behold, I weɛn.
"Ah! mote my humble cell so blessed be
As Heav'n to welcome in his lowly roof,
And be the temple for thy deity!
Lo, how my cottage worships thee aloof,
That under ground hath hid his head, in proof
It doth adore thee with the ci ling low,
Here houey, milk, and chesnuts, wild do grow,
But worldly eyes him thought more like some living The boughs a bed of leaves upon thee shall bestow.
For laughter never look'd upon his brow,
Though in his face all smiling joys did bide:
No silken banners did about him flow,
Fools made their fetters ensigns of their pride:
He was best cloth'd when naked was his side.
A Lamb he was, and woollen fleece he bore,
Wove with one thread, his feet low sandals wore :
But bared were his legs, so wen: the times of yore.
As two white marble pillars that uphold
God's holy place where he in glory sets,
And rise with goodly grace and courage bold,
To bear his temple on their ample jets,
Vein'd every where with azure rivulets,
Whom all the people, on some holy morn,
With boughs and flowry garlands do adorn:
Of such, though fairer far, this temple was upborne.
Twice had Diana bent her golden bow,
And shot from Heav'n her silver shafts, to rouse
The sluggish salvages, that den below,"
And all the day in lazy covert drouse,
Since him the silent wilderness did house :
The Heav'n his roof, and arbour harbour was,
The ground his bed, and his moist pillow grass:
But fruit there none did grow, nor rivers none did
pass.
At length an aged sire far off he saw
Come slowly footing, every step he guest
One of his feet he from the grave did draw.
Three legs he had, the wooden was the best,
And all the way he went, he ever blest
With benedicities, and prayers store,
But the bad ground was blessed ne'er the more, And all his head with snow of age was waxen hoar. A good old hermit he might seem to be, That for devotion had the world forsaken, And now was travelling some saint to see, Since to his beads he had himself betaken,. Where all his former sins he might awaken, And them might wash away with dropping brine, And alms, and fasts, and church's discipline; And dead, might rest his bones under the holy
But when he nearer came, he lowted low
With prone obeisance, and with curtsey kind,
That at his feet his head he scem'd to throw :
What needs him now another saint to find?
Affections are the sails, and faith the wind,
That to this Saint a thousand souls convey
Each hour: O happy pilgrims, thither stray!
What caren they for beasts, or for the weary way?
Soon the old palmer his devotions sung,
Like pleasing anthems modelled in time;
For well that aged sire could tip his tongue
With golden foil of eloquence, and lime,
And lick his rugged speech with phrases prime.
"But oh!" he said, and therewith sigh'd full deep, "The Heav'ns alas! too envious are grown, Because our fields thy presence from them keep; For stones do grow where corn was lately sown :" (So stooping down, he gather'd up a stone)
"But thou with corn canst make this stone to ear. What needen we the angry Heav'ns to fear? Let them envy us still, so we enjoy thee here." Thus on they wandred; but these holy weeds A monstrous serpent, and no man, did cover. So under greenest herbs the adder feeds; And round about that stinking corps did hover The dismal prince of gloomy night, and over His ever-damned head the shadows err'd Of thousand peccant ghosts, unseen, unheard, And all the tyrant fears, and all the tyrant fear'd. He was the son of blackest Acheron, Where many frozen souls do chatt'ring lie, And rul'd the burning waves of Phlegethon, Where many more in flaming sulphur fry. At once compell'd to live, and forc'd to die,
Where nothing can he heard for the loud cry
Of "Oh!" and "Ah!" and "Out, alas! that I
Or once again might live, or once at length might
die !"
Fre long they came near to a baleful bower,
Much like the mouth of that infernal cave,
That gaping stood all comers to devour,
Dark, doleful, dreary, like a greedy grave,
That still for carrion carcases doth crave.
The ground no herbs, but venomous, did bear, Nor ragged trees did leave; but every where Dead bones and skulls were cast, and bodies hanged
Upon the roof the bird of sorrow sat,
Elonging joyful day with her sad note,
And through the shady air the fluttering bat
Did wave her leather sails, and blindly float,
While with her wings the fatal screech owl smote
Th' unblessed house: there on a craggy stone
Celeno hung, and made his direful moan,
And all about the murdered ghosts did shrick and
groan.
