The Vision Of Sr: George Ripley Poem by George Ripley

Chanon of Bridlington.
When busie at my booke I was upon a certeine night,
This Vision here exprest appear'd unto my dimmed sight,
A Toade full rudde I saw did drinke the juce of grapes so fast,
Till over charged with the broth, his bowells all to brast;
And after that from poysoned bulke he cast his venome fell,
For greif and paine whereof his Members all began to swell,
With drops of poysoned sweate approaching thus his secret Den,
His cave with blasts of fumous ayre he all be-whyted then;
And from the which in space a golden humour did ensue,
Whose falling drops from high did staine the soile with ruddy hew:
And when this Corps the force of vitall breath began to lacke,
This dying Toade became forthwith like Coale for colour blacke:
Thus drowned in his proper veynes of poysoned flood,
For tearme of eightie dayes and fowre he rotting stood:
By tryall then this venome to expell I did desire,
For which I did committ his carkase to a gentle fire:
Which done, a wonder to the fight, but more to be rehear'st,
The Toade with Colours rare through every side was pear'st,
And VVhite appeared when all the sundry hewes were past,
Which after being tincted Rudde, for evermore did last.
Then of the venome handled thus a medicine I did make;
VVhich venome kills and saveth such as venome chance to take.
Glory be to him the graunter of such secret wayes,
Dominion, and Honour, both with Worship, and with Prayse.