Like cloudy moonshine in some shadowy grove,
Such was the light in which Despair did dwell;
But he himself with night for darkness strove.
His black uncombed locks dishevell'd fell
About his face; through which, as brands of Hell,
Sunk in his skull, his staring eyes did glow,
That made him deadly look, their glimpse did
Like cockatrice's eyes, that sparks of poison throw.
His clothes were ragged clouts, with thorns pinn'd |
Art as he mosing lay, to stony fright [fast;
A thousand wild chimeras would him cast:
As when a fearful dream in midst of night,"
Skips to the brain, and phansies to the sight
Some winged fury, straight the hasty foot,
Eager to fly, cannot pluck up his root:
The voice dies in the tongue, and mouth gapes
without boot.
Now he would dream that he from Heaven fell,
And then would snatch the air, afraid to fall;
And now he thought he sinking was to Hell,
And then would grasp the earth, and now his stall
He seemed Hell, and then he out would craul:
And ever, as he crept, would squint aside,
Lest him, perhaps, some fury had espied,
And then, alas! he should in chains for ever bide.
Therefore he softly shrunk, and stole away,
He ever durst to draw his breath for fear,
Till to the door he came, and there be lay
Pacting for breath, as though he dying were ;
And still be thought he felt their craples tear
Him by the heels back to his ugly den:
Her tent with sunny clouds was cjel'd aloft,
And so exceeding shone with a false light,
That Heav'n itself to her it seemed oft,
Heav'n without clouds to her deluded sight;
But clouds withouten Heav'n it was aright:
And as her house was built, so did her brain
Build castles in the air, with idle pain,
But heart she never had in all her body vain.
Like as a ship, in which no balance lies,
Without a pilot on the sleeping waves,
Fairly along with wind and water flies,
And painted masts with silken sails embraves,
That Neptune's self the bragging vessel saves,
To laugh a while at her so proud array;
Her waving streamers loosely she lets play,
And flagging colours shine as bright as smiling day:
But all so soon as Heav'n his brows doth bend,
She veils her banners, and pulls in her beams,
The empty bark the raging billows send
Up to th' Olympic waves, and Argus seems
Again to ride upon our lower streams:
Right so Presumption did herself behave,
Tossed about with every stormy wave, [brave.
And in white lawn she went, most like an angel
Out fain he would have leapt abroad, but then
The Heav'n, as Hell, he fear'd, that punish guilty Gently our Saviour she began to shrive,
Within the gloomy hole of this pale wight
The serpent woo'd him with his charms to inn,
There he might bait the day. and rest the night:
But under that same bait a fearful grin
Was ready to entangle him in sin,
But he upon ambrosia daily fed,
That grew in Eden, thus he answered:
So both away were caught, and to the temple fled.
Well knew our Saviour this the serpent was,
And the old serpent knew our Saviour well;
Never did any this in falsehood pass,
Sever did any him in truth excell
With him we fly to Heav'n, from Heav'n we fell
With him: but now they both together met
Upon the sacred pinnacles, that threat,
With their aspiring tops, Astræa's starry seat.
Here did Presumption her pavilion spread
Over the temple, the bright stars among,
Ah, that her foot should trample on the bead
Of that most reverend place!) and a lewd throng
Of wanton boys sung her a pleasant song
Of love, long life, of mercy, and of grace,
And every one her dearly did embrace,
And she herself enamour'd was of her own face.
A painted face, belied with vermeyl store,
Which light Euelpis every day did trim,
That in one hand a gilded anchor wore,
Not fixed on the rock, but on the brim
Of the wide air, she let it loosely swim!
Her other hand a sprinkle carried,
And ever when her lady wavered,
Court holy-water all upon her sprinkled,
Poor fool! she thought herself in wondrous price
With God, as if in Paradise she were:
But, were she not in a fool's paradise,
She might have seen more reason to despair:
Bet him she, like some ghastly fiend, did fear.
And therefore as that wretch hew'd out his cell
Whether he were the Son of God, or no;
For any other she disdain'd to wife:
And if he were, she bid him fearless throw
Himself to ground; and therewithal did show
A flight of little angels, that did wait
Upon their glittering wings, to latch him straight; And longed on their backs to feel his glorious weight.
But when she saw her speech prevailed nought,
Herself she tumbled headlong to the floor:
But him the angels on their feathers caught,
And to an airy mountain nimbly bore,
Whose snowy shoulders, like some chalky shore,
Restless Olympus seem'd to rest upon
With all his swimming globes: so both are gone,
The Dragon with the Lamb. Ah, unmeet paragon!
All suddenly the hill his snow devours,
In lieu whereof a goodly garden grew,
As if the snow had melted into flow'rs,
Which their sweet breath in subtle vapours threw :
That all about perfumed spirits flew.
For whatsoever might aggrate the sense,
In all the world, or please the appetence,
Here it was poured out in lavish affluence.
Not lovely Ida might with this compare,
Though many streams his banks besilvered,
Though Xanthus with his golden sands he bare:
Nor Hybla, though his thyme depastured,
As fast again with honey blossomed :
No Rhodope, no Tempe's flow'ry plain :
Adonis' garden was to this but vain,
Though Plato on his beds a flood of praise did rain.
For in all these some one thing most did grow,
But in this one grew all things else beside;
For sweet Variety herself did throw
To every bank, here all the ground she dide
In lily white, there pinks eblazed white,
And damask all the earth; and here she shed
Blue violets, and there came roses red:
Under the bowels, in the heart of Hell, [dwell. And every sight the yielding sense as captive led.
she above the Moon, amid the stars, would
The garden like a lady fair was cut,
That lay as if she slumber'd' in delight,
And to the open skies her eyes did shut;
The azure fields of Heav'n were 'sembled right
In a large round, set with the flow'rs of light:
The flow'rs-de-luce, and the round sparks of dew,
That hung upon their azure leaves, did show
Like twinkling stars, that sparkle in the evening
blue
Upon a hilly bank her head she cast,
On which the bower of Vain-delight was built
White and red roses for her face were plac't,.
And for her tresses marigolds were spilt:
Them broadly she displayed, like flaming gilt,
Till in the ocean the glad day were drown'd:
Then up again her yellow locks she wound,
And with green fillets in their pretty cauls them
bound.
What should I here depaint her lily hand,
Her veins of violets, her ermine breast,
Which there in orient colours living stand:
Or how her gown with silken leaves is drest,
Or how her watchman, arm'd with boughy crest,
A wall of prim hid in his bushes bears,
Shaking at every wind their leavy spears,
While she supinely sleeps ne to be waked fears?
Over the hedge depends the graping elm,
Whose greener head, empurpuled in wine,
Seemed to wonder at his bloody helm,
And half suspect the bunches of the vine,
Lest they, perhaps, his wit should undermine,
For well he knew such fruit he never bore:
But her weak arms embraced him the more,
And her with ruby grapes laugh'd at her paramour.
Under the shadow of these drunken elms
A fountain rose, where Pangloretta uses
(When her some flood of fancy overwhelms,
And one of all her favourites she chooses)
To bathe herself, whom she in lust abuses,
And from his, wanton body sucks his soul,
Which, drown'd in pleasure in that shallow bowl,
And swimming in delight, doth amorously roll.
The font of silver was, and so his showers
In silver fell, only the gilded bowls
(Like to a furnace, that the min'ral powers)
Seem'd to have mol't it in their shining holes:
And on the water,, like to burning coals,
On liquid silver leaves of roses. lay:
But when Panglory here did list to play,
and milk it rain'd, they say.
Rose-water then it ran,
The roof thick clouds did paint, from which three
boys
Three gaping mermaids with their ewers did feed,
Whose breasts let fall the streams, with sleepy noise,
To lions' mouths, from whence it leapt with speed,
And in the rosy laver seem'd to bleed,
The naked boys unto the water's fall,
Their stony nightingales had taught to call,
When Zephyr breath'd into their wat❜ry interail.
And all about, embayed in soft sleep,
A herd of charmed beasts a-ground were spread,
Which the fair witch in golden chains did keep,
And them in willing bondage fettered:
Once men they liv'd, but now the men were dead,
And turn'd to beasts, so fabled Homer old,
That Circe with her potion, charin'd in gold,
Us'd manly souls in beastly bodies to immould.
Through this false. Eden, to his leman's bow'r,
(Whom thousand souls devoutly idolize)
Our first destroyer led our Saviour,
There in the lower room, in solemn wise,
They danc'd a round, and pour'd their sacrifice
To plump Lyæus, and among the rest,
The jolly priest, in ivy garlands drest,
Chanted wild orgials, in honour of the feast.
Others within their arbours swilling sat,
(For all the room about was arboured)
With laughing Bacchus, that was grown so fat,
That stand he could not, but was carried,
And every evening freshly watered,
To quench his fiery cheeks, and all about
Small cocks broke through the wall, and sallied
Flaggons of wine, to set on fire that spuing rout.
This their inhumed souls esteem'd their wealths,
To crown the bousing can from day to night,
And sick to drink themselves with drinking healths,
Some vomiting, all drunken with delight.
Hence to a loft, carv'd all in ivory white,
They came, where whiter ladies naked went,
Melted in pleasure and soft languishment,
And sunk in beds of roses, amorous glances sent.
Fly, fly, thou boly Child, that wanton room,
And thou, my chaster Muse, those harlots shun,
And with him to a higher story come,
Where mounts of gold and floods of silver run,
The while the owners, with their wealth undone,
Starve in their store, and in their plenty pine,
Tumbling themselves upon their heaps of mine,
Glutting their famish'd souls with the deceitful
shine.
Ah! who was he such precious berils found?
How strongly Nature did her treasures hide,
And threw upon them mountains of thick ground,
To dark their ory lustre! but quaint Pride
Hath taught her sons to wound their mother's side,
And gage the depth, to search for flaring shells,
In whose bright bosom spuiny Bacchus swells,
That neither Heaven nor Earth henceforth in safety
O sacred hunger of the greedy eye,
Whose need hath end, but no end cavetise,
Empty in fulness, rich in poverty,
That having all things, nothing can suffice,
How thou befanciest the men most wise!
The poor man would be rich, the rich man great,
The great man king, the king in God's own seat
Enthron'd, with mortal arm dares flames, and.
thunder threat.
Therefore above the rest. Ambition sate,
His court with glitterant pearl was all-inwall'd,
And round about the wall, in chairs of state,
And most majestic splendour, were install'd
A hundred kings, whose temples were impall'à
In golden diadems, set here, and there
With diamonds, and gemmed every where,
And of their golden virges none disceptred were.
High over all, Panglory's blazing throne,
In her bright turret, all of crystal wrought,
Like Phoebus' lamp, in midst of Heaven, shone:
Whose starry top, with pride infernal fraught,
Self-arching columns to uphold were taught:
In which her image still reflected was
By the smooth crystal, that, most like her glass
In beauty and in frailty did all others pass.
A silver wand the sorceress did sway,
And, for a crown of gold, her hair she wore;
Only a garland of rose-buds did play
About her locks, and in her hand she bore
A bollow globe of glass, that long before
She full of emptiness had bladdered,
And all the world therein depictured:
Whose colours, like the rainbow, ever vanished.
Such watʼry orbicles young boys do blow
Out from their soapy shells, and much admire
The swimming world, which tenderly they row
With easy breath till it be waved higher:
But if they chance but roughly once aspire,
The painted bubble instantly doth fall.
Here when she came, she 'gan for music call,
And sung this wooing song, to welcome him withal:
"Love is the blossom where there blows
Every thing that lives or grows :
Love doth make the Heav'ns to move,
And the San doth burn in love:
Love the strong and weak doth yoke,
And makes the ivy climb the oak;
Under whose shadows lions wild,
Soften'd by love, grow tame and mild:
Love no med'cine ean appease,
He burns the fishes in the seas;
Not all the skill his wounds can stench,
Not all the sea his fire can quench:
Love did make the bloody spear
Once a leavy coat to wear,
While in his leaves there shrouded lay
Sweet birds, for love, that sing and play:
And of all love's joyful flame,
I the bud and blossom am.
Only bend thy knee to me,
Thy wooing shall thy winning be.
See, see the flowers that below,
Now as frestr as morning blow,
And of all, the virgin rose,
That as bright Aurora shows:
How they all unleaved die,
Losing their virginity;
Like unto a summer-shade,
But now born, and now they fade.
Every thing doth pass away,
There is danger in delay:
Come, come gather then the roSE,
Gather it, or it you lose.
All the sand of Tagus' shore
Into my bosom casts his ore:
All the valleys' swimming corn
To my house is yearly borne:
Every grape of every vine
Is gladly bruis'd to make me wine,
While ten thousand kings, as proud,
To carry up my train have bow'd,
And a world of ladies send me
Jo my chambers to attend me.
All the stars in Heav'n that shine,
And ten thousand more, are mine:
Only bend thy knee to me,
Thy wooing shall thy winning be."
Thus sought the dire enchantress in his mind
Her guileful bait to have embosomed:
But he her charms dispersed into wind,
and her of insolence adinonished,
And all her optic glasses shattered:
So with her sire to Hell she took her flight, (The starting air flew from the damned spright) Where deeply both aggriev'd, plunged themselves in night.
But to their Lord, now musing in his thought,
A heavenly volley of light angels flew,
And from his Father him a banquet brought,
Through the fine element; for well they knew,
After his Lenten fast, he hungry grew :
And, as he fed, the holy quires combine
To sing a hynn of the celestial Trine;
All thought to pass, and each was past all thought
divine.
The birds sweet notes, to sonnet out their joys,
Attemper'd to the lays angelical;
And to the birds the winds attune their noise;
And to the winds the waters hoarsely call,
And echo back again revoiced all;
That the whole valley rung with victory.
But now our Lord to rest doth homewards fly: See how the night comes stealing from the mountains high.
CHRIST'S TRIUMPH OVER DEATH.
Christ's triumph over death on the cross, expressed, 1st, In general by his joy to undergo it; singing before he went to the garden, ver. 1, 2, 3. Mat. 26. 30; by his grief in the undergoing it, ver. 4-6.; by the obscure fables of the Gentiles typing it, ver. 7, 8.; by the cause of it in him, his love, ver. 9.; by the effect it should have in us, ver. 10-12., by the instrument, the cursed tree, ver. 15. 2d, Expressed in particular; 1st, by his fore-passion in the garden, ver. 14-25.; by his passion itself, amplified, 1st, From the general causes; ver. 26, 27.; parts, and effects of it, ver. 28, 29. 2, From the particular causes, ver. 30, 31.; parts, and effects of it in Heaven, ver. 32—36; in the heavenly spirits, ver. 37; in the creatures subcelestial, ver. 38; in the wicked Jews, ver. 39; in Judas, ver. 40-51; in the blessed saints, Joseph, &c. ver. 52-67.
So down the silver streams of Eridan,
On either side bank't with a lily wall,
Whiter than both, rides the triumphant swan,
And sings his dirge, and prophecies his fall,
Diving into his watry funeral!
But Eridan to Cedron must submit
His flowery shore'; nor can he envy it,
If, when Apollo sings, his swans do silent sit.
That heav'nly voice I more delight to hear,
Than gentle airs to breathe, or swelling waves
Against the sounding rocks their bosoms tear,
Or whistling reeds, that rutty Jordan laves,
And with their verdure his white head embraves,
To chide the winds, or hiving bees, that fly
About the laughing blossoms of sallowy,
Rocking asleep the idle grooms that lazy ly.
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Christ suffers, and in this his tears begin,
Suffers for us, and our joy springs in this;
Suffers to death, here is his manhood seen;
Suffers to rise, and here his Godhead is,
For man, that could not by himself have rise,
Out of the grave doth by the Godhead rise,
And God, that could not die, in manhood dies,
That we in both might live by that sweet sacrifice.
Go, giddy brains, whose wits are thought so fresh,
Pluck all the flow'rs that Nature forth doth throw;
Go, stick them on the cheeks of wanton flesh :
Poor idol (forc'd at once to fall and grow)
Of fading roses, and of melting snow :
Your songs exceed your matter, this of mine,
The matter which it sings shall make divine;
As stars dull puddles gild, in which their beauties
shine.
Who doth not see drown'd in Deucalion's name
(When earth his men, and sea had lost his shore)
Old Noah? and in Nisus' lock the fame
Of Samson yet alive? and long before
In Phaethon's, mine own fall I deplore;
But he that conquer'd Hell, to fetch again
His virgin widow, by a serpent slain,
Another Orpheus was then dreaming.poets feign.
That taught the stones.to melt for passion,
And dormant sea, to hear him, silent lie;
And at his voice, the wat'ry nation
To flock, as if they deem'd it cheap to buy
With their own deaths his sacred harmony:
The while the waves stood still to hear his song, And steady shore wav'd with the reeling throng Of thirsty souls, that hung upon his fluent tongue. What better friendship, than to cover shame? What greater love, than for a friend to die? Yet this is better to asself the blame, And this is greater for an enemy: But more than this, to die not suddenly,
Not with some common death, or easy pain,
But slowly, and with torments to be slain:
O depth without a depth, far better seen than
say'n.
And yet the Son is humbled for the slave,
And yet the slave is proud before the Son:
Yet the Creator for his creature gave
Himself, and yet the creature hastes to run
From his Creator, and self-good doth shun:
And yet the Prince, and God himself doth cry To man, his traitour, pardon not to fly;
Yet man is God, and traitour doth his Prince defy.
Who is it sees not that he nothing is,
But he that nothing sees? what weaker breast, Since Adam's armour fail'd, dares warrant his? That made by God of all his creatures best, Straight made himself the worst of all the rest. "If any strength we have, it is to ill,
But all the good is God's, both pow'r and will: The dead man cannot rise, though he himself may kill.
But let the thorny school these punctuals
Of wills, all good, or bad, or neuter diss;
Such joy we gained by our parentals,
That good, or bad, whether I cannot wish,
To call it a mishap, or happy miss,
That fell from Eden, and to Heav'n did rise:
Albe the mitred card'nal more did prize
His part in Paris, than his part in Paradise.
A tree was first the instrument of strife,
Where Eve to sin her soul did prostitute;
A tree is now the instrument of life,
Though all that trunk, and this fair body suit:
Ah cursed tree, and yet O blessed fruit!
That death to him, this life to us doth give: Strange is the cure, when things past cure revive,
And the Physician dies, to make his patient live. Sweet Eden was the arbour of delight, Yet in his honey flow'rs our poison blew; Sad Gethseman the bow'r of baleful night, Where Christ a health of poison for us drew, Yet all our honey in that poison grew :
So we from sweetest flow'rs could suck our bane, And Christ from bitter venom could again Extract life out of death, and pleasure out of pain.
A man was first the author of our fall,·
A man is now the author of our rise:
A garden was the place we perish'd all,
A garden is the place he pays our price:
And the old serpent with a new device,
Hath found a way himselfe for to beguile:
So he that all men tangled in his wile,
Is now by one man caught, beguil'd with his own
guile.
The dewy night had with her frosty shade
Immantled all the world, and the stiff ground
Sparkled in ice, only the Lord, that made
All for himself, himself dissolved found,
Sweat without heat, and bled without a wound:
Of Heav'n, and Earth, and God, and man
Thrice begging help of those, whose sins he bore, And thrice denied of those, not to deny had swore.
Yet had he been alone of God forsaken,
Or had his body been embroil'd alone
In fierce assault; he might, perhaps have taken
Some joy in soul, when all joy else was gone,
But that with God, and God to Heav'n is flown;
And Hell itself out from her grave doth rise,
Black as the starless night, and with them flies,
Yet blacker than they both, the son of blasphemies.
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